Ill 


C&e  JLiorarp 

of  t|>e 

(tJnitiersitp  of  JSortf)  Carolina 


HUMANITIES 

Cnbototti  bp  W$t  ^Dialectic 

anli 

^fitlantfjniptc  &octeti*sf 

13  810/3   , 


REFERC 


:-  xr.oN 


Thi.bo   t       u„     ..,t  be  taken 
».->:n  the 

MAJN  READING  ROOM 


\ 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/cyclopaediaofame01duyc 


CYCLOPAEDIA 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE: 


EMBRACING 


PERSONAL  AND  CRITICAL  NOTICES  OF  AUTHORS. 


AND  SELECTIONS   FROM  THEIR  WRITINGS. 


FKOM     THE     EARLIEST     PERIOD     TO     THE     PRESENT     DAY 


PORTRAITS,  AUTOGRAPHS,  AND  OTHER  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


EVERT  A.  DITYCKINCK  AND  GEORGE  L.  DUYCKIXCK, 


IN      TWO      VOLUMES. 
VOL.     I. 


NEW    YORK: 
CHARLES        SOIilBNER 

1856. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S55, 

BY   CHARLES  SCEIENEE, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


R.  CRAIGHEAD, 

ELECTROTYPE!!  AND  6TEP.EOTYPEE, 

53  Veaey  Street,  N.  T 


O    A.  ALVORD     Printer. 
23  Gold  sued'. 


i-»t«arv.  Univ.  <rf 

PREFACE 


In  submitting  the.  following  work  to  the  Public,  it  may  not  be  amiss,  though  the 
numerous  articles  of  which  it  is  composed  must  speak  separately  for  themselves,  to 
offer  a  few  words  of  general  introduction,  setting  forth  the  intent,  the  necessary  limitations, 
and  presenting  a  few  suggestions,  which  may  give  unity  to  the  apparent  variety. 

The  design  of  the  Cyclopaedia  is  to  bring  together  as  far  as  possible  in  one  book 
convenient  for  perusal  and  reference,  memorials  and  records  of  the  writers  of  the  country 
and  their  works,  from  the  earliest  period  to  the  present  day.  In  the  public  and  private 
library  it  is  desirable  to  have  at  hand  the  means  of  information  on  a  number  of  topics 
which  associate  themselves  with  the  lives  of  persons  connected  with  literature.  There  are 
numerous  points  of  this  kind,  not  merely  relating  to  authorship,  but  extending  into  the 
spheres  of  social  and  political  life,  which  are  to  be  sought  for  in  literary  biography,  and 
particularly  in  the  literary  biography  of  America,  where  the  use  of  the  pen  has  been  for  the 
most  part  incidental  to  other  pursuits.  The  history  of  the  literature  of  the  country  involved 
in  the  pages  of  this  work,  is  not  so  much  an  exhibition  of  art  and  invention,  of  literature  in 
its  immediate,  and  philosophical  sense,  as  a  record  of  mental  progress  and  cultivation,  of  facts 
and  opinions,  which  derives  its  main  interest  from  its  historical  rather  than  its  critical 
value.  It  is  important  to  know  what  books  have  been  produced,  and  by  whom  ;  whatever 
the  books  may  have  been  or  whoever  the  men. 

It  is  in  this  light  that  we  nave  looked  upon  the  Cyclopedia  of  American  Literature,  a 
term  sufficiently  comprehensive  of  the  wide  collection  of  authors  who  are  here  included 
under  it.  The  study  and  practice  of  criticism  may  be  pursued  elsewhere  :  here,  as  a 
matter  of  history,  we  seek  to  know  in  general  under  what  forms  and  to  what  extent 
literature  has  been  developed.  It  is  not  the  purpose  to  sit  in  judgment,  and  admit  or 
exclude  writers  according  to  individual  taste,  but  to  welcome  all  guests  who  come  reason- 
ably well  introduced,  and,  for  our  own  part,  perform  the  character  of  a  host  as  quietly  and 
efficiently  as  practicable. 

A  glance  at  the  contents  of  this  work  will  show  that  an  endeavor  has  been  made  to 
include  as  wide  a  range  of  persons  and  topics  as  its  liberal  limits  will  permit.  It  has  been 
governed  by  one  general  design,  to  exhibit  and  illustrate  the  products  of  the  pen  on 
American  soil. 

This  is  connected  more  closely  here,  than  in  the  literature  of  other  countries,  with 
biographical  details  not  immediately  relating  to  books  or  authorship  ;  since  it  is  only  of 
late  that  a  class  of  authors  by  profession  has  begun  to  spring  up.  The  book-producers  of 
the  country  have  mostly  devoted  their  lives  to  other  callings.  They  have  been  divines, 
physicians,  lawyers,  college-professors,  politicians,  orators,  editors,  active  military  men, 
travellers,  and,  incidentally,  authors.  It  is  necessary,  therefore,  in  telling  their  story,  to 
include  many  details  not  of  a  literary  character,  to  exhibit  fairly  the  proportion  which 
literature  bore  in  their  lives. 

As  the  work  has  not  been  restricted  to  professed  authors,  of  whom  very  few  would  have 
been  found,  neither  has  it  been  limited  to  writers  born  in  the  country.       It  is  sufficient 


\\% 


VI  PREFACE. 

for  the  purpose  that  they  have  lived  and  written  here,  and  that  the  land  has  been 
enriched  by  their  labors.  Indeed  it  is  one  of  the  marked  facts  in  American  cultivation, 
that  in  its  early  formative  period  it  was  so  fortunate  as  to  start  with  some  of  the  finest 
products  of  the  European  mind.  The  divines  of  Cambridge,  who  brought  with  them  to 
the  New  World  the  seed  of  literary,  as  well  as  of  political  and  religious  life  ;  the  men 
who  taught  at  Harvard  and  William  and  Mary,  who  first  spoke  from  the  pulpits,  who 
wrote  the  first  historical  records,  who  furnished  the  supplies  for  the  first  presses,  were 
Englishmen  by  birth,  as  they  and  their  successors  were  by  political  constitution,  down  to 
the  comparatively  recent  period  of  the  Revolution.  Even  since  that  period,  the  mental 
vigor  of  the  country  has  been  as  constantly  recruited  by  European  minds,  as  its  material 
conquests  of  the  soil  have  been  extended  by  European  arms  and  hands.  To  ignore  this, 
would  be  treasonable  to  the  higher  interests  of  letters,  whose  greatest  benefit  is  to  associate 
all  nations  in  intellectual  amity  and  progress.  With  pleasure  we  have  placed  upon 
these  pages,  accounts  of  foreign  scholars  and  writers  who  have  visited  us  and  lived  among 
us,  frequently  enduring  privation,  and  freely  expending  their  talents  and  energies  in  the 
literary  service  of  the  country.  It  is  an  honor,  as  it  is  a  most  liberal  advantage  to 
America,  that  men  like  Berkeley,  Priestley,  Dr.  Cooper,  Witherspoon,  Nesbit,  Follen, 
Lieber,  Schaff,  Agassiz,  Guyot,  have  freely  joined  their  contributions  to  the  stock  of  our  own 
authors.  The  country  has  received  their  books,  and  profited  by  their  lessons  and  expe- 
rience. It  cannot  grudge  the  few  pages  which  justice,  no  less  than  gratitude  and  affection, 
assigns  to  their  story. 

The  arrangement  of  the  work,  it  will  be  seen,  is  chronological,  following  as  nearly  as 
practicable  the  date  of  birth  of  each  individual. 

As  a  record  of  National  Literature,  the  Cyclopaedia  may  be  divided  into  three  general 
periods ;  the  Colonial  Era,  the  Revolutionary  Period,  and  the  Present  Century. 

Each  of  these  is  marked  by  its  distinct  characteristics.  The  writers  of  the  first  period 
include  the  New  England  Puritan  school,  the  patient,  laborious,  well  read,  and  acute 
divines,  the  scholars  who  gave  life  to  the  early  seats  of  learning,  the  first  race  of  chroniclers, 
several  genial  observers  of  nature,  as  the  Bartrams,  and  an  occasional  quaint  poet, 
who  penned  verses  without  consulting  the  pleasure  of  Minerva.  In  this  period  there  is 
rudeness,  roughness,  but  much  strength  ;  frequently  a  high  order  of  eloquence ;  great  dili- 
gence, and  an  abundant  collection  of  materials  for  history.  Harvard  College,  William  and 
Mary,  Yale,  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  King's  College  New  York,  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania,  the  College  of  Rhode  .Island,  and  Dartmouth  College,  were  established  in 
this  era.  The  great  men  of  this  period  were  Roger  Williams,  Cotton,  Hooker,  the 
Mathers,  Blair,  Golden,  Logan,  tire  Bartrams,  Jonathan  Edwards — chiefly  proficients  in 
divinity  and  science  ;  while  Franklin  heralded  the  more  general  literary  cultivation  which 
was  to  follow. 

The  next,  the  Revolutionary  period,  may  be  said  to  have  begun  and  ended  with  the 
discussion  of  legal  and  constitutional  principles.  It  was  inaugurated  by  Otis,  Dickinson, 
Jefferson,  and  Adams,  and  closed  with  the  labors  of  Hamilton,  Madison,  and  Jay,  in  the 
Federalist.  The  political  and  judicial  arguments  form  its  staple.  They  were  the  first 
distinctive  voices  of  America  heard  in  the  old  world.  There  had  been  as  good  Puritan 
divinity  published  in  England  as  had  been  broached  in  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut;  the 
age  of  Dry  den  and  of  Pope  had  undoubtedly  furnished  better  poets  than  the  land  of  Anne 
Bradstreet  and  Michael  Wigglesworth  ;  but  here  was  a  new  experience  in  government,  a  fresh 
manly  interpretation  of  constitutional  right,  expressed  succinctly,  forcibly,  eloquently  in  the 
colonial  writings,  fast  ceasing  to  be  colonial,  which  compelled  a  hearing,  and  elicited  the 
generous  admiration  of  Chatham.  Nor  was  this  literature  confined  to  didactic  political 
disquisition.  In  Francis  Hopkinson  it  had  a  polished  champion,  who  taught  by  wit,  what 
Dickinson  and  Drayton  unfolded  with  argument  and  eloquence  ;  while  Trumbull,  Freneau, 
and  Brackenridge  caught  the  various  humors  of  the  times,  and  introduced  a  new  spirit 
into  American  literature.     The  intellect  of  the   country   was  thoroughly   awakened.     At 


PREFACE.  Vll 

the  close  of  the  period  in  1799,  Dr.  Benjamin  Rush,  whose  mental  activity  had  assisted  in 
promoting  the  result,  wrote  :  "  From  a  strict  attention  to  the  state  of  mind  in  this'country, 
before  the  year  1774,  and  at  the  present  time,  I  am  satisfied  the  ratio  of  intellect  is  as 
twenty  to  one,  and  of  knowledge  as  one  hundred  to  one,  in  these  states,  compared  with 
what  they  were  before  the  American, Revolution." 

The  third  period  exhibited  the  results  of  this  increased  capacity.  It  gave  a  new  range 
to  divinity  and  moral  science,  in  writers  like  Charming';  Calhoun  and  Webster  illustrated 
the  principles  of  political  science  ;  Marshall,  Kent,  and  Story  interpreted  law  ;  Paulding, 
Irving,  Cooper,  Simms,  Emerson,  opened  new  provinces  in  fiction  and  polite  literature ; 
Hillhouse,  Bryant,  Halleek,  Dana,  Longfellow,  sang  their  profound  and  sweet  melodies  ; 
the  national  life  at  the  earliest  moment  found  its  historian  in  Bancroft ;  oratory  gained  new 
triumphs  in  the  halls  of  Congress,  and  a  genial  race  of  writers  filled  the  various  depart- 
ments of  letters,  in  turn  thoughtful,  sentimental,  or  humorous,  as  the  occasion  or  theme 
required.     To  enumerate  them  here,  would  be  to  repeat  the  index  of  these  volumes. 

In  another  light,  this  literature  may  be  looked  at  in  its  relations  to  the  several  portions 
of  the  country — the  kind  and  extent  of  the  productiveness  varying  with  the  character 
and  opportunities  of  each  region.  When  the  different  elements  of  the  question  have  been 
duly  considered,  it  will  be  found  that  mental  activity  has  been  uniformly  developed. 
The  early  settlements  of  the  North  ;  its  possession  of  the  main  seats  of  learning,  drawing 
together  numerous  professors  ;  its  commercial  centres,  calling  forth  the  powers  of  the  press  ; 
its  great  cities,  have  given  it  the  advantage  in  the  number  of  authors  :  but  without 
these  important  stimuli,  the  South  and  West  have  been  vigorous  producers  in  the.  fields  of 
literature.  Virginia  and  South  Carolina,  whose  long  settlement  and  Atlantic  relations 
fairly  bring  them  into  view  for  competition  here,  have  yielded  their  fair  proportion  of 
authors  ;  their  literature  naturally  assuming  a  political  character.  It  is  not  a  just  test  in  the 
comparison  to  take  the  results  of  colleges  and  great  cities,  where  literary  men  are  drawn 
together,  and  contrast  their  numbers  with  the  isolated  cultivation  of  an  agricultural  region, 
where  letters  are  solely  pursued  for  their  own  sake,  as  the  ornament  or  solace  of  life,  seldom 
as  a  means  of  support,  and  where  that  book-generating  person,  the  author  by  profession, 
is  almost  wholly  unknown.  We  are  rather  to  look  for  the  social  literary  cultivation. 
Tested  in  this  way,  by  their  political  representatives,  their  orators,  their  citizens  who  travel 
abroad  ;  the  men  who  are  to  "be  met  at  home,  on  the  plantations,  and  in  large  rural  districts, 
there  is  a  literary  cultivation  in  the  South  and  West  proportionate  with  any  other  part  of  the 
country.  •  In  the  number  of  books  on  the  list  of  American  bibliography,  their  quota  is 
neither  slight  nor  unimportant. 

It  has  been  an  object  in  this  work  to  exhibit  fairly  and  amply  all  portions  of  the  country. 
The  literature  of  the  South  is  here  more  folly  displayed  than  ever  before.  The  notices 
might  readily  have  been  extended,  but  in  this,  as  in  other  cases,  the  work  has  been  govern- 
ed by  necessary  limitations.  It  is  very  evident  to  any  one  who  has  looked  at  the  statistics 
of  the  subject,  that  it  would  not  be  practicable,  even  on  the  generous  scale  of  these  volumes, 
to  introduce  all  the  writers  of  the  country.  With  great  labor  and  patience  such  a  work 
might  be  undertaken,  but  its  extent  would  soon  place  it  beyond  the  reach  of  ordinary 
purchasers.  For  that  remote  end,  a  complete  American  bibliography  would  be  required : 
and  it  is  probable  that  at  some  future  time  it  will  be  executed.  But  the  plan  of  the  present 
Cyclopaedia  is  different.  It  required  selection.  On  consultation  with  the  publishers,  it 
was  found  that  two  royal  octavos  of  the  present  liberal  size  could  be  afforded  at  a  mode- 
rate price,  which  would  place  the  work  within  the  reach  of  the  entire  class  of  purchasers ; 
that  any  extension  beyond  this  would  involve  an  increase  in  cost  unfavorable  to  its  circu- 
lation. This  was  the  material  limit.  On  the  other  side  the  space  seemed  sufficient  for  the 
display  of  the  comparatively  brief  period  of  American  authorship,  when  the  whole  vast 
range  of  English  literature  was,  successfully  for  the  purpose,  included  by  Messrs. 
Chambers  in  about  the  same  compass. 

The  next  question  respected  the  distribution  of  the  space.     It  was  considered  that, 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

under  any  principle  of  selection,  the  story  should  he  as  briefly  told  as  possible  ;  being  con- 
fined to  the  facts  of  the  case,  with  no  more  comment  than  was  required  to  put  the  reader 
in  ready  communication  with  the  author,  while  matters  of  digression  and  essay-writing 
should  be  carefully  avoided.  The  lives  of  the  authors  were  to  be  narrated,  and  their  best 
works  exhibited  in  appropriate  extracts.  . 

To  the  early  periods,  the  preference  was  to  be  given  in  fulness  of  display.  Many  of 
the  lives  required  much  curious  investigation,  in  regions  not  readily  accessible  to  the 
general  reader.  The  sympathy  shown  in  this  portion  of  the  subject  by  various  eminent 
scholars  and  successful  prosecutors  of  literature  themselves,  who  were  occasionally  consulted 
in  its  preparation,  and  who  readily  gave  the  most  important  assistance,  seemed  additional 
warrant  to  devote  considerable  space  to  this  research. 

The  Revolutionary  matter  presented  similar  claims.  It  was  novel,  much  of  it  not 
generally  attainable,  and  it  was  full  of  picturesque  life.  The  rapid  multiplication  of  the 
literary  and  scientific  institutions  of  the  country  has  permitted  us  to  speak  at  length  only 
of  those  long  established.  An  account  of  the  early  colleges  has  afforded  much  interesting 
detail,  while  it  has  given  the  opportunity  of  commemorating  many  worthies  of  the  past, 
whose  literary  labors  were  chiefly  entitled  to  notice  from  this  connexion. 

The  passages  to  be  selected  for  quotation,  in  a  work  of  this  kind,  must  frequently  be 
chosen  for  their  minor  qualities.  The  brief  essay,  the  pertinent  oration,  the  short  poem,  the 
song  or  squib  of  the  wit  may  be  given,  where  it  would  be  absurd  to  mutilate  the  entire  line 
of  argument  of  a  work  on  philosophy,  or  where  it  would  be  irreverent  to  violate  the 
sanctity  of  a  treatise  of  divinity,  by  parading  its  themes,  plucked  from  the  sacred  inclosure 
of  the  volume. 

The  lighter  passages  of  song  and  jest  were  numerous  in  the  days  of  the  Revolution, 
and  may  be  worth  exhibiting,  as  a  relief  to  graver  incidents  of  the  struggle,  and  as  a  proof 
of  the  good  heart  with  which  our  fathers  entered  into  it. 

The  reader  may  trace  a  full  exhibition  of  the  admirable  productions,  both  witty  and 
serious,  which  grew  out  of  the  argument  for  the  Federal  Constitution,  in  the  passages  from 
Hopkinson,  Belknap,  Hamilton,  and  others. 

It  has  been  further  an  object  in  the  extracts,  to  preserve  the  utmost  possible  complete- 
ness :  to  present  a  subject  as  nearly  as  practicable  in  its  entire  form.  The  ample  page  of 
the  work  has  allowed  us,  in  numerous  instances,  to  carry  this  out  even  with  such  produc- 
tions of  length  as  an  entire  canto  of  McFingal,  a  reprint  of  the  whole  of  Barlow's  Hasty 
Pudding,  of  the  Buccaneer  of  Dana,  complete  papers  by  Fisher  Ames,  Clouverneur  Morris, 
and  others  ;  while  the  number  of  shorter  articles  has  been- occasionally  extended  to  embrace  ■ 
most,  if  not  all,  that  is  of  interest  in  the  literary  remains  of  minor  authors. 

A  reference  to  the  index  will  show,  we  trust,  a  worthy  design  in  the  selection  of 
passages  from  the  various  authors.  We  have  kept  in  view  the  idea,  that  a  work  of  the 
opportunities  of  the  present,  should  aid  in  the  formation  of  taste  and  the  discipline  of 
character,  as  well  as  in  the  gratification  of  curiosity  and  the  amusement  of  the  hour.  The 
many  noble  sentiments,  just  thoughts,  the  eloquent  orations,  the  tasteful  poems,  the  various 
refinements  of  literary  expression,  drawn  together  in  these  volumes,  are  indeed  the  noblest 
appeal  and  best  apology  for  the  work.  The  voice  of  two  centuries  of  American  literature 
may  well  be  worth  listening  to. 

Avoiding,  however,  further  enlargement  on  this  theme,  which  might  r.un  into  an 
unseemly  critical  analysis  of  the  book,  we  have  left  to  us  the  safer  and  more  agreeable  duty 
of  acknowledging  the  friendly  aid  which  has  encouraged  and  assisted  us  in  a  laborious 
undertaking.  Many  a  letter  of  sympathy  and  counsel  has  warmed  us  to  renewed  effort  in 
the  progress  of  the  work.  It  has  been  our  care  to  indicate  on  its  appropriate  page  the 
obligations  due  to  others,  and,  if  we  may  adopt  the  words  of  that  good  old  divine  and  poet, 
Dr.  Donne,  "to  thank  not  him  only  that  hath  digg'd  out  treasure  for  me,  but  that  bath 
lighted  me  a  candle  to  the  place." 

To  our  predecessors  in  these  labors,  ample  acknowledgments  are  due,  from  the  first 


PREFACE.  IX 

collections  of  American  verse,  in  the  last  century,  by  Elilm  II.  Smith  and  Mathcw  Carey,  to 
the  excellent  labors  at  the  present  day  of  Kettell,  Everest,  Griswold,  and  others.  To  their 
works  we  may  appropriately  add  the  numerous  collections  of  local  literature,  as  the  Boston, 
New  Hampshire,  and  Charleston  books.  In  the  earlier  departments,  special  recognition 
should  be  made  of  the  valuable  biographical  dictionaries  of  Eliot  and  Allen  ;  in  the  later, 
of  the  industrious  biographical  labors  of  Mr.  J.  S.  Loring,  in  the  several  editions  of  his 
"  Boston  Orators." 

We  have  been  under  great  obligations  to  several  of  the  public  libraries,  and  the  efficient 
acts  of  courtesy  of  their  librarians.  Of  these  institutions,  we  may  particularly  mention 
the  rare  collections  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  of  the  Boston.  Athena?um,  of 
the  library  at  Harvard,  of  the  American  Antiquarian  Society  at  Worcester,  of  the  Library 
Company  and  the  Library  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society  at  Philadelphia,  of  the 
Historical  Society,  of  the  Society,  Mercantile,  and  Astor  Libraries  of  New  York.  We 
never  left  one  of  these  institutions  without  a  new  sense  of  the  magnitude  of  the  subject 
before  us.  In  this  connexion,  we  cheerfully  express  our  thanks,  not  merely  as  an  aid,  but 
as  an  honor  to  our  enterprise,  for  the  cordial  cooperation  of  the  Rev.  John  L.  Sibley  of  Har- 
vard, Charles  Folsom  of  Boston,  Mr.  S.  F.  Haven  of  Worcester,  Mr.  E.  C.  Herrick 
of  Yale,  Messrs.  J.  J.  and  Lloyd  P.  Smith  of  Philadelphia,  Mr.  Philip  J.  Forbes,  Mr. 
George  H.  Moore,  Mr.  S.  Hastings  Grant,  and  Mr.  J.  G.  Cogswell  of  New  York. 

Numerous  private  collections  have  been  freely  opened  to  us.  We  have  been  favored 
with  the  use  of  many  rare  volumes  from  the  choice  and  costly  libraries  of  Mr.  J.  Carter 
Brown  of  Providence,  Mr.  George  Ticknor  of  Boston,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hawks,  Mr.  George  Ban- 
croft, Mr.  James  Lenox,  Mr.  E.  B.  Corwin  of  New  York ;  while  important  incidental  aid  in 
this  way  has  been  rendered  us  by  Mr.  J.  Pennington,  Mr.  Charles  J.  Ihgersoll,  Mr.  Henry 
D.  Gilpin,  Mr.  J.  T.  Fisher,  Mr.  C.  B.  Trego,  Mr.  W.  B.  Reed,  Mr.  II.  C.  Baird  of 
Philadelphia  ;  Professor  Gammell  of  Brown  University,  Mr.  Joseph  Johnson  and  Mr. 
John  Russell  of  Charleston,  South  Carolina ;  Mr.  Samuel  Colman,  Mr.  George  B. 
Rapelye,  Mr.  John  Allan,  and  Mr.  W.  J.  Davis  of  New  York.  To  both  the  library  and 
valuable  counsel  of  Dr.  John  W.  Francis  of  New  York  we  have  been  under  repeated 
obligations. 

To  Mr.  Washington  Irving  we  are  indebted  for  a  special  act  of  courtesy,  in  his  contri- 
bution to  the  notice  of  Allston  of  an  interesting  series  of  personal  reminiscences.  We 
are  under  like  obligations  to  Dr.  Francis,  for  a  similar  recollection  of  Philip  Freneau. 
One  of  the  last  letters  written  by  the  late  Col.  D.  J.  McCord  of  Columbia,  South  Carolina, 
was  a  communication  printed  in  its  place,  on  Dr.  Thomas  Cooper.  The  privilege  of 
friendly  consultation  with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Osgood  of  New  York  has  introduced  us  to  much 
of  the  abundant  literature  of  his  religious  denomination.  We  have  also  received  cordial  aid 
from  Mr.  Henry  T.  Tuckerman,  whose  published  writings  afford  many  illustrations  of  the 
topics  of   these  volumes.    Other  acknowledgments  appear  on  various  pages  of  the  book. 

In  the  department  of  Southern  literature,  where  information  rests  largely  in  the  hands 
of  individuals,  we  have  been  greatly  strengthened  by  correspondence  with  Mr.  W.  Gilmore 
Simms  cf  South  Carolina,  bringing  with  it  a  train  of  kindly  assistance  from  others ;  and 
with  Mr.  John  Esten  Cooke  of  Richmond,  which  opened  .to  us  frequent  avenues  to  infor- 
mation in  Virginia.  To  Mr.  Harrison  Hall  of  Philadelphia,  and  his  brother  Judge  James 
Hall  of  Cincinnati,  we  are  under  similar  obligations  in  other  regions  of  the  country.  From 
Professor  Porcher  of  the  Charleston  College,  President  Swain  of  the  University  of  North 
Carolina,  Professor  Totten  of  William  and  Mary,  Mr.  Gessner  Harrison  of  the  University 
of  Virginia,  Professor  North  of  Hamilton  College,  Mr.  Win.  W.  Turner  of  the  National 
Institute,  we  have  received  assistance  in  the  notices  of  the  several  seats  of  learning 
with  which  they  are  connected.  It  may  not  be  amiss  here,  for  the  prevention  of  possible 
comparisons  in  future,  to  state,  that  in  some  instances — to  the  extent,  perhaps,  of  three  or 
four  pages  of  the  book — we  are  under  a  debt  to  ourselves,  having  drawn  upon  a  few  critical, 
papers  heretofore  printed  in  the  L  terary  World. 


X  PREFACE. 

Not  the  least  difficult  portion  of  the  work  has  been  the  preparation  of  the  numerous 
portraits.  They  have  been  frequently  obtained  from  original  sources,  and  are  now 
engraved  for  the  first  time,  from  old  paintings,  or  recent  daguerreotypes  and  photographs. 
If  they  prove  of  interest  to  the  purchasers  of  the  book,  proportioned  to  the  care  often 
expended  upon  them,  the  publisher  and  editors  may  be  well  satisfied.  A  few  choice  daguer- 
reotypes are  from  the  hands  of  Messrs.  Southworth  and  Hayes  of  Boston,  and  Mr.  Richards  of 
Philadelphia,  while  a  large  number  have  been  taken  by  Mr.  M.  B.  Brady  of  New  York, — a 
sufficient  guarantee  of  this  stage  of  the  work.  The  drawings  from  them  have  been  made 
by  Mr.  W.  Momberger  of  this  city.  The  engravings  are  by  Mr.  W.  Roberts.  For  several 
of  the  vignettes  we  are  indebted  to  the  Homes  of  American  Authors,  at  present  published 
by  the  Messrs.  Appleton. 

A  large  number  of  the  autograph  illustrations  were  kindly  placed  at  our  disposal  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  W.  B.  Sprague,  of  Albany,  New  York.  Valuable  aid  of  this  kind  has  been 
freely  given  by  others. 

The  accuracy  of  the  work  has  been  greatly  promoted  by  the  cooperation  of  Mr.  W. 
H.  Smith,  who  has  been  long  known  to  many  of  the  scholars  of  the  country  as  proof- 
reader in  the  office  of  Mr.  Robert  Craighead,  where  the  Cyclopaedia  was  put  in  type. 

In  conclusion,  we  may,  we  trust,  ask  a  generous  and  kindly  consideration  for  a  work 
of  much  difficulty.  Inequalities  and  short-comings  may,  doubtless,  be  discovered  in  it. 
"  Errors  Excepted,"  the  usual  phrase  appended  to  a  merchant's  account,  the  gloss  upon  all 
things  human,  may  with  propriety  be  added  at  the  termination  of  an  undertaking  of  this 
nature. 

The  perfection  of  such  a  work  is  the  result  of  time  and  experience.  The 
present  volumes  may  perhaps  fall  into  the  hands  of  some  who  are  able  and  willing 
to  afford  additional  information  ;  and  this  may  be  employed  in  the  supplements  to  future 
editions,  if  indeed  the  book  shall  attain  such  desirable  repetitions.  We  need  not  say,  that 
any  suggestions,  looking  fairly  to  the  design  of  the  work,  will  be  welco'-ie.  In  the  delicate 
duty  to  contemporaries,  every  hour  adds  to  the  opportunities  of  such  an  undertaking  :  but 
the  authors  of  the  day  are  well  able,  in  their  own  writings,  to  speak  for  themselves.  We 
may  be  allowed  to  insert  a  caveat  against  the  pretension  that  we  have  not  omitted 
some  of  the  true  worthies  of  America — though  the  reader  will  perhaps  be  reminded,  on 
the  other  hand,  of  the  story  told  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  of  the  laird  on  a  visit  to  his 
friend  in  the  country.  He  was  about  taking  his  departure  homewards,  when  he  thought 
of  interrogating  his  servant,  who  had  been  engaged  in  packing  his  portmanteau.  "  Have 
you  put  in  everything  that  belongs  to  me?  "  "  At  least,  your  honor,"  was  the  candid  reply. 

There  is  an  old  passage  in  the  dedication  of  the  venerable  Cotton  Mather's  Decennium 
Lvctiiosum,  which  is  perhaps  a  good  sequel  to  the  anecdote  in  this  relation.  "Should  any 
Petit  Monsieur,"  says  he,  "  complain  (as  the  captain  that  found  not  himself  in  the  tapestry 
hangings,  which  exhibited  the  story  of  the  Spanish  invasion  in  1-588),  that  he  don't  find 
himself  mentioned  in  this  history,  the  author  has  this  apology  :  he  has  done  as  well  and  as 
vnich  as  he  could,  that  whatever  was  worthy  of  a  mention,  might  have  it ;  and  if  this  collection 
of  matters  be  not  complete,  yet  he  supposes  it  may  be  more  complete  than  any  one  else 
hath  made  ;  and  now  he  hath*  done,  he  hath  not  pulled  up  the  ladder  after  him:  at/ten 
may  go  on  as  they  please  with  a  completer  composure." 

New  Yoke,  August  16,  1S55. 


CONTENTS    OF    VOLUME    I. 


PAGE 

GEORGE  SANDYS 1 

Passage  from  Ovid's  Metamorphoses. 

WILLIAM   VAUGHAN 2 

Passages  from  the  Golden  Fleece  and  Church  Mili- 
tant. 

WILLIAM  MOEELL 2 

Passages  from  Nova  Anglia. 

WILLIAM  WOOD  3 

Passages  from  New  England's  Prospect. 

GOOD  NEWS   FROM  NE1'   ENGLAND    ...        4 
The  New  England  Preachers. 

CAPTAIN  JOHN   SMITH 5 

Story  of  Pocahontas. 

The  Sea  Mark. 
THOMAS  HARRIOT— ALEXANDER  WHITAKEE— 
WILLIAM  8TRACIIEY 7 

HARVARD   COLLEGE 8 

Pietas  et  Gratulatio. 

THE  BAY  PSALM  BOOK      .        .        .        .        .        .10 

NATHANIEL   WARD 18 

Prefatory  Lines  to  the  Poems  of  Anne  Bradstreet. 

JOHN  COTTON 21 

On  my  reverend  and  d'-ar  father,  Mr.  Thomas  Hooker, 
late  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Hartford,  on  Connecti- 
cut. 
A  thankful  acknowledgment  of  God's  Providence. 
Lines  on  bis  removal  from  Boston. 

JOnN   NORTON 23 

Picture  of  a  Student's  life. 

TliOMVS   HOOKER 24 

From  "Th  ■  Application  of  Redemption-" 

From  "Tiie  Doubting  Christian  drawn  to  Christ." 

ADAM   WINTHROP 25 

Verses  mad.'  to  the  Lady  Mildmay  at  ye  birth  of  ber 
Sonne  Henery. 

JOHN   WINTHROP 25 

or  a  few  persons  who  left  the  Colony  in  1642. 
Liberty  and  Law. 

THOMAS  MORTON 28 

Passages  from  New  England's  Memorial. 

WILLI  \M   BR  \DFOED 30 

Of  Boston  in  New  England. 
Fragmentary  Poem  oh  New  England. 

JOHN  DAVENPORT 31 

ROGER   WILLIAMS 32 

Poems  on  Life  with  the  Indians. 
Conference  between  Truth  and  Peace. 
Plea  for  John  Clarke. 


JOHN  CLARKE 
SAMUEL  GORTON  . 
EDWARD  JOHNSON 
JOHN  ELIOT      . 


38 
38 
30 
89 


DANIEL  GOOKIN 43 

Eliot's  Teaching. 


THOMAS   SHEPARD. 

Shipwreck  off  Yarmouth. 
Views  of  Toleration. 


PAGE 
ROGER   CLAP 44 

New  England  Retrospect. 

NATHANIEL  MORTON— PETER  BITLKLEY— JOSI- 
AH  WINSLOVV— EDWARD  BULKLEY— SAMUEL 
STONE— JONATHAN  MITCHELL— JOHN  SHER- 
MAN-JOSHUA  8COTTOW 45 

ANNE  BRADSTREET 47 

Contemplations. 
.  Old  Age  recounts  the  history  of  the  Puritan  period, 
from  "  The  Four  Ages  of  Man." 
Alexander  meets  Darius,  from  "  The  Four  Monarchies 

of  the  World." 
The  Flesh  and  the  Spirit. 

PETER   FOLGEE        .  52 

A  Looking-glass  for  the  Times;  or,  the  former  Spirit  of 
New  England  revived  in  this  genen.ti.rn. 

WILLIAM  HUBBARD 50 

MICHAEL  WIGGLESWORTH 57 

Meat  out  of  the  Eater. 
A  Prayer  unto  Christ. 
A  Song  of  Emptiness. 

INCREASE  MATHER 59 

COTTON  MATHER 59 

An  hortatory  and  necessary  Address,  to  acountrv  now 
extraordinarily  alarmed  by  the  wrath  of  the  Devil. 

The  Tarantula. 

The  life  of  Mr.  Ralph  Partridge. 

Ministry  of  Angels. 

Psalm  C. 

On  the  death  of  his  son. 

On  the  death  of  his  daughter. 

BENJAMIN  TOMPSON 66 

New  England's  crisis.  w 

OUR  FOREFATHERS'  SONG 68 

THOMAS   MAKIN 68 

Praises  of  Pennsylvania. 

JOHN   JOSSELYN 69 

Voyage  to  New  England. 
JOHN    WILLIAMS TO 

Passages  from  "The  Redeemed  Captive." 

JOHN  LEDEEER 71 

Travels  in  Virginia. 

FRANCIS  KN  VPP    .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .      72 

A  New  England  pond. 
Birds  and  fishes. 

BENJAMIN  COLMAN 78 

Elijah's  ascension. 

To  Urania,  on  the  death  of  ber  first  and  only  child. 

WILLIAM  BYRD 74 

Passages  from  "The  Westover  Manuscripts." 

JAMES  LOGAN 77 

The  intellectual  delight  of  age,  from  his  translation  of 
Cicero. 

ROGER  WOLCOTT 79 

Proverbs  xviii.  14, — "A  wounded  spirit  who  can 
bear  ?" 

CADWALLADEE  COLDEN 80 

THOMAS  PEINCE    ....  ...      81 

WILLIAM  AND  MAEY  COLLEGE     .        .        .        .      S2 


xn 


CONTENTS. 


TALE  COLLEGE 
JONATHAN  EDWARDS 
CHAELES  CHAUNCEY  .   ^. 


PAGE 

.      85 


THOMAS   CHALKLEY 

Passages  from  his  lite,  labors,  travel,  &c. 

AQUILA  EOSE 

To  his  companion  at  sea. 

Piece  wrote  by  him  for  the  boys  who  carried  out  the 
weekly  news-papers  to  their  master's  customers 
in  Philadelphia;  to  whom  commonly  every  New- 
Year's  day,  they  present  verses  of  this"  kind. 

SAMUEL  KEIMEE '.        . 

An  elegy  on  the  much  lamented  Death  of  the  Inge- 
nious and  well-beloved  Aqtjila  Eose. 

The  sorrowful  lamentation  of  Samuel  Keiiner.  Printer 
of  the  Barbadoes  Gazette. 

GEOEGE  WEBB        

Batchelors'  Hall :  a  Poem. 


95 
96 


JOSEPH  BEIENTNALL 

Lines  prefixed  to  Webb's  "Batchelors"  Hall." 

JAMES   EALPH 


BENJAMIN  FEANKLIN        .... 
A  Parable  against  Persecution. 
The  Ephemera ;  an  emblem  of  human  life. 
The  Whistle. 

Dialogue  between  Franklin  and  the  Gout. 
Paper;  a  poem. 
My  plain  country  Joan. 
The  mother  country. 
The  Mechanic's  Song. 

DAVID  FRENCH 

Odes  of  Anacreon. 

MATHEE  BYLE3      

To  —  Desiring  to  borrow  Pope's  Homer. 

A  full  and  true  account  of  how  the  lamentable  wicked 

French  and  Indian  pirates  were  taken  by  the  valiant 

Englishmen. 
Passages  from  a  Sermon  on  Death. 
The  Butterfly,  a  Type  of  the  Eesurrection. 
Passage  from  "  The  Conflagration."' 
New  England  Hymn. 

JOSEPH  GEEEN       ......... 

Hymn  written  during  a  voyage. 

The  Psalm. 

Parody  by  Mather  Byles. 

The  Poet  s  Lamentations  for  the  loss  of  his  cat,  which 

he  used  to  call  his  muse. 
Ode. 

JOHN  CALLENDEE         .  

Liberal  Principles  of  Ehode  Island. 

JANE  TUEELL.        . 

Hymn. 

An  Invitation  into  the  country,  in  imitation  of  Horace. 

To  my  Muse,  Dec.  29,  1726. 

JOHN  SECCOMB 

Father  Abbey's  will ;  to  which  is  now  added  a  letter 
of  courtship  to  his  virtuous  and  amiable  widow. 

JOHN  BEYEEIDGE 

Xo  ******** 

THOMAS  COOMBE 

Passage  from  the  "Peasant  of  Auburn." 
THOMAS  HUTCHINSON  .... 


128- 
130 


EARLY  CAEOLINA  LITEEATUEE    . 

JOHN  OSBOEN 

A  Whaling  Song. 

THE  EEV.  JOHN  ADAMS 

From  a  poem  on  Society. 

To  my  Honored  Father  on  the  loss  of  his  sight. 

Horace,  Book  I.  Ode  I. 

JOHN  WINTHEOP 

Passage  from  the  "Lecture  on  Comet'." 
SAMUEL  CCRWEN 

Letter  to  Richard  Ward.  Beg...  Salem. 

Passages  from  his  Diary. 

BENJAMIN  CHUECH      .... 
A  Scuffle. 
Death  of  King  Philip. 

DAYID  BEAINEED 

Indian  Superstition. 

■TAMES  McSPAEEAN       .... 
'      The  Cold  Winter  1740-1. 

JONATHAN  MAYHEW 

Passage  from  a  "Thanksgiving  Discourse." 


101 

102 

102 
104 


116 

no 


120 


124 


130 
181 
132 

138 


185 
136 


140 
143 
144 


PAGE 

JOHN  WOOLMAN 146 

Passages  from  his  Diary. 

SAMUEL  HOPKINS 150 

SAMSON  OCCUM ,        .115 

WILLIAM  LIVINGSTON 151 

The  Eetreat,  from  the  poem,  "  Philosophic  Solitude." 

Favorite  Books. 

A  Wife. 

Conclusion. 

JAMES  OTIS 155 

Advantages  of  Representation. 

JAMES  BOWDOIN 157 

Paraphrase  of  Economy  of  Human  Life. 

EZEA  STILES 15s 

Extracts  from  the  Literary  Diary.  Newport,  E.  L 

(till  1777.)  ' 

On  Kings,  from  "Lives  of  the  Judges." 

SAMUEL  SEABUEY 162 

MERCY  WARREN 103 

From  "The  Ladies  of  Castile." 

To  the  Hon.  J.  Winthrop,  Esq.,  who.  on  the  American 
determination,  in  1774,  to  suspend  all  commerce 
with  Britain  (except  for  the  real  Decessaries  of  life), 
requested  a  poetical  list  of  the  articles  the  ladies 
might  comprise  under  that  head. 

From  "A  Political  Reverie,"  Jan.,  1774. 

GEORGE  BERKELEY 1C3 

Verses  on  the  prospect  of  planting  Arts  and  Learning 
in  America. 

CTTAELES  THOMSON 170 

ROBERT   ROGERS 170 

The  War  Song. 

JOSEPH  GALLOWAY 172 

HECTOE   ST.   JOHN   CEEVECC3TTR     .        .        .        .178 
American  Farmers'  Pleasures. 
Song  and  Instinct. 
The  Humming  Bird. 
A  Journey  with  Franklin. 

THE  LIBEAEY  COMPANY  OF  PHILADELPHIA     177 

GEOEGE  WASHINGTON 179 

JOnN  DICKINSON 1S1 

PELEG  FOLGEE      .      ■ 103 

Dominum  collaudamus. 

JOHN  ADAMS    .  1S4 

Passages  from  the  Diary. 
Fromthe  Letters. 

HUGH  WILLIAJMSON 189 

HUGH  PETEES         .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .190 

My  Wishes. 

SAMUEL  PETEES 190 

Passages  from  "  History  of  Connecticut." 

TnOMAS  GODFEEY 195 

From  "The  Prince  of  Parthia." 

Poesy,  from  "The  Court  of  Fancy.1* 

Son:.'. 

A  Dithyrambic  on  Wine. 

THOMAS  PAINE 197 

Ode  on  the  Death  of  General  Wolfe. 
Reflections  on  the  Life  and  Death  of  Lord  Clive. 
The  American  Crisis. — Number  One. 
Liberty  Tree. 

From  the  Castle  in  the  Air  to  the  little  Corner  of  the 
World. 

ETHAN  ALLEN 200 

Conquest  of  Ticonderoga. 

FRANCIS  HOPKINSON 2C9 

A  letter  from  a  gentleman  in  America  to  his  friend  in 
Europe,  on  white-washing. 

Modern  Learning  exemplified  by  a  specimen  of  a  col- 
legiate examination. 

Dialogue  on  the  Address  of  the  Philosophical  Society 
to  Dr.  Franklin. 

Verses. 

Description  of  a  Church. 

A  Morning  Hymn. 

An  Evening  Hymn. 

An  Epitaph  for  an  Infant 

A  Camp  Ballad. 

The  Battle  of  the  Kegs. 

The  New  Eoof :  a  Song  for  Federal  Mechanics. 

JACOB  DUCTTE «» 

From  "  Caspipina's  Letters." 


CONTENTS. 


HENRY  CETTGER     .... 
Passages  from  Speeches. 
The  Golden  Days  of  Harry  Cruger. 

"WILLIAM   BAETEAM      . 
Ephemera. 

Crocodiles  on  the  St.  John's. 
Evening  scene  in  Florida. 

EDWAED  BANCROFT    . 


PAGE 

.    221 


BENJAMIN   CHURCH 

The  Choice,  a  Poem. 

ELIZABETH  FEEGUSON       .... 
Poetical  Correspondence. 

JAJUES   ALLEN 

From  the  Poem  on  the  Massacre. 

ST.  GEOEGE  TUCKER 

Stanzas. 

THEODORIC  BLAND— RICHARD  BLAND 

NATHANIEL  EVANS 

AdUulielmum  Lauderum,  P.P. 
To  William  Lauder,  P.P. 

WILLIAM   HENRY  DEAYTON    . 
Passage  from  Jury  Charge. 

THOMAS  JEFFEESON 

Dialogue  between  Head  and  Heart. 
Character  of  Washington. 
Moralities, 

NATHANIEL  EMMONS 

Passages  from  Jeroboam  Sermon. 

JAMES  MOODY 

Passages  from  his  Narrative. 

JOSIAH  QUINCY,  Jk 


JEEEMY  BELKNAP         

The  Old  Confederation,  from  "  The  Foresters." 
The  New  Constitution. 

ELIJAH   FITCH  .        .        .        .   '     . 

The  True  Christian. 
Thj  Choice. 

LINDLEY   MUEEAY 

Passages  from  Autobiography. 
Song— To  my  Wife. 

JOHN  JAY 

From  the  Address  of  the  New  York  Convention,  1776. 

BENJAMIN  RUSH 

An  Account  of  the  Influence  of  the  Military  and  Poli- 
tical Events  of  the  American  Revolution  upon  the 
Human  Body. 
Biographical  Anecdotes  of  Anthony  Benezet. 
Biographical  Anecdotes  of  Benjamin  Lay. 

COLLEGE  OF  NEW  JERSEY 

JOHN  DAYIES 

Hymns. 
JOHN  WITHEESPOON 

Maxim  V.,  from  "The  Characteristics.1' 

JAMES  RIVINGTON 

Witherspoon's  Parody  of  Supplication.  . 
Hopkinson's  Advertisement  Extraordinary. 
Freneau's  Riviugton's  Last  Will  and  Testament. 

JAMES  M'CLUEG 

The  Belles  of  Williamsburg. 

Sequel  to  the  Belles  of  Williamsburg. 

THE  REDWOOD  LIBRARY 


223 


223 
229 


235 
236 


236 
237 


239 

246 

249 

251 
253 


JONATHAN  MITCHEL  SEWALL 
Epilogue  to  Cato. 
Eulogy  on  Laughing. 
War  and  Washington. 

HUGH   HENRY  BRACKENEIDGE      .... 

An  Ode  on  the  Battle  of  Bunker's  Hill. 

A  Military  Song,  by  the  Army,  on  General  Washing- 
ton's victorious  entry  into  the  town  of  Boston. 

An  Election  Scene. 

Teague  a  member  of  the  Philosophical  Society. 

Captain  Farrago's  Instructions  to  Teague  on  the 
duello. 

An  Essay  on  C  >mmon  ^ense. 

Prophicy  of  the  greatness  of  America — from  "The 
Rising  G'orv  of  America." 

WILLIAM   WHITE 

Instructions  to  Missionaries  in  China, 
ISAIAH  THOMAS 

BERNARD   ROMANS        .... 

Tea. 
DAVID  RAMSAY      .... 


263 

264 


270 
271 

275 

278 


2S5 
2S6 


PAGE 

JOHN   PARKE    .....  -         .        .         -    3C5 

To  Melpomene. 
To  Lollius. 

On  the  Return  of  Augustus??^      tain. 
To  Munatius  Plancus. 

JOHN  WILCOCKS    .  .^Sw;     .  .    3 

The  two  Peacocks. 

Parody  on  Pope's  Ode  to  Solitude. 
JOHN  TRUMBULL .    3jS 

An  Epithalarnium. 

The  Liberty  Pole— M'Fingal,  Canto  III. 
LEMUEL  HOPKINS 319 

On  General  Ethan  Allen. 

Passages  from  the  "  Political  Green  House." 

A  Plea  for  Union  and  the  Constitution,  from  the 
"  Anarchiad." 

The  Hypocrite's  Hope. 
JAMES   MADISON     .        .        .        ._      .        .        .        -     322 

JOHN  LEDYARD 324 

WILLIAM  LINN 326 

Washington. 

PHILIP  FRENEAU 327 

^•""""To  a  truly  great  man. 
I        To  a  would  be  great  man. 

Hymn  to  Liberty. 

Lines  on  Cobbett. 

Advice  to  Authors. 

Directions  for  Courtship. 

Lines  occasioned  by  a  visit  to  an  old  Indian  burying- 
ground. 

The  Indian  Student;  or  Force  of  Nature. 

The  Dying  Indian. 

Death  Song  of  a  Cherokee  Indian. 

May  to  April. 

The  Wild  Honeysuckle. 

The  Hurricane. 

St.  Catharine's. 

Never  sink. 

The  Man  of  Ninety,  or  a  Visit  to  the  Oak. 

The  Almanac  Maker. 

The  New  England  Sabbath-day  chase. 

New  England  and  New  York. 

The  Eoyal  Apprentice ;  a  London  story. 

To  the  Memory  of  the  brave  Americans,  under 
General  Greene,  in  South  Carolina,  who  fell  in  the 
action  of  September  8,  a781. 

On  the  Memorable  Victory  obtained  by  the  gallant 
Captain  John  Paul  Jones  of  the  Bon  Homme 
Richard,  over  the  Serapis,  under  the  command  of 
Captain  Pearson. 

The  Battle  of  Stonington,  on  the  Seaboard  of  Connec- 
ticut. 

A  Bacchanalian  Dialogue,  written  1803. 

GOUVERNEUR  MORRIS S48 

Funeral  Oration  by  the  dead  body  of  Hamilton. 
The  Eestoration  of  the  Bourbons — 1814. 

ALEXANDER  GRAYDON      ....  .352 

British  Officers  in  Philadelphia  before  the  Revolution. 

James  Smith,  of  Pennsylvania,  the  Signer  of  tho 
Declaration  of  Independence. 

A  Prisoner  of  War  in  exile,  at  Flatbush. 

Oratory,  from  "Notes  by  a  Desultory  Eeader." 

Novels. 
TIMOTHY  DWIGHT 357 

Psalm  exxxvii. 

The  Smooth  Divine. 

Columbia. 

The  travelled  Ape. — From  an  Epistle  to  Col.  Hum- 
phreys, 1785. 

Fall  of  Empire,  from  "Greenfield  Hill." 

Round  of  American  Life,        "  " 

The  Village  Clergyman,  "  " 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER 865 

To  Mr.  L  *  *  * 

To  Miss  Catherine  Ten  Eyck. 
PHILLIS    WHEATLEY 867 

His  Excellency  General  Washington. 

Liberty  and  Pence. 

To  the  University  of  Cambridge,  wrote  in  1767. 

On  the  Death  of  the  Eev.  Dr.  Sewall,  1769. 

On  the  Death  of  the  Eev.  Mr  George  Whitefield, 
1770. 

A  Farewell  to  America. 

BENJAMIN  THOMPSON 371 

Cooking  a  Hasty  Pudding. 

DAVID   HUMPHREYS -373 

Putnam's  Adventure  with  the  Wolf. 
Mount  Vernon;  an  ode. 
The  Shepherd ;  a  song. 

The  Monkey  who  shaved  himself  and  his  friends;  a 
fable. 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


JAMES  THACHER^--^- 378 

COLUMBIA  COLLEGE 379 

MYLES  COOPER       .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .380 

Stanzas  by  an  Exile  from  America. 

THE  CHARLESTON  LIBRARY'— THE  NEW  YORK 
SOCIETY  LIBRARY 


THE. UNIVERSITY  OF  PENNSYLVANIA 
JOEL  BARLOW 

The  Babylonian  Captivity. 

Guillotine  Song. 

08  the  Discoveries  of  Captain  Lewis. 

Advice  to  a  Raven  in  Russia. 

Hymn  to  Peace. 

The  Conspiracy  of  Kings. 

The  Hasty  Pudding. 

JOHN  MARSHALL 

Washington. 

AAEON  BANCROFT        

George  Washington. 

HANNAH  ADAMS 


357  | 

358  ; 
391    | 


404 

407 

4CS 
409 

415 


HENRY  LEE      

Champe's  Expedition. 

From  the  Funeral  Oration  on  the  Death  of  Gen. 
Washington,  delivered  at  the  request  of  Congress. 

ROYAL  TYLER         

From  the  .'hop  of  Messrs.  Colon  &  Spondee. 

Love  and  Liberty. 

The  author  keepeth  a  country  school :  the  anticipa- 
tions, pleasures,  and  profits  of  a  pedagogue. 

Anecdotes  of  Dr.  Benjamin  Franklin,  whom  the  au-         , 
thor  visits  in  Philadelphia. 

ALEXANDER  HAMILTON 420 

The  Fate,  of  Major  Andre. 

From  the  Eulogium  on  Gen.  Greene,  before  the  So- 
ciety of  the  Cincinnati. 

BALLAD   LITERATURE,    &c,  OF    THE    INDIAN, 
FRENCH.  AND  REVOLUTIONARY  WARS  .        .    427 
Lovewell's  Fight. 

Tilden's  Poems  to  animate  and  rouse  the  Soldiers,  429. 
Braddock's  Expedition,  430. 
Ode  to  the  Inhabitants  of  Pennsylvania,  431. 
Wolfe's  "  How  stands  the  glass  around  ?" 
John  Maylem,  432. 
George  Cookings. 
Benjamin  Young  Prime,  433. 
Hearts  of  Oak,  434. 

Come,  join  hand  in  band,  brave  Americans  all,  435. 
Come,  shake  your  dull  noddles. 
The  Massachusetts  song  of  Liberty. 
Come,  cheer  up,  my  lads,  like  a  true  British  band,  436. 
Planting  the  Liberty  Pole. 
Ballad  of  the  Gaspee,  437. 
Verses  on  Tea,  438. 

Bob  Jingle's  Association  of  the  Colonies,  489. 
On  hearing  that  the  poor  man  was  tarred  and  feathered. 
On  Calvert's  Plains. 
Hark,  'tis  Freedom  that  calls,  440. 
Miles1  American  Hero. 
The  Bombardment  of  Bristol,  441. 
Bold  Hawthorne,  442. 
Free  America,  448. 
Poem  on  the  present  war. 
Parody  by  John  Tabor  Kemp,  445. 
Fall  of  British  Tyrannv,  a  Tragi-Comcdy. 
■    Song  of  St.  Tammany,  446. 

Rise,  rise,  bright  genius,  rise,  447. 

Come  all  you  brave  soldiers. 

Continuation  of  Hudibras. 

Battle  of  Trenton,  448. 

The  Fate  of  John  Burgoyne.  449. 

Progress  of  Sir  Jack  Brag,  450. 

Prologue  to  Zara,  451. 

Prescott  ballads. 

Tribute  to  Gen.  Francis  Nash,  452. 

Yankee  Doodle's  Expedition  to  Rhode  Island. 

Wyoming  Massacre,  453. 

Washington,  by  Wheeler  Case,  454. 

The  Fall  of  Burgoyne,  455. 

Our1  farce  is  now  finished. 

The  Congratulation,  45(i. 

The  Siege  of  Savannah. 

Washington  the  Hero  of  the  West,  457. 

Major  Andre's  Cow-Chase. 

Brave  Paulding  and  the  Spv,  459. 

Song  of  the  Vermonters.  1779,  460. 

The  American  Times,  461. 

American  Taxation. 

Yankee  Doodle,  468. 


WILLIAM  OHAELES  WELLS 


464 


PAGE 

ROBERT  DINSMOOR 465 

Skip's  Last  Advice. 

The  Poet's  Farewell  to  the  Muses. 

The  Sparrow. 

A  Scrap. 

FISHER  AMES 4G9 

Monstrous  Relations  in  Newspapers. 

A  Sketch  of  the  Character  ol  Alexander  Hamilton. 

NOAH  WEBSTER .474 

NOAH  WORCESTER        , <79 

JOHN  ARMSTRONG 4S0 

Passage  from  Newburgh  Letters. 

GEORGE  R.  MINOT         .  4S1 

Treatment  of  the  Acadians,  1755. 

SARAH  WENTWORTH   MORTON        ....    483 
Song  for  the  Celebration  of  the  National  Peace. 

WILLIAM  DUANE 488 

JAGOB  CAMPBELL.        .        .      • 484 

Liberty. 

MASON  L.  WEEMS 484 

Early  Anecdotes  of  Washington. 
Keimer's  attempt  at  a  new  religion,  from  "  The  Life 
of  Franklin.11 

JEDIDIAH  MORSE 492 

ALBERT  GALLATIN 492 

RICHARD  ALSOP 495 

Elegy. 

A  Newspaper  Thunder-storm. 
Governor  Hancock 's  Message  on  Stage  Plays. 
■  Jefferson's  Inaugural — Indian  Ameliorations,  1805. 

SUSANNA  ROWSON .502 

Affection. 

To  Time. 

Sonnet. 

The  Choice. 

The  I.  dependent  Farmer. 

America,  Commerce,  and  Freedom. 

TABITHA  TENNEY 504 

Passages  from  "The  Adventures  of  Dorcasina  Shel- 
dou." 

JOSEPH  BARTLETT 506 

Passages  from  '*  Physiognomy." 
Aphorisms. 

JAMES  KENT 503 

The  New  V-  rk  Convention  for  the  Adoption  of  the 
Federal  Constitution,  from  an  Address  before  the 
Law  Association. 

ABIEL  HOLMES        .        .        .  - 512 

ST.  JOHN  HONEYWOOD 513 

The    elfish  Man's  Prayer  on  the  prospect  of  war. 
The  Purse. 

JOSEPH  BROWN  LADD 515 

An  Invocation  to  the  Almighty. 
Ode  to  Retirement. 
What  is  Happiness? 

SAMUEL  LATHAM  MITCHILI 517 

Krout  Club  Address. 

Turtle  Club  Address. 

Elegy  on  a  Shell — the  Nautilus. 

Pythagoras  and  Sappho ;  or,  the  Diamond  and  the 

Rose. 
Memorable  Occurrences. 
Speech  of  Tammany. 

BROWN  UNIVERSITY    ...  ..524 

FRANCIS  WATLAND 525 

Passage  from  Missionary  Discourse, 

JOSIAS  LYNDON  ARNOLD 529 

Exegi  Monumentum.  etc     Lib.  3,  Ode  30,  Horace. 

Ode  to  Connecticut  river. 

Song. 

DARTMOUTH  COLLEGE 530 

SAMUEL  LOW 538 

The  Winter  Fireside. 

On  a  Spring  of  Water  in  Kings  County,  Long  Island. 

JOHN  S.  J.  GARDINER 534 

Passages  from  Discourses. 

WILLIAM  DUNLAP 587 

Scene  from  the  Comedy,  "The  Father  of  an  Only 

Child." 
A  Night  on  the  Hudson  River  with  Charles  Mathews, 

from  "The  History  of  the  American  Theatre." 
A  Scene  with  Cooke  and  Cooper  at  Cato'fi,£rom  "The 

Memoirs  of  a  Water  Drinker." 


CONTENTS. 


P.VGK 

ALEXANDER  WILSON 544 

Passat  from  Journals. 

The  Schoolmaster. 

At  Koine  on  the  Susquehanna. 

Bob  a:«3  Eingan.  a  tale. 

Con:iel  and  Flora,  a  soDg. 

Auchtertool. 

The  Blue  Bird,  from  "The  Ornithology." 

The  Fish  Hawk. 
JOHN  EDMUND   IIARWOOD 554 

Ode  to  Indolence. 

To  Miss  S  — y,  on  returning  the  Juvenilia  of  "Wither. 

In  a  \Y 1. 

The  Fri-..ds  to  their  opposite  Neighbors. 

JOHN  QDINCY  ADAMS 556 

Song. 

The  Wants  of  Man. 

From  the  "Life  and  Character  of  James  Madison." 

T.IADDEUS   MASON    HARMS 5G1 

The  Triumphs  of  Superstition. 
The  Littie  Orator. 

JOSEPH  DENN'IE        ■ 562 

To  the  Public. 
On  the  Pleasures  of  Study. 
On  Meditation. 
Ingratitude  of  Republics. 
On  Cleanliness. 

DAVID  EVERETT   . 508 

Li.ies  spoken  at  a  school  exhibition,  by  a  little  boy 
seven  years  old. 
SAMUEL  MILLER 569 

DE  WITT  CLINTON 570 

Provincial   Influences  on  Literature,  from  the  Dis- 
c  iurse    be  ore    the     Literary   and    Philosophical 
Society. 
Parties,  from  "The  Letters  of  llibernicus." 
Literary  Taste.  "  " 

DAVID   HOSACK 574 

FREDERICK   DALCHO 575 

AMERICVN   PHILOSOPHICAL  SOCIETY         .        .    575 
RUTGERS  COLLEGE 5S0 

JOHN  M.  MASON .    5S1 

From  the  Funeral  Oration  on  Washington. 

JOSEPH   HOPKINSON      ......    583 

History  of  the  Song  of  Hail  Columbia. 

WILLIAM   MARTIN   JOHNSON 5S5 

On  a  Snow-Flake  falling  on  a  Lady's  Breast. 

Winter. 

Spring. 

Fame. 

Epitaph  on  a  Lady. 

CUARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN         .        .        .        .586 
First  Appearance  of  Carwin,  from  "  Wieland." 
Yellow  Fever  Scenes  in    Philadelphia,  1793,   from 
"Arthur  Mervyn." 

THOMAS   GREEN   FESSENDEN 595 

The  Country  Lovers,  etc. 

HOSE  A    BALLOT! 599 

Blessings  of  Christ's  Universal  Reign. 

ELIHU  H.  SMITH 599 

Epistle  to  the  Author  of  the  Botanic  Garden. 

STEPHEN  ELLIOTT 091 

CHARLES   CALDWELL ,        .    602 

Sketch  of  the  Rev.  James  Hall,  of  North  Carolina. 

'     WILLI  VM   CLIFFTON 604 

Epistle  to  W.  Gitford,  Esq., 

To  a  Robin. 

To  Fancy. 

II  Penseroso. 

Sonsr. 

A  Flight  of  Fancy. 

WILLIAM   RAY 609 

Song. 

JOSIAH  QUINCY 009 

JOHN  L\THROP 611 

Ode  for  the  Twentieth  Anniversary  of  the  Massachu- 
setts Charitable  Fire  Society. 

ARCHIBALD  ALEXANDER 614 

Natural  Scenery  seen  by  the  youth  and  the  man. 

WILLIAM  WIRT 617 

James  Waddell,  the  Blind  Preacher,  from  "  The  Bri- 
tish Spy." 


PAQH 

Eloquence  of  the  Pulpit,  from  "  The  Old  Bachelor." 
Jefferson   at  Monticello,  from  the   "Eulogiuin   on 

Adams  and  Jefferson." 
Patrick  Henry,  from  the  "Sketches." 

JOHN  PICKERING 625 

NATHANIEL  BOWDITCH 626 

JOHN   RANDOLPH 027 

Passages  from  Speeches. 

DAVID    HITCHCOCK        ...  ...     629 

Passage  from  "  The  Shade  of  Plato." 
WILLIAM   BIGELOW 030 

Receipt  to  make  a  Magazine. 

The  Cheerful  Parson. 
P.OBERT  TREAT  PAINE,  Ja 632 

From  "The  Ruling  Paision." 

Adams  and  Liberty. 

ISAAC   STORY 634 

Sign  Board. 

Ode  to  Poverty.- 

Peter's  Adieu  to  the  City. 

LEONARD  WOODS 


WILLIAM   SULLIVAN 

Sketch  of  Hamilton,  from  the  "Familiar  Letters." 

EG      .... 


630 
037 

033 


EOBEET  GOODLOE  n.VRr 
Passages  from  Speeches. 

MATIIEW  CAREY 040 

WILLIAM  MUNFOED 042 

TheGods  Mi  .g'i  g  in  the  Battle,  from  the  twentieth 
book  of  the  Iliad.                                  .          * 
PAUL  ALLEN 043 

The  Child  of  Japhet. 

LYMAN   BEECHEE 044 

JOHN  HENRY  HOBAET 045 

American  Principles  of  Civil  Freedom. 

PHILANDER   CHASE 040 

Father  Nash. 

JOHN  J.    AUDUBON 050 

Common  Mocking-Bird. 

JOHN  BLAIR  LINN 052 

Passage  from  "  The  Powers  of  Genius." 

HENRY  CLAY 054 

From  the  Speech  on  the  Greek  Revolution,  Jan.  BO, 

1824. 
Address  to  Lafayette  on  his  Reception  by  the  House  of 

Representatives,  Dec.  10, 1S24. 
From  the  Valedictory  Address  to  the  Scuatc,  1842. 

JOHN  SHAW 

A  Sleighing  Song. 

JOnN  BEISTED        .        .        .        .        . 

WILLIAM   AUSTIN 

A  Dinner  with  Godwin,  Holeroft,  and  Wolcot,  from 
the  "  Letters  from  London." 

EDWAED  LIVINGSTON 

ZEBULON  MONTGOMEEY  PIKE 

JOEL  E.  POINSETT 

CLEMENT  C.  MOORE     . 
A  Visit  from  St.  Nicholas. 

F.  8.  KEY 

Song. 
^•-  The  Star-Spangled  Batmer. 
Hymn  for  the  Fourth  of  July. 

AMERICAN  ACADEMY  OF  ARTS 

SIMON  GREENLEAF       . 

BEVERLEY  TUCKER     . 

HENRY  COLMAN     .... 

HENEY  LEE 

SAMUEL  G.   DRAKE 


056 


057 
058 


039 
660 

601 
002 

668 


nENRY  M.    BEACKENEIDGE 

St.  Genevieve  on  the  Mississippi  at  the  close  of  the 
last  century. 

Notices  of  the  author's  father,  Judge  II.  11.  Bracken- 
ridge. 

Adams  and  Jefferson. 

FRANCIS  GLASS 

PINKNEY'S  TRAVELS  IN  FRANCE  .... 
Passport  Scene  at  Calais  in  the  days  of  the  Empire. 
Fete  Champetre  in  a  village  on  a  hill  at  MontruuiL 


001 
004 
005 
066 
066 
667 
60S 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Seal  of  Harvard  College       . 
Portrait  of  Thomas  Hoffis    . 

Harvard  Hall,  1682 
Gore  Hall       .... 
Autograph  of  Nathaniel  "Ward 
John  Cotton  . 
Thomas  Hooker 
Residence  of  Thomas  Hooker,  at 

Hartford  .... 
Autograph  of  John  Winthmp 
*   "William  Bradford 
Roger  Williams 
John  Eliot 
Daniel  Gookin 
Thomas  Shepard 
Roger  Clap     . 
Nathaniel  Morton 
A.  Bradstreet 
"William  Hubbard 
Michael     Wiggles 
worth . 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Cotton 

Mather    .... 
Autograph  of  John  Williams 
Portrait  of  James  Logan 
Autograph  of  Roger  Wolcott 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Cad 

wallader  Golden 
Autograph  of  Thomas  Prince 
William  and  Mary  College    . 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  James 

Blair         .... 
Portrait  of  Elihu  Yale  . 
Yale  College  .        .        .    *    . 
Yale  Library  .... 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Jona- 
than Edwards" 
Birthplace  of  Franklin. 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Benja 

min  Frankliu  . 
Portrait,  and  Autograph  of  Mather 

Byles       .... 
Autograph  of  Joseph  Green 
J.  Callender   . 
Thos.  Hutchinson 
Rev.  John  Adams 
John  Winthrop 
Benjamin  Church 
David  Brainerd 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Jona- 
than Mayhew  , 
Autograph  of  John  Woolman 
S.  Hopkins     . 
Samson  Occam 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Wil 

Ham  Livingston 
Liberty  Hall  .... 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  James 

Otis 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Ezra 

Stiles 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Mercy 

Warren 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  George 

Berkeley. 
Whitehall,  Berkeley's  residence 
The  Philadelphia  Library     . 
Autograph  of  George  Washington 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  John 
Dickinson        .... 
Pcrtrait  and  Autograph  of  John 

Adams 

Autograph  of  Hugh  Williamson  . 


PAGE  PAGE 

9      Autograph  of  Samuel  Peters       .  191 

10  Thomas  Godfrey   .  195 

11  Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Tho- 

15            mas  Paine        ....  197 
18     Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Ethan 

21             Allen 206 

24  Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Fran- 
cis Hopkinson  .  .  ■  209 
24  Autograph  of  Henry  Cruger  .  221 
26  William  Bartram  .  224 
30  John  Bartram  .  224 
32  Bartram's  House  ....  225 
39  The  Old  South  Church  ...  230 
42  Autograph  of  S.  G.  Tucker  .  .  236 
42                             Theodore  Bland     .  236 

44  Richard  Bland       .  23T 

45  Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Tho- 

47            mas  Jefferson .        .        .      * .  239 

56  Autograph  of  Josiah  Quincy,  Jr. .  251 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Jere- 

57  my  Belknap  ....  255 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Lind- 

59            ley  Murray      .   ■    .        .        .  260 

70     Autograph  of  John  Jay        .        .  263 
77     Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Benja- 

T9            min  Rush        ...        .        .  265 

Nassau  Hall,  Princeton         .        .  273 

80  Portrait  and  Autograph  of  John 

81  Witherspooo  277 

82  The  Redwood  Library  ...  286 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  II.  II. 

84            Brackenridge  ....  291 

86     Autograph  of  William  White       .  8o2 

90  Antiquarian  Society  Hall,  Wor- 

91  cester 303 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  David 

92  ;         Ramsay 304 

104     Birthplace  of  Trumbull        .        .  3^9 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  John 

107   |         Trumbull  310 

I  Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Lemu- 
117            el  Hopkins      .  319 
120     Autograph  of  James  Madison      .  823 
123   I                          William  Linn         .  826 
130  |                         Philip  Freneau      .  82S 
133  j  Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Gou- 
135   I         verneur  Morris        .        .        .  848 
138    !  Autograph  of  Alex.  Graydon        .  853 
140     Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Timo- 
thy Dwight     ....  857 

145  D  wight's  House  in  New  Haven, 

146  from  an  original  drawing  359 

150  Portrait  of  Ann  Eliza  Bleeeker    .  SGG 

151  Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Phillis 

Wheatley        ....  367 

151  Autograph  of  Benjamin  Thomp- 

152  son  .  ...  372 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  David 

156             Humphreys    ....  374 

ITuinphievsviile,  Ct.      .        .  876 

159  Portrait  of  Samuel  Johnson  .  379 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Myles 

163            Cooper 880 

Columbia  College  ....  886 

165  Portrait  of  WiMam  Smith  .        .  388 

166  The  University  of  Pennsylvania  .  890 

178  Portrait   and   Autograph   of  Joel 

179  Barlow 392 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  J.  Mar- 

181             shall 404 

-  Autograph  of  A.  Bancroft    .        .  407 
1S5     Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Han- 

189   j         nah  Adams      .                .  409 


Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Ales. 

Hamilton  ...  422 

Autograph  of  Robert  Dinsmoor  .  465 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Fisher 

Ames 469 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Noah 

Webster 474 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Noah 

Worcester       .        .  .  479 

Autograph  of  Geo.  R.  Minot        .  431 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Mason 

L.  Weems        ....  485 

Pohick  Church,  Va.       .        .        .  4S7 

Autograph  of  .Jediuiab  Morse      .  492 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Albert 

Gallatin 494 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  R.  Al- 

sop  ...  .        .  495 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  James 

Kent  .        ...  509 

Autograph  of  St.John  Honey  wood  514  . 
Portrait  and  Autogiaph  of  Samuel 

L.  MitcMll  .  .  *.  .  517 
Portrait  of  Nicholas  Brown  .  .  525 
Brown  University.  .  .  .  528 
Portrait  of  Eleazer  Wrheelock  .  531 
Dartmouth  College  ...  532 
Autograph  of  Samuel  Low  .  .  533 
Portiait  and  Autograph  of  Wil- 
liam Dunlap  .  ...  537 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Alex- 
ander Wilson  ....  546 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  J.  Q. 

Adams     .....  558 
Autograph  of  T.  WE.  Harris  .        .  561 
Samuel  Miller        .  569 
D.  Hosack      .       .  574 
Frederick  Delcho  .  575 
Portrait  of  David  Rittenhou^e    .  576 
Autograph  of  John  M.  Mason       .  5S1 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  I.  Hop- 
kinson        5S4 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  C.  B. 

Brown 5S8 

Autograph  of  T.  G.  Fcssenden    .  595 
Portrait  of  Elihu  If.  Smith  .        .  600 
Autogiaph  of  Stephen  Elliott      .  602 
Portrait  of  William  Cliffton         .  605 
Autograph  of  Josiah  Quincy        .  610 
Portrait  and  Autogiaph  of  Archi- 
bald Alexander       .        .        .  615 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Wil- 
liam Wirt        .        .        .        .  618 
Autogiaph  of  Ji  hn  Pickering  625 
Nathl  Bowdilch    .  626 
John  Randolph      .  628 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Robert 

TicatFaine,  Jr.      ...  682 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Wil- 
liam Sullivan           .        .        .  687 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  Ma- 

thew  Carey     ....  641 

Autograph  of  P.  Allen .  .  643 

Philander  Chase    .  646 
Portrait  and  Autograph  of  John 

J.  Audubon     ....  650 

Autograph  of  H.  Clay  .        .  654 

F.  S.  Key       .  663 

B.  Tucker      .        .  665 

Henry  Col  man       .  666 

S.  G.  Drake  .  668 

Portrait  and  Autograph  of  n.  M. 

Brackenridge .        -        .        .  668 


CYCLOPAEDIA 


OF 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE 


GEOKGE  SANDYS. 
The  first  English  literary  production  penned  in 
America,  at  least  which  has  any  rank  or  name 
in  the  general  history  of  literature,  is  the  transla- 
tion of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  by  George  Sandys, 
printed  in  folio  in  London  in  1626.  The  writer 
was  the  distinguished  traveller,  whose  book  on 
the  countries  of  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Holy 
Land,  is  still  perused  with  interest  by  curious 
readers.  It  was  some  time  after  his  return  from 
the  East,  that  he  was  employed  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  Colony  in  Virginia,  where  he  held 
the  post  of  treasurer  of  the  company.  There,  on 
the  banks  of  James  river,  he  translated  Ovid, 
under  circumstances  of  which  he  has  left  a  me- 
morial in  his  dedication  of  the  work  to  King 
Charles  I.,  as  he  informs  that  monarch  his  poem 
was  "  limned  by  that  imperfect  light,  which  was 
snatched  from  the  hours  of  night  and  repose. 
For  the  day  was  not  his  own,  but  dedicated  to 
the  service  of  his  father  and  himself;  and  had 
that  service  proved  as  fortunate,  as  it  was  faith- 
ful in  him,  as  well  as  others  more  worthy,  they 
had  hoped,  before  the  revolution  of  many  years, 
to  have  presented  his  majesty  with  a  rich  and 
well  peopled  kingdom.  But,  as  things  had  turned, 
he  had  only  been  able  to  bring  from  thence  him- 
self and  that  composition,  which  needed  more 
than  a  single  denization.  For  it  was  doubly  a 
stranger,  being  sprung  from  an  ancient  Roman 
stock,  and  bred  up  in  the  N"ew  World,  of  the 
rudeness  whereof  it  could  not  but  participate ; 
especially  as  it  was  produced  among  wars  and 
tumults ;  instead  of  under  the  kindly  and  peaceful 
influences  of  the  muses."* 

Sandy3  was  a  gentleman  of  a  good  stock,  his 
father  being  the  Archbishop  of  York,  and  the 
friend  of  Hooker,  by  whom  his  brother  Edwin 
was    educated.    His   piety   is   expressed  in  his 


*  Stith,  Hist,  of  Va.,  Bk.  v.    He  has  slightly  adapted  the 
language  of  Sandys's  preface  to  Ovid. 
VOL.   I. — 1 


"Review  of  God's  Mercies  to  him  in  his  travels," 
an  eloquent  poem  which  he  wrote  in  welcoming 
his  beloved  England,  and  in  which  he  does  not 
forget  the  perils  of  the  American  wilderness  in 

That  new-found-out-world,  where  sober  night 
Takes  from  the  Antipodes  her  silent  flight, 

and  where  he  had  been  preserved 

From  the  bloody  massacres 
Of  faithless  Indians ;  from  their  treacherous  wars. 

As  a  poet  he  has  gained  the  respect  of  Bryden, 
who  pronounced  him  the  best  versifier  of  his  age, 
and  of  Pope,  who  commended  his  verses,  in  his 
notes  to  the  Iliad.*  We  may  quote  a  few  lines 
of  his  Ovid,  as  a  pleasing  memorial  of  this  classic 
theme  pursued  amidst  the  perils  and  trials  of  the 
early  colonial  settlement.  We  may  fancy  him 
looking  round  him,  as  he  wrote,  upon  the  rough 
materials  of  the  Golden  Age  of  Virginia,  testing 
Ovid's  poetical  dreams  by  the  realities. 

METAMORPHOSIS,  BOOK  I. 

The  Golden  Age  was  first;  which  uneompeld, 
And  without  rule,  in  faith  and  truth  exceld, 
As  then,  there  was  nor  punishment  nor  fear ; 
Nor  threatning  laws  in  brass  prescribed  were  ; 
Nor  suppliant  crouching  prisoners  shook  to  see 
Their  angrie  judge.     *     *     *     * 

In  firm  content 
And  harmless  ease,  their  happy  days  were  spent. 
The  yet-free  Earth  did  of  her  own  accord 
(Untorn  with  ploughs)  all  sorts  of  fruit  afford. 
Content  with  nature's  unenforced  food, 
They  gather  wildings,  straw'bries  of  the  wood, 
Sour  cornels,  what  upon  the  bramble  grows, 
And  acorns  which  Jove's  spreading  oak  bestows. 
'Twas  always  Spring ;  warm  Zephyrus  sweetly 

blew 
On  smiling  flowers,  which  without  setting  grew. 

*  Holmes,  Am.  Annals,  i.  184.  Egertnn  Brydges,  Censora 
Literaria,  vi.  135.  Bancroft,  History  United  States,  i.  284. 
There  is  a  copy  of  the  Ovid  ex  dono  T?iomai  BoUlt  m  the  Har- 
vard Library. 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Forthwith  the  earth,  corn  unmanured  bears ; 
And  every  year  renews  her  golden  ears : 
With  milk  and  nectar  were  the  rivers  fill'd  ; 
And  yellow  honey  from  green  elms  distilled 

■WILLIAM  VAUGHAN. 

At  about  the  same  time  with  Sand3's  in  Virginia, 
William  Vaughan,  a  poet  and  physician  from 
Wales,  took  up  his  residence  on  a  district  of  land 
which  he  had  purchased  in  Newfoundland.  Here 
he  established  a  plantation,  which  he  called  Cam- 
briol,  and  to  invite  settlers  from  England,  senthorne 
and  published  his  Gobien  Fleece^*  a  quaint  tract 
in  prose  and  verse,  intended  through  the  medium 
of  satire  and  fancy  to  set  forth  the  discourage- 
ments of  England  and  the  encouragements  of 
America.  In  his  dedication  of  the  work  to  King 
Charles,  the  author,  who  wrote  also  several  other 
poems  in  Latin  and  English,  calls  himself  Or- 
pheus Jr.  "  Were  it  not,"  says  Oldmixon,  "  a 
trouble  one  might  remark,  that  neither  the  vicar's 
lion,  nor  the  pilot's  mermaid,  is  more  a  prodigy, 
than  an  Orpheus  in  Newfoundland,  though  there 
was  one  actually  there,  if  the  poet  Vaughan  was 
so.'"t 

The  Golden  Fleece,  which  is  now  a  very  rare 
book,  is  a  curious  composition  of  the  puritan  way 
of  thinking  engrafted  on  the  old  classic  machinery 
of  Apollo  and  bis  court.  It  has  sense,  shrewdness, 
some  poetry,  and  mucb  downright  railing, — the 
last  in  a  school,  the  satirical  objurgatory,  which 
was  brought  to  perfection,  or  carried  to  excess,  in 
Ward's  Simple  Cobler  of  Agawam.  Vaughan 
vents  his  humors  in  a  depreciaticn  of  the  times,  in 
a  kind  of  parody  of  the  Litany,  which  he  puts 
into  the  mouth  of  Florio,  the  Italian  novelist,  then 
in  vogue. 

From  blaspheming  of  God's  name, 
From  recanting  words  with  shame, 
From  damnation  eternal, 
From  a  rich  soul  internal, 
From  a  sinner  will  not  mend, 
From  a  friend,  that  will  not  lend, 
From  all  modern  abuses, 
From  much  things  to  no  uses, 
From  Ignatian's  cursed  swords, 
From  an  Alchymist's  fair  words, 
From  those  Friars  which  cloaks  use, 
As  from  such  that  haunt  the  stews, 
From  such  sius  as  do  delight  us, 
As  from  dreams  which  do  affright  us, 
From  parasites  that  stroke  us, 
From  morsels  that  will  choke  us, 
From  false  sycophants,  that  soothe  us, 
As  from  those  in  sin  do  smooth  us, 
From  all  profane  discourses, 
From  all  ungodly  courses 

Sweet  angel  free 

deliver  me. 

Some  of  Vaughan's  descriptions,  as  in  his  ac- 
count of  the  fairer  sex,  smack  strongly  of  old 
Burton,  whose  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  was  then 
in  its  first  popularity.     In  the  third  part  of  the 


*  The  Golden  Fleece,  divided  Into  three  parts,  under  which 
are  discovered  the  errors  of  religion,  the  vices  and  decay  of  the 
kingdom,  and,  lastly,  the  way  to  get  wealth  and  to  restore  trad- 
ing, so  much  complained  of.  Transported  from  Cambrioll  Col- 
chos,  ont  of  the  southernmost  part  of  the  Island,  commonly 
called  the  Newfoundland,  bv  Orpheus  .Tnnior.  for  the  general 
and  perpetual  good  of  Great  Britain.    1626.    Small  4to. 

t  Oldiaixon.    Brit  Emp.  in  Am.  i.  8. 


Golden  Fleece  there  is  a  commendation  of  New- 
foundland and  its  bounteous  fishery,  with  many 
allusions  to  historical  incidents  of  the  period. 

Vaughan's  Church  Militant  published  many 
years  subsequently,  in  1640,  is  one  of  those  long 
labored  historical  deductions  in  crabbed  verse, 
which  Puritan  writers  loved  heavily  to  trudge 
through.  When  the  weary  journey  is  accom- 
plished, the  muse,  as  if  exulting  at  the  termina- 
tion, rises  to  a  somewhat  clearer  note,  in  good 
strong  Saxon,  in  view  of  the  English  reformation. 

The  spouse  of  Christ  shone  in  her  prime, 

When  she  liv'd  near  th'  Apostles'  time, 

But  afterwards  eclips'd  of  light, 

She  lay  obscure  from  most  men's  sight ; 

For  while  her  watch  hugg'd  carnal  ease, 

And  loath'd  the  cross,  she  felt  disease. 

Because  they  did  God's  rays  contemn, 

And  maumets*  served,  Grace  fled  from  them. 

Then  stars  fell  down,  fiends  blackt  the  air, 

And  mongrels  held  the  Church's  chair, 

But  now  dispelling  error's  night, 

By  Christ  his  might,  our  new-man's  light, 

She  may  compare  for  faith  alike 

With  famous  Rome's  first  Catholic, 

And  paragons  for  virtue  bright 

The  royal  scribe's  sweet  Sulamite, 

Who  train'd  to  zeal,  yet  without  traps, 

Her  poor  young  sister  wanting  paps; 

Without  traditions  she  train'd  her, 

Or  quillets,  which  make  souls  to  err. 

So  feeds  our  Church  her  tender  brood 

With  milk,  the  strong  with  stronger  foo'. 

She  doth  contend  in  grace  to  thrive, 

Reproved  like  the  primitive. 

She  hates  the  dark,  yet  walks  the  round, 

And  joys  to  hear  the  Gospel's  sound. 

She  hates  their  mind  in  judgment  blind, 

Who  swell  with  merits  out  of  kind. 

In  Christ  alone  lies  all  her  hope, 

Not  craving  help  of  saint  or  Pope. 

Poor  saints,  to  show  her  faith  by  deeds, 

She  fills  their  souls,  their  bodies  feeds. 

She  grants  no  weapons  for  offence, 

Save  vows  and  fasting  for  defence ; 

And  yet  she  strikes.     But  with  what  sword  ? 

The  spirit's  sword,  God's  lightning  word. 

Indiff 'rent  toys  and  childish  slips 

She  slights,  but  checks  gross  sins  with  stripes. 

Yet  soon  the  strays  her  favor  win, 

When  they  repent  them  of  the  sin, 

So  mild  is  she,  still  loathing  ill, 

And  yet  most  loathe  the  soul  to  kilL 

Such  is  the  Lady,  whom  I  serve  ; 
Her  goodness  such,  whom  I  observe, 
And  for  whose  love  I  beg'd  these  lays 
Borne  from  the  spheres  with  flaming  ray3. 

WILLIAM  MOEELL. 

William  Mop.ell,  an  English  clergyman  of  the 
Established  Church,  came  to  America  in  1623, 
with  the  company  sent  out  by  the  Plymouth  coun- 
cil, under  the  command  of  Captain  Robert,  son 
of  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges.  Morell  bore  a  com- 
mission from  the  Ecclesiastical  Court  in  England 
to  exercise  a  superintendence  over  the  churches 
which  were  or  might  be  established  in  the  colony. 
The  attempt  by  this  company  to  form  a  settle- 


*  Idols ;  the  word  is  used  for  puppets  by  Shakespeare.    I 
Henry  IV.,  Act  2,  Scene  8. 


WILLIAM  HORELL;  WILLIAM  WOOD. 


3 


ment  at  Wessagussett,  now  Weymouth,  in  Massa- 
chusetts, was  unsuccessful.  After  Gorges's  re- 
turn, Morell  remained  a  year  at  Plymouth  and 
then  returned  to  England,  where  he  soon  after 
published  in  Latin  hexameters  and  English  hero- 
ics, the  latter  a  little  rough,  his  poem  Nova 
Anglia,  which  he  addressed  to  King  Charles  I. 
It  is  mainly  taken  up  with  the  animal  inhabitants 
of  the  land  and  their  conquerors,  the  native  In- 
dians. The  opening  address  to  New  England  is 
really  grand.  We  have  marked  one  line  by  italics, 
for  its  stirring  tone,  in  the  English  portion,  which 
is  something  more  than  a  mere  literal  version  of 
his  Latin.     We  give  both. 

NOVA  ANGLIA. 

Hacteim9  ignotara  populi3  ego  carmine  primus, 
Te  Nova,  de  veteri  cui  eontigit  Anglia  nomen, 
Aggredior  trepidus  pingui  celebrare  Minerva. 
Per  milii  numen  opem,  eupienti  singula  plectro 
Pondere  veridieo,  quse  nuper  vidimus  ipsi : 
Ut  breviter  vereque  sonent  modulamina  nostra, 
Tetnperiem  ceeli,  vim  terrce,  munera  ponti, 
Et  varios  gentis  mores,  velamina,  eultus. 
Anglia  felici  nierito  Nova  nomine  gaudens, 
Saevos  nativi  mores  pertresa  Coloni, 
Imligiii  penitiis  populi  tellure  feraci, 
Mcesta  superfusis  attollit  fletibus  ora, 
Antiquos  precibus  flectens  ardentibus  Anglos, 
Numiuis  seterni  felicem  lumine  gentem 
Efiieere :  seternis  qua?  nunc  peritura  tenebris. 
Gratum  opus  hoc  lmlis,  diguumque  piis  opus  Anglis, 
Angelica?  quibus  est  natune  nomen  in  umbra 
Ccelica  ut  extremis  dispergant  semina  terris. 

NEW  ENGLAND. 

Fear  not,  poor  Muse,  'cause  first  to  sing  her  fame 
That's  yet  scarce  known,  unless  by  map  or  name ; 
A  grandchild  to  earth's  paradise  is  born, 
Well  litnb'd,  well  nerv'd,  fair,  rich,  sweet,  yet  for- 
lorn. 
Thou  blest  director,  so  direct  my  verse 
That  it  may  win  her  people,  friends  commerce. 
Whilst  her  sweet  air,  rich  soil,  blest  seas,  my  pen 
Shall  blaze  and  tell  the  natures  of  her  men. 
New  England,  happy  in  her  new,  true  style, 
Weary  of  her  cause  she's  to  sad  exile 
Exposed  by  her's  unworthy  of  her  land ; 
Entreats  with  tears  Great  Britain  to  command 
Her  empire,  and  to  make  her  know  the  time, 
Whose  act  and  knowledge  only  makes  divine. 
A  royal  work  well  worthy  England's  king, 
These  natives  to  true  truth  and  grace  to  bring ; 
A  noble  work  for  all  these  noble  peers, 
Which  guide  this  state  in  their  superior  spheres. 
Tou  holy  Aarons,  let  your  censers  ne'er 
Cease  burning  till  these  men  Jehovah  fear. 

This  curious  poem  is  conducted  with  consider- 
able spirit.  There  is  this  allusion  to  the  Indian 
song: 

Litera  cuncta  licet  latet  hos,  modulamina  quondam 
Fistula  disparibus  calamis  facit,  est  et  agrestis 
Musica  vocis  iis,  minime  jucunda,  sonoris 
Obtusisque  sonis  oblectans  pectora,  sensus, 
Atque  suas  aures,  artis  6ublimis  inanes. 

And  though  these  men  no  letters  know,  yet  their 
Pan's  harsher  numbers  we  may  somewhere  hear ; 
And  vocal  odes  which  us  affect  with  grief, 
Though  to  their  minds  perchance  they  give  relief.* 


*  The  whole  poem  is  reprinted   In   the   Mass.   Hist    Soc. 
Collections,  First  Series,  i.  125-39. 


•» 


WILLIAM  WOOD. 
CnEEEFDL  William  Wood  was  at  that  period  a 
sojourner  in  the  same  colony.  Returning  home 
in  1633,  he  published  in  London,  in  1634,  the 
first  printed  account  of  Massachusetts  in  New 
England's  Prospect  being,  as  its  title  page  well 
describes  it,  "a  true,  lively,  and  experimental  de- 
scription."* "I  have  laid  down,"  says  he,  "the 
nature  of  the  country,  without  any  partial  respect 
unto  it  as  being  my  dwelling-place,  where  I  have 
lived  these  four  years,  and  intend,  God  willing,  to 
return  shortly  again." 

This  tract  is  divided  into  two  parts,  the  one 
treating  of  the  situation  and  circumstances  of  the 
colonists ;  the  other,  of  the  manners  and  customs 
of  the  native  Indians.  In  the  former,  in  which, 
the  writer  notices  the  towns  bordering  the  site  of 
Boston,  venturing  in  one  or  two  instances  as  far 
as  Agawam  and  Merrimack,  there  are  some 
curious  poetical  or  rhyming  natural  history  de- 
scriptions interspersed,  as  of  the  trees,  which 
reminds  us,  in  a  degree,  of  the  famous  passage  in 
Spenser,  by  whose  inspiration  it  was  probably 
excited : — 

Trees  both  in  hills  and  plains,  in  plenty  be, 

The  long-liv'd  oak,  and  mournful  cypris  tree, 

Sky-tow'ring  pines,  and  chesnuts  coated  rough. 

The  lasting  cedar,  with  the  walnut  tough : 

The  rosin-dropping  fir  for  mast9  in  use, 

The  boatmen   seek   for   oares  light,   neat,  growne 

sprewse, 
The  brittle  ash,  the  ever-trembling  aspes, 
The    broad-spread   elm,   whose   concave   harbours 

wasps, 
The  water-spungie  alder  good  for  nought, 
Small  elderue  by  th'  Indian  fletchersf  sought, 
The  knottie  maples,  pallid  birch,  hawthornes, 
The  home-bound  tree  that  to  be  cloven  scornes; 
Which  from  the  tender  vine  oft  takes  his  spouBe, 
Who  twines  embracing  arms  about  his  boughs. 
Within  this  Indian  orchard  fruits  be  some, 
The  ruddie  cherrie,  and  the  jetty  plume, 
Snake-murthering  hazell,  with  sweet  saxaphrage, 
Whose  spumes  in  beere  allays  hot  fever's  rage. 
The  dyer's  shumach,  with  more  trees  there  be, 
That  are  both  good  to  use  and  rare  to  see. 

His  versifying  talent  is  also  excited  by  the  in- 
habitants of  these  woods : — 

The  kingly  lion,  and  the  strong-arm'd  bear, 
The  large  limb'd  mooses,  with  the  tripping  deer ; 
Quill-darting  porcupines,  and  raccoons  be 
Castel'd  in  the  hollow  of  an  aged  tree. 

There  is  fancj'  in  the  last  picture,  as  there  is 
in  his  "sea-shouldering  whale,"  in  the  chapter 
"of  fish" — but  that  belongs  to  Spenser.  The 
whole  passage  is  curious,  and  is  worth  quoting 
for  its  American  flavor.  The  epithets  are  felici- 
tous.    He  had  evidently  studied  the  subject. 

The  king  of  waters,  the  sea-shouldering  whale, 
The  snuffing  grampus,  with  the  oily  seal; 


*  New  England's  Prospect:  a  troe,  lively,  and  experimental 
description  of  that  part  of  America  commonly  called  New 
England — discovering  the  state  of  that  country,  both  as  it 
stands  to  our  new  come  English  planters,  and  to  the  old 
native  inhabitants — laying  down  that  which  may  both  enrich 
the  knowledge  of  the  mind-travelling  reader,  or  benefit  the 
future  voyager.     By  William  Wood.     London:  1635. 

t  Makers  of  bows  and  arrows. — Johnson. 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  storm-presaging  porpus,  herring-hog, 
Live  speariug-shark,  the  catfish,  and  sea-dog; 
The  scale-feue'd  sturgeon,  wry-mouthed  halibut, 
The  flouncing  salmon,  codfish,  greedigut; 
Cole,  haddick,  hake,  the  thornback,  and  the  scate, 
Whose  slimy  outside  makes  him  seld'  in  date; 
The  stately  bass,  old  Neptune's  fleeting  post, 
That  tides  it  out  and  in  from  sea  to  coast ; 
Consorting  herrings,  and  the  bony  shad, 
Big-bellied  alewives,  mackrels  richly  clad 
"With  rainbow  colour,  the  frostfish  and  the  Bmelt 
As  good  as  ever  Lady  Gustus  felt ; 
The  spotted  lamprons,  eels,  the  lamperies, 
That  seek  fresh  water  brooks  with  Argus  eyes; 
Those  watery  villagers,  with  thousands  more, 
Do  pass  and  repass  near  the  verdant  shore. 


KINDS   OP  SHELLFISH. 


The  luscious  lobster,  with  the  crabfish  raw, 

The  brinish  oyster,  muscel,  periwig, 
And  tortoise  sought  by  the  Indian's  squaw, 

Which  to  the  flats  dance  many  a  winter's  jig, 
To  dive  for  cockles,  and  to  dig  for  clams, 
Whereby  her  lazy  husband's  guts  she  crams. 

His  prose  shows  us  little  of  the  poetical  and 
humorous  traits  common  to  many  of  these  early 
narratives.  There  is  a  short  chapter  touching 
the  Indians,  which  would  do  honor  to  the  appe- 
tizing courtesies  of  John  Buncle. 

of  their  diet,  cookep.y,  meal  times,  and  hospitality  at 
ilifal:  kettles. 

Having  done  with  the  most  needful  clothings  and 
ornamental  deckings ;  may  it  please  you  to  feast  your 
eyes  with  their  best  belly-timbers ;  which  I  suppose 
would  be  but  stibium  to  weak  stomachs,  as  they 
cook  it,  tho'  never  so  good  of  itself.  In  winter  time 
they  have  all  manner  of  fowls  of  the  water  and  of 
the  land,  and  beasts  of  the  land  and  water,  pond 
fish,  with  catharres  and  other  roots,  Indian  beans 
and  clams.  In  the  summer  they  have  all  maimer  of 
sea  fish,  with  all  sorts  of  berries.  For  the  ordering 
of  their  victuals,  they  boil  or  roast  them,  having 
large  kettles  which  they  traded  for  with  the  French 
long  since,  and  do  still  buy  of  the  English  as  their 
need  requires,  before  they  had  substantial  earthen 
pots  of  their  own  making.  Their  spits  are  no  other 
than  cloven  sticks  snarped  at  one  end  to  thrust  into 
the  ground  :  into  these  cloven  sticks  they  thrust  the 
flesh  or  fish  they  would  have  roasted,  behemming  a 
round  fire  with  a  dozen  of  spits  at  a  time,  turning 
them  as  they  see  occasion.  Some  of  their  scullery 
having  dressed  these  homely  cates,  present  it  to 
their  guests,  dishing  it  up  in  a  rude  manner,  placing 
it  on  the  verdant  carpet  of  the  earth  which  Nature 
spreads  them,  without  either  trenchers,  napkins,  or 
knives ;  upon  which  their  hunger  sauced  stomachs, 
impatient  of  delays  fall  aboard,  without  scrupling 
at  unwashed  hands,  without  bread,  salt,  or  beer; 
lolling  on  the  Turkish  fashion,  not  ceasing  till  their 
full  bellies  leave  nothing  but  empty  platters.  They 
seldom  or  never  make  bread  of  their  Indian  corn,  but 
seeth  it  whole  like  beans,  eating  three  or  four  corns 
with  a  mouthful  of  fish  or  flesh,  sometimes  eating 
meat  first,  and  corns  after,  filling  up  the  chinks  with 
their  broth.  In  summer,  when  their  corn  is  spent, 
isquoterquashes  is  their  best  bread,  a  fruit  much  like 
a  pumpion.  To  say,  and  to  speak  paradoxically, 
they  be  great  eaters,  and  little  meat  men.  When 
they  visit  our  English,  being  invited  to  eat,  they  are 
very  moderate,  whether  it  be  to  show  their  manners, 
or  for  shame  fae'dness,  I  know  not,  but  at  home  they 
eat  till  their  bellies  stand  south,  ready  to  split  with 
fulness  ;  it  being  their  fashion  to  eat  all  at  sometimes, 


and  sometimes  nothing  at  all  in  two  or  three  days, 
wise  providence  being  a  stranger  to  their  wilder 
ways:  They  be  right  infidels;  neither  caring  for 
the  morrow,  or  providing  for  their  own  families ; 
but  as  all  are  fellows  at  football,  so  they  all  meet 
friends  at  the  kettle,  saving  their  wives,  that  dance 
a  spaniel-like  attendance  at  their  backs  for  their  bony 
fragments.  If  their  imperious  occasions  cause  them 
to  travel,  the  best  of  their  victuals  for  their  journey 
is  Nocake  (as  they  call  it),  which  is  nothing  but 
Indian  corn  parched  in  the  hot  ashes;  the  ashes 
being  sifted  from  it,  it  is  afterwards  beat  to  powder, 
and  put  into  a  long  leathern  bag,  trussed  at  their 
backs  like  a  knapsack,  out  of  which  they  take  thrice 
three  spoonfuls  a  day  dividing  it  into  three  meals. 
If  it  be  in  winter,  and  snow  be  on  the  ground,  they 
can  eat  when  they  please,  stopping  snow  after  their 
dusty  victuals,  which  otherwise  would  feed  them 
little  better  than  a  Tyburn  halter.  In  summer  they 
must  stay  till  they  meet  with  a  spring  or  a  brook, 
where  they  may  have  water  to  prevent  the  imminent 
danger  of  choking.  With  this  strange  viaticum  they 
will  travel  four  or  five  days  together,  with  loads 
fitter  for  elephants  than  men.  But  though  they  can 
fare  so  hardly  abroad,  their  chaps  must  walk  night 
and  day,  as  long  as  they  have  it.  They  keep  no  set 
meals,  their  store  being  spent,  they  champ  on  the 
bit,  till  they  meet  with  fresh  supplies,  either  from 
their  own  endeavors,  or  their  wives'  industry,  who 
trudge  to  the  clam-banks  when  all  other  means  fail. 
Though  they  be  sometimes  scanted,  yet  are  they  as 
free  as  emperors,  both  to  their  countrymen  and 
English,  be  he  stranger  or  near  acquaintance;  count- 
ing it  a  great  discourtesy  not  to  eat  of  their  high- 
conceited  delicacies,  and  sup  of  their  un-oatmeal'd 
broth,  made  thick  with  fishes,  fowls,  and  beasts, 
boiled  all  together ;  some  remaining  raw,  the  rest 
converted,  by  overmuch  seething,  to  a  loathed  mash, 
not  half  so  good  as  Irish  bonuiclapper. 

GOOD  NEWS  FROM  NEW  ENGLAND. 
A  curious  tract,  apparently  written  by  a  resident  in 
the  colony,  was  printed  in  London,  in  1648,  bear- 
ing the  title,  Good  News  from  New  England*  It 
is  more  than  half  in  verse,  and  is  a  quaint  picture 
of  the  age.  The  sketch  of  the  clergy  is  charac- 
teristic.    AVe  quote  a  few  paragraphs. 

Oh !  wee'l  away,  now  say  the  poore,  our  Benefactor's 

going, 
That  fild  our  children's  mouths  with  bread,  look  I 

yonder  are  they  rowing. 
O  woe  is  me,  another  cries,  my  Minister,  it's  he, 
As  sure  as  may  be,  yonder  he  from  Pursevant  doth 

flee. 
With  trickling  tears,  scarce  uttering  speech,  another 

sobbing  says, 
If  our  poor  preacher  shipped  be,  he'll  ne'er  live  half 

the  way. 

THE  NEW  ENGLAND  FEEACHEES. 

One  unto  reading  Scriptures  men  persuades, 
One  labour  bids  for  food  that  never  fades. 
One  to  redeem  their  time  exborteth  all, 
One  looking  round  for  wary  walking  calls. 
One  he  persuades  men  buy  the  truth,  not  sell, 
One  would  men  should  in  moderateness  excell. 

*  Good  News  from  New  England  :  with  an  Exact  Relation 
of  the  First  Planting  of  that  Country ;  a  Description  of  the 
Profits  accruing  by  the  Work  ;  together  with  a  brief,  but  true 
Discovery  of  their  Order  both  in  Church  and  Commonwealth, 
and  Maintenance  allowed  the  painful  Labourers  in  that  Vine- 
yard of  the  Lord ;  with  the  Names  of  the  several  Towns,  and 
who  be  Preachers  to  them.  London :  printed  by  Matthew 
Simmons,  164S;  reprinted  in  Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  Fourth 
Series,  i.  195. 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH. 


One  for  renewed  repentance  daily  strives, 
One's  for  a  conscience  clear  in  all  men's  lives. 
One  he  exhorts  all  men  God's  word  to  hear, 
One  doth  beseech  to  lend  obedient  ear. 
One  he  desires  evil's  appearance  shun, 
One  with  diligence  would  all  should  be  done. 
One  shows  their  woe  that  will  not  God  believe, 
One  doth  beseech  God's  spirit  they'll  not  grieve. 
One  wishes  none  to  deep  despair  do  run, 
One  bids  beware  none  to  presumption  come. 
One  wills  that  all  at  murmuring  take  heed, 
One  shews  that  strife  and  envy  should  not  breed. 
One  shews  the  hatred  God  to  pride  doth  bear, 
One  covetousness  cries  down  with  hellish  fear. 
One  to  lukewarmness  wishes  none  do  grow, 
One  none  for  fear  forsake  the  truth  they  know. 

CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH. 
The  renowned  Captain  John  Smith,  on  returning 
home  from  service  against  the  Turks,  and  from  a 
journey  in  which  he  had  well  nigh  exhausted  all 
that  Europe  could  offer  of  adventure,  and  fully 
proved  the  nobility  of  his  nature,  at  the  early 
age  of  twenty-seven  turned  his  attention  to  the 
new  world. 

In  December,  1606,  he  sailed  with  others  sent  out 
by  the  London  Company,  recently  formed  by  his 
exertions,  for  the  Chesapeake.  On  the  13th  of  May 
the  party  landed  at  Jamestown.  He  returned  to 
England  in  1609,  and  in  1614-  explored  the  Ame- 
rican coast  from  the  Penobscot  to  Cape  Cod.  He 
again  sailed  in  1615,  but  was  taken  prisoner  and 
confined  in  France.  On  his  release  he  endeavored 
to  obtain  further  employment  in  American  adven- 
ture, but  without  success.  He  died  in  London  in 
1631,  in  his  fifty-second  year. 

In  "  the  true  Travels,  Adventures,  and  Obser- 
vations of  Capt.  John  Smith,"  1629,  he  gives  the 
following  summary  of  his  American  career. 

Now  to  conclude  the  travels  and  adventures  of 
Captain  Smith:  How  first  he  planted  Virginia,  and 
was  set  ashore  with  a  hundred  men  in  the  wild  woods , 
how  he  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  savages,  and  by 
the  King  of  Pamaunky  tied  to  a  tree  to  be  shot  to 
death  ;  led  up  and  down  their  country,  to  be  shown 
for  a  wonder  ;  fatted  as  he  thought  for  a  sacrifice  to 
their  idol,  before  whom  they  conjured  three  days, 
with  strange  dances  and  invocations  ;  then  brought 
before  their  Emperor  Powhattan,  who  commanded 
him  to  be  slain  ;  how  his  daughter  Pocahontas  saved 
his  life,  returned  him  to  Jamestown,  relieved  him 
and  his  famislie  1  company,  which  was  but  eight  and 
thirty,  to  possess  those  large  dominions;  how  he 
discovered  all  the  several  nations  on  the  rivers  falling 
into  the  bay  of  Chesapeake  ;  how  he  was  stung  al- 
most to  death  by  the  poisonous  tail  of  a  fish  called 
a  stingray  ;  how  he  was  blown  up  with  gunpowder, 
and  returned  to  England  to  be  cured. 

Also  how  he  brought  New  England  to  the  subjec- 
tion of  the  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain :  his  fights 
with  the  pirates,  left  alone  among  the  French  men- 
of-war,  and  his  ship  ran  from  him :  his  sea-fights  for 
the  French  against  the  Spaniards ;  their  bad  usage 
of  him;  how  in  Frauce,  in  a  little  boat,  he  escaped 
them:  was  adrift  all  such  a  stormy  night  at  sea  by 
himself,  when  thirteen  French  ships  were  split  or 
driven  on  shore  by  the  isle  of  Rhu,  the  General  and 
most  of  his  men  drowned  ;  when  God,  to  whom  be 
all  honour  and  praise,  brought  him  safe  on  shore,  to 
the  admiration  of  all  who  escaped ;  you  may  read 
at  large  in  his  general  history  of  Virginia,  the  Somer 
islands  and  New  England. 


Smith  derived  no  pecuniary  advantage  from  his 
services  in  the  colonization  of  Virginia  or  New 
England.  "In  neither  of  these  two  countries," 
he  remarks,  "  have  I  one  foot  of  land,  nor  the 
very  house  I  builded,  nor  the  ground  I  digged 
with  my  own  hands,  nor  any  content  or  satisfac- 
tion at  all." 

Captain  Smith  was  the  author  of  several  works 
relating  to  his  adventurous  life.  The  first  is  A 
true  relation  of  such  occurrences  and  accidents  of 
noate  as  hath  hapned  in  Virginia  since  the  first 
planting  of  that  colony,  which  is  noio  resident  in 
the  south  part  thereof  till  the  last  return  from 
thence.  Written  by  Th.  Watson,  Gent,  one  of  the 
said  collony,  to  a  worshipful  friend  of  his  in 
England.  London  :  1608.  This  tract,  of  forty- 
two  small  quarto  pages,  is  printed  in  black  letter, 
and  is  extremely  rare.  A  copy  is  in  the  library 
of  the  New  York  Historical  Society — from  which 
a  reprint  was  made  in  the  Southern  Literary  Mes- 
senger. In  a  preface  signed  I.  H.,  the  statement 
that  "  some  of  the  books  were  printed  under  the 
name  of  Thomas  Watson,  by  whose  occasion  I 
know  not,  unless  it  were  the  over-rashness  or  mis- 
taking of  the  workmen,  hut  since  having  learned 
that  the  said  discourse  was  written  by  Captain 
Smith,  &c.," — settles  the  question  of  authorship. 

In  1612,  Smith  published  A  Map  of  Vir- 
ginia,—  With  a  description  of  the  country,  the 
commodities,  people,  government  and  religion. 
Written  by  Captain  Smith,  sometime  Governor 
of  the  country.  It  was  accompanied  by  aa 
account  of  "the  proceedings  of  those  colonies 
since  their  first  departure  from  England,  with  the 
discourses,  orations  and  relations  of  the  salvages, 
and  the  accidents  that  befel  them  in  all  their  jour- 
neys and  discoveries,  &c,  by  W.  S." 

This  was  followed  by  A  Description  of  New 
England :  or  the  Observations  and  Discoveries  of 
Captain  John  Smith  (Admirall  of  that  Country), 
in  the  North  of  America,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1614,  with  the  successe  of  size  ships  that  went  the 
next  year,  1615;  and  the  accidents  befell  him 
among  the  French  men  ofwarre  :  with  the  proofe 
of  the  present  benefit  this  countrey  affords: 
whither  this  present  yeare,  1616,  eight  voluntary 
ships  are  gone  to  make  further  trials.  At  Lon- 
don. Printed,  &c. :  1616.  It  is  reprinted  in  the 
sixth  volume  of  the  third  series  of  the  Massachu- 
setts Historical  Society's  Collections,  and  in  the 
second  volume  of  Col.  Force's  reprints  of  rare 
tracts  relating  to  America,  where  it  is  accompa- 
nied by  its  successor:  New  England's  Trials. 
Declaring  the  successe  of  80  ships  employed 
thither  within  these  eight  years ;  and  the  benefit 
of  that  country  by  Sea  and  Land.  With  the 
present  estate  of  that  happie  plantation,  begun 
but  by  60  weake  men  in  the  yeare  1620.  And 
how  to  build  a  Fleete  of  good  Shippes  to  make  a 
little  Navie  Roy  all.  Written  by  Captain  John 
Smith,  sometime  Governour  of  Virginia,  and 
Admirall  of  New  England.  The  second  edition. 
London:  1622.  These  two  tracts  form  seventy 
octavo  pages  in  Mr.  Force's  reprint.  The  first 
edition  of  New  England's  Trials,  Declaring  the 
success  of  26  Ships,  &c,  appeared  in  1620. 

In  1626,  the  Captain  issued  his  largest  work, 
a  folio,  entitled  The  General  History  of  Vir- 
ginia, New  England,  and  the  Summer  Jsles,  with 
the  names  of  the  adventurers, planters  and  gover- 


6 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


nors,  from  their  first  beginning  An.  1584,  to  this 
present  1626.  With  the  proceedings  of  those  seve- 
ral colonies,  and  the  accidents  that  befell  them  in 
all  their  journies  and  discoveries.  Also  the  map, 
and  descriptions  of  all  those  country  es,  their  com- 
modities, people,  government,  customs,  and  religion 
yet  known.  It  was  prepared  at  the  request  of  the 
company  in  London,  and  contains  several  portraits 
and  maps.  A  portion  only,  including  the  second 
and  sixth  books,  is  from  the  pen  of  Smith,  and  in 
these  he  has  drawn  largely  on  his  previous  publica- 
tions; the  remaining  four  are  made  up  from  the 
relations  of  others.  The  whole,  with  the  con- 
tinuation to  the  year  1629,  subsequently  published 
by  Smith,  was  reprinted  at  Richmond,  Va.,  in 
1819,  in  two  vols.  8vo. 

We  extract  from  this  work  the  account  of  the 
famous  action  of  Pocahontas  on  account  of  its  his- 
torical value.  The  chapter  from  which  it  is  taken 
(the  second  of  the  third  book),  is  stated  to  be 
"  written  by  Thomas  Stjjflley  the  first  Cape  Mer- 
chant in  Virginia,  Robert  Fenton,  Edward  Har- 
rington, and  I.  S.,"  so  that  it  is  probably  from  the 
pen  of  Smith. 

At  last  they  brought  him  to  Meronoco  moco, 
where  was  Powhatan  their  emperor.  Here  more 
than  two  hundred  of  those  grim  courtiers  stood 
wondering  at  him  as  he  had  been  a  monster:  till 
Powhatan  and  his  train  had  put  themselves  in  their 
greatest  braveries.  Before  a  fire,  upon  a  seat  like  a 
bedstead,  he  sat  covered  with  a  great  robe,  made  of 
Rarovxun  skins,  and  all  the  tails  hanging  by.  On 
either  hand  did  sit  a  young  wench  of  16  or  18  years, 
and  along  on  each  side  of  the  house,  two  rows  of 
men,  and  behind  them  as  many  women,  with  all 
their  heads  and  shoulders  painted  led;  many  of 
their  heads  bedecked  with  the  white  down  of  birds; 
but  every  one  with  something:  and  a  great  chain  of 
white  beads  about  their  necks.  At  his  entrance  be- 
fore the  king,  all  the  people  gave  a  great  shout. 
The  queen  of  Appamatuck  was  appointed  to  bring 
him  water  to  wash  his  hands,  and  another  brought 
him  a  bunch  of  feathers,  instead  of  a  towel  to  dry 
them  :  having  feasted  him  after  their  best  barbarous 
manner  they  could,  a  long  consultation  was  held,  but 
the  conclusion  was,  two  great  stones  were  brought 
before  Powhatan  ;  then  as  many  as  could  laid  hand 
on  him,  dragged  him  to  them,  and  thereon  laid  his 
head,  and  being  ready  with  their  clubs  to  beat  out 
his  brains,  Pocahontas  the  King's  dearest  daughter, 
when  no  entreaty  could  prevail,  got  his  head  in  her 
arms,  and  laid  her  own  upon  his  to  save  him  from 
death:  whereat  the  emperor  was  contented  he  should 
live  to  make  him  hatchets,  and  her  bells,  beads,  and 
copper :  for  they  thought  him  as  well  of  all  occupa- 
tionsas  themselves.  Forthe  King  himself  will  make 
his  own  robes,  shoes,  bows,  arrows,  pots ;  plant,  hunt, 
or  do  anything  so  well  as  the  rest. 

They  say  he  bore  a  pleasant  show, 
But  sure  his  heart  was  sad, 
For  who  can  pleasant  be,  and  rest, 
That  lives  in  fear  and  dread: 
And  having  life  suspected,  doth 
It  still  suspected  lead. 

In  the  same  year  he  published  a  work  for  the 
general  benefit  of  mariners  and  landsmen  entitled 
An  Accidence,  or  the  Pathway  to  Experience, 
necessary  for  all  young  Seamen;  which  was  fol- 
lowed in  1627,  by  A  Sea  Grammar,  with  the 
plalne  Exposition  of  Smith's  Accidence  for  young 
Seamen,  enlarged.     In  his  own  words  it  "found 


good  entertainment  abroad."  A  second  edition 
appeared  in  1653,  and  a  third  in  1692.* 

In  1630,  appeared  theo  True  Travels,  Adven- 
tures, and  Observations  of  Capt.  John  Smith  in 
Europe,  Asia,  Africa  and  America,  from  A.D. 
1593  to  1629.  Together  with  a  continuation  of 
his  general  history  of  Virginia,  &c.  Folio.  Lon- 
don: 1680.  It  was  reprinted  with  his  history  at 
Richmond.  It  also  forms  part  of  Churchill's  Col- 
lection of  Voyages. 

In  the  dedication  to  the  volume  he  states  that 
Sir  Robert  Cotton,  "  that  most  learned  treasurer  of 
antiquity,  having  by  perusal  of  my  general  his- 
tory, and  others,  found  that  I  had  likewise  under- 
gone other  as  hard  hazards  in  the  other  parts  of 
the  world,  requested  me  to  fix  the  whole  course 
of  my  passages  in  a  book  by  itself,  whose  noble 
desire  I  could  not  but  in  part  satisfy:  the  rather 
because  they  have  acted  my  fatal  tragedies  upon 
the  stage,  and  racked  my  relations  at  their  plea- 
sure.1^ 

His  last  work  appeared  in  1631,  and  is  entitled, 
Advertisements  for  the  unexperienced  Planters 
of  New  England,  or  anywhere  ;  or,  the  Pathway 
to  experie)ice  to  erect  a  plantation.  With  the 
yearely  proceedings  of  the  country  in  Fishing  and 
Planting,  since  the  year  1614  to  the  year  1630, 
and  their  present  estate.  Also  how  to  prevent  the 
greatest  inconveniences,  by  their  proceedings  in 
Virginia,  and  other  Plantations,  by  approved 
examples.  With  the  Countries  Arms,  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  Coast,  Harbours,  Habitations,  Land- 
marks, Latitude  and  Longitude :  with  the  Map, 
allowed  by  our  Royall  King  Charles — by  Captain 
John  Smith.  London:  Printed,  etc.  1631.  It 
occupies  fifty-three  pages  in  the  reprint  in  the 
Mass.  Hist.  Coll.  3d  Series,  vol.  3,  and  contains  on 
the  back  of  the  address  to  the  reader,  the  poem, 
"  The  Sea  Marke." 

In  a  passage  in  this  tract  (p.  36),  he  refers  to 
a  History  of  the  Sea  on  which  he  was  engaged, 
but  his  death  in  the  same  year  put  an  end  to  this, 


*  George  S.  Hillard's  Life  of  Captain  Smith,  in  Sparks' s  Ame- 
rican Biography,  1st  Series,  ii.  4i  5. 

t  A  similar  complaint  of  "  the  licentious  vaine  of  stage 
poets"  is  made  in  the  "  Epistle  Dedicatorie"  to  a  tract,  Tlif-  New 
Life  of  Virginia,  published  in  1612.  The  American  Planta- 
tions soon  became  an  occasional  topic  of  allusion  with  Middle- 
ton,  Dekker,  and  others.  Robert  Taylor's  play  of  the  "  Hog 
hath  lost  his  Pearl,*  in  1612,  has  a  mention  of  the  indifferent 
progress  of  "the  plantation  in  Virginia.'1  Shakespeare  was 
too  early  for  the  subject.  The  word  America  is  mentioned 
only  once  in  his  plays,  and  that  not  very  complimeiitarily,  in 
Dromio's  comic  description  of  the  kitchen  maid.  The  "still 
vexed  Bermoothes''  was  the  nearest  approach  he  made  to  the 
"Western  continent.  Had  Sir  Philip  Sidney  made  the  voyago 
to  America  which  he  contemplated,  his  pen  would  doubtless 
have  given  a  tinge  of  poetry  to  its  woods  and  Indians.  Ra- 
leigh s  name  is  connected  with  the  Virginia  voyages,  but  he 
never  landed  within  the  present  limits  of  the  "United  States. 
Lord  Bacon  had  the  "Plantations'"  in  view,  in  his  Essay  bear- 
ing that  name,  and  in  another  "of  Prophecies"  calls  attention 
to  the  verses  of  Seneca — 

Venient  annis 

Secnla  seris,  <;uibus  Ocean  us 

Vineula  reruin  laxet,  et  ingens 

Patent  tellus,  Tiphysque  novos 

Detegat  orbes ;  nee  sit  terris 

Ultima  Thule : 

as  "a  prophecie  of  the  Discovery  of  America." 

Milton's  fine  imagery  connected  with  the  fall  of  otir  first 
parents,  "  their  guilt  and  dreaded  shame,"  will  be  called  to 
mind : — 

O  how  unlike 
To  that  first  naked  glory  !    Such  of  late 
Columbus  found  the  Amerieau,  so  girt 
With  feather'd  cincture  ;  naked  else  and  wild 
Among  the  trees  on  isles  and  woody  shores. 


HARRIOT ;  WHITAKEE  ;  STRACHEY. 


and  probably  other  projects  of  his  ever  active 
mind. 

Captain  Smith  wrote  with  a  view  to  furnish 
information  rather  than  to  gain  the  reputation  of 
an  author  or  scholar.  He  confines  himself  to  the 
subject  matter  in  hand,  seldom  digressing  into 
comment  or  reflection.  His  descriptions  are  ani- 
mated, and  his  style  clear  and  simple.  The  fol- 
lowing verses,  the  only  ones,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  scattered  lines  in  his  History  of  Virginia, 
which  can  be  attributed  to  his  pen,  show  that  he 
has  some  claim  to  the  title  of  a  poet.  They 
possess  a  rude,  simple  melody,  not  inharmonious 
with  their  subject. 

THE  SEA   MARK. 

Aloof,  aloof,  and  come  no  near, 

The  dangers  do  appear 

Which,  if  my  ruin  had  not  been, 

You  had  not  seen  : 

I  only  lie  upon  this  shelf 

To  be  a  mark  to  all 

Which  on  the  same  may  fall. 
That  none  may  perish  but  myself 

If  in  our  outward  you  be  bound 

Do  not  forget  to  sound  ; 

Neglect  of  that  was  caused  of  this 

To  steer  amiss. 

The  seas  were  calm,  the  wind  was  fair, 

That  made  me  so  secure, 

That  now  I  must  endure 
All  weathers,  be  they  foul  or  fair. 

The  winter's  cold,  the  summer's  heat 

Alternatively  beat 

Upon  my  bruised  sides,  that  rue. 

Because  too  true, 

That  no  relief  can  ever  come; 

But  why  should  I  despair 

Being  promise  1  so  fair. 
That  there  shall  be  a  day  of  Doom. 

The  commendatory  verses  which,  following  the 
publishing  fashion  of  the  day,  accompany  several 
of  Smith's  productions,  show  that  he  was  held  in 
high  favor  by  some  of  the  leading  literary  men 
of  his  day,  the  names  of  Wither  and  Brathwayte, 
two  poets  whose  productions  are  still  read  with 
pleasure,  being  found  among  those  of  the  contri- 
butors. The  same  feelings  of  respect  excited 
some  of  Smith's  followers  to  sing  the  praises  of 
their  great  leader.  His  "  true  friend  and  soldier, 
Ed.  Robinson"  thus  addresses  "  his  worthy  Cap- 
taine,  the  author  " — 

Thou  that  to  passe  the  world's  foure  parts  dost 

deeme 
No  more,  than  t'were  tu  goe  to  bed,  or  drinke  ; 

and  Thos.  Carlton,  who  signs  himself  "  your  true 
friend,  sometimes  your  soldier,"  gives  this  honora- 
ble testimony : 

I  never  knew  a  Warryer  yet,  but  thee 

From  wine,  tobacco,  debts,  dice,  oaths,  so  free.* 

A  few  Virginia  historical  publications  contem- 
porary with  Smith,  written  by  scholars  resident  in 
or  identified  with  the  country,  may  be  here  men- 
tioned : 

Thomas  Harriot,  the  author  of  "  A  Brief  and 
true  Report  of  the  new  found  land  of  Virginia;" 


•»  The  Life  of  Captain  John  Smith  has  been  written  by  Mr. 
bimms,  with  a  genial  appreciation  of  his  hero. 


and  better  known  as  an  algebraist,  was  born  at  Ox- 
ford in  1560,  where  he  was  educated,  being  gra- 
duated in  1579.  He  was  recommended  in  conse- 
quence of  his  mathematical  acquirements  to  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  as  a  teacher  in  that  science.  He 
received  him  into  his  family  and  in  1585  sent  him 
with  the  company  under  Sir  Richard  Granville 
to  Virginia,  where  he  remained  a  twelvemonth. 
In  1588  he  obtained  through  the  introduction  of 
Raleigh  a  pension  from  Henry  Percy,  Earl  of 
Northumberland,  of  £120  per  annum.  He  passed 
many  years  in  Sion  College,  where  he  died  in 
1621.  He  was  the  inventor  of  the  improved 
method  of  algebraic  calculation  adopted  by 
Descartes  six  years  after,  who  passed  off  the 
discovery  as  his  own.  Harriot's  claim  was  esta- 
blished by  Dr.  Wallis  in  his  History  of  Algebra. 
His  tract,  A  brief  and  true  account  of  the  new 
found  land  of  Virginia,  &c,  was  published  in 
1590.  A  Latin  edition  appeared  in  the  collection 
of  De  Bry  in  the  same  year,  and  afterwards  in 
English  in  Hakluyt. 

Alexander  Wiiitaker,  a  son  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
William  Whitaker,  Master  of  St.  John's  College, 
Cambridge,  came  to  Virginia  while  a  young  man, 
and  was  one  of  the  settlers  of  the  town  of  Hen- 
rico on  James  river,  in  1611.  During  the  same 
year  a  church  was  built  and  the  foundations  of 
another  of  brick  laid,  while  the  minister  "  im- 
paled a  fine  parsonage,  with  a  hundred  acres  of 
land,  calling  it  Rock  Hall."  His  letters,  in  which 
he  expresses  his  surprise  that  more  of  the  English 
clergy  do  not  engage  in  missionary  labors  similar  to 
his  own,  testify  to  his  earnestness  in  the  cause.* 
He  baptized  Pocahontas,  and  also  married  her  to 
Mr.  Rolfe. 

In  1613  he  published  a  work  entitled  Good 
Newes  from  Virginia,  Sent  to  the  council  and 
company  of  Virginia  resident  in  England.  The 
"Epistle  Dedieatorie"  by  W.  Crashawe,  contains 
this  well  merited  eulogium  of  the  author. 

I  hereby  let  all  men  know  that  a  scholar,  a  gra- 
duate, a  preacher,  well  born  and  friended  in  England; 
not  in  debt  nor  disgrace,  but  competently  provided 
for,  and  liked  and  beloved  where  he  lived ;  not  in 
want,  but  (for  a  scholar,  and  as  these  days  be)  rich 
in  possession,  and  more  in  possibility  ;  of  himself, 
without  any  persuasion  (but  God's  and  his  own 
heart)  did  voluntarily  leave  his  warm  nest ;  and  to 
the  wonder  of  his  kindred  and  amazement  of  those 
who  knew  him,  undertook  this  hard,  but,  in  my 
judgment,  heroical  resolution  to  go  to  Virginia,  and 
help  to  bear  the  name  of  God  unto  the  gentiles. 

A  picturesque  account  of  the  country  was  writ- 
ten by  William  Strachet,  the  first  Secretary  of 
the  Colony,  in  his  two  books  of  Historie  of  Tra- 
vaile  into  Virginia  Britannia.  It  is  dedicated 
to  Lord  Bacon,  and  bears  date  at  least  as  early  as 
1G18.T  Strachey  was  three  years  in  the  Colony,  — ^ 
1610-12.  The  motto  from  the  Psalms  shows  his 
religious  disposition  and  prescience,  "  This  shall 
be  written  for  the  generation  to  come:  and  the 
people  which  shall  be  created  shall  praise  the 
Lord,"  as  the  narrative  itself   does  his  careful 


*  History  of  the  P.  E.  Church  in  VirMnia,  by  the  Kev.  F. 
L.  Hawks. 

t  It  has  been  recently  edited  from  the  original  MS.  in  the 
British  Museum,  by  R.  II.  Major,  and  published  among  the 
works  of  the  Hakluyt  Society. 


8 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


observation  of  "  the  cosmographie  and  commodi- 
ties of  the  country,  together  with  the  manners 
and  customes  of  the  people." 

Strachey  was  one  of  the  party  of  officers  ship- 
wrecked on  the  Bermudas  in  1609.  His  descrip- 
tion of  the  storm  published  in  Purchas,  was  main- 
tained by  Malone  to  be  the  foundation  of  Shake- 
speare's Tempest.* 

HARVARD  COLLEGE. 

On  the  twenty-eighth  day  of  October,  1636,  eight 
years  after  the  first  landing  of  the  Massachusetts 
Bay  colonists,  under  John  Endicot,  the  General 
Court  at  Boston  voted  four  hundred  pounds  to- 
wards a  school  or  college,  and  the  following  year 
appointed  its  location  at  Newtown,  soon  changed 
to  Cambridge  (in  gratitude  to  the  University  of 
England),  under  the  direction  of  the  leading  men 
of  the  colony.  In  1638,  the  project  was  deter- 
mined by  the  bequest  of  John  Harvard,  an  English 
clergyman  of  education,  who  had  arrived  in  the 
country  but  the  year  before,  who  left  to  the  institu- 
tion a  sum  of  money,  at  least  equal  to  and  probably 
two-fold  the  amount  of  the  original  appropriation, 
and  a  valuable  library  of  three  hundred  and  twenty 
volumes,  including  not  only  the  heavy  tomes  of 
theology  in  vogue  in  that  age,  but  important 
works  of  classical  and  the  then  recent  English 
literature,  among  which  Bacon's  clear-toned  style 
and  the  amenities  of  Horace  tempered  the  rigors 
of  Scotus  and  Aquinas.  Contributions  flowed  in. 
The  magistrates  subscribed  liberally ;  and  a  noble 
proof  of  the  temper  of  the  times  is  witnessed  in 
the  number  of  small  gifts  and  legacies,  of  pieces 
of  family  plate,  and  in  one  instance  of  the  bequest 
of  a  number  of  sheep.  With  such  precious  stones 
were  the  foundations  of  Harvard  laid.  The  time, 
place,  and  manner  need  no  eulogy.  They  speak 
for  themselves. 

During  its  first  two  years  it  existed  in  a  kind 
of  embryo  as  the  school  of  Nathaniel  Eaton, 
who  bears  an  ill  character  in  history  for  his 
bad  temper  and  short  commons.  In  1640  the 
Rev.  Henry  Dunster,  on  his  arrival  from  Eng- 
land, was  constituted  the  first  President.  He 
served  the  college  till  1654,  when,  having  ac- 
quired and  preached  doctrines  in  opposition 
to  infant  baptism,  he  was  compelled  to  resign 
his  office.  He  had  borne  manfully  with  the 
early  difficulties  of  the  position,  and  received 
little  in  the  way  of  gratitude.  Through  his  ex- 
cellent oriental  scholarship,  he  had  been  intrusted 
with  the  improvement  of  the  literal  version  of 
the  Psalms,  known  as  the  Bay  Psalm  Book.  The 
first  printing-press  in  the  colony  was  set  up  at 
Harvard,  in  the  President's  house,  in  1639.  The 
first  publication  was  the  Freeman's  Oath,  then  an 
almanack,  followed  by  the  Bay  Psalm  Book. 
Dunster  was  succeeded  by  Charles  Chauncy,  who 
held  the  office  till  his  death,  which  was  in  1672. 
He  was  a  man  of  learning,  having  been  Professor 
of  Hebrew  and  Greek  in  Trinity  College,  Cam- 
bridge, and  of  general  worth,  though  of  wavering 
doctrinal  consistency.  He  had  his  share  in  Eng- 
land of  Laud's  ecclesiastical  interferences,  and 
had  recanted  his  views  in  opposition  to  kneel- 
ing  at  the   communion — an   act   of  submission 


*  Major's  Introduction  to  Virginia  Britannia,  xj. 


which  he  always  regretted.  He  was  driven  to 
New  England,  whence  he  was  about  returning 
home  to  his  Puritan  friends,  who  had  come  into 
power,  when  he  was  arrested  by  the  college 
appointment.  He  devoted  himself  to  the  affairs 
of  the  college,  and  as  he  suffered  the  penury  of 
the  position,  cast  his  eye  to  the  "  allowed  diet"  and 
settled  stipend  of  similar  situations  in  England. 
His  petitions  to  the  "honored  governor"  show  that, 
notwithstanding  the  early  gifts,  the  institution 
was  ill  provided  for.  Chauncy  was  threescore 
when  he  was  made  President;  and  several  inte- 
resting anecdotes  are  preserved  of  his  scholar's 
old  age.  He  was  an  early  riser — up  at  four 
o'clock  in  winter  and  summer,  preached  plain 
sermons  to  the  students  and  townspeople,  was 
laborious  in  duty,  manfully  holding  that  the 
student,  like  the  commander,  should  fall  at  his 
post.  He  has  reputation  as  a  divine  and  scholar. 
He  published  a  sermon  on  the  Advantages  of 
Schools,  and  a  Faithful  Ministry,  in  which  he 
inveighed  against  the  practice  of  wearing  long 
hair — the  Election  Sermon  of  1656,  a  volume  of 
twenty-six  sermons,  on  Justification,  and  the 
"  Antisynodalia,"  written  against  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  Synod  held  in  Boston  in  1662. 

His  manuscripts  passed  into  the  hands  of 
his  step-daughter,  a  widow,  who,  marrying  a 
Northampton  deacon — a  pie-man — these  devout 
writings  were  taken  to  line  his  pastry — a  fate 
which  the  poet  Herrick  not  long  before  had 
deprecated  in  hurrying  effusions  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent character  into  print,  in  his  "  Lines  to  his 
Book:"— 

Lest  rapt  from  hence,  I  see  thee  lie 
Torn  for  the  use  of  pasterie. 

The  fate  of  Warburton's  collection  of  old  plays, 
by  which  English  literature  has  lost  so  much,  it 
will  be  recollected,  was  similar.  Dryden,  in  his 
MacFlecknoe,  celebrates  the  "  martyrs  of  pies." 

Chauncy  left  six  sons,  who  all  graduated  at 
Harvard,  and  became  preachers.  Dr.  Chauncy 
of  Boston,  in  the  days  of  the  Revolution,  was  one 
of  his  descendants.* 

The  next  President  was  himself  a  graduate  of 
Harvard,  of  the  class  of  1650 — Leonard  Hoar. 
He  had  reversed  the  usual  process  of  the  clergy 
of  the  country — having  gone  to  England  and 
been  settled  as  a  preacher  in  Sussex.  The  col- 
lege was  thinly  attended,  and  badly  supported  at 
the  time  of  his  inauguration.  He  had  fallen 
upon  evil  days.  With  little  profit  and  much 
anxiety,  discipline  was  badly  supported,  and  he 
retired  from  the  management  in  less  than  three 
years,  in  1675. 

The  first  collection  of  books  was  greatly  en- 
larged by  the  bequest  of  the  library  of  Theophilus 
Gale,  who  died  in  1677,  "a  philologist,  a  philo- 
sopher, and  a  theologian.''! 

Urian  Oakes,  of  English  birth,  though  a  gra- 
duate of  the  college,  was  then  President  pro  tem- 
pore for  several  years,  accepting  the  full  appoint- 
ment in  1680,  which  he  held  till  1681.  He  died 
suddenly  in  office,  leaving  as  memorials  of  his 
literature  several  sermons,  including  an  Election 


*  Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  First  Scries,  x.  t79.     Allen's  Bio- 
graphical Dictionary.    Peirce's  History  of  Harvard,  32. 
t  Quiucy's  Harvard,  i.  1S5. 


HARVARD  COLLEGE. 


9 


and  an  Artillery  sermon, "  The  Unconquerable,  All- 
conquering,  and  more  than  Conquering  Christian 
Soldier ;"  an  Eulogy  in  Latin,  and  an  Elegy  in 
English  verse  on  the  Rev.  Thomas  Shepard,  of 
Charlestowu.  This  was  printed  in  1677.  The 
verse  somewhat  halts : 

The  muses  and  the  graces  too  conspired 
To  set  forth  this  rare  piece  to  be  admired. 

He  breathed  love  and  pursued  peace  in  his  day, 
As  if  his  soul  were  made  of  harmony. 

Scarce  ever  more  of  goodness  crowded  lay 
In  such  apiece  of  frail  mortality. 

Sure  Father  Wilson's  genuine  son  was  he, 
New  England's  Paul  has  such  a  Timothy.* 
******** 

My  dearest,  inmost,  bosom  friend  is  gone ! 

Gone  is  my  sweet  companion,  soul's  delight  I 
Now  in  a  huddling  crowd,  I'm  all  alone, 

And  almost  could  bid  all  the  world  good-night. 
Blest  be  my  rock  !  God  lives :  oh  I  let  him  be 
As  he  is  all,  so  all  in  all  to  me. 

In  his  youth  Oakes  published  at  Cambridge 
a  set  of  astronomical  calculations,  with  the  motto, 
in  allusion  to  his  size — ■ 

Parvum  parva  decent,  sed  inest  sua  gratia  parvis. 

Cotton  Mather  puns  incorrigibly  upon  his  name, 
and  pronounces  the  students  "  a  rendezvous  of 
happy  Druids"  under  his  administration. 

Mr.  Oakes  being  now,  in  the  quaint  language 
of  the  same  ingenious  gentleman,  transplanted 
into  the  better  world,  he  was  succeeded  by  John 
Rogers,  a  graduate  of  the  College  of  1649. 
He  was  but  a  short  time  President — hardly  a 
year,  when  he  was  cut  off  suddenly,  the  day 
after  commencement,  July  2,  1684.  Mather 
celebrates  the  sweetness  of  his  temper,  and  "  his 
real  piety  set  off  with  the  accomplishments 
of  a  gentleman,  as  a  gem  set  in  gold."  He  was 
one  of  the  writers  of  complimentary  verses  on 
the  poems  of  Anne  Bradstreet,  in  recording  the 
emotions  inspired  by  which,  he  proves  his  charac- 
ter for  courtesy  and  refinement. 

To  Venus'  shrine  no  altars  raised  are, 

Nor  venom'd  shafts  from  painted  quivers  fly : 

Nor  wanton  doves  of  Aphrodite's  car, 

Or  fluttering  there,  nor  here  forlornly  lie: 

Lorn  paramours,  nor  chatting  birds  tell  news, 

How  sage  Apollo  Daphne  hot  pursues 

Or  stately  Jove  himself  is  wont  to  haunt  the  stews. 

Nor  barking  Satyrs  breathe,  nor  dreary  clouds 
Exhaled  from  Styx,  their  dismal  drops  distil 
Within  these  fairy,  flow'ry  fields,  nor  shrouds 
The  screeching  night  raven,  with  his  shady  quill. 
But  lyrick  strings  here  Orpheus  nimbly  hits, 
Arion  on  his  sadled  dolphin  sits, 
Chanting  as  every  humour,  age  and  season  fits. 

Here  silver  swans,  with  nightingales  set  spells, 
Which  sweetly  charm  the  traveller,  and  raise 
Earth's  earthed  monarchs,  from  their  hidden  cells, 
And  to  appearance  summons  lapsed  dayes; 
Their  heav'nly  air  becalms  the  swelling  frayes, 

*  John  Wilson  was  the  first  pastor  of  the  Church  in  Boston, 
■whose  virtues  and  talents  are  recorded  by  Mather  in  the  third 
book  of  the  Magnalia.  His  cleverness  at  aiwgrammttlizing 
is  there  noted  by  the  pen  of  an  admirer.  Mather  mentions  the 
witty  compliment  of  Nathaniel  Ward  "that  the  anagram  of 
John  Wilson  was,  I  pray  come  in  :  you  are  heartily  wel- 
come.'1 


And  fury  fell  of  elements  allayes, 

By  paying  every  one  due  tribute  to  his  praise. 

This  seem'd  the  seite  of  all  those  verdant  vales, 

And  purled  springs,  whereat  the  Nymphs  do  play: 

With  lofty  hills,  where  Poets  rear  their  tales, 

To  heavenly  vaults,  which  heav'nly  sound  repay 

By  echo's  sweet  rebound :  here  ladye's  kiss, 

Circling  nor  songs,  nor  dance's  circle  miss ; 

But  whilst  those  Syrens  sung,  I  sunk  in  sea  of  bliss. 

A  mighty  name  of  the  old  New  England  dis- 
pensation follows  in  the  college  annals,  Increase 
Mather,  who  held  the  presidency  from  1685  to 
1701.  He  had  previously  supplied  the  vacancy 
for  a  short  time  on  the  death  of  Oakes.  He 
attended  to  his  college  duties  without  vacating 
his  parish  or  his  residence  at  Boston.  The  char- 
ter troubles  intervened,  and  Mather  was  sent  to 
England  to  maintain  the  rights  of  the  colonists 
with  James  II.  and  William  and  Mary.  While 
there,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Thomas 
HollU,  who  subsequently  became  the  distinguished 
benefactor  of  Harvard.  He  secured  from  the 
crown,  under  the  new  charter,  the  possession,  to 
the  college,  of  the  grants  which  it  had  received. 
The  institution,  on  his  return,  flourished  under 
his  rule,  and  received  some  handsome  endow- 
ments. In  1699,  Lieutenant-Governor  William 
Stoughton  erected  the  hall  bearing  his  name, 
which  lasted  till  1780,  and  was  succeeded  by  a 
new  building,  with  the  same  designation,  in 
1805.  Mather  retired  in  1701,  with  the  broad 
hint  of  an  order  from  the  General  Court, 
that  the  presidents  of  the  college  should  reside 
at  Cambridge.  It  is  considered  by  President 
Quincy,  in  his  History  of  the  University,  that  the 
influence  of  the  Mathers — Cotton  was  connected 
with  the  college  during  the  absence  of  his  father, 
though  he  never  became  its  head — was  unfriendly 
to  its  prosperity,  in  seeking  to  establish  a  sec- 
tarian character.  At  the  outset  it  was,  in  a 
measure,  independent.  The  charters  of  the  col- 
lege are  silent  o|  points  of  religious  faith.  Its 
seal  bore  simply  the  motto  "  Veritas,"  written 
in  three  divisions  on  as  many  open  books  on 
the  shield.  This  inscription  was  soon  changed  to 
"  In  Christi  Gloriam,"  and,  probably  in  the  time 
of  Mather,  to  "  Christo  et  Ecclesiaa."*    It  was  a 


Original  Draft  for  a  College  Seal.    1648. 


*  Quincy's  History,  i.  49.  In  reference  to  tho  disposition 
of  the  motto,  "Veritas,"  partly  inscribed  on  the  inside  and 
partly  on  the  outside  of  two  open  volumes,  Mr.  Robert  C. 
Winthrop  gave  this  pleasant  explanation,  in  a  toast  at  the  cele- 
bration in  1836:  "The  Founders  of  our  University — Theyhavo 
taught  us  that  no  one  human  book  contains  the  whole  truth  of 
any  subject;  and  that,  in  order  to  fret  at  the  real  end  of  any 
matter,  we  must  be  careful  to  look  at  both  sides." 


10 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Mather  act  to  inveigle  the  whole  board  of  the  col- 
lege into  a  quasi  sanction  of  the  witchcraft  delusion, 
in  the  circular  inviting  information  touching  "  the 
existence  and  agency  of  the  invisible  world."* 
Driven  from  the  old  political  assumptions  by  the 
new  charter,  the  priestly  party  sought  the  con- 
trol of  the  college,  and  a  struggle  ensued  between 
rival  theological  interests.  Increase  Mather  bound 
the  government  of  the  institution  in  a  close  cor- 
poration of  his  own  selection,  under  a  new 
charter  from  the  General  Court,  which  was, 
however,  negatived  in  England.  Before  this 
veto  arrived,  it  had  conferred  the  first  degree  in 
the  college,  of  Doctor  in  Divinity,  upon  President 
Mather  in  1692. 

The  Rev.  Samuel  Willard  was  for  more  than 
six  years,  from  1701  to  1707,  vice-president  of  the 
college,  an  apparent  compromise  in  the  difficulties 
of  the  times.  He  was  a  graduate  of  Harvard,  had 
been  settled  as  a  minister  at  Groton,  and  driven 
to  seek  refuge  in  Boston  from  the  devastations 
of  King  Philip's  war.  He  was  a  good  divine  of 
his  day,  and  a  useful  head  of  the  college.  A  story 
is  told  of  his  tact,  not  without  humor.  His  son- 
in-law,  the  Rev.  Samuel  Neal,  preached  a  sermon 
for  him  at  his  church  which  was  much  cavilled  at 
as  a  wretched  affair ;  when  he  was  requested  by 
the  congregation  not  to  admit  any  more  from  the 
same  source.  He  borrowed  the  sermon,  preached 
it  himself,  with  the  advantages  of  his  capital  de- 
livery, and  the  same  persons  were  so  delighted 
with  it  that  they  requested  a  copy  for  publica- 
tion, f  He  was  the  author  of  a  number  of  publi- 
cations, chiefly  sermons,  and  a  posthumous  work, 
in  1726,  entitled  a  "Body  of  Divinity,"  which  is 
spoken  of  as  the  first  folio  of  the  kind  published 
in  the  country.  He  wrote  on  "Witchcraft,  and 
has  the  credit  of  having  resisted  the  popular  de- 
lusion on  that  subject.  He  was  twice  married, 
and  had  twenty  children.!  He  died  in  office,  and 
was  succeeded  by  John  Leverett,  who  held  the 
post  till  1724.  The  latter  has  the  reputation  of  a 
practical  man,  faithful  to  his  office,  and  a  liberal- 
minded  Christian.  He  was  a  grandson  of  Gover- 
nor John  Leverett,  of  Massachusetts. 

The  long  array  of  acts  of  liberality  to  the  col- 
lege by  the  Hollis  family  dates  from  this  time. 
The  great  benefactor  of  the  name  was  Thomas 
Hollis,  a  London  merchant,  born  in  1659,  who 
died  in  1731.  His  attention  was  early  attracted 
to  Harvard,  by  being  appointed  trustee  to  his  un- 
cle's will,  charged  with  a  bequest  to  the  college. 
In  1719  he  made  a  first  shipment  of  goods  to 
Boston,  the  proceeds  of  which  were  paid  over, 
and  the  first  interest  appropriated  to  the  support 
of  a  son  of  Cotton  Mather,  then  a  student.  A 
second  considerable  donation  followed.  His  direc- 
tions for  the  employment  of  the  fund  in  1721, 
constituted  the  Hollis  Professorship  of  Divinity, 
to  which,  in  1727,  he  added  a  Professorship  of 
Mathematics  and  Natural  Philosophy.  At  this 
time  his  pecuniary  donations  had  brought  to  the 
college  four  thousand  nine  hundred  pounds  Mas- 
sachusetts currency.  He  gave  and  collected  books 
for  the  library  with  valuable  counsel,  and  for- 

*  Quincy's  History  of  Harvard  University,  t  62. 

t  Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  First  Series,  viii.  1S2,  quoted  by 
Peirce. 

X  Peirce's  Hist  of  Harvard,  p.  74;  Eliot's  Biog.  Diet ;  Allen's 
Biog.  Diet. 


warded,  from  a  friend,  a  set  of  Hebrew  and  Greek 
types  for  printing. 

This  liberality  was  the  more  praiseworthy  since 
Hollis  was  a  Baptist,  a  sect  in  no  great  favor  in 
New  England ;  but  he  was  a  man  of  liberal  mind, 
and  selected  Harvard  for  the  object  of  his  muni- 
ficent gifts,  as  the  most  independent  college  of  the 
times.*  In  founding  his  Divinity  Professorship 
he  imposed  no  test,  but  required  only  that  Bap- 
tists should  not  be  excluded  from  its  privileges. 
His  brothers,  John  and  Nathaniel,  were  also  do- 
nors to  the  college.  Thomas  Hollis,  a  son  of  the 
last  mentioned,  became  the  heir  of  his  uncle,  the 
first  benefactor,  and  liberally  continued  his  bounty. 
He  conferred  money,  books,  and  philosophical  ap- 
paratus. He  survived  his  uncle  but  a  few  years, 
and  left  a  son,  the  third  Thomas  Hollis.  This 
was  the  famous  antiquary  and  virtuoso,  with  a 
collector's  zeal  for  the  memory  of  Milton  and  Al- 
gernon Sidney.  A  rare  memorial  of  his  tastes  is 
left  in  the  two  illustrated  quartos  of  Memoirs,  by 
Thomas  Brand  Hollis  (who  also  gave  books  and  a 
bequest),  published  in  1780,  six  years  after  his 
death.  He  sent  some  of  its  most  valuable  literary 
treasures  to  the  Harvard  library,  books  on  reli- 
gious and  political  liberty,  all  of  solid  worth,  and 
sometimes  bound  in  a  costly  manner,  as  became 
his  tastes.  It  was  his  humor  to  employ  various 
gilt  emblems  or  devices  to  indicate  the  nature  of 
the  contents.  Thus  he  put  an  owl  on  the  back 
of  one  volume,  to  indicate  that  it  was  replete  with 
wisdom,  while  he  indicated  the  folly  of  another 
by  the  owl  reversed.  The  goddess  of  liberty 
figured  frequently.  Many  of  the  books  contained 
citations  from  Milton,  of  whom  he  was  an  enthu- 
siastic admirer,  and  occasional  memoranda  exhi- 
biting the  zeal  of  a  bibliographer.!  He  collected 
complete  series  of  pamphlets  on  controversies,  and 
presented  them  bound.  He  also  gave  money 
freely  in  addition.     His  donations  in  his  lifetime 


|If;(7i,/,l{g^  !!]£ 


Thomas  Hollis. 

and  by  will  amounted  to  nearly  two  thousand 


*  Qnincy's  Hist,  of  Harvard,  i.  233. 

t  Several  notices  of  Hollis's  books,  with  copies  of  his  annota- 
tions, may  be  seen  in  the  Monthly  Anthology  for  18C8.  In  one 
of  his  learned  volumes  he  notes,  on  a  loose  slip  of  paper,  which 
has  retained  its  place  for  nearly  ninety  years,  UT.  H.  has  been 
particularly  industrious  in  collecting  Grammars  and  Lexicons 
of  the  Oriental  Root  Languages,  to  send  to  Harvard  College,  in 
hopes  of  forming  by  that  means,  assisted  by  the  energy  of  the 
leaders,  always  beneficent,  a  few  peime  scholars,  honors  to  their 
country,  and  lights  to  mankind." 


HARVARD  COLLEGE. 


11 


pounds  sterling.  At  this  day,  eighty  years  after 
his  bequest  of  five  hundred  pounds  to  the  library, 
half  of  the  permanent  income  for  the  purchase  of 
books  is  derived  from  that  source.  A  full-length 
portrait  of  him,  richly  painted  by  Copley,  at  the 
instance  of  the  corporation,  hangs  in  the  Gallery. 
When  it  was  requested  of  him,  he  replied,  in 
allusion  to  the  works  of  his  favorite  English  refor- 
mers, which  he  had  sent,  "  the  effigies  which  you 
desire  may  be  seen  at  this  time  in  your  library, 
feature  by  feature."  We  have  taken  our  en- 
graving from  a  medallion  head  in  the  Hollis 
Memoirs. 

He  was  the  friend  not  only  of  English  but  of 
American  liberty,  being  instrumental  in  repub- 
lishing the  early  political  essays  of  Mayhew,  Otis, 
and  John  Adams. 

Leverett  was  followed  in  the  college  presidency 
by  Benjamin  Wadsworth,  from  1725  to  1737,  a 
moderate,  useful  man.  He  published  a  number 
of  sermons  and  religious  essays.  Edward  Holyoke 
succeeded,  and  was  president  for  nearly  thirty- 
two  years,  till  1769.  Harvard  prospered  during 
his  time,  though  the  destruction  of  the  old  Har- 
vard Hall  by  lire,  in  1764,  was  a  serious  disaster, 
especially  as  it  involved  the  loss  of  the  library ; 
but  the  sympathy  excited  new  acts  of  friendship. 
On  a  winter's  night  in  January  some  six  thousand 
volumes  were  burnt  in  this  edifice,  including  the 
Oriental  library  bequeathed  by  Dr.  Lightfoot, 
and  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics  presented  by 
Berkeley.  * 


M,^if,T,M ^: 

.  ."^".l^i."  il„  I...  ,-■ I.    .    ;..VT"- "iJl'IUl?TC 


Harvard  Hall,  built  16S2,  destroyed  1TC4. 

Among  other  additions  to  the  college  useful- 
ness, the  first  endowment  of  special  annual  lec- 
tures was  made  at  this  period  by  the  Hon.  Paul 
Dudley,  of  great  reputation  on  the  Bench,  who, 
in  1751,  founded,  by  bequest,  the  course  bearing 
his  name.  Four  are  delivered  in  succession,  one 
each  year,  on  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion,  the 
Church  of  Rome,  and  the  Validity  of  Presbyterian 
Ordination.  The  first  of  these  was  delivered  by 
President  Holyoke,  who  had  a  rare  disinclination 
among  the  New  England  clergy  to  appear  in  print, 
and  his  discourse  was  not  published.  He  lived 
in  the  discharge  of  his  office  to  the  age  of  eighty, 


in  a  vigorous  old  age.    He  was  amiable,  generous, 
and  unostentatious.* 

PIETAS    ET    QRATULATIO. 

During  the  Presidency  of  Holyoke  the  College 
gained  distinguished  honor  by  the  publication,  in 
1761,  of  the  Pietas  et  Gratulatio.i  This  was  an 
elegiac  and  complimentary  volume,  printed  with 
much  elegance  in  quarto,  celebrating  the  death 
of  George  II.  in  the  previous  year,  and  the  glo- 
rious accession  of  George  III.,  not  forgetting 
Epithalamia  on  the  nuptials  with  the  Princess 
Charlotte.  A  proposal  was  set  up  in  the  collpge 
chapel  inviting  competition  on  these  themes  from 
undergraduates,  or  those  who  had  taken  a  degree 
within  seven  years,  for  six  guinea  prizes  to  be 
given  for  the  best  Latin  oration,  Latin  poem  in 
hexameters,  Latin  elegy  in  hexameters  and  pen- 
tameters, Latin  ode,  English  poem  in  long  verse, 
and  English  ode.J:  These  conditions  were  not 
all  preserved  in  the  preparation  of  the  volume. 
Master  Lovell,  in  its  second  ode,  ascribes  the  first 
idea  to  Governor  Bernard,  who  had  then  just 
entered  on  his  office,  which  is  confirmed  by  a  reso- 
lution of  the  college  corporation  at  the  beginning 
of  the  next  year,  providing  for  a  presentation  copy 
to  his  new  Majesty,  who  does  not  appear  to  have 
made  any  special  acknowledgment  of  it.  Presi- 
dent Holyoke  sent  a  copy  to  Thomas  Hollis  the 
antiquarian.  "  An  attempt,"  he  says,  in  his  letter, 
"of  several  young  gentlemen  here  with  us,  and 
educated  in  this  college,  to  show  their  pious 
sorrow  on  account  of  the  death  of  our  late  glo- 
rious king,  their  attachment  to  his  royal  house, 
the  joy  they  have  in  the  accession  of  his  present 
majesty  to  the  British  throne,  and  in  the  prospect 
they  have  of  the  happiness  of  Britain  from  the 
Royal  Progeny  which  they  hope  for  from  his  alli- 
ance with  the  illustrious  house  of  Mechlenburg."§ 
The  volume  thus  originated  may  compare,  both 
in  taste  and  scholarship,  with  similar  effusions  of 
the  old  world.  Though  rather  a  trial  of  skill  than 
an  appeal  of  sober  truthfulness,  the  necessary  pa- 
negyric is  tempered  by  the  good  advice  to  the  new 
King  in  the  prefatory  prose  address,  ascribed  to 
Hutchinson  or  Bernard,  which,  if  his  Majesty  had 
followed  in  its  spirit,  separation  from  the  colonies 
might  have  been  longer  delayed.  The  inevitable 
condition  of  such  a  work  as  the  Pietas  is  eulogy ; 


*  Edward  Augustus  Holyoke,  the  centenarian  and  celebrat- 
ed physician,  of  Salem,  Mass.,  was  the  son  of  President  Holy- 
oke, by  his  second  marriage.  He  was  born  August  13,  1728, 
and  became  a  graduate  of  Harvard  of  1746.  For  nearly  eighty 
years  he  was  a  practitioner  at  Salem,  dying  there  in  1S29.  Ho 
■was  a  man  of  character  and  probity  in  ins  profession,  and  a 
remarkable  example  of  the  retention  of  the  powers  of  life. 
At  the  age  of  eighty  his  desire  for  knowledge  was  active  as 
ever,  lie  kept  up  his  familiarity  with  the  classics,  and 
the  prestige  of  his  parentage  and  college  life,  in  liberal  studies 
and  acquaintance  with  curious  things,  in  and  out  of  his  profes- 
sion. He  was  well  versed  in  scientific  studies,  and  his  case 
may  be  added  to  the  long  list  of  natural  philosophers  who  havo 
reached  extreme  age.  He  retained  his  faculties  to  the  last. 
It  had  always  been  his  habit  to  record  his  observations,  and 
various  voluminous  diaries  from  his  pen  are  in  existence. 
After  he  completed  his  hundredth  year,  it  is  stated  that  "ho 
commenced  a  manuscript  in  which  he  proposed  to  minute 
down  some  of  the  changes  in  the  manners,  dress,  dwellings, 
and  employments  of  the  inhabitants  of  Salem.11 — Williams's  Am. 
Med.  Biog  ;  Knapp's  Am.  Biog. 

t  Pietas  et  Gratulatio  Collegli  Cantabrigiensis  apud  Novan- 
glos.  Bostoni-Massachusettensium.  TypisJ.  Green  &  J.  Eus- 
sell.    1761.    4to.  pp.  106. 

$  From  a  manuscript  copy  of  the  "  Proposal,"  in  the  copy  of 
the  PietOA  H  Gratulatio  in  the  library  of  Harvard  College. 

§  September  25, 1762,  Hollis's  Memoirs,  4  to  101. 


12 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


so  the  departing  guest  is  sped  and  the  coming 
welcomed,  in  the  most  rapturous  figments  of 
poetry.  George  II.  is  elevated  to  his  apotheosis 
in  the  skies,  in  the  long  echoing  wave  of  the  exult- 
ing hexameter,  while  the  ebbing  flood  of  feeling 
at  so  mournful  an  exaltation  is  couched  in  the 
6ubdued  expression  of  the  sinking  pentameter.* 
All  nature  is  called  upon  to  mourn  and  weep,  and 
again  to  rejoice ;  all  hearts  to  bleed,  and  again  to 
live,  as  one  royal  monarch  ascends  the  skies  and 
another  the  throne.  As  this  production  really 
possesses  considerable  merit,  as  it  brings  together 
the  names  of  several  writers  worthy  of  comme- 
moration, and  as  the  work  is  altogether  unique  in 
the  history  of  American  literature,  it  may  be  well 
to  notice  its  separate  articles  with  such  testimony 
as  we  can  bring  together  on  the  question  of  their 
authorship. 

By  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Ticknor,  the  historian 
of  Spanish  Literature,  we  have  before  us  his  copy 
of  the  Pietas  which  once  belonged  to  Professor 
Winthrop,  with  a  manuscript  letter  from  the  anti- 
quarian Thaddeus  Mason  Harris,  who  was  libra- 
rian at  Harvard  from  1791  to  1793,  which  fur- 
nishes authorities  named  in  Professor  Sewnll's  copy 
presented  to  the  writer ;  also  a  manuscript  list  of 
authors  on  the  authority  of  Dr.  Eliot.  In  the 
Monthly  Anthology  for  June,  1809,  we  have  a 
carefully  prepared  list,  in  an  article  written  by 
A.  H.  Everett,  and  in  the  No.  for  July  some  sug- 
gestions for  its  emendation,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel 
Deane,  of  Portland,  the  only  surviving  contributor, 
and  from  another  person,  not  known  to  us,  who 
dates  his  note,  July  13,  1809. 

There  are  thirty-one  papers  in  all,  exclusive  of 
the  introductory  address  to  the  King.  The  first 
is  the  Arlhortatio  Prasidis,  a  polished  Latin  ode, 
the  ostensible  composition  of  President  Holyoke, 
who  was  then  about  seventy.  It  does  credit  to 
his  taste  and  scholarship^  It  closes  with  a  refer- 
ence to  the  hopes  of  the  future  American  song. 

Sic  forsan  et  vos  vestraque  munera 
Blando  benignus  lumine  viderit, 
Miratus  ignotas  camcenas 

Sole  sub  Hesperio  calentes. 

The  second  and  twenty-fifth  belong  to  John  Lo- 
vell,  to  whom  have  also  been  ascribed  by  Deane 
the  twenty-sixth  and  seventh,  with  the  still  further 
authority  of  Lovell's  name  at  the  end  of  these 
articles,  in  Winthrop's  own  copy. 

Lovell  was  a  graduate  of  Harvard,  and  was 
master  of  the  Boston  Latin  school  for  forty  years 
from  1734  to  1775  (succeeding  to  the  afterwards 
famous  Jeremiah  Gridley,  a  great  lawyer  in  his 
prime,  and  an  elegant  writer  in  his  newspaper, 
the  Rehearsal^  in  his  younger  days,  in  1731), 
when  he  became  a  loyalist  refugee,  and  went  with 
the  British  troops  to  Halifax,  where  he  soon  after 


*  Coleridge  has  most  happily,  in  his  translation  of  Schiller's 
couplet,  "described  and  exemplified1'  the  Ovidian  Elegiac 
metre. 

In  the  hexameter  rises  the  fountain's  silvery  columu ; 
In  the  pentameter  aye  falling  in  melody  back. 

t  The  writer  in  the  Monthly  Anthology  for  June,  1809,  sug- 
gests that  he  was  assisted  in  it  by  Master  Lovell.  It  has  also 
been  ascribed  to  Bernard. 

%  The  Rehearsal  was  a  weekly  paper  in  Boston,  on  a  half 
sheet  folio,  published  from  1731-85,  when  it  was  merged  in  the 
Boston  Evening  Post.  In  Gridley's  hands  it  was  written  in 
rather  an  ornamental  style.  Thomas's  Hist  of  Print,  ii.  22S. 
Mass.  Hist.  Soe.  Coll.,  First  Series,  v.  218. 


died,  in  1778.  Though arigid teacher,  Lovell  is  said 
to  have  been  an  agreeable  companion ;  and  though 
a  tory,  he  educated  many  of  the  whig  leaders. 
He  delivered  the  first  published  address  in  Faneuil 
Hall,  a  funeral  oration  on  its  founder  in  1742.  In 
the  close  of  this  he  uttered  the  memorable  sen- 
tence, "  May  this  hall  be  ever  sacred  to  the  inte- 
rests of  truth,  of  justice,  of  loyalty,  of  honor,  of 
liberty.  May  no  private  views  nor  party  broils 
ever  enter  these  walls." 

Lovell's  Latin  ode  (n.)  to  Governor  Bernard  is 
forcible  and  elegant,  and  its  concluding  simile  of 
the  torn  branch  in  Virgil's  descent  to  Hades,  as 
applied  to  the  royal  succession,  happy. 

Sic  sacra  scevae  dona  Proserpina? 
Dimittit  arbor,  alter  et  emicat 
Ramus  refuigens,  ac  avito 

Silva  iterum  renovatur  auro. 

His  second  composition  (xxv.)  is  an  Epithala- 
mium  in  English  heroics,  descriptive  of  the  embar- 
cation  of  Charlotte  on  the  Elbe.  Rocks,  sands, 
winds,  and  Neptune  are  invoked  to  give  safe  con- 
duct to  the  marriage  party ;  and  Neptune  responds 
in  the  most  cordial  manner. 

xxvi.  and  xxvn.  are,  the  one  in  Latin,  the  other 
in  English,  commemorations  of  the  astronomical 
incident  of  the  year,  the  transit  of  Venus,  which 
had  just  been  observed  by  Professor  Winthrop,  of 
the  College  at  St.  John's. 


"While  Halley  views  the  heavens  with  curious  eyes, 
And  notes  the  changes  in  the  stormy  skies,— 
"What  constellations  'bode  descending  rains, 
Swell  the  proud  streams,  and  fertilize  the  plains ; 
"What  call  the  zephyrs  forth,  with  favouring  breeze, 
To  waft  Britannia's  fleets  o'er  subject  seas; 
In  different  orbits  how  the  planets  run, 
Reflecting  rays  they  borrow  from  the  sun: — 
Sudden  a  different  prospect  charms  his  sight, — 
Venus  encircled  in  the  source  of  light! 
Wronders  to  come  his  ravished  thoughts  unfold, 
And  thus  the  Heaven-instructed  bard  foretold : 
What  glorious  scenes,  to  ages  past  unknown, 
Shall  in  one  summer's  rolling  months  be  shown. 
Auspicious  omens  yon  bright  regions  wear ; 
Events  responsive  in  the  earth  appear. 
A  golden  Phoebus  decks  the  rising  morn, — 
Such,  glorious  George !  thy  youthful  brows  adorn ; 
Kor  sparkles  Venus  on  the  ethereal  plain, 
Brighter  than  Charlotte  'midst  the  virgin  train. 
The  illustrious  pair  conjoined  in  nuptial  ties, 
Britannia  shines  a  rival  to  the  skies ! 

Seven  of  the  compositions  are  given  to  Stephen 
Sewall,  whom  Han-is  has  called  "the  most 
accomplished  classical  scholar  of  his  day  which 
our  college  or  country  could  boast."*  These 
papers  are  the  in.,  in  Latin  hexameters ;  v.,  an 
English  ode ;  xn.,  a  Latin  elegiac ;  xiv.,  an 
elegant  Latin  sapphic  ode,  exulting  over  the  pros 
pects  of  the  royal  grandson,  and  prematurely 
rejoicing  in  the  peaceful  reign : 

Ipse  sacratum  tibi  Jane  !  templum 
Clauserit ;  ramos  olese  virentis 
Marte  jactatis  populis  daturus 

Corde  benigno. 


*  Manuscript  letter  to  Prof.  George  Ticknor,  Dorchester, 
April,  1S28. 


HARVARD  COLLEGE. 


13 


Hinc  quies  orbi ;  studiis  juvamen ; 
Gaudium  musis ;  thalami  puellis ; 
Omnibus  passim  hinc  oriatur  amplo 
Copia  cornu. 

Prata  pubesount  gregibus  superba ; 
Cuncta  subrident  redimita  sertis. 
Num  rogas  unde  hsec  ?     Regit  his  Georgcs 
Altek  et  idem. 

xv.  and  xvi.  are  a  Greek  elegy  and  sapphic. 
xxiii.  is  a  Latin  sapphic  ode  addressed  to  the 
new  sovereign,  elegant  and  spirited,  setting  all 
the  powers  of  nature  ringing  in  with  great  joy 
and  hilarity  the  coming  of  the  new  sovereign. 

Sewall  was  born  at  York,  in  the  district  of 
Maine,  in  1734,  and  was  brought  up  as  a  joiner, 
his  industry  in  which  calling  gave  him  the  means 
of  entering  Harvard  at  the  age  of  twenty-four. 
He  was  Professor  of  Hebrew  and  Oriental  Lan- 
guages, in  which  he  was  a  proficient,  at  Harvard, 
from  1765  to  1785.  His  lectures  were  models  of 
English  composition.  He  published  a  Hebrew 
Grammar  in  1763  ;  a  Latin  oration  on  the  death 
of  President  Holyoke ;  an  oration  on  the  death 
of  Professor  Winthrop  ;  Scripture  Account  of  the 
Schekinah,  1774;  History  of  the  Destruction  of 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  1776  ;  a  translation  of  the 
first  book  of  Young's  Night  Thoughts  into  Latin 
verse,  and  Garmina  Sacra*  In  the  college  library 
is  a  "  Syriac  and  Ohaldee  Grammar  and  Diction- 
ary" in  MS.,  prepared  by  him  for  publication;  also 
a  "Treatise  on  Greek  Prosody,"  and  part  of  a 
Greek  and  English  Lexicon.t  He  died  in  1804, 
in  his  seventy-first  year. 

John  Lowell,  of  Newbury,  on  the  testimony  of 
the  Anthology  and  Dr.  Eliot,  was  the  author  of 
No.  vii.,  a  not  very  remarkable  eulogy  of  the 
two  sovereigns  in  English  heroics.  Lowell  had 
been  graduated  the  year  before,  and  was  about 
to  lay  the  foundation  of  those  legal  attainments 
•which  made  him  a  constitutional  authority  in  his 
own  State,  and  Judge  of  the  Federal  Court  in 
Massachusetts,  under  the  appointment  of  Wash- 
ington. 

vin.,  ix.,  and  xvn.,  are  ascribed,  in  Sewall's 
copy,  and  by  Deane,  to  the  elder  Bowdoin.  The 
first  two  are  Latin  epigrams  ;  the  last  is  an  Eng- 
lish iambic  in  the  good  round  measure  of  the 
author,  whom  we  shall  meet  again  in  his  moral 
poem  on  the  Economy  of  Life.     Bowdoin  was 

*  The  Night  Thoughts  were  published  in  a  small  18mo.  of 
21  pages,  in  1786.  Nocte  Cogitata,  Auctore,  Anglice  Scripta, 
Young,  D.D.,  qute  Lingua  Latii  Donavit  America.  Carolop- 
pidi:  Typis  Allen  ibCushlng,  Massachusettensium.  The  motto 
is  from  Virgil — Suut  lachfymae  rerum,  et  mentem  mortalia 
tangunt.  The  dedication  is  to  John  Hancock,  President  of 
Congress — Nomen  prze  se  ferro  gestit.  It  thus  renders  Young's 
famous  opening  lines: — 

Somnus,  qui  fessos  reficit  mitissimus  artusl 
Iste,  homines  vcluti,  qua  res  fortuna  secundat, 
Prompte  adit;  at  miseros  torve  fugit  ore  minaci: 
Prieceps  a  luctu  properat  pernicibus  alis, 
Atque  oculis,  lachryma  vacuis,  considit  amice. 

The  Carmina  Sacra  qum  Latine  Gneceque  Condidit  America 
was  published  in  a  neat  small  quarto  form  of  eight  pages, 
Wigornia3,  Massachusettensis,  typis  Isaia?  Thomas,  1789.  It 
gives  versions  of  the  23d  and  "134th  Psalms,  the  first  nine 
verses  of  the  4th  chapter  of  the  Song  of  Solomon,  and  a  Greek 
Ode  on  the  Day  of  the  Last  Judgment  The  Canticles  com- 
mence : — 

En  venusta  es,  eara  mihi,  en  venusta  es,    ■ 
Crinibus  snbsunt  oculi  columbae: 
Bunt  tui  crines,  velut  agmen  errans 
Monte  caprinum. 
t  MS.  list  of  Sewa'PB  writings  by  T.  M.  Harris. 


at  this  time  a  graduate  of  some  sixteen  years' 
standing. 

Samuel  Deane,  who  wrote  the  English  ode  x., 
as  appears  by  his  own  authority,  was  a  Bachelor 
of  Arts  of  the  year  before.  He  was  of  the  class 
of  1760  of  the  college,  its  Librarian  and  Promus, — 
a  species  of  steward.  He  became  noted  as  the 
minister  of  Portland,  Maine.  He  died  in  1814, 
having  published  an  Election  Sermon  and  the 
New  England  Farmer  or  Georgical  Dictionary . 

xi.,  one  of  the  longest  English  poems,  was 
written  by  Benjamin  Church,  of  whom  we  say 
something  elsewhere ;  and  iv.,  in  English  rhyme, 
may  also  be  given  to  him,  on  the  authority  of  a 
marked  copy  in  the  Harvard  Library. 

xm.  and  xxviii.,  English  odes,  belong  to  Dr. 
Samuel  Cooper,  then  in  his  established  pulpit 
reputation,  having  left  college  eighteen  years 
before. 

xviii.,  xix.,  xx.,  xxxi.,  on  the  Anthology 
authority,  may  be  set  down  to  Governor  Francis 
Bernard,  who  may  have  been  the  writer  also  of 
vi.,  a  Latin  elegiac.  President  Quincy  assigns 
five  contributions  to  Bernard.  The  first  two  are 
brief  Grejk  and  Latin  epitaphs,  of  which  the 
third  is  an  English  translation.  Thirty-one  is  the 
Epilogue,  a  Latin  sapphic  ode,  prophetic  of  the 
future  glories  of  the  American  muse.  It  is  not 
often  that  the  world  gets  so  good  an  ode  from  a 
Governor,  but  Bernard  had  kept  up  his  old  Oxford 
education,  and  had  a  decided  taste  in  literature, 
knowing  Shakspeare,  it  is  said,  by  heart.* 


EPILOGtjg. 

Isis  et  Camus  placide  fluentes, 
Qua  novem  fastos  celebrant  sorores, 
Deferunt  vatum  pretiosa  Regi 

Dona  Bkitanno. 

Audit  haee  Flumen,  prope  Bostonense3 
Quod  Novanglorum  studiis  dicatas 
Abluit  sedes,  eademque  sperat 

Munera  ferre. 

Obstat  huie  Phoebus,  chorus  omnis  obstat 
Virginum  ;  frustra  officiosa  pensum 
Tentat  insuetum  indocilis  ferire 

Plectra  juventua. 

Attamen,  si  quid  studium  placendi. 
Si  valent  quidquam  Pietas  Fidesque 
Civica,  omnino  rudis  hand  peribit 
Gratia  Musse. 

Quin  erit  tempus,  cupidi  augurantur 
Vana  m  vates,  sua  cum  Novangus 
Grandius  quoddam  meliusque  carmen 
Chorda  sonabit: 

Dum  regit  mundum  occiduum  Britannus, 
Et  suas  artes,  sua  jura  terris 
Dat  novis,  nullis  eohiber.da  metis 

Regna  capessens ; 

Dum  Debs  pendens  agitationes 
Gentium,  fluxo  moderatur  orbi, 
Passus  humanum  genus  hie  perire, 
Hie  renovari 

xxi.,  xxn.,  are  Latin  sapphies  of  which  the 
author  is  unknown ;  nor  has  any  name  been 
assigned  to  the  spirited  Latin  epithalamium 
xxiv.,  worthy  to  have  been  penned  by  Lovell 
or  Sewall. 

*  Allen's  Biographical  Dictionary. 


14 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAS'  LITERATURE. 


xxix.  of  the  Pietas  et  Gratulatio,  in  English 
blank  verse,  is  assigned  by  the  Anthology  lists  to 
Thomas  Oliver,  who  had  graduated  eight  years 
before,  and  who  was  then  living  in  retirement,  to 
be  disturbed  afterwards  by  his  lieutenant-gover- 
norship and  loyalist  flight  to  England.  Peter 
Oliver,  to  whom  this  has  also  been  ascribed,  had 
graduated  thirty-one  years  before,  and  was  then 
a  Judge  of  the  Superior  Court  of  Massachusetts. 

The  English  poem  xxx.  may  have  been  written 
by  Bowdoin. 

We  have  now  enumerated  each  item  of  this 
meritorious  production,  which  is  well  worthy  of 
learned  and  antiquarian  annotation  at  the  hands 
of  some  competent  son  of  Old  Harvard.  The  wri- 
ters were  nearly  all  alumni  of  the  college,  and 
though  not  all  fresh  from  its  halls  at  the  date  of 
this  composition,  the  fact  that  they  were  scho- 
lars, whose  taste  and  literature  had  been  thus  far 
preserved,  is  the  more  creditable  to  both  parties, 
when  we  consider  how  soon  such  accomplish- 
ments generally  fade  amidst  the  active  affairs  of 
the  world. 

Samuel  Locke  was  the  successor  of  Holyoke  for 
more  than  three  years,  when  he  resigned  the  office. 
He  made  no  particular  mark  in  his  college  govern- 
ment. He  is  said  to  have  been  a  man  of  talents, 
wanting  knowledge  of  the  world,  which  the  situa- 
tion in  those  revolutionary  days  demanded. 

From  1774  to  1780  the  chair  was  occupied  by 
Samuel  Langdon,  whose  ardent  Whig  politics, 
while  the  public  was  pleased,  hardly  compensat- 
ed for  his  lack  of  judgment.  He  retired  to  the 
duties  of  a  country  parish. 

Joseph  Willard  was  elected  in  1781,  and  con- 
tinued till  his  death,  in  1804.  "Having  been 
called  to  the  President's  chair  in  the  midst  of 
the  revolutionary  war,  when  the  general  tone 
of  morals  was  weak,  and  the  spirit  of  discipline 
enervated,  he  sustained  the  authority  of  his  sta- 
tion with  consummate  steadfastness  and  prudence. 
He  found  the  seminary  embarrassed,  he  left  it 
free  and  prosperous."* 

Samuel  Webber,  before  his  presidency,  from 
1806  to  1810,  had  been  Professor  of  Mathematics 
in  the  college.  He  had  been  a  farmer's  boy,  and 
had  entered  the  university  at  twenty.  He  pub- 
lished a  work  on  Mathematics  in  two  volumes 
octavo,  which  was  much  used  in  the  early  part 
of  the  century.  He  was  succeeded  in  the  go- 
vernment of  the  college  by  John  Thornton  Kirk- 
land,  who  held  the  office  from  1810  to  1828, 
and  whose  honored  memory  is  fresh  in  the 
hearts  of  the  present  generation.  All  of  these 
Presidents,  from  the  commencement  to  the  time 
of  Quincy,  were  clergymen  or  preachers,  as 
they  have  always  been  graduates  of  the  college 
from  the  days  of  President  Hoar.  From  Kirk- 
land,  in  1829,  the  office  passed  to  Josiah  Quincy, 
who  held  it  till  1845 ;  when  he  was  succeeded 
by  Edward  Everett,  1846-49  ;  and  Jared  Sparks 
from  that  year  till  1853,  when  the  present  in- 
cumbent, James  Walker,  was  called  from  his 
chair  of  Moral  Philosophy.  His  reputation  as 
a  thinker  and  preacher  was  established  by 
his  pulpit  career  at  Charlestown,  and  the  dis- 
charge of  the  duties  of  his  professorship ;   and 

*  Quincy's  Hist.  ii.  2S3. 


though  fastidious  in  avoiding  publication,  by  his 
occasional  discourses  and  articles  in  the  Christian 
Examiner,  during  his  editorship  of  the  journal 
with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Greenwood.  He  has  published, 
as  a  college  text-book,  an  edition  of  Reid  "On 
the  Intellectual  Powers,"  with  notes,  also  an 
edition  of  Dugald  Stewart's  "  Philosophy  of  the 
Active  and  Moral  Powers,"  and  has  delivered  a 
course  of  Lowell  lectures  on  "The  Philosophy 
of  Religion." 

Having  brought  the  line  of  Presidents  to  the 
present  day,  we  may  now  notice  a  few  incidental 
points  connected  with  the  history  of  the  college. 

In  1814  a  Professorship  of  Greek  Literature 
was  founded  by  Samuel  Eliot,  a  merchant  of  Bos- 
ton, who  liberally  appropriated  twenty  thousand 
dollars  for  the  purpose.  The  gift  was  anonymons, 
and  the  professorship  did  not  bear  his  name  till  his 
death  in  1820.  Edward  Everett  was  the  first  in- 
cumbent; and  0.  C.  Felton,  since  1834,  lias  done 
much  to  make  the  title  known.  In  Astronomy  and 
Mathematics,  Benjamin  Peirce,  since  1842;  Dr. 
Gray,  the  successor  of  Nuttall  in  Natural  History, 
in  1842 ;  and  Louis  Agassiz,  in  Zoology  and  Geo- 
logy, since  1847,  have  extended  the  reputation  of 
the  college  among  men  of  science  throughout  the 
world. 

An  important  addition  has  been  made  to  the 
higher  educational  facilities  of  Cambridge  in  the 
foundation,  by  the  Hon.  Abbott  Lawrence,  of  the 
Scientific  School  bearing  his  name.  Its  faculty 
consists  of  the  president  and  ten  professors ;  the 
most  important  chairs,  those  of  chemistry,  geo- 
logy, and  engineering,  are  at  present  occupied 
by  Horsford,  Agassiz,  and  Eustis.  Students  are 
not  admitted  under  the  age  of  eighteen.  An  at- 
tendance of  at  least  one  year  on  one  or  more  of 
the  courses  of  lectures,  and  a  satisfactory  exami- 
nation on  the  studies  pursued,  entitle  the  student 
to  the  degree  of  Bachelor  in  Science  cum  laude. 
To  attain  the  highest  grade,  summd  cum  laude,  a 
more  rigorous  examination,  exceeding  in  tho- 
roughness, it  is  said  by  those  who  have  been  sub- 
jected to  it,  the  celebrated  examinations  at  West 
Point,  must  be  passed.  A  Museum  of  Natural 
History,  under  the  supervision  of  the  professors, 
has  been  commenced  on  a  scale  commensurate 
with  the  extended  instructions  of  the  school. 

The  Institution,  besides  the  eminent  professors 
whom  we  have  mentioned,  enumerates  amongst  its 
graduates  and  officers,  the  names  of  the  Wiggles- 
worths,  the  Wares,  Woods,  Channing,  Buckmin- 
ster,  Norton,  Palfrey,  Noyes,  Francis,  in  theo- 
logy and  sacred  literature ;  Edward  Everett, 
Popkin,*  and  Felton,  in  classic  literature ;  Ticknor, 
Follen,  and  Longfellow,  in  the  languages  of  con- 
tinental Europe ;  Winthrop,  Webber,  Bowditch, 
Safford,  Farrar,  Peck,  Cogswell,  Nuttall,  Harris, 
Wyman,  in  the  departments  of  mathematics,  na- 
tural history,  and  philosophy ;  Isaac  Parker,  Par- 
sons, Stearns,  Story,  Ashmun,  Greenleaf,  W'hea- 
ton,  William  Kent,  and  Joel  Parker,  in  the  school 
of  jurisprudence;  and  the  best  talent  of  the  time 
and  region  in  medicine  and  anatomy.     Other 


*  A  Memorial  of  the  Rev.  John  Snelling  Popkin  was  edited 
by  Professor  Felton,  in  1852.  He  was  a  man  of  a  dry  humor 
and  of  sterling  character.  His  lectures  on  classical  subjects,  of 
which  several  are  published,  show  him  to  have  been  a  good 
scholar  and  a  polished  man  of  his  times. 


HARVARD  COLLEGE. 


15 


names  of  reputation  are  to  be  found  in  the  list 
of  tutors,  while  the  "  bibliothecarii"  have  nobly 
illustrated  their  calling,  from  early  Stoddard, 
Sewall,  and  Gookin,  including  Mather  Byles  and 
the  Librarian  of  the  Astor  Library,  Dr.  Cogswell, 
to  the  present  occupant,  Dr.  Harris,  and  the 
Assistant  Librarian,  Mr.  Sibley,  than  whom  the 
office  never  had  a  more  accommodating  or  active 
incumbent.* 

The  early  college  usages,  the  mode  of  living, 
the  respect  to  professors,  interior  rules  and  regu- 
lations, the  ceremonial  on  state  occasions,  offer 
many  curious  subjects  of  inquiry.  In  1693,  the 
Corporation  passed  an  ordinance  against  the  use 
by  the  students  in  their  rooms  of  "  plum  cake," 
which  probably  became  contraband  from  its  ac- 
cessories. The  Saturnalia  of  Commencement  time 
were  celebrated.  In  the  "  Collection  of  Poems 
by  Several  Hands,"  published  in  Boston  in  1744, 
to  which  Byles  contributed,  there  is  a  pleasant 
description  in  verse  of  the  humors  of  Commence- 
ment at  Cambridge,  recounting  the  adventures  of 
rural  beaux  and  belles  crossing  the  river,  the  fine 
show  made  by  the  ladies  of  the  town  at  their 
windows,  equalled  only  by  the  procession  of  stu- 
dents. The  church  is  filled,  while  the  youth,  full 
of  learning,  declaim  and  debate,  and  having 
received  their  degree  from  "the  awful  chief," 
proceed  to  "  the  sav'ry  honors  of  the  feast."  The 
fields  about,  in  the  meantime,  are  turned  into 
a  fair,  full  of  wrestlers,  mountebanks,  and  ginger- 
bread. 

In  1771  was  published  "  Brief  Remarks  on  the 
Satirical  Drollery  at  Cambridge  last  Commence- 
ment Day,  with  special  reference  to  the  character 
of  Stephen  the  Preacher,  which  raised  such  ex- 
travagant mirth,"  by  A.  Croswell,  V.  D.  M.  in 
Boston.  The  reverend  divine  seems  to  have  been 
greatly  disturbed  at  the  hilarity  on  the  occasion, 
created  by  some  of  the  performances,  "  which 
made  the  house  of  God  to  outdo  the  playhouses 
for  vain  laughter  and  clapping."  Croswell's 
pamphlet  drew  out  a  reply,  in  "  A  letter  to  the 
Rev.  Andrew  Croswell,  by  Simon  the  Tanner." 

In  the  old  Massachusetts  Magazine  for  1789, 
there  is  a  quaint  paper  addressed  "  To  Students 
of  Colleges  and  Universities,"  eulogistic  of  the 
beauty  and  opportunities  of  college  halls  and 
usages. 

The  Fair  day  at  Cambridge  was  kept  up  till 
within  quite  a  recent  period.  To  this  day  the 
banks  of  Boston  are  closed  on  the  holiday  of 
Commencement,  and  the  Governor  goes  out  in 
state  to  the  exercises,  escorted  by  city  troops. 

The  second  centennial  anniversary  of  the  col- 
lege foundation  was  celebrated  in  September, 
1836,  with  great  eclat.  A  pavilion  was  erected 
on  the  college  grounds,  where  the  alumni  assem- 
bled, answering  to  the  roll-call  of  graduates.  An 
old  man  of  eighty-six,  of  the  class  of  1774,  was 
the  first  to  answer.  The  Address  was  delivered 
by  President  Quincy.  Odes  were  recited,  speeches 
were  made  by  Everett,  Story,  and  other  magnates 
of  the  institution.  Everett  presided,  and  Robert 
C.  Winthrop,  a  direct  descendant  of  the   first 


His  History  of  the  Town  of  Union,  in  Maine,  is  a  mono- 
graph of  local  history,  written  with  fidelity  and  spirit:  one  of 
the  best  of  a  class  of  compositions  of  inestimable  interest  to 
our  American  historical  literature. 


governor  of  the  colony,  one  of  the  earliest  sup- 
porters of  the  college,  was  the  marshal  of  the  day. 
The  college  buildings  were  illuminated  in  the 
evening. 

Gore  Hall,  the  library  building,  completed  in 
1841,  is  named  in  honor  of  Christopher  Gore,  who 
had  been  Governor  of  the  State,  and  United 
States  Commissioner  to  England  under  the  Jay 
treaty,  who  left  the  college  a  bequest  amounting 
to  nearly  one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  The 
several  libraries  connected  with  the  University 
contain  about  one  hundred  thousand  volumes. 
Among  the  specialities,  besides  the  Hollis,  the 
Palmer,  and  other  donations,  are  the  Ebeling 
collection  of  American  books,  purchased  and 
presented  by  Israel  Thorndike  in  1818,  the  Ame- 
rican historical  library  of  Warden,  former  Con- 
sul at  Paris,  purchased  at  a  cost  of  more  than 
five  thousand  dollars,  and  presented  to  the  col- 
lege by  Samuel  Atkins  Eliot,  in  1823,  a  collec- 
tion further  enriched  by  the  application  of  the 
Prescott  bequest  in  1845.*  The  library  has  also 
its  collection  of  portraits  and  statuary. 

Gore  Hall  is  of  granite,  of  the  general  design 
of  King's  College  Chapel  at  Cambridge. 


Goro  Hall. 

The  Picture  Gallery,  in  the  room  extending 
through  the  entire  lower  story  of  Harvard  Hall, 
contains  more  than  forty  portraits  of  benefactors 
of  the  institution,  and  of  other  eminent  individu- 
als. Nearly  all  are  works  of  merit,  being  the 
productions  of  Copley,  Stuart,  Trumbull,  New- 
ton, Smibert,  and  Frothingham,  with  other  more 
recent  painters. 

In  the  literary  associations  of  Harvard,  the  Phi 
Beta  Kappa  Society  should  not  be  forgotten.  It 
was  introduced  at  Harvard  from  the  original 
charter,  at  William  and  Mary  College,  in  Vir- 
ginia, about  the  year  1778.  It  was  a  secret 
society,  with  its  grip  for  personal  communication, 
and  its  cypher  for  correspondence,  though  con- 
fined to  purely  literary  objects.  For  some  time 
the  literary  exercises  usual  with  college  clubs 
were  kept  up  by  the  students,  though  they  have 
been  intermitted  for  the  last  twenty  or  thirty 
years.  Meetings  of  undergraduates  are  held  only 
to  elect  members  from  the  next  class;  and  the 
entire  action  of  the  society  at   Cambridge    is 

*  Jowett's  Smithsonian  Institution  Library  Report,  82. 


16 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


limited  to  an  oration  and  poem,  and  the  enter- 
tainment of  a  dinner,  in. which  it  alternates  with 
the  Association  of  the  Alumni,  so  that  each  has 
its  exercises  every  second  year.  Edward  Everett 
was  for  several  years  its  President  at  Harvard. 
Its  literary  exercises  have  been  distinguished  by 
many  brilliant  productions.  Joseph  Bartlett  pro- 
nounced his  poem  on  "Physiognomy"  in  1799; 
Everett's  poem,  on  "  American  Poets,"  was  deli- 
vered in  1812;  Bryant's  "Ages"  in  1821; 
Sprague's  "Curiosity"  in  1829;  Dr.  Holmes's 
"Metrical  Essay  on  Poetry"  in  1836. 

In  the  religious  opinions  of  its  conductors,  and 
its  plan  of  education,  Harvard  has  faithfully  re- 
presented the  times,  during  the  long  period 
through  which  it  has  passed.  A  glance  at  its  cata- 
logue will  show  its  early  proficiency  in  the  studies 
connected  with  sacred  literature  and  natural  phi- 
losophy. Though  always  producing  good  scholars, 
its  polished  Belles  Lettres  training  has  been  com- 
paratively of  recent  growth.  When  the  first 
catalogue  of  the  library  was  printed  in  1723,  it 
contained  not  a  single  production  of  Dryden,  the 
literary  magnate  of  its  period ;  of  the  accomplished 
statesman  and  essayist,  Sir  William  Temple,  of 
Shaftesbury,  Addison,  Pope,  or  Swift."*  It  has, 
to  the  present  day,  largely  supplied  the  cultiva- 
tion of  Massachusetts,  and  for  a  long  time, 
from  its  commencement,  the  whole  of  New  Eng- 
land, furnishing  the  distinguished  men  of  the 
State  and  its  professions.  Its  new  professorships 
of  the  Classics,  of  Rhetoric,  of  the  Modern  Lan- 
guages, of  Law,  of  Science,  mark  the  progress  of 
the  world  in  new  ideas.  Though  for  the  most 
part  ostensibly  founded  with  conservative  reli- 
gious views,  our  colleges  have  not  been  generally 
very  rigid  guardians  of  opinion.  Their  course 
has  rather  been  determined  by  influences  from 
without.  Established  in  old  Puritan  times,  Har- 
vard has  suffered,  of  course,  a  disintegration 
of  the  staunch  orthodoxy  of  its  old  Chauncys 
and  Mathers.  About  the  beginning  of  the  cen- 
tury, it  passed  over  virtually  into  its  present 
Unitarianism,  though  the  officers  of  instruction 
and  government  are  of  nearly  all  denominations. 

This  narrative  might  be  pursued  at  great  length, 
following  out  the  details  of  bequests  and  legacies, 
the  dates  of  college  buildings,  the  foundation  of 
scholarships  and  professorships  through  long 
series  of  incumbents  more  or  less  eminent.  Pre- 
sident Quincy,  who  is  not  a  diffuse  writer,  has 
not  extended  the  subject  beyond  the  interest  or 
sympathies  of  his  intelligent  reader,  in  his  two 
large  octavo  volumes.  For  the  minutiae  of  ad- 
ministration, and  other  points  of  value  in  the  his- 
tory of  education  and  opinion  in  America,  we 
may  refer  to  his  work — to  the  faithful  but  not  so 
extensive  chronicle  of  Benjamin  Peirce,  the  libra- 
rian of  the  University,  who  closes  his  account  with 
the  presidency  of  Holyoke,  to  the  sketch  of  the 
history  of  the  College  by  Samuel  A.  Eliot,  and 
to  the  judicious  History  of  Cambridge  by  Abiel 
Hohnes. 

THE  BAT  PSALM  BOOK. 
The   first   book  of  consequence  printed   in  the 
country  was    what  is  called    Tlie   Bay  Psalrn 


*  Peirce's  History  of  Harvard  Univ.  109. 


Booh.  "About  the  year  1639,"  says  Cotton  Ma- 
ther, in  the  Magnalia,  "  the  new  English  Reform- 
ers resolving  upon  a  new  translation  [of  the 
Psalms],  the  chief  divines  in  the  country  took  each 
of  them  a  portion  to  be  translated;  among  whom 
were  Mr.  Welde  and  Mr.  Eliot  of  Roxbury,  and 
Mr.  Mather  of  Dorchester.  The  Psalms  thu3 
turn'd  into  Metre  were  printed  at  Cambridge,  in 
the  year  1640."* 

The  Rev.  Thomas  Welde  was  the  first  minister 
of  Roxbury,  where  he  was  the  associate  of  Eliot, 
the  Apostle  to  the  Indians.  He  returned  to 
England  with  Hugh  Peters,  and  became  the 
author  of  two  tracts  in  vindication  of  the  purity 
of  the  New  England  worship.  Mr.  Richard  Ma- 
ther was  the  father  of  Cotton,  who  goes  on  to 
add — "  These,  like  the  rest,  were  of  so  different  a 
genius  for  their  poetry,  that  Mr.  Shepard  of  Cam- 
bridge, on  the  occasion,  addressed  them  to  this 
purpose. 

You  Roxbury  Poets,  keep  clear  of  the  crime 
Of  missing  to  give  us  a  very  good  rhyme. 
And  you  of  Dorchester  your  verses  lengthen, 
And  with  the  text's  own  word   you  will   them 
strengthen. 

The  design  was  to  obtains  closer  adherence  to 
the  sense  than  the  versions  of  Ainsworth,f  which 
they  chiefly  employed,  and  of  Sternhold  and  Hop- 
kins offered.  The  preface  to  the  new  book  set 
this  forth  distinctly  as  a  motive  of  the  collection, 

because  every  good  minister  hath  not  a  gift  of 
spiritual  poetry  to  compose  extemporary  psalmes  as 
he  hath  of  prayer. 

*  *  Neither  let  any  think,  that  for  the  metre 
sake  we  have  taken  liberty  or  poetical  licence  to 
depart  from  the  true  and  proper  sense  of  David's 
words  in  the  Hebrew  verses,  noe  ;  but  it  hath  been 
one  part  of  our  religious  care  and  faithful  endeavour, 
to  keepe  close  to  the  original  text. 

*  *  If,  therefore,  the  verses  are  not  always  so 
smooth  and  elegant  as  some  may  desire  or  expect; 
let  them  consider  that  God's  altar  needs  not  our 
polishings,  Ex.  20  :  for  we  have  respected  rather  a 
plain  translation,  than  to  smooth  our  verses  with 
the  sweetness  of  any  paraphrase,  and  so  have 
attended  conscience  rather  than  elegance,  fidelity 
rather  than  poetry,  in  translating  the  Hebrew  words 
into  English  language,  and  David's  poetry  into  Eng- 
lish metre,  that  so  we  may  sing  in  Sion  the  Lord's 
songs  of  praise  according  to  his  own  will ;  until  he 
take  us  from  hence,  and  wipe  away  all  our  tears,  and 
bid  us  enter  into  our  master's  joy  to  sing  eternal 
Hallelujahs. 

As  specimens  of  this  version  we  may  give  the 
following,  not  remarkable  for  grace  or  melody, 
however  distinguished  for  fidelity. 


*  Magnalia,  iii.  100.  We  take  the  title  from  the  copy  in  the 
Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Library,  which,  from  an  entry  on  a  fly-leaf,  was 
one  of  the  books  belonging  to  "the  New  England  Library," 
begun  to  be  collected  Dy  Thomas  Prince,  upon  his  entering 
Harvard  College  July  6,  1708.  The  Whole  Book  of  Palms 
faithfully  translated  into  English  metre.  Whereunto  is  pre- 
fixed a  discourse  declaring  not  only  the  lawfulness,  but  also  the 
necessity  of  the  heavenly  ordinance  of  singing  Scripture 
Psalms  in  the  Churches  of  God.    Imprinted  1640. 

t  Henry  Ainsworth  was  a  native  of  England,  a  leader  of  the 

Brownists,  and  a  man  of  eminent  learning.    He  retired,  on  the 

banishment  of  the  sect,  to  Holland,  where  he  published  his 

"  Book  of  Psalms"  in  Amsterdam  in  1612.     The   Puritans 

!    brought  it  with  them  to  Plymouth.    Sternhold  and  Hopkins's 

i    version  of  a  portion  of  the  Psalms  was  made  in  England  aa 

I    early  as  1549. 


THE  BAY  PSALM  BOOK. 


17 


PSAXSIE  18. 
****** 

6.  I  in  my  streights,  cal'd  on  the  Lord, 
and  to  my  Gud  ery'd :  he  did  heare 
from  his  temple  my  voyce,  my  erye, 
before  him  came,  unto  his  eare. 

1.     Then  th'  earth  shooke  and  quak't  and  moun- 
taiues 
roots  moov'd,  and  were  stir'd  at  his  ire. 

8.  Up  from  his  nostrils  went  a  smoak, 
and  from  his  mouth  devouring  fire: 
By  it  the  eoales  inkiudled  were. 

9.  Likewise  the  heavens  he  downe-bow'd, 
and  he  descended,  and  there  was 
under  his  feet  a  gloomy  cloud. 

10.  And  he  on  cherub  rode,  and  flew  ; 
yea  he  flew  on  the  wings  of  winde. 

11.  His  secret  place  hee  darknes  made 
bis  covert  that  him  round  coufinde, 
Dark  waters,  and  thick  clouds  of  skies. 

psalme  123. 
A  Song  of  degrees. 

1.  Blessed  is  every  one 
that  doth  Jehovah  feare ; 
that  walks  his  wayes  along. 

2.  For  thou  shalt  eate  with  cheere 

thy  hands  labour: 
blest  shalt  thou  bee, 
it  well  with  thee 

shall  be  therefore. 

3.  Thy  wife  like  fruitful  vine 
shall  be  by  thine  house  side : 
the  children  that  be  thine 
like  olive  plants  abide 

about  thy  board. 

4.  Behold  thus  blest 
that  man  doth  rest, 

that  feares  the  Lord. 

5.  Jehovah  shall  thee  blesse 
from  Sion,  and  shall  see 
Jerusalem's  goodness 

all  thy  life's  days  that  bee. 

6.  And  shall  view  well 
thy  children  then 

with  their  children, 
peace  on  Isr'ell. 

In  a  second  edition  of  the  work  in  1647,  were 
added  a  few  spiritual  songs.  This  is  a  specimen 
of  the  latter  from  the  "  Song  of  Deborah  and 
Barak." 

Jael  the  Kenite,  Heber's  wife 

'bove  women  blest  shall  be. 
Above  the  women  in  the  tent 

a  blessed  one  is  she. 
He  water  ask'd,  she  gave  him  milk : 

in  lordly  dish  she  fetch'd 
Him  butter  forth  :  unto  the  nail 

she  forth  her  left  hand  stretched  : 

Her  right  hand  to  the  workman's  maul 

and  Sisera  hammered : 
She  pierced  and  struck  his  temples  through, 

and  then  cut  off  his  head. 
He  at  her  feet  bow'd,  fell,  lay  down, 

he  at  her  feet  bow'd  where 
He  fell:  whereas  he  bowed  down 

he  fell  distroyed  there. 
VOL.    I. 2 


"  A  little  more  art,"  says  Mather,  was  found  to 
be  necessary  to  be  employed  upon  this  version, 
and  it  was  committed  for  revision  to  the  President 
of  Harvard,  the  Rev.  Henry  Dunster,  who  was 
assisted  in  the  task  by  Richard  Lyon,  an  oriental 
scholar,  who  came  over  to  the  colony  as  the  tutor 
to  the  son  of  Sir  Henry  Mildmay.  The  versifica- 
tion improved  somewhat  under  their  hands. 

Previously  to  the  publication  of  this  edition,  to 
assist  it  with  the  people,  came  forth  the  Rev.  John 
Cotton's  treatise,  "  Singing  of  Psalms  a  Gospel 
ordinance,"  urging  the  duty  of  singing  aloud  in 
spiritual  meetings,  the  propriety  of  using  the 
examples  in  Scripture,  and  the  whole  congrega- 
tion joining  in  the  duty  ;  and  meeting  the  objec- 
tions to  the  necessary  deviation  from  the  plain 
text  of  the  Bible.  The  circumstance  that  Popish 
churches  used  chants  of  David's  prose  helped  him 
along  in  the  last  particular.  The  difficulties  to  be 
met  show  a  curious  state  of  religious  feeling. 
That  the  use  of  the  Psalms  of  David  in  religious 
worship,  should  be  vindicated,  in  preference  to 
dependence  upon  the  special  spiritual  inspirations 
of  this  kind  on  the  occasion,  such  as  the  state  of 
New  England  literature  at  that  time  afforded,  is 
something  notable  in  the  Puritan  history.  Another 
scruple  it  seems  was  in  permitting  women  to  take 
part  in  public  psalmody  by  an  ingenious  textual 
argument  which  ran  this  way.  By  a  passage  in 
Corinthians  it  is  forbidden  to  a  woman  to  speak 
in  the  church — "how  then  shall  they  sing?" 
Much  less,  according  to  Timothy,  are  they  to  pro- 
phesy in  the  Church — and  singing  of  Psalms  is  a 
kind  of  prophesying.  Then  the  question  was 
raised  whether  "  carnal  men  and  pagans"  should 
sing  with  Christians  and  Church-members.  Such 
was  the  illiberal  casuistry  which  Cotton  was  re- 
quired to  meet.  He  handled  it  on  its  own 
grounds  with  breadth  and  candor,  in  the  spirit 
of  a  scholar  and  a  Christian.  "  Though  spiritual 
gifts,"  he  wrote,  "  are  necessary  to  make  melody 
to  the  Lord  in  singing;  yet  spiritual  gifts  are 
neither  the  only,  nor  chief  ground  of  singing ;  but 
the  chief  ground  thereof  is  the  moral  duty  lying 
upon  all  men  by  the  commandment  of  God  :  If 
any  oe  merry  to  sing  Psalms.  As  in  Prayers, 
though  spiritual  gifts  be  requisite  to  make  it  ac- 
ceptable, yet  the  duty  of  prayer  lieth  upon  all 
men  by  that  commandment  which  forbiddeth 
atheism :  it  is  the  fool  that  saith  in  his  heart 
there  is  no  God  :  of  whom  it  is  said  they  call  not 
upon  the  Lord,  which  also  may  serve  for  a  just 
argument  and  proof  of  the  point." 

The  Bay  Psalm  Book  was  now  adopted  and 
was  almost  exclusively  used  in  the  New  England 
Churches.  It  passed  through  at  least  twenty- 
seven  editions  by  1750. 

The  first  American  edition  of  Sternhold  and 
Hopkins's  version  was  published  at  Cambridge  in 
1693. 

Cotton  Mather,  in  1718,  published  a  new  literal 
version  of  the  Psalms — "  The  Psalterium  Ameri- 
canum,"  of  which  a  notice  will  be  found  in  the 
account  of  that  author.  The  Rev.  Thomas  Pri  nee, 
the  antiquarian,  revised  the  Bay  Psalm  Book 
with  care.  It  was  published  in  1758  and  intro- 
duced into  the  Old  South  Church,  of  which  he 
had  been  pastor,  in  October  of  that  year,  the 
Sunday  after  his  death. 

Dr.   Watts's  Hymns  were  first  published  in 


18 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


England  in  1707,  and  his  Psalms  in  1719.  He 
sent  Specimens  of  them  the  year  before  to  Cotton 
Mather,  who  expressed  his  appro  val.  The  Hymns 
were  first  published  in  America  by  Dr.  Franklin 
in  1741,  and  the  Psalms  in  the  same  year,  in  Bos- 
ton. They  did  not  come  into  general  use  till  after 
the  Revolution. 

Tate  and  Brady's  version  of  the  Psalms,  pub- 
lished in  England  at  the  close  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  was  not  reprinted  in  America  till  1741. 
It  furnished  the  material  for  the  collection  in  use 
by  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church. 

In  1752,  the  Eev.  John  Barnard,  pastor  at  Mar- 
blehead  for  fifty-four  years,  who  lived  in  great 
estimation  for  his  high  character  to  the.  age  of 
eighty-eight,  published  a  new  version  of  the 
Psalms  based  on  the  old  Bay  Psalm  Book.* 

NATHANIEL  WAED. 


J7Gt$nPimt$ 


The  most  quaint  and  far-fetched  in  vigorous  ex- 
pression of  the  early  political  and  religious  tracts 
generated  in  New  England,  is  that  piece  of  pedan- 
tic growling  at  toleration,  and  pungent  advice  to 
British  Royalty,  inclosing  a  satire  on  the  fashiona- 
ble ladies  of  the  day,  the  production  of  Nathaniel 
Ward,  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Ipswich,  which 
is  entitled  the  Simple  Cooler  of  Ag  amain. \  This 
was  written  in  America  in  1645,  when  the  author 
was  seventy -five.  It  has  a  home  thrust  or  two 
at  the  affairs  and  manners  of  the  colony,  showing 
where  it  was  written,  but  is  mainly  levelled  at 
the  condition  of  England.  The  style  is  for  the 
most  part  very  affected,  "  a  Babylonish  Dialect ;" 
full  of  the  coinage  of  new  words, — ■ 

Words  so  debas'd  and  hard,  no  stone 
Was  hard  enough  to  touch  them  on — 

passing,  however,  into  very  direct  nervous  Eng- 
lish in  the  appeal  to  the  King,  then  at  war  with 
his  subjects. 

Theodore  de  la  Guard,  the  name  assumed  by 
the  author,  addresses  his  remarks  "  to  his  native 
country."  Ward  was  born  in  England  in  1570, 
at  Haverhill,  in  Suffolk.  His  father  Samuel,  the 
"painful  minister"  of  that  place,  had  four  sons 
in  the  Church,  of  whom,  according  to  Dr.  Fuller 
in  his  "  Worthies,"  people  used  to  say  that  all  of 
them  put  together  would  not  make  up  his  abili- 


*A  History  of  Music  in  New  England,  by  George  Hood. 
Boston  :  1846.  Much  interesting  matter  has  been  collected  by 
Mr.  Hood,  who  gives  specimens  of  the  writers.  Moore's  En- 
cyclopasdia  of  Music  and  Psalmody. 

tThe  Simple  Cobler  of  Aggawam  in  America,  willing  to  help 
'mend  his  native  country,  lamentably  tattered,  both  in  the 
upper-leather  and  sole,  with  all  the  honest  stitches  he  can 
take.  And  as  willing  never  to  be  paid  for  his  work,  by  old 
English  wonted  pay. 

It  is  his  trade  to  patch  all  the  year  long,  gratis, 
Therefore  I  pray,  Gentlemen,  keep  yoiir  purses. 

By  Theodore  de  la  Guard.    In  rebus  arduU  ac  tenui  spe, 
fortissimo,  quaque  consilia  tutissima  sunt.  Cic.    In  English, 

When  bootes  and  shoes  are  torne  up  to  the  lefts, 
Coblers  must  thrust  their  awls  up  to  the  hefts. 

This  is  no  time  to  feare  ApcUes  granvm : 
Ne  Sutor  quid&m  ultra  crepidam. 

London :  Printed  by  J.  D.  &  R.  I.  for  Stephen  Bowtell,  at  the 
eigne  of  the  Bible  in  Pope's  Head  Alley,  1647. 


ties.    Fuller  has  also  preserved  his  Latin  Epi- 
taph : 

Quo  si  quis  scivit  scitius, 

Aut  si  quis  docuit  doctius ; 

At  rarus  vixit  sanctius, 

Et  nullus  tonuit  fortius : 

and  thus  translated  it : — 

Grant  some  of  knowledge  greater  6tore, 

More  learned  some  in  teaching; 
Tet  few  in  life  did  lighten  more, 

None  thundered  more  in  preaching. 

In  the  library  of  the  Mass.  Historical  Society 
there  is  an  old  London  quarto  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  entitled  "  A  Warning  Piece  to  all  Drunk- 
ards and  Health  Drinkers,"  which  contains  a  "col- 
lection of  some  part  of  a  Sermon  long  since 
preached  "  by  Mr.  Samuel  Ward,  of  Ipswich,  en- 
titled, A  Wo  to  Drunkards.  "He  lived,"  con- 
tinues this  old  writer,  "  in  the  days  of  famous  King 
James,  and  was  like  righteous  Lot,  whose  soul  was 
vexed  with  the  wicked  conversation  of  the  So- 
domites. He  published  divers  other  good  sermons. 
His  text  was  in  Proverbs  xxiii.  29,  32.  To 
lohom  is  woe  t  to  whom  is  sorrow  ?  to  whom  is 
strife  ?  In  the  end  it  will  bite  like  a  serpent,  and 
sting  like  a  cockatrice,    lie  begins  thus : 

"  Seer,  art  thou  also  drunk  or  asleep  ?  or  hath  a 
spirit  of  slumber  put  out  thine  eyes?  Up  to  thy 
"watch-tower,  what  descriest  thou  ?  Ah,  Lord ! 
what  end  or  number  is  there  of  the  vani- 
ties which  mine  eyes  are  weary  of  beholding? 
But  what  seest  thou  ?  I  see  men  -walking  like  the 
tops  of  trees  shaken  with  the  wind,  like,  masts  of 
ships  reeling  on  the  tempestuous  seas  :  drunkenness, 
I  mean,  that  hateful  night  bird ;  which  was  wont 
to  wait  for  the  twilight,  to  seek  nooks  and  corners, 
to  avoid  the  howting  and  wonderment  of  boys  and 
girls ;  now  as  if  it  were  some  eaglet,  to  dare  the 
sun-light,  to  fly  abroad  at  high  noon  in  every  street, 
in  open  markets  and  fairs,  without  fear  or  shame. 
*  *  *  Go  to  then  now  ye  Drunkards,  listen,  not 
what  I  or  any  ordinary  hedge-priest  (as  j'ou  style 
us)  but  that  most  wise  and  experienced  royal 
preacher  hath  to  say  unto  you.  *  *  You  promise 
yourself  mirth,  pleasure  and  jollity  in  your  cups ; 
but  for  one  drop  of  your  mad  mirth,  be  sure  of  gal- 
lons and  tons  of  woe,  gall,  wormwood  and  bitter- 
ness, here  and  hereafter.  Other  sinners  shall  taste 
of  the  cup,  but  you  shall  drink  off  the  dregs  of 
God's  wrath  and  displeasure.  *  *  You  pretend 
you  drink  healths  and  for  health  ;  but  to  whom  are 
all  kind  of  diseases,  infirmities,  deformities,  pearled 
faces,  palsies,  dropsies,  headaches,  if  not  to  drunk- 
ards.' " 

His  son  Nathaniel  was  educated  at  Cambridge, 
was  bred  a  lawyer,  travelled  on  the  Continent  with 
some  merchants  in  Prussia  and  Denmark,  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  the  learned  theologue  Pa- 
rous at  Heidelberg,  and  influenced  by  his  au- 
thority, devoted  himself  to  divinity.  Returning 
to  England  he  took  orders  and  procured  a  parish 
in  Hertfordshire.  He  had  some  connexion  with 
the  Massachusetts  Company  in  1629,  got  into 
difficulty  as  a  nonconformist  in  1631,  was  si- 
lenced as  a  preacher  and  came  to  America  in  the 
summer  of  1634,  where  he  was  set  up  as  pastor 
of  the  church  at  Ipswich,  formerly  the  Indian 
town  of  Agawam.  He  had  John  Norton,  on  his 
arrival  from  England  the  next  year,  as  his  asso- 
ciate.   He  soon  after  resigned  this  situation,  and 


NATHANIEL  WARD. 


19 


appears  to  have  been  clerical  and  political  assistant 
in  general  to  the  country.  His  legal  training 
enabled  him  to  prepare  a  draft  of  laws,  called 
for  by  the  people  of  the  province,  which  was 
more  constitutional  than  the  theocratical  propo- 
sitions of  John  Cotton.  His  suggestions  were 
mostly  included  in  the  code  entitled  "Body  of 
Liberties,"  of  which  he  was  the  author.  It  was 
the  first  code  of  laws  established  in  New  Eng- 
land, being  adopted  in  1641.  It  is  not  to  be 
confounded  with  the  "Abstract  of  Laws"  pre- 
pared by  Cotton.  Many  of  its  provisions  and 
omissions  are  sagacious,  and  its  statutes  are 
tersely  worded.  A  manuscript  copy  of  the 
"Liberties"  was  some  time  since  discovered  by 
Mr.  Francis  C.  Gray,  of  Boston,  who  has  pub- 
lished tbe  work  in  the  Mass.  Hist.  Society  Col- 
lections, accompanied  by  a  judicious  review  of 
the  early  legislation.*  Ward's  Code  exhibits, 
he  says,  "  throughout  the  hand  of  the  practical 
lawyer,  familiar  with  the  principles  and  securities 
of  English  liberty ;  and  though  it  retains  some 
strong  traces  of  the  times,  is  in  the  main  far  in 
advance  of  them,  and  in  several  respects  in 
advance  of  the  Common  Law  of  England  at 
this  day."  Ward  returned  to  England,  where, 
shortly  after  his  arrival  in  1647,  he  published 
The  Simple  Cobler,  which  he  had  written  in 
America.  He  obtained  an  English  parish  the 
next  year,  at  Shenfield  in  Essex,  where  he  died  in 
1653.  Fuller  celebrates  his  reputation  for  wit  in 
England,  as  one  who,  "  following  the  counsel  of 
the  poet, 

Ridentcm  dicere  varum, 

Qui.?  vctat? 

What  doth  forbid  but  one  may  smile, 

And  also  tell  the  truth  the  while  ? 

hath,  in  a  jesting  way,  in  some  of  his  hooks, 
delivered  much  smart  truth  of  the  present  times.''t 
Cotton  Mather,  in  the  Magnalia,  has  written  the 
life  of  his  son  who  settled  at  Haverhill,  on  the 
Merrimack,  and  has  given  a  few  lines  to  the 
father's  memory  as  "  the  author  of  many  compo- 
sures full  of  wit  and  sense ;  among  which,  that 
entituled  The  Simple  Colder  (which  demonstrated 
him  to  be  a  subtle  statesman),  was  most  consi- 
dered ;"  and  in  his  Remarkables  of  his  father, 
Increase  Mather,  he  alludes  to  Ward's  hundred 
witty  speeches,  with  an  anecdote  of  the  inscrip- 
tion over  his  mantelpiece,  the  four  words  en- 
graved Sobrie,  Juste,  Pie,  Lcete. 

While  looking  over  the  notices  of  Ward  which 
remain,  and  which  are  not  so  many  as  could  be 
wished,  it  has  been  our  good  fortune  to  hold  in 
our  hands  the  copy  of  The  Simple  Cobler  which 
belonged  to  Robert  Southey,  who,  as  is  well 
known,  was  a  diligent  reader  and  warm  apprecia- 
tor  of  the  American  Colonial  history  and  records. 
It  is  marked  throughout  with  his  peculiar  pencil- 
lings  on  the  margin,  of  the  following  among  other 
fine  passages :  "  the  least  truth  of  God's  kingdom, 
doth  in  its  place  uphold  the  whole  kingdom  of 
his  Truths  ;  take  away  the  least  vericulum  out  of 
the  world  and  it  unworlds  all  potentially,  and  may 


*  Remarks  on  the  Early  Laws  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  with 
the  Code  adopted  in  164f,  and  called  the  Body  of  Liberties, 
now  first  presented  by  F.  C.  Gray,  LL.D.,  &c.  Mass.  Hist. 
Soc.  Coll.,  Third  Series,  viii.  191. 

t  Fuller's  Worthies,  Ed.  1850,  iii.  1ST. 


unravel  the  whole  texture  actually,  if  it  "be  not 
conserved  by  an  arm  of  extraordinary  power" — 
a  sentence  which  has  a  very  Coleridgean  look. 
Again,  an  illustration  worthy  of  Milton:  " Non 
senescit  Veritas.  No  man  ever  saw  a  gray  hair 
on  the  head  or  beard  of  any  Truth,  wrinkle  or 
morphew  on  its  face  :  the  bed  of  Truth  is  green 
all  the  year  long."  This  is  very  tersely  expressed : 
"  It  is  a  most  toilsome  task  to  run  the  wild  goose 
chase  after  a  well-breath'd  opinionist :  they  delight 
in  vitilitigation  :  it  is  an  itch,  that  loves  a  life  to 
be  scrub'd ;  they  desire  not  satisfaction,  but  satis- 
diction,  whereof  themselves  must  be  judges."  In 
these  more  earnest  thoughts  he  rises  beyond  his 
word-catching ;  but  one  portion  of  his  book  is 
very  amusing  in  this  way,  that  directed  against 
the  fashionable  ladies  of  the  time.  The  Cobler 
professes  to  be  a  solitary  widower  of  twelve 
years'  standing,  on  the  look-out  for  a  mate,  and 
thinking  of  going  to  England  for  the  purpose — 
"  but,"  says  he,  "  when  I  consider  how  women 
have  tripe-wifed  themselves  with  their  cladments, 
I  have  no  heart  to  the  vo,yage,  lest  their  nauseous 
shapes,  and  the  sea,  should  work  too  sorely  upon 
my  stomach.  I  speak  sadly  ;  methinks  it  should 
break  the  hearts  of  Englishmen  to  see  so  many 
goodly  English-women  imprisoned  in  French 
cages,  peering  out  of  their  hood-holes  for  some 
men  of  mercy  to  help  them  with  a  little  wit,  and 
nobody  relieves  them."  He  tells  us  there  are 
"  about  five  or  six"  specimens  of  the  kind  in  the 
colony:  "if  I  see  any  of  them  accidentally,  I 
cannot  cleanse  my  fancy  of  them  for  a  month 
after."  On  this  matter  the  Cobler  thus  defines 
his  position : — "  It  is  known  more  than  enough, 
that  I  am  neither  niggard  nor  cynic,  to  the  due 
bravery  of  the  true  gentry :  if  any  man  mislikes 
a  bully  mong  drosock  more  than  I,  let  him  take 
her  for  his  labour :  I  honour  the  woman  that  can 
honour  herself  with  her  attire :  a  good  text 
always  deserves  a  fair  margent:  I  am  not  much 
offended  if  I  see  a  trim,  tar  trimmer  than  she 
that  wears  it :  in  a  word,  whatever  Christianity 
or  civility  will  allow,  I  can  afford  with  London 
measure:  hut  when  I  hear  a  nugiperous  gentle- 
dame  inquire  what  dress  the  Queen  is  in  this 
week:  what  the  nudiustertian  fashion  of  the 
court,  I  mean  the  very  newest;  with  egg  to  he 
in  it  in  all  haste,  whatever  it  he ;  I  look  at  her  as 
the  very  gizzard  of  a  trifle,  the  product  of  a  quar- 
ter of  a  cypher,  the  epitome  of  nothing,  fitter  to 
be  kickt,  if  she  were  of  a  kickable  substance,  than 
either  honour'd  or  humour'd." 

Like  most  of  the  Puritans,  Ward  was  a  bit 
of  a  poet,  a  cultivator  of  that  crabbed  muse 
who  frowned  so  often  on  such  votaries.  But 
Ward  was  too  sensitive  a  wit  not  to  have  suspi- 
cion of  his  own  verses,  and  says  modestly  and 
truly  enough  of  his  attempts  : — "  I  can  impute  it 
to  nothing,  but  to  the  flatuousness  of  our  diet: 
they  are  but  sudden  raptures,  soon  up,  soon  down." 
Here  are  some  lines  for  King  Charles's  considera- 
tion which  he  appends  to  his  book,  and  calls 
"  driving  in  half  a  dozen  plain  honest  country 
hobnails,  such  as  the  Martyrs  were  wont  to 
wear." 

There,  lives  cannot  be  good, 
There,  faith  cannot  be  sure, 

Where  truth  cannot  be  quiet, 
Nor  ordinances  pure. 


20 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


*     No  king  can  ting  it  right, 
Nor  rightly  away  his  rod ; 
Who  truly  loves  not  Christ, 
And  truly  fears  not  God. 

He  cannot  rule  a  land, 

As  lands  should  ruled  been, 

That  lets  himself  be  rul'd 
By  a  ruling  Roman  Queen. 

ISfo  earthly  man  can  be 

True  subject  to  this  state ; 
Who  makes  the  Pope  his  Christ, 

An  heretique  his  mate. 

There  peace  will  go  to  war, 

And  silence  make  a  noise: 
Where  upper  things  will  not 

With  nether  equipoise. 

The  upper  world  shall  rule, 

While  stars  will  run  their  race  : 

The  nether  world  obey, 

While  people  keep  their  place.* 

To  which  we  may  add  Ms 

PEEFATOBY  LINES  TO  THE  POEMB   OF  ANJfE  BEADSTEEET. 

Mercury  shov/d  Apollo,  Bartas  book, 

Minerva  this,  and  wish'd  him  well  to  look, 

And  tell  uprightly,  which  did  which  excel: 

He  view'd  and  view'd,  and  vow'd  he  could  not  tell. 

They  bid  him  hemisphere  his  mouldy  nose, 

Witn's  crack'd  leering  glasses,  for  it  would  pose 

The  best  brains  he  had  in's  old  pudding-pan, 

Sex  weigh'd,  which  best,  the  woman  or  the  man? 

He  peer'd,  and  por'd,  and  glar'd,  and  said  for  wore, 

I'm  even  as  wise  now,  as  I  was  before. 

They  both  'gan  laugh,  and  said,  it  was  no  mar'l. 

The  auth'ress  was  a  right  Bit  Bartas  girl. 

Good  sooth,  quoth  the  old  Don,  tell  me  ye  so, 

I  muse  whither  at  length  these  girls  will  go. 

It  half  revives  my  chill  frost-bitten  blood, 

To  see  a  woman  once  do  ought  that's  good ; 

And  chode  by  Chaucer's  boots  and  Homer's  furs, 

Let  men  look  to't,  lest  women  wear  the  spurs. 

Ward  was  also  the  author  of  a  humorous  sati- 
rical address  in  1648,  to  the  London  tradesmen 
turned  preachers,  entitled  Mercurius  Anti-meclia- 
nicus,  or  the  Simple  Cobler's  Boy,i  in  which  he 
devotes  twelve  chapters  of  punning  and  exhorta- 
tion to  the  Confectioner ;  the  Smith ;  the  Eight 
and  Left  Shoe-Maker ;  the  Needless  Tailor  from 
Ms  working  (im)posture ;  the  Saddler ;  the  Por- 
ter; the  Labyrinthian  Box-maker;  the  All-be- 
smearing Soap-boiler  or  the  sleepy  Sopor ;  the 
Both-handed  Glover;  the  White-handed  Meal- 
man  ;  the  Chicken-man ;  and  the  Button-maker. 
He  extracts  from  each  the  quaint  analogies  and 
provocations  of  his  particular  calling,  running 
riot  in  a  profusion  of  puns  and  moralities,  en- 
grafted by  his  strong  vigorous  sense  on  Ms  devo- 
tional ardor,  study  of  the  times,  and  collegiate 


*  The  Simple  Cooler,  in  the  old  editions,  is  a  scarce  hook. 
The  old  Boston  reprint  bears  date  1713.  It  has  been  lately 
republished  by  Munroe  &  Co.  in  1S43,  with  an  introductory 
notice  by  David  Pulsifer.  There  is  an  article  on  Ward  in  the 
Monthly  Anthology  for  May,  1319,  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  J.  G. 
Cogswell. 

t  Mercurius  Anti-mechanicus,  or  the  Simple  Cobler's  Boy. 
With  his  Lap-fnil  of  Caveats  (or  Take  heeds),  Documents,  Ad- 
vertisements and  Prcemonitions,  to  all  his  honest  fellow- 
tradesmen-Preachers,  but  more  especially  a  dozen  of  them,  in 
or  about  the  City  of  London.  By  Theodore  de  la  Guarden. 
London  :  Printed  for  John  Walker,  at  the  Sign  of  the  Starre 
In  Pipes-head  Alley.    1648. 


classicahties.  The  Cobler's  boy  proves  Mmself  as 
efficient  at  patching  and  mending  souls  as  Ms  sire. 
His  pulpit-confectioner  he  warns  against  that 
"doctrine  of  indulgence,"  reminding  Mm  that 
"  we  must  not  speak  tMngs  tooth-some  but  whole- 
some." "  Coloquintida,"  says  he,  "  must  usher 
in  ambrosia.  Children  would  never  eat  so  much 
raw  and  forbidden  fruit  (to  vermiculate  their  in- 
trals)  if  they  could  but  remember  that  ever  since 
Adam's  time  poma  fuisse  mala.  If  sugar-plums 
lead  the  van,  scouring  pills  will  challenge  the  rear. 
Too  much  diet-bread  will  bring  a  man  to  a  diet 
drink  ;  mack-roones  will  make  room  for  (no  good) 
luxury.  Marmalade  may  marre  my  Lady,  me  it 
shall  not.  March  pane  shall  not  be  my  arch- 
bane."  He  then  utters  a  meditation  "  that  spice 
when  it  is  bruised  and  small  (being  beat  and  heat), 
it  sends  up  a  sweet  savour  into  the  nostrils  of  the 
smiter:  so  a  gracious  man,  the  more  his  God 
bruises  and  beats  Mm  by  afflictions,  the  more 
small  he  is  broken  in  himself,  the  more  fragrant 
and  ravishing  odours  he  sends  up  to  heaven. 
The  more  the  Lord  brayes,  the  more  he  prayes." 
He  reminds  the  Smith  not  to  have  too  many  irons 
in  the  fire,  and  that  it  is  easier  to  make  his  anvil 
groan  than  the  hearts  of  his  hearers.  A  seared 
conscience,  he  says,  "  is  like  the  smith's  dog  that 
hath  been  so  addicted  to  sleep  under  the  very 
anvil  that  no  noise  will  convince  Mm  to  an 
awakening."  The  Cobler's  boy  is  of  course  at 
home  with  the  shoe-maker,  whom  he  warns  "not 
to  go  beyond  his  last  by  seeking  to  be  one  of  the 
first."  The  tailor's  disposition,  he  sa}Ts,  "  must  be 
not  more  cross  than  his  legs  or  shears."  From 
the  porter  pursuing  his  trudging  vocation  abroad 
he  draws  this  quaint  conclusion,  "that  he  walks 
abroad  all  day,  but  the  evening  brings  him  home : 
many  a  prodigal  roames  abroad  all  the  dajT  of 
prosperity ;  but  the  night  of  adversity  brings  Mm 
home  to  God.  Therefore  I  shut  up  with  an  ad- 
miring question  thus, — What  a  strange  owl-e3-ed 
creature  is  man,  who  (for  the  most  part)  finds  the 
way  home  best  in  the  dark."  The  box-maker 
naturally  recalls  to  so  ingenious  a  witted  person 
the  pulpit :  "  but  perhaps  thou  accountest  a  pulpit 
a  box,  and  I'll  tell  thee  a  brief  story  to  that  effect. 
A  little  child  being  at  a  sermon  and  observing  the 
minister  very  vehement  in  his  words  and  bodily 
gesture,  cried  out,  '  Mother,  why  don't  the  people 
let  the  man  out  of  the  box?'  Then  I  entreat 
thee  behave  thyself  well  in  preaching,  lest  men 
say  truly  this  is  Jack  in  a  box!"  His  Chicken- 
man  is  to  learn  "  that  many  men  woodcock -like 
live  by  their  long  bills."  So  he  puns  on  through 
over  fifty  pages  of  typographical  eccentricities  in 
small  quarto.  He  was  a  contemporary  of  Dr. 
Thomas  Fuller,  the  admirable  wit  and  Church 
historian,  who  we  have  seen  appreciated  him, 
and  has  much  in  common  with  his  genius,  though 
the  one  was  suffering  with  the  ecclesiastical  esta- 
blishment, wMch  the  other  was  bent  upon  de- 
stroying. 


JOHN  COTTON.-JOHN  NOET03ST. 
Johtn"  Cotton,  "  the  great  Cotton,"  whose  general 
amiability,  piety,  political  influence,  and  pastoral 
'fidelity  are  memorable  in  the  New  England 
Churches,  was  born  at  Derby,  in  England,  in  1585. 
He  was  an  eminent  student,  and  a  fellow  of  Cam- 


JOHN  COTTON. 


21 


bridge,  where  he  became  a  Puritan,  and  was  after- 
wards minister  in  Lincolnshire  for  twenty  years, 
bearing  a  high  reputation  for  his  personal  worth 
and  his  theological  acumen,  till  a  citation  before 
Laud's  Ecclesiastical  Court  induced  him  to  escape 
prosecution  in  America,  where  he  landed  in  1633, 
and  was  established  the  same  year  in  the  ministry 
of  the  Boston  Church,  which  he  held  nineteen  years, 
till  his  death  in  1652.  He  was  an  ardent  admirer 
of  church  and  state  authority  according  to  the 
theocratic  Mosaic  dispensation  of  the  Jews.  In 
1636,  Cotton  was  appointed  by  the  General  Court 
to  prepare  a  scheme  of  laws  for  the  government 
of  the  colony.  He  performed  the  task,  but  his 
work  was  not  accepted,  the  "  Body  of  Liberties," 
by  Ward,  being  preferred  in  its  stead.  Cotton's 
"Abstract  of  the  Laws  of  New  England  as  they 
are  now  established,"*  was  printed  in  London,  in 
1641,  a  book  which  has  passed  incorrectly  for  the 
code  in  actual  operation  in  New  England.  Heresy, 
by  these  proposed  laws,  was  punishable  with  death. 
Scripture  authorities  were  freely  quoted,  as,  for 
Bending  out  warrants  for  calling  of  the  General 
Court,  Josh.  xxiv.  1. 

The  ingenuity  of  Cotton  was  considerably  taxed 
in  his  controversy  with  Roger  Williams,  in  his 
attempts  to  reconcile  the  authority  of  the  civil 
power  with  rights  of  conscience.  Williams  had 
charged  him  with  "holding  a  bloody  tenent  of 
persecution ;"  when  Cotton  entitled  his  reply 
The  Bloody  Tenent  washed  and  made  white  in  the 
Blood  of  the  Lamb,]  to  which  Williams  rejoined. 
The  controversy  was  conducted  with  much  polemi- 
cal acuteness  on  both  sides. 

In  1642,  he  published  a  tract  on  Set  Forms  of 
Prayer,\  from  which  we  may  present  a  charac- 
teristic passage : 

In  ease  a  distressed  soul  do  meet  with  a  prayer 
penned  by  a  godly  and  well-experienced  Christian, 
and  do  find  his  own  case  pithily  and  amply  deci- 
phered and  anatomized  therein,  we  deny  not  but  his 
heart  and  affections  may  go  along  with  it,  and  say 


*  This  la  reprinted  in  Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  First  Series,  v. 
178,  and  sequel.  In  1655,  after  Cotton's  death,  this  was  pub- 
lished in  London  in  a  complete  form  by  William  Aspinwall,  as 
"collected  and  digested  into  the  ensuing  method  by  that  godly 
grave  and  judicious  divine  Mr.  John  Cotton  of  Boston  in 
New  England,  in  his  lifetime,  and  presented  to  the  General 
Court  of  Massachusetts."  See  F.  C.  Gray's  review  of  the 
matter,  Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  Third  Series,  viii.  192,  8. 

t  The  Bloody  Tenent,  washed  and  made  white  in  the  Blood 
of  the  Lamb:  being  discussed  and  discharged  of  blood-guilti- 
ness by  just  defence.  Wherein  the  great  questions  of  this 
present  time  are  handled,  viz.  How  farre  liberty  of  conscience 
ought  to  be  given  to  those  that  truly  fear  God?  And  how  fane 
restrained  to  turbulent  and  pestilent  persons,  that  not  only 
raze  the  foundation  of  godliness,  but  disturb  the  Civil  Peace 
where  they  live?  Also  how  f.irre  the  magistrate  may  proceed 
in  the  duties  of  the firstTnblo?  And  that  all  magistrates  ought 
to  study  the  word  and  will  of  God,  that  they  may  frame  their 
government  according  to  it.  Discussed  as  they  are  alledged 
from  various  Scriptures,  out  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments. 
Wherein  also  the  practice  of  Princes  is  debated,  together  with 
the  judgment  of  ancient  and  late  writers  of  most  precious 
esteem.  Whereunto  is  added  a  Reply  to  Mr.  Williams'  An- 
swer to  Mr.  Cotton's  Letter.  By  John  Cotton,  Batchelor  in 
Divinity,  and  Teacher  of  the  Church  of  Christ  at  Boston,  in 
New  England.  London:  Printed  bv  Matthew  Svmmons,  for 
Hannah  Allen,  at  the  Ciowne  in  Pope's-Head  Alley,  1(H7.  4to. 
Pp.  105,  144. 

t  From  a  modest  and  clear  Answer  to  Mr.  Ball's  Discourse 
of  Set  Form*  of  Prayer,  set  forth  in  a  most  seasonable  time, 
when  this  kingdom  is  now  in  consultation  about  matters  of 
that  nature,  and  so  many  godly  long  after  the  resolution  in 
that  point.  Written  by  the  Reverend  and  learned  John  Cot- 
ton. B.D.,  and  Teacher  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  at  Boston  in 
NewEngland.  London:  Printed  bv  E.  O.anrt  G.D  , for  Henry 
Overton,  in  Pope's  Head  Alley.    1642.   4to.  pp.  51. 


Amen  to  it,  and  thus  far  may  find  it  a  lawful  help 
to  him ;  but  if  you  set  apart  such  a  prayer  to  sup- 
port him  as  a  crutch  in  his  prayers  (as  without 
which  he  cannot  walk  straight  and  upright  in  that 
duty),  or  if  he  that  penned  that  prayer,  or  others 
that  have  read  it,  do  enjoin  it  upon  him,  and  forbid 
him  to  pray  (and  especially  with  others),  unless  he 
use  that  form,  this,  instead  of  a  crutch,  will  prove  a 
cudgell,  to  break  the  bones  of  the  spirit  in  prayer, 
and  force  him  to  halt  in  worshipping  God  after  the 
precepts  of  men ;  as  it  hath  been  said  before,  so  it 
may  be  again  remembered  here ;  a  man  may  help 
his  spirit  in  meditation  of  his  mortality,  by  behold- 
ing a  dead  man's  scalp  cast  in  his  way,  by  God's 
providence ;  but  if  he  should  set  apart  a  death's 
head,  or  take  it  up  as  enjoined  to  him  by  others, 
never  to  meditate  or  confer  with  others  about  his 
mortality,  and  estate  of  another  life,  but  in  the  sight 
and  use  of  the  death's  head,  such  a  soul  shall  find 
but  a  dead  heart,  and  a  dead  devotion  from  such  a 
means  of  mortification ;  if  6ome  forms  of  prayer, 
especially  such  as  gave  occasion  to  this  dispute,  do 
now  seem  to  be  as  bread  to  the  hungry,  we  say  no 
more  but  this:  then  hungry  souls  will  never  be 
starved,  that  never  want  store  of  such  like  bread  as 
this  is. 

Cotton's  Keys  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  and 
Power  thereof  exhibits  his  system  of  church  go- 
vernment.* He  published  numerous  discourses 
and  religious  treatises  of  a  practical  and  expository 
character,  from  a  catechism  to  sermons  on  the 
Revelations,  beside  his  controversial  religious  and 
political  writings.  The  titles  of  some  of  these 
writings  are  in  the  quaint  style  of  the  times,  as  his 
Mills  for  Babes,  a  Catechism,  and  his  Meat  for 
Strong  Men,  which  was  an  exposition  of  civil 
government  in  a  plantation  founded  with  religious 
motives. 


f    Co(6c 


o-n, 


Like  most  of  the  old  New  England  divines, 
he  could  on  occasion  turn  his  hand  to  verse. 
A  specimen  of  this  kind  has  been  preserved  in 
Secretary  Morton's  "New England's  Memorial." 

ON  MY   REVEREND    AND    DEAR  BROTHER,    MR.    THOMAS  HOOKER, 
LATE  CASTOR  OF  THE  CHURCH  AT  HARTFORD  ON  CONNECTICUT. 

To  see  three  things  was  holy  Austin's  wish, 
Rome  in  her  flower,  Christ  Jesus  in  the  flesh, 
And  Paul  i'  the  Pulpit :  lately  men  might  see, 
Two  first,  and  more,  in  Hooker's  ministry. 

Zion  in  beauty,  is  a  fairer  sight, 

Than  Rome  in  flower,  with  all  her  glory  dight: 

Yet  Zion's  beauty  did  most  clearly  shine 

In  Hooker's  rule  and  doctrine ;  both  divine. 

Christ  in  the  spirit  is  more  than  Christ  in  flesh, 
Our  souls  to  quicken,  and  our  states  to  bless 
Yet  Christ  in  spirit  brake  forth  mightily, 
In  faithful  Hooker's  searching  ministry. 

Paul  in  the  pulpit,  Hooker  could  not  reach, 
Yet  diil  he  Christ  in  spirit  so  livelv  preach 
That  living  hearers  thought  he  did  inherit 
A  double  portion  of  Paul's  lively  spirit. 


*The  Keys  of  tbe  Kingdom  of  Heaven  and  Power  thereof, 
according  to  the  word  of  God.  by  that  Learned  and  Judicious 
Divine,  Mr.  John  Cotton,  Teacher  of  the  Church  at  Boston,  in 
New  England,  tending  to  reconcile  some  present  differences 
about  discipline,  was  published  in  London  in  1644.  with  a  pre- 
liminary address  to  the  Reader,  by  Thomas  Goodwin  and 
Philip  Nye.  members  of  the  .Westminster  Assembly.  It  was 
reprinted  by  Tappan  &  Dennet,  Boston,  1843. 


22 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAS'  LITERATURE. 


Prudent  in  rule,  in  argument  quick,  full ; 
Fervent  in  prayer,  in  preaching  powerful ; 
That  well  did  learned  Ames  record  bear, 
The  like  to  him  he  never  wont  to  hear. 

'Twas  of  Geneva's  worthies  said,  with  wonder, 
(Those  worthies  three)  Farell  was  wont  to  thunder ; 
Viret,  like  rain,  on  tender  grass  to  shower; 
But  Calvin,  lively  oracles  to  pour. 

All  these  in  Hooker's  spirit  did  remain, 
A  son  of  thunder,  and  a  shower  of  rain, 
A  pourer  forth  of  lively  oracles, 
In  saving  souls,  the  sum  of  miracles. 

Now  blessed  Hooker,  thou  art  set  on  high, 
Above  the  thankless  world,  and  cloudy  sky; 
Do  thou  of  all  thy  labour  reap  the  crown, 
Whilst  we  here  reap  the  seed  which  thou  hast  sown. 

to  which  we  may  add  from  John  Norton's  life, 
"A  taste  of  the  Divine  Soliloquies  between  God 
and  his  Soul,  from  these  two  transcribed  poems 
left  behind  him  in  his  study,  written  with  his  own 
hand.     The  one  entituled  thus,"' — 

A  THANKFUL  ACKNOWLEDGMENT   OF  GOD'S  PEOVTDENCE. 

In  mother's  womb  thy  fingers  did  me  make 
And  from  the  womb  thou  didst  me  safely  take : 
From  breast  thou  hast  me  nurst  my  life  throughout, 
That  I  may  say  I  never  wanted  ought. 

In  all  my  meals  my  table  thou  hast  spread, 
In  all  my  lodgings  thou  hast  made  my  bed : 
Thou  hast  me  clad  with  changes  of  array, 
And  chang'd  my  house  for  better  far  away. 

In  youthful  wandrings  thou  didst  stay  my  slide, 
In  all  my  jouruies  thou  hast  been  my  Guide: 
Thou  hast  me  sav'd  from  many  an  unknown  danger, 
And  shew'd  me  favour,  even  where  I  was  a  stranger. 

In  both  my  callings  thou  hast  heard  my  voice, 
In  both  my  matches  thou  hast  made  my  choice: 
Thou  gav'st  me  sons,  and  daughters,  them  to  peer, 
And  giv'st  me  hope  thou'lt  learn  them  thee  to  fear. 

Oft  have  I  seen  thee  look  with  Mercy's  face, 

And  through  thy  Christ  have  felt  thy  saving  grace. 

This  is  the  Heav'n  on  Earth,  if  any  be : 

For  this,  and  all,  my  soul  doth  worship  Thee. 

"Another  poem,  made  by  Mr.  Cotton  (as  it 
seemeth),  upon  his  removal  from  Boston  to  this 
wilderness :" 

I  now  may  expect  some  changes  of  miseries, 

Since  God  hath  made  me  sure 
That  himself  by  them  all  will  purge  mine  iniquities, 

As  fire  makes  silver  pure. 

Then  what  though  I  find  the  deep  deceitfuluess 

Of  a  distrustful  heart! 
Tet  I  know  with  the  Lord  is  abundant  faithfulness, 

He  will  uot  lose  his  part. 

When  I  think  of  the  sweet  and  gracious  company 

That  at  Boston  once  I  had, 
And  of  the  long  peace  of  a  fruitful  Ministry 

For  twenty  years  enjoy'd  : 

The  joy  that  I  found  in  all  that  happiness 

Doth  still  so  much  refresh  me, 
That  the  grief  to  be  cast  out  into  a  wilderness 

Doth  not  so  much  distress  me. 

For  when  God  saw  his  people,  his  own  at  our  town, 

That  together  they  could  not  hit  it, 
But  that  they  had  learned  the  language  of  Askelon, 

And  one  with  another  could  chip  it. 


He  then  saw  it  time  to  send  in  a  busy  Elf, 

A  Joyner  to  take  them  asunder, 
That  so  they  might  learn  each  one  to  deny  himself, 

And  so  to  peece  together. 

When  the  breach  of   their  bridges,  and  all  their 
banks  arow, 
And  of  him  that  school  teaches; 
When  the  breach  of  the  Plague,  and  of  their  Trade 
also 
Could  not  learn  them  to  see  their  breaches. 

Then  God  saw  it  time  to  break  out  on  their  Minis- 
ters, 

By  loss  of  health  and  peace ; 
Tea,  withall  to  break  in  upon  their  Magistrates, 

That  so  their  pride  might  cease. 

Cotton  Mather  has  written  his  life  in  the 
Magnalia,  with  great  unction  and  many  puns. 
"  If  Boston,"  says  he,  "  be  the  chief  seat  of  New 
England,  it  was  Cotton  that  was  the  father 
and  glory  of  Boston,"  in  compliment,  by  the  way, 
to  whose  Lincolnshire  residence  the  city  was 
named,  and  he  celebrates  the  divines  who  came 
with  him  in  the  ship  from  England  : — "  Mr.  Cot- 
ton, Mr.  Hooker,  and  Mr.  Stone,  which  glorious 
triumvirate  coming  together,  made  the  poor  peo- 
ple in  the  wilderness,  at  their  coming,  to  say,  that 
the  God  of  heaven  had  supplied  them  with  what 
would  in  some  sort  answer  their  three  great 
necessities:  Cotton  for  their  clothing,  Hooker 
for  their  fishing,  and  Stone  for  their  building.'" 

One  of  Mather's  conceits  in  this  "  Life"  is  worthy 
of  Dr.  Fuller ;  it  has  a  fine  touch  of  imagination. 
"Another  time,  when  Mr.  Cotton  had  modestly 
replied  unto  one  that  would  much  talk  and  crack 
of  his  insight  into  the  Revelations ;  "  Brother,  I 
must  confess  myself  to  want  light  in  those  mys- 
teries :" — the  man  went  home  and  sent  him  a 
pound  of  candles ;  upon  which  action  this  good 
man  bestowed  only  a  silent  smile.  He  would  not 
set  the  beacon  of  his  great  soul  on  fire  at  the  land- 
ing of  such  a  little  cocJcboat." 

Mather  quotes  the  funeral  eulogy  on  Cotton 
written  by  Benjamin  Woodbridge,*  the  first  gradu- 
ate of  Harvard,  which  was  probably  read  by 
Franklin  before  he  wrote  the  famous  typographi- 
cal epitaph  on  himself : 

A  living,  breathing  Bible ;  tables  where 
Both  covenants,  at  large,  engraven  were; 
Gospel  and  law,  in's  heart,  had  each  its  column ; 
His  head  an  index  to  the  sacred  volume ; 
His  very  name  a  title-page ;  and  next, 
His  life  a  commentary  on  the  text. 
0,  what  a  monument  of  glorious  worth, 
When,  in  a  new  edition,  he  comes  forth, 
Without  erratas,  may  we  think  he'll  be 
In  leaves  and  covers  of  eternity ! 

It  was  to  Cotton  New  England  was  indebted 
for  the  custom  of  commencing  the  Sabbath  on 
Saturday  evening.  "  The  Sabbath,"  says  Mather, 
"he  began  the  evening  before:  for  which  keep- 
ing of  the  Sabbath,  from  evening  to  evening,  he 
wrote  arguments  before  coming  to  New  England : 


*  The-  Rev.  Benjamin  Woodbridge,  the  first  graduate  from 
Harvard  College  (1642),  was  born  in  1622.  He  returned  to  Eng- 
land and  preached  at  Newbury,  Berks,  with  reputation  as  a 
scholar  and  orator.  In  1662  he  was  ejected,  but  by  particular 
favor  of  the  king,  by  whom  he  was  highly  esteemed,  was  al- 
lowed to  preach  privately.  He  died  at  Inglefield,  Berks,  16S4. 
A  few  of  his  sermons  were  published. 


JOHN  COTTON. 


23 


and,  I  suppose,  'twas  from  his  reason  and  practice 
that  the  Christians  of  New  England  have  gene- 
rally done  so  too." 

The  life  of  Cotton  was  also  written  by  his  succes- 
sor in  the  Church  at  Boston,  John  Norton",  an 
English  curate,  who  came  to  America  and  was  set- 
fled  as  the  colleague  of  Ward  at  Ipswich.  While 
at  the  latter  place,  he  acquired  distinguished  litera- 
ry reputation  by  the  elegant  latinity  of  his  Answer 
.  to  Apollonius,  the  pastor  of  the  Church  in  Mid- 
dlebury,  who,  at  the  request  of  the  divines  of 
Zealand,  had  sent  over  various  questions  on 
Church  Government  to  the  clergy  of  New  Eng- 
land. Of  this  work,  published  in  London  in 
164S,  Dr.  Thomas  Fuller,  that  warm  appreciator 
of  character,  says  in  his  Church  h^tory,*  of  his 
inquiries  into  the  tenets  of  the  Congregatioualists, 
"  that  of  all  the  authors  I  have  perused  concern- 
ing the  opinions  of  these  Dissenting  Brethren, 
none  to  me  was  more  informative  than  Mr.  John 
Norton  (one  of  no  less  learning  than  modesty), 
minister  in  New  England,  in  his  answer  to  Apol- 
lonius." Norton,  in  his  services  to  the  state,  was 
charged  with  a  delicate  commission  from  the  Pu- 
ritans of  New  England  to  address  bis  Majesty 
Charles  II.  on  the  Restoration.  He  died  suddenly 
in  1663,  shortly  after  his  return  from  this  em- 
bassy. 

Norton's  Life  and  Death  of  that  deservedly 
famous  Man  of  God,  Mr.  John  Cotton^  shows  a 
scholar's  pen  as  well  as  the  emotion  of  the  divine, 
and  the  warm  heart  of  the  friend.  It  abounds 
with  those  quaint  learned  illustrations  which 
those  old  preachers  knew  how  to  employ  so  well, 
and  which  contrast  so  favorably  with  the  gene- 
rally meagre  style  of  the  pulpit  of  the  present  day. 
Thus,  in  introducing  Cotton  on  the  stage  of  life, 
be  treats  us  to  a  quaint  and  poetical  essay  on 
youthful  education.  "  Though  vain  man  would 
be  wise,  yet  may  he  be  compared  to  the  cub,  as 
well  as  the  wild  asses'  colt.  Now  we  know  the 
bear  when  she  bringeth  forth  her  young  ones, 
they  are  an  ill  favored  lump,  a  mass  without 
shape,  but  by  continual  licking,  they  are  brought 
to  some  form.  Children  are  called  infants  of  the 
palms  (Lam.  ii.  20),  or  educations,  not  because 
they  are  but  a  span  in  length,  but  because  the 
midwife,  as  soon  as  they  are  born,  stretcheth  out 
their  joints  with  her  hand,  that  they  may  be  more 
straight  afterwards."  A  conceit  is  not  to  be  re- 
jected by  these  old  writers,  come  from  what 
quarter  it  may ;  as  George  Herbert  says — 

All  things  are  big  with  jest:  nothing  that's  plain 
But  may  be  witty,  if  thou  hast  the  vein. 

Here  is  something  in  another  way :  "  Three  in- 
gredients Aristotle  requires  to  complete  a  man, 
an  innate  excellency  of  wit,  instruction,  and 
government ;  the  two  first  we  have  by  nature,  in 
them  man  is  instrumental ;  the  first  we  have  by 
nature  more  immediately  from  God.  This  native 
aptitude  of  mind,  which  is  indeed  a  peculiar  gift 
of  God,   the  naturabst  calls  the  sparklings  and 


*  Book  xi.  sec.  51,  2. 

t  Abel  being  dead  yet  speaketh ;  or  the  Life  and  Death  of 
that  deservedly  famous  man  of  God,  Mr.  John  Cotton,  late 
teacher  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  at  Boston,  in  New  England. 
By  John  Norton,  teacher  of  the  same  church.  London  :  Tho. 
Newcomb.  1658.  4to.  pp.  51.  This  work  is  dated  by  the 
author,  Boston,  Nov.  6, 1657. 


seeds  of  virtue,  and  looks  at  them  as  the  prin- 
ciples and  foundations  of  better  education.  These 
the  godly-wise  advise  such  to  whom  the  inspec- 
tion of  youth  is  committed,  to  attend  to,  as  spring 
masters  were  wont  to  male  a  trial  of  tlie  virtue 
latent  in  waters,  by  the  morning  vapors  that 
ascend  from  them;"  and  in  a  marginal  reference 
be  quotes  Clemens  Alexandrinus,  "  Animi  nostri 
sunt  agi-i  animatiy  "  Idleness  in  youth,"  he 
says,  "  is  scarcely  healed  without  a  scar  in  age." 
When  be  arrives  at  Cotton's  distinguished  college 
years,  be  has  this  picture  of  a  student's  bfe. 

He  is  now  in  the  place  of  improvement,  amongst 
his  KpaniWot,  beset  with  examples,  as  so  many  objects 
of  better  emulation.  If  he  slacken  his  pace,  his 
compeers  will  leave  him  behind ;  and  though  he 
quicken  it,  there  are  still  those  which  are  before. 
Notwithstanding  Themistocles  excelleth,  yet  the  tro- 
phies of  MUtiades  suffer  him  not  to  sleep.  Cato, 
that  Hclluo,  that  devourer  of  books,  is  at  Athens. 
Ability  and  opportunity  are  now  met  together; 
unto  both  which  industry  actuated  with  a  desire  to 
know,  being  joined,  bespeaks  a  person  of  high  ex- 
pectation. The  unwearied  pains  of  ambitious  and 
unquiet  wits,  are  amongst  the  arrangements  of  ages. 
Asia  and  Egypt  can  hold  the  seven  wonders ;  but 
the  books,  works,  and  motions  of  ambitious  minds, 
the  whole  world  cannot  contain.  It  was  an  illicit 
aspiring  after  knowledge,  which  helped  to  put  forth 
Eve's  hand  unto  the  forbidden  fruit :  the  less  mar- 
vel if  irregenerate  and  unelevated  wits  have  placed 
their  summum  bonum  in  knowledge,  indefatigably 
pursuing  it  as  a  kind  of  deity,  as  a  thing  ruinous, 
yea,  as  a  kind  of  mortal-immortality.  Diogenes, 
Democritus,  and  other  philosophers,  accounting  large 
estates  to  be  an  impediment  to  their  proficiency  in 
knowledge,  dispossessed  themselves  of  rich  inherit- 
ances, that  they  might  be  the  fitter  students ;  pre- 
ferring an  opportunity  of  study  before  a  large  patri- 
mony. Junius,  yet  ignorant  of  Christ,  can  want  Ins 
country,  necessaries,  and  many  comforts;  but  he 
must  excel.  "  Through  desire  a  man  having  sepa- 
rated himself,  seeketh  and  intermeldleth  with  all 
wisdom,"  Prov.  xviii.  1.  The  elder  Plinius  lost  his 
life  in  venturing  too  near  to  search  the  cause  of  the 
irruption  of  the  hill  Vesuvius.  It  is  true,  knowledge 
excelleth  other  created  excellences,  as  much  as  life 
excelleth  darkness;  yet  it  agreeth  with  them  in 
this,  that  neither  can  exempt  the  subject  thereof 
from  eternal  misery.  Whilst  we  seek  knowledge 
with  a  selfish  interest,  we  serve  the  decree ;  and 
self  being  destroyed  according  to  the  decree,  we 
hence  become  more  able  to  serve  the  command. 

Cotton  was  on  one  occasion  a  correspondent  of 
Cromwell,  on  an  appbeation  in  1651  for  the  en- 
couragement of  the  Gospel  in  New  England. 
The  reply  of  the  Lord  Protector — For  my  esteemed 
Friend,  Mr.  Cotton,  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Bos- 
ton, in  New  England  :  These — is  characteristic  of 
his  bewildered  dogmatic  godliness.  "  What  is  the 
Lord  adoing  ?  What  prophecies  are  now  fulfilling? 
Indeed,  my  dear  Friend,  between  you  and  me, 
you  know  not  me,"  and  the  like.  Carlyle,  in  his 
Oliver  Cromwell,  has  printed  the  letter  and  pre- 
faced it  with  this  recognition  of  the  old  divine — 
"  Reverend  John  Cotton  is  a  man  still  held  in 
some  remembrance  among  our  New  England 
Friends.  A  painful  Preacher,  oracular  of  high 
Gospels  to  New  England ;  who  in  his  day  was 
well  seen  to  be  connected  with  the  Supreme  Pow- 
ers of  this  Universe,  the  word  of  him  being  as  a 


24 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


live-coal  to  the  hearts  of  many.  lie  died  some 
years  afterwards  ; — was  thought,  especially  on 
his  deathbed,  to  have  manifested  gifts  even  of 
Prophecj', — -a  thing  not  inconceivable  to  the 
human  mind  that  well  considers  Prophecy  and 
John  Cotton."* 


THOMAS  HOOKEE. 

7T     U^ 


fc^. 


Thomas  Hookee  was  born  at  Marfield,  Leices- 
tershire, in  1586.  He  was  educated  at  Cam- 
bridge, became  a  fellow  of  Emanuel  college,  and, 
on  leaving  the  university,  a  popular  preacher 
in  London.  In  1626  he  removed  to  Chelms- 
ford, Essex.  After  officiating  as  "lecturer"  for 
four  years  in  this  place,  in  consequence  of  non- 
conformity with  the  established  church  he  was 
obliged  to  discontinue  preaching,  and,  by  request, 
opened  a  school,  in  which  he  employed  John 
Eliot,  afterwards  the  Apostle  to  the  Indians,  as 
his  usher.  He  not  long  after  went  over  to  Hol- 
land, where  he  remained  three  years,  preaching 
at  Amsterdam  and  Rotterdam.  He  then  emi- 
grated to  Massachusetts,  arriving  at  Boston,  with 
Mr.  Cotton  and  Mr.  Stone,  Sept,  4,  1633,  and  be- 
came the  pastor  of  the  congregation  at  Newtown, 
or  Cambridge,  with  Mr.  Stone  as  his  assistant. 
"  Such  multitudes,"  says  Cotton  Mather,  "  flocked 
over  to  New  England  after  them  that  the  planta- 
tion of  Newtown  became  too  straight  for  them," 
and  in  consequence  Hooker,  with  one  hundred  of 
his  followers,  penetrated  through  the  wilderness 
to  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut,  where  they 
founded  Hartford.  A  difference  of  opinion  on 
minor  points  of  church  government  with  his 
clerical  associates  had  its  share  in  effecting  this 
removal.  Neither  distance  nor  difference,  how- 
ever, led  to  any  suspension  of  friendly  intercourse, 
Hooker  occasionally  visiting  and  preaching  in 
Massachusetts  Bay,  where  he  was  always  re- 
ceived by  admiring  crowds. 

"With  the  exception  of  these  visits,  the  remain- 
der of  his  life  was  spent  at  the  colony  he  had 
founded.  He  enjoyed  throughout  his  career  a 
great  reputation  as  a  pulpit  orator,  and  several 
stories  are  told  by  Mather  of  wonders  wrought 
by  his  prayers  and  sennons.  On  one  occasion, 
while  preaching  in  "  the  great  church  of  Leices- 
ter (England),  one  of  the  chief  burgesses  in  the 
town  much  opposed  his  preaching  there;  and 
when  he  could  not  prevail  to  hinder  it,  he  set 
certain  fidlers  at  work  to  disturb  him  in  the 
church  porch  or  churchyard.  But  such  was  the 
vivacity  of  Mr.  Hooker,  as  to  proceed  in  what  he 
was  about,  without  either  the  damping  of  his 
mind  or  the  drowning  of  his  voice ;  whereupon 
the  man  himself  went  unto  the  church  door  to 
overhear  what  he  said,"  with  such  good  result 
that  he  begged  pardon  for  his  offence,  and  became 
a  devout  Christian.  His  bearing  was  so  dignified 
that  it  was  said  of  him,  "he  coidd  put  a  king  in 
his  pocket." 

His  charities  were  as  liberal  as  his  endowments. 


*  Oliver  Cromwell's  Letters  and  Speeches,  with  Elucidations, 
i.  8. 


He  frequently  bestowed  large  sums  on  widows 
and  orphans,  and  on  one  occasion  when  there 
was  a  scarcity  at  Southampton,  on  Long  Island, 
joined  with  a  few  others  in  despatching  "a  whole 
bark's  load  of  corn  of  many  hundred  bushels  "  to 
the  relief  of  the  place. 

I 


Hooker's  Residence  at  Hartford. 

"He  would  say,"  remarks  Mather,  "that  he 
should  esteem  it  a  favor  from  God,  if  he  might 
live  no  longer  than  he  should  be  able  to  hold  up 
lively  in  the  work  of  his  place ;  and  that  when 
the  time  of  his  departure  should  come,  God  would 
shorten  the  time,  and  he  had  his  desire."  A  few 
days'  illness  brought  him  to  his  deathbed.  His 
last  words  were  in  reply  to  one  who  said  to  him, 
"  Sir,  you  are  going  to  receive  the  reward  of  all 
your  labors,"  "  Brother,  I  am  going  to  receive 
mercy."  A  little  after  he  closed  his  eyes  with 
his  own  hands,  "  and  expired  his  blessed  sold  into 
the  arms  of  his  fellow-servants,  the  holy  angels;" 
on  July  7,  1647. 

Two  hundred  of  his  manuscript  sermons  were 
sent  to  England  by  John  Higginson,  the  minister 
of  Salem,  himself  a  man  of  some  literature,  who 
died  in  1708,  at  the  extreme  age  of  ninety-two 
years,  seventy-two  of  which  he  had  passed  in  the 
ministry.*  Nearly  one  hundred  of  these  sermons 
were  published ;  and  he  was  also  the  author  of 
several  tracts,  and  of  a  Survey  of  the  Sum  of 
Cliurch  Discipline,  which  was  published  in  Lon- 
don, 1648,  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Thomas  Good- 
win, who  declares  that  to  praise  either  author  or 
work,  "  were  to  lay  paint  upon  burnished  marble, 
or  add  light  unto  the  sun."t 

The  Application  of  Redemptionoy  tlie  Effectual 
Work  of  the  Word  and  Spirit  of  Christ,  for  the 
Bringing  Home  of  Lost  Sinners  to  God,  which 
was  printed  from  the  author's  papers,  written 
with  his  own  hand,  and  attested  to  be  such  in  an 
epistle  by  Thomas  Goodwin  and  Philip  Nye,  had 
reached  a  second  edition  in  London  in  1659.     It 


*  His  associate  at  Salem.  Nicholas  Noyes,  wrote  an  elegy  on 
him,  in  which  he  says  quaintly  : 

For  rich  array  cared  not  a  fig, 
And  wore  Elisha's  periwig. 
At  ninety-three  had  comely  face, 
Adorned  with  majesty  and  grace." 
Before  he  went  among  the  dead. 
He  children's  children's  children  had. 
Noyes  published  an  Election  Sermon,  1698 ;  a  poem  on  the 
Death  of  Joseph  Green,  of  Salem.  1715:  and  appears  among 
the  commendatory  poets  of  the  Magnalia. — Allen's  Biog.  Diet 
t  Allen's  Biog.  Diet. 


JOHN  WINTHROP. 


25 


is  a  compact  small  quarto  of  seven  hundred  pages, 
exhibiting  his  practical  divinity  in  the  best  man- 
ner of  the  Puritan  school.  One  of  his  most  popu- 
lar works  was  The  Poor  Doubting  Christian 
drawn  to  Christ ;  a  seventh  edition  was  pub- 
lished in  Boston,  1743. 

FROM  TIIE  APPLICATION    OF  REDEMPTION. 

Follow  sin  by  the  fruits  of  it,  as  by  the  bloody 
footsteps,  and  see  what  havoc  it  makes  in  every 
place  wherever  it  eoines:  go  to  the  prisons,  and  see 
so  many  malefactors  in  irons,  so  many  witches  in 
the  dungeon ;  these  are  the  fruits  of  sin ;  look  aside, 
and  there  you  shall  see  one  drawn  out  of  the  pit 
where  he  was  drowned;  cast  your  eye  but  hard  by, 
and  behold  another  lying  weltering  in  his  blood,  the 
knife  in  his  throat,  and  his  hand  at  the  knife,  and 
his  own  hands  become  his  executioner;  thence  go  to 
the  place  of  execution,  and  there  you  6hall  hear 
many  prodigal  and  rebellious  children  and  servants 
upon  the  ladder,  leaving  the  last  remembrance  of 
their  untimely  death,  which  their  distempers  have 
brought  about.  I  was  born  in  a  good  place  where 
the  gospel  was  preached  with  plainness  and  power, 
lived  under  godly  masters  and  religious  parents;  a 
holy  and  tender-hearted  mother  I  had,  many  prayers 
she  made,  tears  she  wept  for  me,  and  those  have  met 
me  often  in  the  dark  in  my  dissolute  courses,  but  I 
never  had  a  heart  to  hear  and  receive.  All  you 
stubborn  and  rebellious,  hear  and  fear,  and  learn  by 
my  harms;  hasten  from  theuce  into  the  wilderness, 
and  see  Corah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram  going  down 
quick  to  hell,  and  all  the  people  flying  and  crying 
lest  we  perish  also ;  Lo,  this  rebellion  hath  brought ; 
Turn  aside  but  to  the  Red  sea,  and  behold  all  the 
Egyptians  dead  upon  the  shore;  and  ask  who  slew 
them?  and  the  story  will  tell  you  a  stubborn  heart 
was  the  cause  of  their  direful  confusion :  From 
thence  send  your  thoughts  to  the  cross  where  our 
Saviour  was  crucified,  he  who  bears  up  heaven  and 
earth  with  his  power,  and  behold  those  bitter  and 
brinish  tears,  and  hideous'  cries,  My  God,  my  God, 
why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me?  And  make  but  a  peep- 
hole into  hell,  and  lay  your  ear  and  listen  to  those 
veilings  of  the  devils  and  damned,  cursing  the  day 
that  ever  they  were  born,  the  means  that  ever  they 
enjoyed,  the  mercies  that  ever  they  did  receive,  the 
worm  there  gnawing,  and  never  dies,  the  fire  there 
burning,  and  never  goes  out,  and  know  this  sin  hath 
done,  and  it  will  do  so  to  all  that  love  it  and  live  in 
it. 

FROM  THE  DOUBTING  CHRISTIAN  DRAWN  TO  CHRIST. 

Many  a  poor  soul  mourns  and  cries  to  heaven  for 
mercy,  and  prays  against  a  stubborn,  hard  heart, 
and  is  weary  of  his  life,  because  this  vile  heart 
remains  yet  in  him;  and  yet  haply  gets  little  or  no 
redress.  The  reason  is,  and  the  main  wound  lies 
here,  he  goes  the  wrong  way  to  work ;  for,  he  that 
would  have  grace  must  (first  of  all)  get  Faith,  Faith 
will  bring  all  the  rest :  buy  the  field  and  the  pearl 
is  thine;  it  goes  with  the  purchase.  Thou  must 
not  think  with  thine  own  struggling  to  get  the  mas- 
tery of  a  proud  heart;  for  that  will  not  do:  Dut  let 
thy  faith  go  first  to  Christ,  and  try  what  that  can 
do.  There  are  many  graces  necessary  in  this  work ; 
as  meekness,  patience,  humility,  and  wisdom:  Now 
faith  will  fetch  all  these,  and  possess  the  soul  of 
them.  Brethren,  therefore  if  you  set  any  price  upon 
these  graces,  buy  the  field,  labor  for  faith ;  get  that 
and  you  get  all.  The  apostle  saith,  2  Cor.  iii.  18: 
We  all  with  open  face  beholding,  as  in  a  glass,  the 
glory  of  the  Lord,  are  changed  into  the  same  image, 
from  glory  to  glory.  The  Lord  Christ  is  the  glass, 
and  the  glorious  grace   of  God  in  Christ,  is  that 


glory  of  the  Lord :  Therefore,  first  behold  this  grace 
in  Christ  by  faith  (and  thou  must  do  so  before  thou 
canst  receive  grace).  First,  see  humility  in  Christ, 
and  then  fetch  it  thence:  First  see  strength  and 
courage  in  him,  whereby  to  enable  thy  weak  heart, 
and  strength  will  come ;  there  fetch  it,  and  there 
have  it.  Would  you  then  have  a  meek,  gracious, 
and  humble  heart?  I  dare  say  for  some  of  you  that 
you  had  rather  have  it  than  anything  under  heaven, 
and  would  think  it  the  best  bargain  that  ever  you 
made ;  which  is  the  cause  why  you  say,  "  Oh,  that 
I  could  once  see  that  day,  that  this  proud  heart  of 
mine  might  be  humbled :  Oh,  if  I  could  see  the  last 
blood  of  my  sins,  I  should  then  think  myself  happy, 
none  more,  and  desire  to  live  no  longer."  But  is 
this  thy  desire,  poor  soul?  Then  get  faith,  and  so 
buy  the  whole,  for  they  all  go  together:  Nor  think 
to  have  them  upon  any  price,  not  having  faith.  I 
mean  patience,  and  meekness,  and  the  humble 
heart:  But  buy  faith,  the  field,  and  you  have  the 
pearl.  Further,  would  you  have  the  glory  of  God 
in  your  eye,  and  be  more  heavenly  minded?  Then 
look  to  it,  and  get  it  by  the  eye  of  faith :  Look  up 
to  it  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  then  you  shall 
see  it;  and  then  hold  you  there:  For  there,  and 
there  only,  this  vision  of  the  glory  of  God  is  to  be 
seen,  to  your  everlasting  peace  and  endless  condbrt. 
AVhen  men  use  to  make  a  purchase,  they  speak  of 
all  the  commodities  of  it,  as,  there  is  so  much 
wood,  worth  so  much ;  and  so  much  stock,  worth  so 
much;  and  then  they  offer  for  the  whole,  answer- 
able to  these  severals,  So  here;  there  is  item  for 
an  heavenly  mind,  and  that's  worth  thousands;  and, 
item  for  an  humble  heart,  and  that's  worth  millions: 
and  so  for  the  rest.  And  are  those  graces  so  much 
worth?  What  is  faith  worth  then  ?  Hence  we  may 
conclude  and  say,  Oh,  precious  faith!  precious  in- 
deed, that  is  able,  through  the  spirit  of  Christ,  to 
bring  so  many,  nay,  all  graces  with  it:  As  one  de- 
gree of  grace  after  another,  grace  here  and  happi- 
ness for  ever  hereafter.  If  we  have  but  the  hearts 
of  men  (I  do  not  say  of  Christians)  me  thinks  this 
that  is  spoken  of  faith  should  provoke  us  to  labor 
always,  above  all  things,  for  this  blessed  grace  of 
God,  the  grace  of  faith. 

JOHN  WINTHROP, 

TrrE  first  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  was  de- 
scended from  a  highly  honorable  English  family, 
and  born  at  the  family  seat  at  Groton,  county 
of  Suffolk,  January  12,  1587.*  His  father,  Adam 
Winthrop,  was  an  accomplished  lawyer;  and  the 
following,  from  his  pen,  reprinted  in  the  Massa- 
chusetts Historical  Society  Collections,  shows  him 
to  have  been  possessed  of  poetic  feeling. 

VERSES  MADE  TO  THE  LADIE  MILDMAY  AT  YE  BIRTH  OF  HER 
SONNE  HENERY. 

Madame:  I  mourn  not  like  the  swan 
That  ready  is  to  die, 
But  with  the  Phoenix  I  rejoice, 
When  she  in  fire  doth  fry. 

My  soul  doth  praise  the  Lord, 

And  magnify  his  name. 
For  this  sweet  child  which  in  your  womb 

He  did  most  finely  frame. 

And  on  a  blessed  day 

Hath  made  him  to  be  born, 
That  with  his  gifts  of  heavenly  grace, 

His  soul  he  might  adorn. 


*  Mather  (Magnalin,  Ed.  1^53,  i-  119)  has  it  June,  and  Is  fol- 
lowed by  Eliot  January  is  the  true  date  from  the  family 
record. 


26 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


God  grant  him  happy  days, 
In  joy  and  peace  to  live, 

And  more  of  his  most  blessed  fruit 
He  unto  you  do  give. 

Amen. 


VEIISES  TO  HER  SON. 

Ah,  me !  what  do  I  mean 
To  take  my  pen  in  hand  ? 

More  meet  it  were  for  me  to  rest, 
And  silent  still  to  stand. 

For  pleasure  take  I  none 

In  any  worldly  thing, 
But  evermore  methinks  I  hear 

My  fatal  bell  to  ring. 

Yet  when  the  joyful  news 

Did  come  unto  my  ear, 
That  God  had  given  to  her  a  so;), 

Who  is  my  nephew  dear, 

My  heart  was  filled  with  joy, 

My  spirits  revived  all, 
And  from  my  old  and  barren  brain 

These  verses  rude  did  fall 


Welcome,  sweet  babe,  thou  art 

Unto  thy  parents  dear, 
Whose  hearts  thou  filled  hast  with  joy, 

As  well  it  doth  appear. 

The  day  even  of  thy  birth, 

When  light  thou  first  didst  see, 

Foresheweth  that  a  joyful  life 
Shall  happen  unto  thee. 

For  blessed  is  that  day, 

And  to  be  kept  in  mind ; 
On  which  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ 

Was  born  to  save  mankind. 

Grow  up,  therefore,  in  grace, 

And  fear  his  holy  name, 
Who  in  thy  mother's  secret  womb 

Thy  members  all  did  frame, 

And  gave  to  thee  a  soul, 

Thy  body  to  sustain, 
Which,  when  this  life  shall  ended  be, 

In  heaven  with  him  shall  reign. 

Love  him  with  all  thy  heart, 
And  make  thy  parents  glad, 

As  Samuel  did,  whom  of  the  Lord 
His  mother  Anna  had. 

God  grant  that  they  may  live 

To  see  from  thee  to  spring 
Another  like  unto  thyself, 

Who  may  more  joy  them  bring. 

And  from  all  wicked  ways, 

That  godless  men  do  trace, 
Pray  daily  that  he  will  thee  keep 

By  his  most  mighty  grace. 

That  when  thy  days  shall  end, 

In  his  appointed  time 
Thou  mayest  yield  up  a  blessed  soul, 

Defiled  with  no  crime. 

And  to  thy  mother  dear 

Obedient  be,  and  kind; 
Give  ear  unto  her  loving  word3, 

And  print  them  in  thy  mind. 

Thy  father  also  love, 
And  willingly  obey, 


That  thou  mayst  long  possess  those  lands 
Which  he  must  leave  one  day.* 

The  son  was,  though  inclined  to  the  study  of 
theology,  also  bred  to  the  law,  and  at  the  early 
age  of  eighteen  was  made  a  justice  of  the  peace. 
He  discharged  the  duties  of  this  responsible  post 
in  an  exemplary  manner,  and  in  his  private 
capacity  was  celebrated  for  his  piety  and  hospi- 
tality. 


Usypl4? 


S?o, 


He  was  chosen  leader  of  the  colony  formed 
in  England  to  proceed  to  Massachusetts  Bay, 
and,  having  converted  an  estate  yielding  an  in- 
come of  six  or  seven  hundred  pounds  into 
cash,  left  England,  and  landed  at  Salem,  June 
12,  1630.  Within  five  days  he  made,  with  a  few 
companions,  a  journey  of  twenty  miles  through 
the  forest,  which  resulted  in  the  selection  of  the 
peninsula  of  Shawmut  as  the  site  of  Boston. 
During  the  first  winter,  the  colonists  suffered 
severely  from  cold  and  hunger.  The  Governor 
endured  his  share  of  privation  with  the  rest,  liv- 
ing on  acorns,  ground-nuts,  and  shellfish.  He 
devoted  himself  with  unsparing  assiduity  to  the 
good  of  the  commonwealth,  and  was  annually 
elected  Governor  until  1634,  and  afterwards  from 
1637  to  1640,  1642  to  1644,  and  1648  to  his 
death,  which  occurred  in  consequence  of  a  cold, 
followed  by  a  fever,  March  26,  1649.  His  ad- 
ministration of  the  government  was  firm  and 
decided,  and  sometimes  exposed  him  to  tempo- 
rary unpopularity.  He  bore  opposition  with 
equanimity,  and  served  the  state  as  faithfully  in 
an  inferior  official  or  private  position  as  when  at 
its  head.  He  opposed  the  doctrines  of  Anne 
Hutchinson  and  her  followers,  and  was  active  in 
their  banishment,  but  at  the  same  time  used  his 
influence  in  the  synod  called  to  consider  their 
doctrines,  in  favor  of  calm  discussion  and  cool 
deliberation. 

His  private  character  was  most  amiable.  On 
one  occasion,  having  received  an  angry  letter, 
he  sent  it  back  to  the  writer  with  the  answer : 
"  I  am  not  willing  to  keep  by  me  such  a  matter 
of  provocation."  Soon  after,  the  scarcity  of  pro- 
visions forced  this  person  to  send  to  buy  one  of 
the  Governor's  cattle. '  He  requested  him  to  ac- 
cept it  as  a  gift,  upon  which  the  appeased  oppo- 
nent came  to  him,  and  said,  "Sir,  your  overcoming 
yourself  hath  overcome  me." 

During  a  severe  winter,  being  told  that  a 
neighbor  was  making  free  with  his  woodpile,  he 
sent  for  the  offender,  promising  to  "take  a  course 
with  him  that  should  cure  him  of  stealing."  The 
"  course"  was  an  announcement  to  the  thief  that  he 
was  to  help  himself  till  the  winter  was  over.  It 
was  his  practice  to  send  his  servants  on  errands 
to  his  neighbors  at  meal  times,  to  spy  out  the 
nakedness  of  the  land,  for  the  benevolent  purpose 
of  relieving  them  from  his  own  table. 


*  These  lines  are  preserved  in  a  Miscellany  of  Poetry  of  the 
time,  now  No.  1598  of  the  Harleian  MSS.  (British  Museum). 
Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  Third  Series,  x.  152. 


.JOHN  WINTHROP. 


27 


Governor  Winthrop  left  five  sons,  the  eldest  of 
whom — John,  born  12th  February,  1605-C — was 
the  founder  of  the  colony  at  Saybrook,  and  ob- 
tained from  Charles  II.  the  charter  of  Connecti- 
cut, of  which  colony  he  was  annually  elected 
Governor  for  the  fourteen  years  preceding  his 
death,  April  5,  1676. 

Governor  Winthrop's  house — -afterwards  tenant- 
ed by  the  historian  Prince — remained  standing 
until  1775,  when  it  was  pulled  down  with  many 
others  by  the  British  troops,  for  firewood.  A 
piece  of  ground,  first  allotted  to  him  in  lajing  out 
the  town  of  Boston,  became  the  site  of  the  Old 
South  Church* 

Winthrop  left  a  MS.  Journal  of  the  public  oc- 
currences in  the  Massachusetts  colony  from  Easter 
Monday,  March  29,  1630,  to  Jan.  11,  1649,  which 
was  consulted  by  Mather,  Hubbard,  and  Prince. 
The  manuscript  was  divided  into  three  parts,  the 
first  two  of  which  remained  in  the  possession  of 
the  family  until  the  Revolution,  when  Governor 
Trumbull  procured  them  aud  copied  a  large  por- 
tion of  their  contents.  After  the  death  of  Tram- 
bull,  Noah  Wehster,  in  1790,  with  the  consent 
of  the  Winthrop  family,  published  these,  believ- 
ing them  to  be  the  entire  work,  in  an  octavo 
volume.  In  1816,  the  third  part  was  discovered 
among  a  mass  of  "  pamphlets  and  papers,  where 
it  attracted  instant  notice  by  its  fair  parchment 
binding,  and  the  silken  strings  by  which  its  covers 
were  tied,  and  the  whole  work  perfectly  pre- 
served"t  by  Abiel  Holmes,  the  author  of  Ameri- 
can Annals.  A  transcript  was  made  by  Mr. 
James  Savage,  who  also  collated  the  volume  print- 
ed in  1790  with  the  original  volume,  and  pub- 
lished the  whole  with  many  valuable  notes  from 
his  own  hand  in  two  volumes  8vo.  in  1826,  un- 
der the  title  of  "  The  History  of  New  England 
from  1630  to  1649."  A  new  edition,  with  fresh 
annotations  by  the  same  editor,  has  been  issued 
in  1853. 

Winthrop  is  also  the  author  of  "  A  Modell  of 
Christian  Charity,  written  on  board  the  Arbella, 
on  the  Atlantic  Ocean,"  which  has  been  printed 
from  the  original  MS.  in  the  New  York  Histori- 
cal Society  in  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Socie- 
ty's Collections.:]: 

"We  present  two  extracts,  the  first  a  passage  of 
his  Journals,  the  second,  part  of  a  speech  which 
the  Governor  calls  his  "  little  speech,"  but  which 
Grahaine,  in  his  History  of  the  United  States,  has 
cited  as  a  remarkable  definition  of  true  liberty, 
and  which  the  Modern  Universal  History  (vol. 
xxxix.  291,  2)  says,  "is  equal  to  anything  of 
antiquity,  whether  we  consider  it  as  coming  from 
a  philosopher  or  a  magistrate." 

OF  A  FEW  PERSONS  WHO   LEFT  TOE  COLONY  IN  1042. 

They  fled  for  fear  of  want,  and  many  of  them  fell 
into  it,  even  to  extremity,  as  if  they  had  hastened 
into  the  misery  which  they  feared  and  fled  from, 
besides  the  depriving  themselves  of  the  ordinances 
and  church  fellowship,  and  those  civil  liberties 
which  they  enjoyed  here ;  whereas,  such  as  staid  in 
their  places,  kept  their  peace  and  ease,  and  enjoyed 
still  the  blessing  of  the  ordinances,  and  never  tasted 


*  Holmes's  Annuls,  i.  291. 

t  Account  in  Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  Second  Series,  iv.  21)0. 

X  Third  Series,  vii.  31. 


of  those  troubles  and  miseries,  which  they  heard  to 
have  befallen  those  who  departed.  Much  disputa- 
tion there  was  about  liberty  of  removing  for  out- 
ward advantages,  and  all  ways  were  sought  for  an 
open  door  to  get  out  at;  but  it  is  to  be  feared  many 
crept  out  at  a  broken  wall.  For  such  as  come  to- 
gether into  a  wilderness,  where  are  nothing  but  wild 
beasts  and  beasts  like  men,  aud  there  confederate 
together  in  civil  and  church  estate,  whereby  they 
do,  implicitly  at  least,  bind  themselves  to  support 
each  other,  and  all  of  thcrn  that  society,  whether 
civil  or  sacred,  whereof  they  are  members,  how 
they  can  break  from  this  without  free  consent,  is 
hard  to  find,  so  as  may  satisfy  a  tender  or  good  con- 
science in  time  of  trial.  Ask  thy  conscience,  if  thou 
wouldst  have  plucked  up  thy  stakes,  and  brought 
thy  family  8O00  miles,  if  thou  hadst  expected  that 
all,  or  most,  would  have  forsaken  thee  there?  Ask 
again,  what  liberty  thou  hast  towards  others,  which 
thou  likest  not  to  allow  others  towards  thyself;  for 
if  one  may  go,  another  hiay,  aud  so  the  greater 
part:  aud  so  church  and  commonwealth  may  be  left 
destitute  in  a  wilderness,  exposed  to  misery  and  re- 
proach, and  all  for  thy  ease  and  pleasure,  whereas 
these  all,  being  now  thy  brethren,  as  near  to  thee 
as  the  Israelites  were  to  Moses,  it  were  much  safer 
for  thee,  after  his  example,  to  choose  rather  to  suffer 
affliction  with  thy  brethren,  than  to  enlarge  thy 
ease  aud  pleasure  by  furthering  the  occasion  of  their 
ruin. 

LIBERTY  AND  LAW. 

From  Gov.  Winthrop's  Speech  to  the  Assembly  of  Massachvr 
setts  in  llAo. 

I  am  unwilling  to  stay  you  from  your  urgent 
affairs,  yet  give  me  leave  (upon  this  special  occasion) 
to  speak  a  little  more  to  this  assembly.  It  may  be 
of  some  good  use,  to  inform  and  rectify  the  judg- 
ments of  6ome  of  the  people,  and  may  prevent  such 
distempers  as  have  arisen  amongst  us.  The  great 
questions  that  have  troubled  the  country,  are  about 
the  authority  of  the  magistrates  and  the  liberty  of 
the  people.  It  is  yourselves  who  have  called  us  to 
this  office,  and  being  called  by  you,  we  have  our 
authority  from  God,  in  way  of  an  ordinance,  such 
as  hath  the  image  of  God  eminently  stamped  upon 
it,  the  contempt  aud  violation  whereof  hath  been 
vindicated  with  examples  of  divine  vengeance.  I 
entreat  you  to  consider,  that  when  you  choose 
magistrates  you  take  them  from  among  yourselves, 
men  subject  to  like  passions  as  you  are.  Therefore, 
when  you  see  infirmities  in  us,  you  should  reflect 
upon  your  own,  and  that  would  make  you  bear  the 
more  with  us,  and  not  be  severe  eensurers  of  the 
failings  of  your  magistrates,  when  you  have  con- 
tinual experience  of  the  like  infirmities  in  yourselves 
and  others.  We  account  him  a  good  servant,  wdio 
breaks  not  his  covenant.  The  covenant  between 
you  and  us  is  the  oath  you  have  taken  of  us,  which 
is  to  this  purpose,  that  we  shall  govern  you  and 
judge  your  causes  by  the  rules  of  God's  laws  and 
our  own,  according  to  our  best  skill.  When  you 
agree  with  a  workman  to  build  you  a  ship  or  a 
house,  Ac,  lie  undertakes  as  well  for  his  skill  as  for 
his  faithfulness,  for  it  is  his  profession,  and  you  pay 
him  for  both.  But  when  you  call  one  to  be  a  magis- 
trate, he  doth  not  profess  nor  undertake  to  have 
sufficient  skill  for  that  office,  nor  can  you  furnish 
him  with  gifts,  (fee,  therefore  you  must  run  the 
hazard  of  his  skill  and  ability.  But  if  he  fail  in 
faithfulness,  which  by  his  oath  he  is  bound  unto, 
that  he  must  answer  for.  If  it  fall  out  that  the  case 
be  clear  to  common  apprehension,  and  the  rule  clear 
also,  if  he  transgress  here,  the  errour  is  not  in  the 
skill,  but  in  the  evil  of  the  will ;  it  must  be  required 


23 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


of  liim.  But  if  tlie  cause  be  doubtful,  or  the  rule 
doubtful,  to  men  of  such  understanding  and  parts  as 
your  magistrates  are,  if  your  magistrates  should  err 
here,  yourselves  must  bear  it. 

For  the  other  point,  concerning  liberty,  I  observe 
a  great  mistake  in  the  country  about  that.  There 
is  a  two-fold  liberty,  natural  (i  mean  as  our  nature 
is  now  corrupt)  and  civil  or  federal.  The  first  is  com- 
mon to  man  with  beasts  and  other  creatures.  By 
this  man,  as  he  stands  in  relation  to  man  simply,  hath 
liberty  to  do  what  he  lists;  it  is  a  liberty  to  evil  as 
well  as  to  good.  Tins  liberty  is  incompatible  and 
inconsistent  with  authority,  and  cannot  endure  the 
least  restraint  of  the  most  just  authority.  The  exer- 
cise and  maintaining  of  this  liberty  makes  men 
grow  more  evil,  and  in  time  to  be  worse  than  brute 
beasts:  omnes  su?nus  licantid  detcrlorcs.  Tins  is  that 
great  enemy  of  truth  and  peace,  that  wild  beast, 
"which  all  the  ordinances  of  God  are  bent  against,  to 
restrain  and  subdue  it.  The  other  kind  of  liberty  I 
call  civil  or  federal,  it  may  also  be  termed  moral,  in 
reference  to  the  covenant  between  God  and  Man,  in 
the  moral  law,  and  the  political  covenants  and  con- 
stitutions, amongst  men  themselves.  This  liberty 
is  the  proper  end  and  object  of  authority,  and  can- 
not subsist  without  it;  and  it  is  a  liberty  to  that 
only  which  is  good,  just,  and  honest.  This  liberty 
you  are  to  stand  for,  with  the  hazard  (not  only  of 
our  goods,  but)  of  your  lives  if  need  be. 

THOMAS  MORTON. 

Tite  readers  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorn  cannot  fail 
to  remember  "the  May-pole  of  Merry  Mount." 
The  sketch,  in  its  leading  features,  is  a  faithful 
presentation  of  a  curious  episode  in  the  early 
history  of  New  England.  It  has  been  narrated 
by  the  chief  actor  in  the  scene,  "  Mine  Host  of 
Ma-re  Mount"  himself,  and  his  first  telling  of  the 
"  twice  told  tale"  is  well  worth  the  hearing. 

Thomas  Morton,  "  of  Clifford's  Inn,  gent.," 
came  to  Plymouth  in  1G23,  with  "Weston's  party. 
Many  of  these  returned  the  following  year,  and 
the  remainder  were  scattered  about  the  settle- 
ments. Our  barrister  says  that  they  were  very 
popular  with  the  original  settlers  as  long  as  their 
liquors  lasted,  and  were  turned  adrift  afterwards. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  he  remained  in  the  country, 
and  we  hear  of  him  a  few  years  afterwards  as 
one  of  the  company  of  Captain  Wollaston  who 
came  to  America  in  1625.  Wollaston  appears 
to  have  had  a  set  of  fellows  similar  to  those  of 
Weston.  He  carried  a  portion  of  them  off  to 
Virginia,  leaving  the  remainder  in  charge  of  one 
Filcher,  to  await  the  summons  to  Virginia  also. 
Morton  was  one  of  these,  and  persuaded  his  com- 
panions to  drive  away  Filcher,  place  themselves 
nnder  his  leadership,  and  found  a  settlement  at 
Mount  Wollaston.  This  he  effected,  and  he 
henceforward  speaks  of  himself  as  "mine  host  of 
Ma-re  Mount."  Here  he  set  up  a  May-pole — but 
we  shall  allow  him  to  be  his  own  narrator. 

The  inhabitants  of  Pasonagessit  (having  trans- 
lated the  name  of  their  habitation  from  that  ancient 
savnge  name  to  Ma-re  Mount;  and  being  resolved 
to  have  the  new  name  confirmed  for  a  memorial  to 
after  ages),  did  devise  amongst  themselves  to  have  I 
it  performed  in  a  solemn  manner  with  Revels  and 
merriment  after  the  old  English  custom,  prepared  to 
set  lip  a  May-pole  upon  the  festival  day  of  Philip 
and  Jacob ;  and  therefore  brewed  a  barrel  of  ex- 
cellent beer,  and  provided  a  case  of  bottles  to  be 
spent,  with  other  good  cheer,  for  all  comers  of  that 


day.  And  because  they  would  have  it  in  a  Complete 
form,  they  had  prepared  a  song  fitting  to  the  time 
and  present  occasion.  And  upon  May-day  they 
brought  the  May-pole  to  the  place  appointed,  with 
drums,  guns,  pistols,  and  other  fitting  instruments, 
for  that  purpose ;  and  there  erected  it  with-the  help 
of  salvages,  that  came  thither  of  purpose  to  see  the 
manner  of  our  Revels.  A  goodly  pine  tree  of  80 
feet  long,  was  reared  up,  with  a  pair  of  buck-horns 
nailed  on,  somewhat  near  unto  the  top  of  it ;  where 
it  stood  as  a  fair  sea  mark  for  directions ;  how  to 
find  out  the  way  to  mine  Host  of  Ma-re  Mount. 
*  *  *  * 

There  was  likewise  a  merry  song  made,  which 
(to  make  their  Revels  more  fashionable)  was  sung 
with  a  eorus,  every  man  bearing  his  part ;  which 
they  performed  in  a  dance,  hand  in  hand  about  the 
May-pole,  whiles  one  of  the  company  sung,  and 
filled  out  the  good  liquor  like  gammedes  and  Jupiter. 


Drink  and  be  merry,  merry,  11161x71)073, 
Let  all  your  delight  be  in  Hymen's  joys, 
Io  to  II_ymen  now  the  day  is  come. 
About  the  merry  May-pole  take  a  roome. 

Make  green  garlons,  bring  bottles  out; 
And  fill  sweet  Nectar  freely  about. 
Uncover  thy  head,  and  fear  no  harm, 
For  here's  good  liquor  to  keep  it  warm. 

Then  drink  and  be  merry,  &c. 

Io  to  Hymen,  &c. 

Nectar  is  a  thing  assign 'd, 

By  the  Deities  own  mind, 

To  cure  the  heart  opprest  with  grief, 

And  of  good  liquors  is  the  chief. 

Then  drink,  &c. 

Io  to  Hymen,  &c. 

Give  to  the  Melancholy  man, 
A  cup  or  two  of 't  now  and  than, 
This  physic  will  soon  revive  his  blood, 
And  make  him  be  of  a  merrier  mood. 

Then  drink,  &c. 

Io  to  Hymen,  &c 

Give  to  the  nymph  that's  free  from  scorn, 
No  Irish  stuff,  nor  Scotch  over  worn  ; 
Lasses  in  beaver  coats  come  away, 
Ye  shall  be  welcome  to  us  night  and  day. 

To  drink  and  be  merry,  &c. 

Io  to  Hymen,  &c 

This  harmless  mirth  made  by  young  men  (that 
lived  in  hope  to  have  wives  brought  over  to  them, 
that  would  save  them  a  labour  to  make  a  voyage 
to  fetch  any  over)  was  much  distasted  of  the  precise 
Separatists  ;  that  keep  much  ado,  about  the  tithe  of 
mint  and  cummin,  troubling  their  brains  more  than 
reason  would  require  about  things  that  are  in- 
different ;  and  from  that  time  sought  occasion  against 
my  honest  Host  of  Ma-re  Mount  to  overthrow  his 
undertakings,  and  to  destroy  his  plantation  quite  and 
clear. 

Such  proceedings  of  course  caused  great  scan- 
dal to  the  Plymouth  colonist.  Nathaniel  Morton, 
the  first  chronicler  of  the  colony,  thus  describes 
the  affair. 

After  this  (the  expulsion  of  Filcher)  they  fell  to 
great  licentiousness  of  life,  in  all  profaneness,  and  the 
said  Morton  became  lord  of  misrule,  and  maintained 
as  it  were,  a  school  of  Atheism,  and  after  they  had 
got  some  goods  into  their  hands,  and  got  much  by 
trading  with  the  Indians,  they  spent  it  as  vainly  in 
quaffing  and  drinking  both  wine  and  strong  liquors 
in  great  excess,  as  some  have  reported  ten  pounds 
worth  in  a  morning,  setting  up  a  May-pole,  drink- 
ing, and  dancing  about  it,  and  frisking  about  it  like 
so   many   faries,  or  furies   rather,   yea   and   worse 

Eractices,  as   if  they   had  anew  revived  and  cele- 
rated  the  feast  of  the  Roman  goddess  Flora,  or  the 
beastly  practices  of  the  mad  Bacchanalians. 


THOMAS  MORTON. 


29 


Morton  was  also  charged,  and  it  appears  justly, 
with  employing  the  Indians  to  hunt  for  him,  fur- 
nishing them  with,  and  instructing  them  in  the 
.use  of,  firearms  for  that  purpose.  The  colonists, 
"fearing  that  they  should  get  a  blow  thereby; 
also,  taking  notice' that  if  he  were  let  alone  in  his 
"way,  they  should  keep  no  servants  for  him, 
because  he*vould  entertain  any,  how  vile  soever,"* 
met  together,  and  after  remonstrating  with  him 
to  no  effect,  obtained  from  the  governor  of  Ply- 
mouth the  aid  of  Captain  Miles  Standish  to 
arrest  him.  Morton  was  taken  prisoner,  but, 
according  to  his  own  story,  which  he  makes  an 
amusing  one,  effected  his  escape : 

Much  rejoicing  was  made  that  they  had  gotten 
their  capital  enemy  (as  they  concluded  him),  whom 
they  purposed  to  hamper  in  such  sort  that  he  should 
not  be  able  to  uphold  his  plantation  at  Ma-re  Mount. 

The  conspirators  sported  themselves  at  my  honest 
host,  that  meant  them  no  hurt;  and  were  so  jocund 
that  they  feasted  their  bodies  and  fell  to  tippeliag, 
as  if  they  had  obtained  a  great  prize ;  like  the 
Trojans  when  they  had  the  custody  of  Hippeus' 
pine  tree  horse. 

Mine  host  feigned  grief,  and  could  not  be  per- 
suaded either  to  eat  or  drink,  because  he  knew 
emptiness  would  be  a  means  to  make  him  as  watch- 
ful as  the  geese  kept  in  the  Roman  eapitol ;  whereon 
the  contrary  part,  the  •  conspirators  would  be  so 
drowsy,  that  he  might  have  an  opportunity  to  give 
them  a  slip  instead  of  tester.  Six  persons  of  the 
conspiracy  were  set  to  watch  him  at  Wessaguscus, 
but  lie  kept  waking,  and  in  the  dead  of  night  (one 
lying  on  the  bed  for  further  surety)  up  gets  mine 
host  a'nd  got  to  the  second  door  that  he  was  to  pass, 
which  (notwithstanding  the  look)  he  got  open;  and 
shut  it  after  him  with  such  violence  that  it  affrighted 
some  of  the  conspirators. 

The  word  which  was  given  with  an  alarm  was, 
0,  he's  gone,  he's  gone,  what  shall  we  do,  he's 
gone !  The  rest,  half  asleep,  start  up  in  a  maze, 
and,  like  rams,  run  their  heads  one  at  another,  full 
butt,  in  the  dark. 

Their  grand  leafier,  Captain  Shrimp,  took  on  most 
furiously,  and  tore  his  clothes  for  anger,  to  see  the 
empty  nest  and  their  bird  gone. 

The  rest  were  eager  to  have  torn  their  hair  from 
their  heads,  but  it  was  so  Bhort  that  it  would  give 
them  no  hold. 

He  returned  to  Ma-re  Mount,  where  he  soon 
afterwards  surrendered,  and  was  sent  to  England, 
coming  back  the  next  year  to  his  old  quarters, 
which  during  his  absence  had  been  visited  by 
Endicott,  who  caused  the  may-pole  to  be  cut 
down,  "and  the  name  of  the  place  was  again 
changed  and  called  Dagon.''t  The  year  following 
his  return  his  house  was  searched  on  the  charge 
of  his  having  corn  belonging  to  other  persons  in 
it. 

After  they  had  feasted  their  bodies  witli  that  they 
found  there,  carried  all  his  corn  away,  with  some 
other  of  his  goods,  contrary  to  the  laws  of  hospi- 
tality, a  small  parcel  of  refuse  corn  only  excepted, 
which  they  left  mine  host  to  keep  Christmas  with. 
But  when  they  were  goue,  mine  host  fell  to  make 
use  of  his  gun  (as  one  that  had  a  good  faculty  in 
the  use  of  that  instrument)  and  feasted  his  body 
nevertheless  with  fowl  and  venison,  which  he  pur- 
chased with  the  help  of  that  instrument ;  the  plenty 


*  New  England's  Memorial. 


t  Ibid. 


of  the  country  and  the  commodiousness  of  the 
place  affording  means,  by  the  blessing  of  God;  and 
he  did  but  deride  Captain  Littleworth,  that  made 
his  servants  snap  short  in  a  country  so  much  abound- 
ing with  plenty  of  food  for  an  industrious  man,  with 
great  variety. 

Soon  after  Governor  Winthrop's  arrival,  in  1630, 
he  was  again  arrested,  convicted,  and  sent  to  Eng- 
land, where  he  arrived,  he  says,  "so  metamor- 
phosed with  a  long  voyage,  that  he  looked  like 
Lazarus  in  the  painted  cloth.''* 

His  book,t  from  which  our  extracts  are  taken, 
bears  date,  Amsterdam,  1637.  It  was  probably 
printed  in  London,  this  device  being  often  resort- 
ed to  at  the  time,  with  works  of  a  libellous  or 
objectionable  character.  "With  perseverance  wor- 
thy of  a  better  cause,  he  returned  to  New  Eng- 
land, in  1643,  and  was  arrested  and  imprisoned 
in  Boston  a  year,  on  account  of  his  book.  His 
advanced  age  only,  it  is  said,  saved  him  from  the 
whipping-post.  He  died  in  poverty,  in  1616,  at 
Agamenticus.  His  book  shows  facility  in  com- 
_position,  and  not  a  little  humor.  Butler  appears 
to  have  derived  one  of  the  stories  in  Hudibras 
from  it. 

Our  brethren  of  New  England  use 
Choice  malefactors  to  excuse, 
And  hang  the  guiltless  in  their  stead; 
Of  whom  the  churches  have  less  need, 
As  lately  't  happened :  in  a  town 
There  liv'd  a  cobbler,  and  but  one, 
That  out  of  doctrine  could  cut  use, 
And  mend  men's  lives  as  well  as  shoes. 
This  precious  brother  having  slain, 
In  time  uf  peace,  an  Indian, 
Not  out  of  malice,  but  mere  zeal, 
Because  he  was  an  infidel, 
The  mighty  Tottipottimoy 
Sent  to  our  elders  an  envoy, 
Complaining  sorety  of  the  breach 
Of  league,  beld  forth  by  brother  Patch, 
Against  the  articles  in  force 
Between  both  churches,  his  and  ours ; 
For  which  he  crav'd  the  saints  to  render 
Into  his  hands  or  hang  the  offender : 
But  they  maturely  having  weigh'd 
They  had  no  more  but  him  o'  the  trade, 
A  man  that  serv'd  them  in  a  double 
Capacity,  to  teach  and  cobble, 
Resolv'd  to  spare  him ;  yet  to  do 
The  Indian  Hogau  Moghan  too 
Impartial  justice,  in  his  stead  did 
Hang  an  old  weaver  that  was  bed-rid  :\ 

*  A  common  colloquial  phrase  of  the  period.  It  is  used  by 
FalstafT  (a  character  somewhat  akin  to  mine  host)  in  the  first 
part  of  Henry  IV.  ''Ragged  as  Lazarus  in  the  painted  cloth." 
The  painted  cloth  was  used,  like  tapestry,  for  covering  and 
decorating  the  walls  of  apartments. 

+  New  English  Canaan,  or  New  Canaan,  containing  an 
abstract  of  New  Eng'and,  composed  in  three  Bookes.  The  first 
Booke,  setting  forth  the  original!  of  the  Natives,  their  Manners 
and  Customs,  together  witli  their  tractable  Nature  and  Love 
towards  the  English.  The  second  Booke,  setting  forth  the 
naturall  Indowmenls  of  the  Country,  and  what  staple  Com- 
modities it  yealdeth.  The  third  Booke,  setting  forth  what 
people  are  planted  there,  their  prosperity,  what  remarkab'o 
accidents  have  happened  since  the  first  planting  of  it,  together 
with  their  Tenents  and  practise  of  their  Church.  Written 
by  Thomas  Morton,  of  Clifford's  Inne,  gent.,  upon  tenne  yeares' 
knowledge  and  experiment  of  the  Country. 

Printed  at  Amsterdam,  By  Jacob  Frederick  Stam,  in  the 
yeare  1G37. 

The  original  edition  of  his  "New  England's  Canaan"  is  ex- 
tremely  scarce.  We  are  indebted  for  the  use  of  a  copy  to  the 
valuable  American  collection  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hawks.  It  is 
reprinted  in  Col.  Force's  Historical  Tracts. 

t  Hudibras,  Part  II.,  Canto  II.  409-430. 


30 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


A  young  man,  as  Morton's  story  goes,  was  ar- 
rested for  stealing  corn  from  an  Indian,  and  the 
following  mode  of  dealing  with  the  case  was  pro- 
posed by  one  of  the  general  assembly  of  the  com- 
munity called  to  adjudge  punishment.  Says  he  : 
"  You  all  agree  that  one  must  die,  and  one  shall 
die.  This  young  man's  clothes  we  will  take  off, 
and  put  upon  one  that  is  old  and  impotent;  a 
sickly  person  that  cannot  escape  death ;  such  is 
the  disease  on  him  confirmed,  that  die  he  must. 
Put  the  young  man's  clothes  on  this  man,  and  let 
the  sick  person  he  hanged  in  the  other's  stead. 
Amen,  says  one,  and  so  says  many  more." 

A  large  portion  of  the  volume  is  devoted  to  the 
aborigines  and  the  natural  features  of  the  country. 
He  thus  expatiates  on  his  first  impressions : 

And  whiles  our  houses  were  building,  I  did  en- 
deavor to  take  a  survey  of  the  country ;  the  more 
I  looked,  the  more  I  liked  it.  When  I  had  more 
seriously  considered  of  the  beauty  of  the  place,  with 
all  her  fair  endowments,  I  did  not  think  that,  in  all 
the  known  world,  it  could  be  paralleled.  For  so 
many  goodly  groves  of  trees ;  dainty,  fine,  rounds 
rising  hillocks ;  delicate,  fair,  large  plains ;  sweet 
crystal  fountains,  and  clear  running  streams,  that 
twine  in  fine  meanders  through  the  meads,  making 
so  sweet  a  murmuring  noise  to  hear,  as  would  even 
lull  the  senses  with  delight  asleep,  so  pleasantly 
do  they  glide  upon  the  pebble  stones,  jetting  most 
jocundly  where  they  do  meet,  and  hand  in  hand 
run  down  to  Neptune's  court,  to  pay  the  yearly  tri- 
bute which  they  owe  to  him  as  sovereign  lord  of  all 
the  springs.  Contained  within  the  volume  of  the 
land,  fowls  in  abundance;  fish  in  multitude;  and 
discovered  besides,  millions  of  turtle  doves  on  the 
green  boughs,  which  sate  pecking  of  the  full,  ripe, 
pleasant  grapes,  that  were  supported  by  the  lusty 
trees,  whose  fruitful  load  did  cause  the  arms  to  bend, 
while  here  and  there  despersed,  you  might  see  lillies, 
and  of  the  Daphnean  tree,  which  made  the  land  to 
me  seem  paradise,  for  in  mine  eye  it  was  Nature's 
masterpiece,  her  chiefest  magazine  of  all,  where  fives 
her  store.  If  this  land  be  not  rich,  then  is  the  whole 
world  poor. 

He  is  amusingly  at  fault  in  his  natural  history. 
The  beaver,  he  says,  sits  "  in  his  house  built  on 
the  water,  with  his  tayle  hanging  in  the  water, 
which  else  would  over-heate  and  rot  off."  An- 
other marvel  is,  "  a  curious  bird  to  see  to,  called 
a  humming-bird,  no  bigger  than  a  great  beetle ; 
that  out  of  question  lives  upon  the  bee,  which  he 
catcheth  and  eateth  amongst  Flowers ;  for  it  is  his 
custom  to  frequent  those  places.  Flowers  he  can- 
not feed  upon  by  reason  of  his  sharp  bill,  which 
is  like  the  point  of  a  Spannish  needle  but  short." 

WILLIAM  BRADFORD. 

William  Bradford  was  born  at  Ansterfield,  in 
the  north  of  England,  in  1588.  He  was  educated 
as  a  farmer,  and  inherited  a  large  patrimony. 
Embracing  at  an  early  age  the  tenets  of  the  Puri- 
tans, he  connected  himself  with  the  congregation 
of  the  celebrated  John  Robinson,  and  at  the  age 
of  nineteen,  after  two  unsuccessful  attempts,  joined 
his  associates  at  Amsterdam.  He  remained  in 
Holland  until  1G20,  when  he  formed  one  of  the 
ship's  company  of  the  Mayflower.  While  explor- 
ing the  bay  in  a  small  boat,  for  the  purpose  of 
selecting  a  place  for  settlement,  his  wife  was 
drowned.    After  the  death  of  Governor  Carver, 


April  5,  1621,  he  was  chosen  his  successor.  He 
established  by  gentleness  and  firmness  a  good  un- 
derstanding with  the  Indians,  and  conducted  the 
internal  affairs  of  the  colony  with  equal  sagacity. 
He  was  annually  re-tdected  for  twelve  years,  and 
then,  in  the  words  of  Governor  Winthrop,  "  by 
importunity  got  off"  from  the  cares  of  office  for 
two  years,  when  he  was  re-elected,  and  continued 
in  power,  with  the  exceptions  of  the  vears  1636, 
'38,  and  '44,  until  his  death,  May  9,"l657.  He 
was  twice  married,  and  left  two  sons  by  his  second 
wife,  Alice  Southworth.  The  eldest,  William, 
was  deputy-governor  of  the  colony,  and  had  nine 
sons  and  three  daughters. 

Numerous  anecdotes  are  related  of  Governor 
Bradford,  indicative  of  ready  wit  and  good  com- 
mon sense.  When  in  1622,  during  a  period  of 
great  scarcity  in  the  colony,  Canonicus,  Sachem 
of  Narragansett,  sent  him  a  bundle  of  arrows 
tied  with  the  skin  of  a  serpent,  the  messenger 
was  immediately  sent  back  with  the  skin  stuffed 
with  powder  and  ball,  which  caused  a  speedy  and 
satisfactory  termination  to  the  correspondence. 
Suspecting  one  Lyford  of  plotting  against  the  ec- 
clesiastical arrangements  of  the  colony,  he'boarded 
a  ship,  which  was  known  to  have  carried  out  a 
large  number  of  letters  written  by  him,  after  she 
had  left  port,  examined  them,  and  thus  obtained 
evidence  by  which  Lyford  was  tried  and  banished. 

Governor  Bradford's  reputation  as  an  author  is 
decidedly  of  a  posthumous  character.  He  left  a 
MS.  history,  in  a  folio  volume  of  270  pages,  of  the 
Plymouth  colony,  from  the  formation  of  their 
church  in  1602  to  1647.  It  furnished  the  mate- 
rial for  Morton's  Memorial,  was  used  \>y  Prince 
and  Governor  Hutchinson  in  the  preparation  of 
their  histories,  and  deposited,  with  the  collection 
of  papers  of  the  former,  in  the  library  of  the  Old 
South  Church,  in  Boston.  During  the  desecration 
of  this  edifice  as  a  riding-school  by  the  British 
in  the  Revolutionary  war,  the  MS.  disappeared.* 
A  copy  of  a  portion  closing  with  the  year  1620, 
in  the  handwriting  of  Nathaniel  Morton,  was  dis- 
covered by  the  Rev.  Alexander  Young  in  the  li- 
brary of  the  First  Chnrch,  at  Plymouth,  and 
printed  in  his  Chronicles  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers 
of  the  Colony  of  Plymouth,  in  1841.  A  "letter- 
book,"  in  which  Bradford  preserved  copies  of  his 
correspondence,  met  with  a  similar  fate,  a  portion 
onlv  having  been  rescued  from  a  grocer's  shop  in 
Halifax,  and  published  in  the  Collections  of  the 
Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  in  1794,  vol.  iii. 
of  the  first  series  of  Collections,  with  a  fragment 
of  a  poem  on  New  England.  These,  with  two 
other  specimens  of  a  few  lines  each,  first  pub- 
lished by  the  same  Society  in  1838,t  form,  with 
the  exception  of  some  slight  controversial  pieces, 
the  whole  of  his  literary  productions. 

"  I  commend  unto  your  wisdom  and  discre- 
tion," he  says  in  his  will,  "  some  small  bookes 
written  by  my  own  hand,  to  be  improved  as  you 
shall  see  meet.     In  special,  I  commend  to  you  a 

*  It  was  given  up  for  lost  till  1855,  when  it  was  found  com- 
plete in  the  Fulham  Library,  England, 
t  Third  Series,  vii. 


WILLIAM  BRADFORD. 


31 


little  booke  -with  a  black  cover,  wherein  there  is 
a  word  to  Plymouth,  a  word  to  Boston,  and 
a  word  to  New  England,  with  sundry  useful 
verses." 

OF  BOSTON   IN  NEW  ENGLAND. 

O  Boston,  though  thou  now  art  grown 
To  be  a  great  and  wealtl  y  town, 
Yet  I  have  seen  thee  a  void  place, 
Shrubs  and  bushes  covering  thy  face; 
And  house  then  in  thee  none  were  there, 
Nor  such  as  gold  and  silk  did  weare ; 
No  drunkenness  were  then  in  thee, 
Nor  such  excess  as  now  we  see. 
We  then  drunk  freely  of  thy  spring, 
Without  paying  of  anything ; 
We  lodged  freely  where  we  would, 
All  things  were  tree  and  nothing  sold. 
And  they  that  did  thee  first  begin, 
Had  hearts  as  free  and  as  willing 
Their  poor  friends  for  to  entertain, 
And  never  looked  at  sordid  gain. 

Some  thou  hast  had  whome  I  did  know, 
That  spent  theirselves  to  make  thee  grow, 
And  thy  foundations  they  did  lay, 
Which  do  remain  unto  this  day. 
When  thou  wast  weak  they  did  thee  nurse, 
Or  else  with  thee  it  had  been  worse; 
They  left  thee  not,  but  did  defend 
And  succour  thee  unto  their  end. 
Thou  now  hast  grown  in  wealth  and  6tore, 
Do  not  forget  that  thou  wast  poor, 
And  lift  not  up  thyself  in  pride, 
From  truth  and  justice  turn  not  aside. 
Remember  thou  a  Cotton  had, 
Which  made  the  hearts  of  many  glad ; 
What  he  thee  taught  bear  thou  in  mind, 
It's  hard  another  such  to  find. 
A  Winthrop  once  in  thee  was  known, 
Who  unto  thee  was  as  a  crown. 
Such  ornaments  are  very  rare, 
Yet  thou  enjoyed  this  blessed  pair. 
But  these  are  gone,  their  work  is  done, 
Their  day  is  past,  set  is  their  sun: 
Yet  faithful  Wilson  still  remains, 
And  learned  Norton  doth  take  pains. 

Live  ye  in  peace.     I  could  say  more. 
Oppress  ye  not  the  weak  and  poor. 
The  trade  is  all  in  your  own  hand, 
Take  heed  ye  do  not  wrong  the  land, 
Lest  he  that  hath  lift  you  on  high, 
When,  as  the  poor  to  him  do  cry, 
Do  throw  you  down  from  your  high  state, 
And  make  you  low  and  desolate. 

FBAGMENTAEY  POESI  ON  NEW  ENGLAND. 

Famine  once  we  had, 
But  other  things  God  gave  us  in  full  store, 
As  fish  and  ground-nuts,  to  supply  our  strait, 
That  we  might  learn  on  Providence  to  wait; 
And  know,  by  bread  man  lives  not  in  his  need, 
But  by  each  word  that  doth  from  God  proceed. 
But  a  while  after  plenty  did  come  in, 
From  his  hand  only  who  doth  pardon  sin. 
And  all  did  flourish  like  the  pleasant  green, 
Which  in  the  joyful  spring  is  to  be  seen. 

Almost  ten  years  we  lived  here  alone, 

In  other  places  there  were  few  or  none; 

For  Salem  was  the  next  of  any  fame, 

That  began  to  augment  New  England's  name ; 

But  after  multitudes  began  to  flow, 

More  than  well  knew  themselves  where  to  bestow ; 

Boston  then  began  her  roots  to  spread, 

And  quickly  soon  she  grew  to  be  the  head, 


Not  only  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay, 

But  all  trade  and  commerce  fell  in  her  way. 

And  truly  it  was  admirable  to  know, 

How  greatly  all  things  here  began  to  grow. 

New  plantations  were  in  each  place  begun, 

And  with  inhabitants  were  filled  soon. 

All  sorts  of  grain  which  our  own  land  doth  yield, 

"Was  hither  brought,  and  sown  in  every  field: 

As  wheat  and  rye,  barley,  oats,  beans  and  pease, 

Here  all  thrive,  and  they  profit  from  them  raise. 

All  sorts  of  roots  and  herbs  in  gardens  grow, 

Parsnips,  carrots,  turnips,  or  what  you'll  sow. 

Onions,  melons,  cucumbers,  radishes, 

Skirets,  beets,  coleworts,  and  fair  cabbages. 

Here  grow  fine  flowers  many,  and  'niongst  those, 

The  fair  white  lily  and  sweet  fragrant  rose. 

Many  good  wholesome  berries  here  you'll  find, 

Fit  for  man's  use,  almost  of  every  kind, 

Pears,  apples,  cherries,  plumbs,  quinces  and  peach, 

Are  now  no  dainties ;  yon  may  have  of  each. 

Nuts  and  grapes  of  several  sorts  are  here, 

If  you  will  take  the  pains  them  to  seek  for. 

****** 
But  that  which  did  'bove  all  the  rest  excel, 
God  in  his  word,  with  us  he  here  did  dwell; 
Well  ordered  churches,  in  each  place  there  were, 
And  a  learn'd  ministry  was  planted  here. 
All  marvell'd  and  said:  "Lord,  this  work  is  thine, 
In  the  wilderness  to  make  such  lights  to  shine." 
And  truly  it  was  a  glorious  thing, 
Thus  to  hear  men  pray,  and  God's  praises  sing. 
Where  these  natives  were  wont  to  cry  and  yell 
To  Satan,  wdio  'niongst  them  doth  rule  and  dwelL 
Oh,  how  great  comfort  it  was  now  to  see 
The  churches  to  enjoy  free  liberty! 
And  to  have  the  Gospel  preach'd  here  with  power, 
And  such  wolves  repell'd  as  would  else  devour; 
And  now  with  plenty  their  poor  souls  were  fed, 
With  better  food  than  wheat,  or  angel's  bread, 
In  green  pastures,  they  may  themselves  solace, 
And  drink  freely  of  the  sweet  springs  of  grace; 
A  pleasant  banquet  is  prepar'd  for  these, 
Of  fat  things,  and  rich  wine  upon  the  lees ; 
"  Eat,,0  my  friends  (saith  Christ),  and  drink  freely, 
Here's  wine  and  milk,  and  all  sweet  spieery; 
The  honey  and  its  comb  is  here  to  be  had ; 
I  myself  for  you  have  this  banquet  made: 
Be  not  dismayed,  but  let  your  heart  rejoice 
In  this  wilderness,  O  let  me  hear  your  voice; 
My  friends  you  are,  whilst  you  my  ways  do  keep, 
Your  sins  I'll  pardon  aud  your  good  I'll  seek." 
And  they,  poor  souls,  again  to  Christ  do  say: 
"  0  Lord,  thou  art  our  hope,  our  strength  and  stay, 
Who  givest  to  us  all  these  thy  good  things, 
Us  shelter  still,  in  the  shadow  of  thy  wings: 
So  we  shall  sing,  and  laud  thy  name  with  praise, 
'Tis  thine  own  work  to  keep  us  in  thy  ways; 
Uphold  us  still,  0  thou  which  art  most  high, 
We  then  shall  be  kept,  and  thy  name  glorify, 
Let  us  enjoy  thyself,  with  these  means  of  grace, 
And  in  our  hearts  shine,  with  the  light  of  thy  face; 
Take  not  away  thy  presence,  nor  thy  word, 
But,  we  humbly  pray,  us  the  same  afford." 

JOHN  DAVENPORT. 

John  Davenport,  the  first  minister  of  New  Ha- 
ven, and  an  important  theological  writer  of  his 
time,  was  bora  in  Coventry,  England,  in  159'T. 
He  was  educated  at  Merton  and  Magdalen  col- 
leges, Oxford,  but  left  before  taking  a  degree. 
Soon  after  removing  to  London  he  became  minis- 
ter of  St.  Stephen's  Church,  Coleman  St.,  at  nine- 
teen, and  obtained  great  celebrity  as  a  pulpit 
orator.     In  the  year  1630  he  united  with  others 


32 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


in  purchasing  church  property  held  hy  laymen 
•with  a  view  of  devoting  the  revenue  therefrom  to 
provide  clergymen  for  destitute  congregations. 
By  the  exertions  of  Laud,  who  feared  that  the 
scheme  would  be  turned  to  the  advantage  of  the 
non-conformists,  the  company  was  broken  up, 
and  the  money  which  had  been  collected,  confis- 
cated. In  1023,  in  consequenceof  non-conformity, 
he  resigned  his  church,  and  removed  to  Holland. 
After  preaching  to  the  English  congregation  for 
two  years  as  the  colleague  of  John  Paget,  he  be- 
came engaged  in  a  controversy  in  consequence  of 
his  opposition  to  the  plan  there  pursued,  of  the 
general  baptism  of  infants,  and  retiring  from  the 
pulpit  devoted  himself  to  teaching,  until  he  was 
induced  by  John  Cotton  to  emigrate  to  Boston. 
He  had  been  an  early  friend  of  the  colony,  having 
been  one  of  the  applicants  for  the  original  char- 
ter. His  name  does  not  appear  in  the  list  of  pa- 
tentees, having  been  omitted  at  his  own  request 
lest  it  should  excite  the  opposition  of  Laud  to  the 
scheme.  He  arrived  at  Boston,  June,  1637,  and  in 
August  took  part  in  the  Synod  called  in  reference 
to  the  opinions  of  Anne  Hutchinson.  He  sailed, 
March  30, 1 638,  with  a  company  for  Quinnipiack  or 
New  Haven,  where  he  preached  under  an  oak  on 
the  eighteenth  of  April,  the  first  Sunday  after  his 
arrival,  as  their  minister,  a  position  he  retained 
for  thirty  years,  during  which  he  was  instrumen- 
tal in  the  passage  of  the  rigid  laws  regarding 
church  membership  established  in  the  colony. 
He  displayed  great  courage  in  concealing  the 
Regicides,  Whalley  and  Gofle,  in  his  own  house, 
in  1661,  and  by  preaching  when  their  pursuers 
were  expected  in  the  city  from  the  text,  "  Hide 
the  outcasts;  bewray  not  him  that  wandereth. 
Let  mine  outcasts  dwell  with  thee,  Moab;  be 
thou  a  covert  to  them  from  the  face  of  the  spoiler" 
(Isaiah  xvi.  3,  4).  On  the  death  of  John  Wilson, 
minister  of  the  first  church  in  Boston,  in  1667, 
he  accepted  a  call  to  become  his  successor,  believ- 
ing that  as  affairs  in  New  Haven  were  in  a  'settled 
condition  he  could  do  more  good  in  Boston,  where, 
as  he  thought,  ecclesiastical  discipline  had  been 
unduly  relaxed.  He  was  instituted  pastor,  Dec. 
9,1688,  and  died  of  apoplexy  March  15,  1670. 

He  was  the  author  of  several  pamphlets  on  the 
controversy  between  himself  and  the  English 
church  at  Amsterdam,  of  A  Discourse  about 
Civil  Government  in  a  new  Plantation,  whose  de- 
sign is  religion,  and  of  TJie  Saints  Anchor  Hold 
in  all  Storms  and  Tempests,  a  collection  of  ser- 
mons. He  also  prepared  an  Exposition  on  the 
Canticles,  of  which  Mather  tells  us,  "  the  death  of 
the  gentleman  chiefly  concerned  in  the  intended 
impression  proved  the  death  of  the  impression 
itself."* 

ROGER  WILLIAMS. 
In  the  political  history  of  the  country,  the  name 
of  Williams,  as  the  apostle  of  civil  and  religious 
liberty,  holds  the  first  rank  ;  his  literary  achieve- 
ments, exhibiting  his  graces  of  character,  entitle 
him  to  an  honorable  place  in  this  collection.  He 
was  one  of  the  first  of  the  learned  university  men 
who  came  to  New  England  for  conscience  sake, 
and  the  principle  which  brought  him  across  the 
Atlantic  did  not  depart  on  his  landing.     Religious 

*  Magnalia,  Ed.  1858,  i.  880. 


liberty,  the  right  divine  of  conscience,  was  not 
simply  having  his  own  way,  while  he  checked 
other  people's.  He  did  not  fly  from  persecution 
to  persecute.  Born  in  Wales  in  1606,*  edu- 
cated at  Oxford ;  if  not  a  student  at  law  with 
Sir  Edward  Coke,  enjoying  an  early  intimacy 
with  him;  then  a  non-conformist  minister  in  con- 
flict with  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  of  the 
times,  he  arrived  in  Massachusetts  in  1631. 
Asserting  at  once  his  views  of  religious  tolera- 
tion, the  independence  of  conscience  of  the  civil 
magistrate,  and  the  separation  of  Church  and 
State,  he  was  driven  from  Salem,  where  he  had 
become  established  as  a  preacher,  by  an  order  of 
the  General  Council  in  1635,  into  exile,  for  "his 
new  and  dangerous  opinions  against  the  authority 
of  magistrates."  He  then  made  his  memorable 
journey  in  the  winter  season,  through  what  was 
then  a  wilderness,  to  the  vicinity  of  Narragansett 
Bay,  where,  received  in  friendship  by  the  Indians, 
he  established  himself  at  Seekonk;  but  finding 
himself  within  the  limits  of  the  Plymouth  colony, 
he  sailed  with  his  friends  in  a  canoe  down  the 
river  to  found  on  the  opposite  shore  the  city  of 
Providence,  a  living  name  which  will  always  bear 
witness  to  his  persecution  and  trust  in  God. 
Here  he  maintained  friendly  relations  with  the 
Indians,  warded  off  disaster,  by  quieting  their 
threatened  aggressions,  from  the  people  who  had 
driven  him  away,  received  fugitives  for  conscience 
sake  from  Massachusetts  Bay,  and  promoted  the 
settlement  of  Rhode  Island.  In  1643  he  sailed 
from  New  Amsterdam  for  England,  as  an  agent 
to  procure  a  charter.  On  his  way  thither  at  sea, 
he  wrote  his  Key  into  the  Language  of  America, 
which  he  published  in  London,  on  his  arrival.f 
"I  drew,"  he  says  in  his  address,  "to  my  dear 
and  well,  beloved  friends  and  countrymen  in  Old 
and  New  England,  the  materials  in  a  rude  lump 
.at  sea,  as  a  private  help  to  my  own  memory,  that 
I  might  not  hy  my  present  absence  lightly  lose 
what  I  had  so  dearly  bought  in  some  few  years  of 
hardship  and  charges  among  the  Barbarians,"  and 
he  committed  it  to  the  public  for  the  benefit  of 
his  friends.  "  A  little  key,"  he  says,  "  may  open 
a  box,  where  lies  a  bunch  of  keys." 


Msji/;«  m 


*  We  follow  here  the  Oxford  University  entry  presented  by 
Dr.  Elton,  in  preference  to  the  usual  statements  which  make 
bim  seven  or  eight  years  older. 

t  A  Key  into  the  Language  of  America,  or  an  help  to  the 
Language  of  the  Natives  in  that  part  of  Amehica  called  New 
Encland  ;  together  with  briefe  Observations  of  the  Customs, 
Manners  and  Worships,  &c.  of  the  aforesaid  Nations,  in  Peace 
and  Wane,  in  Life  and  Death.  On  all  which  are  added  Spirit- 
ual! Observations,  General  and  Particular,  by  the  Authour,  of 
chiefe  and  special!  use  (upon  all  occasions)  to  all  the  English 
Inhabiting  those  parts ;  yet  pleasant  and  profitable  to  the  view 
of  all  men  :  By  lioger  Williams,  of  Providence,  in  New  Eng- 
land. London:  Printed  by  George  Dexter,  18mo„  pp.  200. 
1648.  There  are  very  few  copies  of  the  original  edition  of  this 
book  in  existence,  the  library  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Society  has  one,  from  which  a  reprint  has  been  made  in  the 
first  volume  of  the  Collections  of  the  Ehode  Inland  Historical 
Society.  Providence,  1S27.  Mr.  James  Lenox,  of  New  York, 
in  his  valuable  Collection,  has  another,  which  we  have  had  the 
privilege  of  consulting  for  this  article.  The  Licenser's  Im- 
primatur on  the  last  page  is  curious.  "  I  have  read  over  tluse 
thirty  chapters  of  the  American  Language,  to  me  wholly  ml- 
knenone,  and  the  Observations,  tliexe  I  conceive  inoffensive ; 
and  tltat  Vie  Worke  may  conduce  to  the  happy  end  intended 
hy  t/ie  Author.    Jo  Lak'glev." 


ROGER  WILLIAMS. 


33 


The  book  is  in  a  series  of  thirty-two  chapters, 
each  containing  a  vocabulary,  with  an  occasional 
enlargement  at  a  suggestive  word  relating  to  man- 
ners or  notions ;  and  concluding  with  a  copy  of 
verses.  To  the  second  chapter,  "  of  Eating  and 
Entertainment,"  this  pious  and  benevolent  man 
touchingly  adds: — 

Coarse  bread  and  water's  most  their  fare, 

O  England's  diet  fine  ; 
Thy  cup  runs  o'er  with  plenteous  store 

Of  wholesome  beer  and  wine. 

Sometimes  God  gives  them  fish  or  flesh, 

Yet  they're  content  without ; 
And  what  comes  in  they  part  to  friends 

And  strangers  round  about. 

God's  providence  is  rich  to  his, 

Let  none  distrustful  be ; 
In  wilderness,  in  great  distress, 

These  Ravens  have  fed  me. 

There  is  the  same  simplicity  and  faith  in  Pro- 
vidence in  the  rest  of  these  little  poems,  wher- 
ever the  topic  gives  him  an  opportunity  to  ex- 
press it.  The  notes  are  simply  jottings  down  of 
facts  he  had  noticed — but  even  these  few  words 
are  somehow  instinct  with  his  kindly  spirit.  "  I 
once  travailed,"  he  says,  "to  an  island  of  the 
wildest  in  our  parts,  where  in  the  night  an  In- 
dian (as  he  said)  had  a  vision  or  dream  of  the  Sun 
(whom  they  worship  for  a  God)  darting  a  beam 
into  his  breast,  which  he  conceived  to  be  the  mes- 
senger of  his  death.  This  poor  native  called  his 
friends  and  neighbors,  and  prepared  some  little 
refreshing  for  them,  but  himself  was  kept  wak- 
ing and  fasting  in  great  humiliations  and  invo- 
cations for  ten  days  and  nights.  I  was  alone 
(having  travelled  from  my  bark  the  wind  being 
contrary)  and  little  could  I  speak  to  them,  to  their 
understanding,  especially  because  of  the  change  of 
their  dialect  or  maimer  of  speech  from  our  neigh- 
bors :  yet  so  much  (through  the  help  of  God)  I 
did  speak,  of  the  true  and  living  only  wise  God, 
of  the  Creation,  of  Man  and  his  fall  from  God, 
&c,  that  at  parting  many  burst  forth,  Oh  when 
will  you  come  again,  to  bring  us  some  more  news 
of  this  God  f  And  to  this  follow  the  "  more 
particular"  reflections  :— 

God  gives  them  sleep  on  ground,  on  straw, 

On  sedgy  mats  or  board : 
"When  English  softest  beds  of  down, 

Sometimes  no  sleep  afford. 

I  have  known  them  leave  their  house  and  mat, 

To  lodge  a  friend  or  stranger, 
"When  Jews  and  Christians  oft  have  sent 

Christ  Jesus  to  the  manger. 

Tore  day  they  invoeate  their  gods. 

Though  many  false  and  new  ; 
0  how  should  that  God  worshipt  be, 

Who  is  but  one  and  true  ? 

"  How  sweetly,"  he  says,  "  do  all  the  several 
sorts  of  heaven's  birds,  in  all  coasts  of  the  world, 
preach  unto  men  the  praise  of  their  maker's  wis- 
dome,  power,  and  goodnesse,  who  feeds  them 
and  their  young  ones  summer  and  winter  with 
their  several  sorts  of  food :  although  they  neither 
sow  nor  reap,  nor  gather  into  barns !  " 

vol.  i. — 3 


If  birds  that  neither  sow  nor  reape, 

Nor  store  up  any  food, 
Constantly  to  them  and  theirs 

A  maker  kind  and  good ! 

If  man  provide  eke  for  his  birds, 

In  yard,  in  coops,  in  cage, 
And  each  bird  spends  in  songs  and  tunea, 

His  little  time  and  age! 

What  care  will  man,  what  care  will  God 

For  his  wife  and  children  take  ? 
Millions  of  birds  and  worlds  will  God 

Sooner  than  his,  forsake. 

To  the  general  "  observations  of  their  travel," 

God  makes  a  path,  provides  a  guide, 

And  feeds  in  wilderness! 
His  glorious  name  while  breath  remains, 

0  that  I  may  confess. 

Lost  many  a  time,  I  have  had  no  guide, 

No  house,  but  hollow  tree ! 
In  stormy  winter  night  no  fire, 

No  food,  no  company : 

In  him  I  have  found  a  house,  a  bed, 

A  table,  company : 
No  cup  so  bitter,  but's  made  sweet, 

When  God  shall  sweetning  be. 

His  business  with  Parliament  was  successful. 
He  obtained  a  Charter  of  Incorporation  of  Pro- 
vidence Plantations  in  1644.  Before  his  return 
he  published  in  London,  the  same  year,  a 
pamphlet,  Mr.  Cotton's  Letter,  lately  printed, 
Examined  and  Answered,  a  refutation  of  the  rea- 
sons of  his  dismissal,  and  also  his  celebrated 
work,  which  embodies  the  principles  of  tolera- 
tion, The  Bloody  Tenent  of  Persecution,  for 
cause  of  Conscience,  discussed  in  a  Conference 
between  Truth  and  Peace.* 

The  history  of  this  composition  is  curious.  "A 
witness  of  Jesus  Christ,  close  prisoner  in  New- 
gate," wrote  a  tract  "against  persecution  in 
cause  of  Conscience,"  which  he  penned  on  paper 
introduced  into  his  prison  as  the  stoppers  to  a 
bottle  of  milk,  the  fluid  of  which  served  him  for 
ink.  Williams  thus  introduces  it  in  the  prefatory 
part  of  his  book,  the  "Tenent:" — 

Arguments  against  persecution  in  milk,  the  answer 
for  it  (as  I  may  say)  in  blood 

The  author  of  these  arguments  (against  persecu- 
tion) (as  I  have  been  informed)  being  committed  by 
some  then  in  power,  close  prisoner  to  Newgate,  for 
the  witness  of  some  truths  of  Jesus,  and  having  not 
the  use  of  pen  and  ink,  wrote  these  arguments  in 
milk,  in  sheets  of  paper,  brought  to  him  by  the 
woman  his  keeper,  from  a  friend  in  London,  as  the 
stoppers  of  his  milk  bottle. 

In  such  paper  written  with  milk,  nothing  will 
appear,  but  the  way  of  reading  it  by  fire  being 
known  to  this  friend  who  received  the  papers,  he 
transcribed  and  kept  together  the  papers,  although 
the  author  himself  could  not  correct,  nor  view  what 
himself  had  written. 

It  was  in  milk,  tending  to  soul  nourishment,  even 
for  babes  and  sucklings  in  Christ. 

It  was  in  milk,  spiritually  white,  pure,  and  inno- 


*  The  Bloody  Tenent  of  Persecution,  for  cause  of  Con- 
science, discussed  in  a  Conference  between  Truth  and  Peace, 
who,  in  all  tender  affection,  present  to  the  High  Court  of  Par- 
liament, as  the  Eesult  of  their  Discourse,  these,  amongst 
other,  Passages  of  highest  consideration.  Printed  in  tho  year 
1644    4to.    pp.247. 


34 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


cent,  like  those  white  horses  of  the  'word  of  truth 
and  meekness,  and  the  white  linen  or  armour  of 
righteousness,  in  the  army  of  Jesus.     Rev.  vi.  &  xix. 

It  was  in  milk,  soft,  meek,  peaceable,  and  gentle, 
tending  both  to  the  peace  of  souls  and  the  peace  of 
states  and  kingdoms. 

This  was  a  mild  introduction  to  controversy : 
yet  being  sent  to  New  England,  was  answered 
Dy  John  Cotton,  when  "Williams  published  both 
arguments  with  his  reply.  The  "  Bloody  Tenent " 
is  a  noble  work,  full  of  brave  heart  and  tender- 
ness ;  a  book  of  learning  and  piety, — the  composi- 
tion of  a  true,  gentle  nature.  How  sweet,  delicate, 
and  reverential  are  the  soft  approaches  of  the 
dialogue  as  "  Peace  "  and  "  Truth  "  address  one 
another.  "But  hark,"  says  Truth,  "what  noise  is 
this  ?"  as  she  listens  to  the  din  of  the  wars  for  Con- 
science. Those,"  is  the  reply,  "are  the  doleful 
drums  and  shrill-sounding  trumpets,  the  roaring, 
murdering  cannons,  the  shouts  of  conquerors,  the 
groans  of  wounded,  dying,  slaughtered  righteous, 
with  the  wicked.  Dear  Truth,  how  long?  How 
long  these  dreadful  sounds  and  direful  sights  ?  How 
long  before  my  glad  return  and  restitution?" 
This  is  the  expression  of  a  poet.  For  his  posi- 
tion as  an  asserter  of  religious  toleration,  we  may 
quote  the  sentence  of  Bancroft:  "He  was  the 
first  person  in  modern  Christendom  to  assert  in 
its  plenitude  the  doctrine  of  the  liberty  of  con- 
science, the  equality  of  opinions  before  the  law, 
and  in  its  defence  he  was  the  harbinger  of  Mil- 
ton, the  precursor  and  the  superior  of  Jeremy 
Taylor."* 

"Williams  returned  to  America  in  1644,  and  at 
the  close  of  1651  again  visited  England  to  secure 
the  Confirmation  of  the  Charter,  in  which  he 
succeeded.  Cotton  had  in  the  meantime  replied, 
in  1647,  to  the  "Bloody  Tenent"  in  his  "Bloody 
Tenent  "Washed  and  Made  "White  in  the  Blood  of 
the  Lamb,"  to  which  "Williams  was  ready  in  Lon- 
don with  his  rejoinder,  The  Bloody  Tenent  yet 
more  Bloody,  by  Mr.  Cotton's  Endeator  to  Wash 
it  White  in,  the  Blood  of  the  Lambe^  in  which 
he  pursued  his  argument  with  his  old  zeal  and 
learning.  He  published  at  the  same  time,  in  a 
small  4to.,  The  Hireling  Ministry  none  of  Chrisfs, 
or  a  Discourse  touching  the  Propagating  the 
Gospel  of  Christ  Jesus;  humbly  presented  to 
such  Pious  and  Honorable  Hands,  whom  the  pre- 
sent Debate  thereof  concerns. 

In  1853,  there  were  first  published  at  Provi- 
dence, in  the  Life  of  Roger  Williams  by  Romeo 
Elton,|  a  brief  series  of  letters  which  passed  be- 
tween Williams  and  the  daughter  of  his  old  bene- 


*  Bancroft's  Hist.  TJ.  S.  i.  8T6. 

t  The  Bloody  Tenent  yet  more  Bloody,  by  Mr.  Cotton's 
Endeavor  to  wash  it  white  in  the  Blood  of  the  Lambe,  of 
whose  precious  Blood  spilt  in  the  Blood  of  his  Servants,  and 
of  the  Blood  of  Millions  spilt  in  former  and  later  Wars  for 
Conscience'  Sake,  that  most  Bloody  Tenent  of  Persecution  for 
Cause  of  Conscience,  upon  a  second  Tryal,  is  now  found  more 
apparently,  and  more  notoriously  guilty.  In  this  Rejoynder 
to  Mr.  Cotton  are  principally,  1.  The  Nature  of  Persecution; 
2.  The  Power  of  the  Civill  Sword  in  Spiritualls  examined ;  3. 
Tbo  Parliament's  Permission  of  dissenting  Consciences  justi- 
fied. Also  (as  a  Testimony  to  Mr.  Clark's  Narrative)  is  added 
a  Letter  to  Mr.  Endicott,  Governor  of  the  Massachusetts  in 
N.  E.  By  P..  Williams,  of  Providence,  in  New  England.  Lon- 
don printed  for  Giles  Calvert,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  the  Black 
Spread  Eagle,  at  the  West  End  of  Paul's,  1652. 

X  Life  of  Roger  Williams,  the  Earliest  Legislator  and  true 
Champion  for  a  full  and  absolute  liberty  of  Conscience.  By 
Romeo  Elton,  96-11)9.  This  is  a  work  of  original  research  and 
much  interesting  information. 


factor,  Sir  Edward  Coke,  Mrs.  Anne  Sadleir,  on 
this  second  visit  to  England  in  1652-3.  They 
are  full  of  character  on  both  sides ;  the  humor  of 
them  consisting  in  the  lady  being  a  royalist,  well 
disposed  to  the  church  establishment,  a  sharp- 
shooter in  her  language  and  a  bit  of  a  termagant, 
while  Williams  was  practising  his  politest  graces 
and  most  Christian  forbearance,  as  he  steadily 
maintained  his  independent  theology.  He  ad- 
dresses her,  "My  much-honored  friend,  Mrs. 
Sadleir,"  and  tenders  her  one  of  his  compositions 
to  read,  probably  the  work  he  had  just  published 
iu  England,  entitled,  Experiments  of  Spiritual 
Life  and  Health  and  their  Preservatives,*  which 
he  describes  as  "  a  plain  and  peaceable  discourse, 
of  my  own  personal  experiments,  which,  in  a 
letter  to  my  dear  wife — upon  the  occasion  of  her 
great  sickness  near  death — I  sent  her,  being  ab- 
sent myself  among  the  Indians."  He  courteously 
invites  attention  and  even  censure.  "I  have 
been  oft  glad,"  he  says,  "in  the  wilderness  of 
America  to  have  been  reproved  for  going  in  a 
wrong  path,  and  to  be  directed  by  a  naked  In- 
dian boy  in  my  travels."  He  quietly  throws  out 
a  few  hints  of  the  virtues  of  his  own  position  in 
church  matters.  Mrs.  Sadleir  quotes  Scripture  in 
reply. 

Mr.  Williams, — Since  it  has  pleased  God  to  make 
the  prophet  David's  complaint  ours  (Ps.  lxxis.) :  "  O 
God,  the  heathen,"  (fee,  and  that  the  apostle  St.  Peter 
has  so  long  ago  foretold,  in  his  second  epistle,  the 
second  chapter,  by  whom  these  things  should  be  oc- 
casioned, I  have  given  over  reading  many  books, 
and,  therefore,  with  thanks,  have  returned  yours. 
Those  that  I  now  read,  besides  the  Bible,  are,  first, 
the  late  king's  book ;  Hooker's  Ecclesiastical  Polity ; 
Reverend  Bishop  Andrews's  Sermons,  with  his  other 
divine  meditations ;  Dr.  Jer.  Taylor's  works ;  and 
Dr.  Tho.  Jackson  upon  the  Creed.  Some  of  these 
my  dear  father  was  a  great  admirer  of,  and  would 
often  call  them  the  glorious  lights  of  the  church  of 
England.  These  lights  shall  be  my  guide;  I  wish 
they  may  be  yours ;  for  your  new  lights  that  are  so 
much  cried  up,  I  believe,  in  the  conclusion,  they 
will  prove  but  dark  lanterns ;  therefore  I  dare  not 
meddle  with  them. 

Your  friend  in  the  old  way, 

Anne  Sadleir. 

Which  little  repellant,  Williams,  feeling  the  sting, 
answers,  offering  another  book : — 

MY    MUCH-HONORED,    KIND    FRIEND,    MrS.    SaDLETR, 

My  humble  respects  premised  to  your  much-honored 
self,  and  Mr.  Sadleir,  humbly  wishing  you  the  sav- 
ing knowledge  and  assurance  of  that  life  which  is 
eternal,  when  this  poor  minute's  dream  is  over.  In 
my  poor  span  of  time,  I  have  been  oft  in  the  jaws 
of  death,  sickening  at  sea,  shipwrecked  on  shore,  in 
danger  of  arrows,  swords  and  bullets :  and  yet,  me- 
thinks,  the  most  high  and  most  holy  God  hath  re- 
served me  for  some  service  to  his  most  glorious  and 
eternal  majesty. 

I  think,  sometimes,  in  this  common  shipwreck  of 
mankind,  wherein  we  all  are  either  floating  or  sink- 
ing, despairing  or  struggling  for  life,  why  should  I 
ever  faint  in  striving,  as  Paul  saith,  in  hopes  to  save 
myself,  to  save  others — to  call,  and  cry,  and  ask, 
what  hope  of  saving,  what  hope  of  life,  and  of  the 


*  Prof.  GammeU's  Life  of  Roger  Williams,  218.  We  are 
much  indebted  to  his  careful  bibliography.  Certainly  there 
should  not  bo  suffered  to  remain  much  longer  any  difficulty  of 
access  to  all  which  Roger  Williams  wrote. 


ROGER  WILLIAMS. 


35 


eternal  shore  of  mercy  ?  Your  last  letter,  my  honored 
friend,  I  received  as  a  bitter  sweeting — as  all,  that 
is  under  the  sun,  is — sweet,  in  that  I  hear  from  you, 
and  that  you  continue  striving  for  life  eternal ;  bit- 
ter, in  that  we  differ  about  the  way,  in  the  midst  of 
the  dangers  and  the  distresses. 

For  the  scope  of  this  rejoinder,  if  it  please  the 
Most  High  to  direct  your  eye  to  a  glance  on  it, 
please  you  to  know,  that  at  my  last  being  in  Eng- 
land, I  wrote  a  discourse  entitled,  "  The  Bloudy 
Tenent  of  Persecution  for  Cause  of  Conscience."  I 
bent  my  charge  against  Mr.  Cotton  especially,  your 
standard-bearer  of  New  Englaud  ministers.  That 
discourse  he  since  answered,  and  calls  his  book, 
"  The  Bloody  Tenent  made  white  in  the  Blood  of 
the  Lamb."  This  rejoinder  of  mine,  aa  I  humbly 
hope,  unwashed  his  washings,  and  proves  that  in 
soul  matters  no  weapons  but  soul  weapons  are  reach- 
ing and  effectual. 

His  "  much-honored,  kind  friend"  replies  : — 

Sir, — I  thank  God  my  blessed  parents  bred  me  up 
in  the  old  and  best  religion,  and  it  is  my  glory  that 
I  am  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England,  as  it  was 
when  all  the  reformed  churches  gave  her  the  right 
hand.  When  I  east  mine  eye  upon  the  frontispiece 
of  your  book,  and  saw  it  entitled  "  The  Bloudy 
Tenent,"  I  durst  not  adventure  to  look  into  it,  for 
fear  it  should  bring  into  my  memory  the  much 
blood  that  has  of  late  been  shed,  and  which  I  would 
fain  forget ;  therefore  I  do,  with  thanks,  return  it. 
I  cannot  call  to  mind  any  blood  shed  for  conscience: 
— some  few  that  went  about  to  make  a  rent  in  our 
once  well-governed  church  were  punished,  but  none 
suffered  death.  But  this  I  know,  that  since  it  has 
been  left  to  every  man's  conscience  to  fancy  what 
religion  he  list,  there  has  more  christian  blood  been 
shed  than  was  in  the  ten  persecutions.  And  some 
of  that  blood  will,  I  fear,  cry  to  the  day  of  judg- 
ment. But  you  know  what  the  Scripture  says,  that 
when  there  was  no  king  in  Israel,  every  man  did 
that  which  was  right  in  his  own  eyes, — but  what 
became  of  that,  the  sacred  story  will  tell  you. 

Thus  entreating  you  to  trouble  me  no  more  in  this 
kind,  and  wishing  you  a  good  journey  to  your 
charge  in  New  Providence,  I  rest 

Your  Fkiend,  in  the  Old  and  Best  Way. 

Williams,  not  to  be  diseoneerted,  triples  the 
length  of  his  response,  with  new  divisions  and 
scripture  citations,  and  this  among  other  biting 
paragraphs  on  the  lady's  favorite  reading : — 

I  have  read  those  books  you  mention,  and  the 
king's  book,  which  commends  two  of  them,  Bp.  An- 
drews's and  Hookers — yea,  and  a  third  also,  Bp. 
Laud's:  and  as  for  the  king.  I  know  his  person, 
vicious,  a  swearer  from  his  youth,  and  an  oppressor 
and  persecutor  of  good  men  (to  say  nothing  of  his 
own  father),  and  the  blood  of  so  many  hundred 
thousands  English,  Irish,  Scotch,  French,  lately 
charged  upon  him.  Against  his  and  his  blasphemous 
father's  cruelties,  your  own  dear  father,  and  many 
precious  men,  shall  rise  up  shortly  and  cry  for  ven- 
geance. 

But  for  the  book  itself — if  it  be  his — and  theirs 
you  please  to  mention,  and  thousands  more,  not  only 
prote3tants  of  several  sects,  but  of  some  papists  and 
Jesuits  also — famous  for  worldly  repute,  <fec. — I  have 
found  them  sharp  and  witty,  plausible  and  delight- 
ful, devout  and  pathetieaL  And  I  have  been 
amazed  to  see  the  whole  world  of  our  forefathers, 
wise  and  gallant,  wondering  after  the  glory  of  the 
Romish  learning  and  worship.  (Rev.  xiii.)  But 
amongst  them  all  whom  I  have  so  diligently  read 
and  heard,   how    few   express   the   simplicity,   the 


plainness,  the   meekness,  and  true  humility  of  the 
learning  of  the  Son  of  God. 

with  this  telling  postscript : — 

My  honored  friend,  since  you  please  not  to  read 
mine,  let  me  pray  leave  to  request  your  reading  of 
one  book  of  your  own  authors.  I  mean  the  "  Liberty 
of  Prophesying,"  penned  by  (so  called)  Dr.  Jer. 
Taylor.  In  the  which  is  excellently  asserted  the 
toleration  of  different  religions,  yea,  in  a  respect, 
that  of  the  Papists  themselves,  which  is  a  new  way 
of  soul  freedom,  and  yet  is  the  old  way  of  Christ 
Jesus,  as  all  his  holy  Testament  declares. 

I  also  humbly  wish  that  you  may  please  to  read 
J    over  impartially  Mr.  Milton's  answer  to  the  king's 
book. 

Mrs.  Sadleir  waxes  indignant,  and  replies  more 
at  length — getting  personally  discourteous  and 
scandalous  on  John  Milton  : — 

Me.  Williams, — I  thought  my  first  letter  would 
have  given  you  so  much  satisfaction,  that,  in  that 
kind,  I  should  never  have  heard  of  you  any  more  ; 
but  it  seems  you  have  a  face  of  brass,  so  that  you 
cannot  blush. 
******* 

For  Milton's  book,  that  you  desire  I  should  read, 
if  I  be  not  mistaken,  that  is  he  that  has  wrote  a 
book  of  the  lawfulness  of  divorce.;  and,  if  report 
says  true,  he  had,  at  that  time,  two  or  three  wives 
living.  This,  perhaps,  were  good  doctrine  in  New 
England ;  but  it  is  most  abominable  in  Old  England. 
For  his  book  that  he  wrote  against  the  late  king 
that  you  would  have  me  read,  you  should  have 
taken  notice  of  God's  judgment  upon  him,  who 
stroke  him  with  blindness ;  and,  as  I  have  heard,  he 
was  fain  to  have  the  help  of  one  Andrew  Marvell, 
or  else  he  could  not  have  finished  that  most  accursed 
libel.  God  has  began  his  judgment  upon  him  here 
— his  punishment  will  be  hereafter  in  hell.  But 
have  you  seen  the  answer  to  it  ?  If  you  can  get  it, 
I  assure  you  it  is  worth  your  reading. 

I  have  also  read  Taylor's  book  of  the  Liberty  of 
Prophesying;  though  it  please  not  me,  yet  I  am 
sure  it  does  you,  or  else  I  [know]*  you  [would]* 
not  have  wrote  to  me  to  have  read  it.  I  say,  it  and 
j'ou  would  make  a  good  fire.  But  have  you  seen 
his  Divine  Institution  of  the  Office  Ministerial  ?  I 
assure  that  is  both  worth  your  reading  and  practice. 
Bishop  Laud's  book  against  Fisher  I  have  read  long 
since ;  which,  if  you  have  not  done,  let  me  tell  you 
that  he  has  deeply  wounded  the  Pope ;  and,  I  be- 
lieve, howsoever  he  be  slighted,  he  will  rise  a  saint, 
when  many  seeming  ones,  such  as  you  are,  will  rise 
devils. 

This  winds  up  the  correspondence.  Mrs.  Sad- 
leir, as  she  puts  it  aside,  for  publication  a  couple 
of  hundred  years  later,  writing  on  the  back  of 
Williams's  first  letter  : — "  This  Roger  Williams, 
when  he  was  a  youth,  would,  in  short  hand,  take 
sermons  and  speeches  in  the  Star  Chamber,  and 
present  them  to  my  dear  father.  He,  seeing  so 
hopeful  a  youth,  took  such  liking  to  him  that  he 
sent  him  in  to  Sutton's  Hospital,  and  he  was  the 
second  that  was  placed  there;  full  little  did  he 
think  that  he  would  have  proved  such  a  rebel  to 
God,  the  king,  and  the  country.  I  leave  his  let- 
ters, that,  if  ever  he  has  the  face  to  return  into  his 
native  country,  Tyburn  may  give  him  welcome." 


*  These  words  nre  not  in  the  MS. 


36 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


For  which  scrap  of  biographical  information,  in 
the  too  general  dearth  of  anecdote  respecting  a 
good  and  great  man,  we  thank  her.* 

After  his  return  he  writes  to  his  friend  John 
Winthrop,  subsequently  the  Governor  of  Connec- 
ticut, relating,  among  other  incidents  of  his  visit 
to  England,  this  anecdote  of  his  exchange  of  lan- 
guages with  John  Milton  in  his  blindness — "  It 
pleased  the  Lord  to  call  me  for  some  time,  and, 
with  some  persons,  to  practice  the  Hebrew,  the 
Greek,  Latin,  French  and  Dutch.  The  Secretary 
of  the  Council,  Mr.  Milton,  for  my  Dutch  I  read 
him,  read  me  many  more  languages.''!  lie  was 
intimate  with  Cromwell  and  passed  much  time 
with  Sir  Henry  Vane,  the  old  Governor  of  Mas- 
sachusetts. In  this  journey  he  was  associated 
with  his  friend  Mr.  John  Clarke,  who  remained 
in  England  as  the  agent  of  the  colony,  and  in 
whose  behalf,  on  his  return,  he  addressed  a  plea 
to  his  "beloved  friends  and  countrymen,"  the 
General  Assembly  of  Rhode  Island.  It  is  a  good 
example  of  his  love  of  justice,  directness,  and 
business  tact,  and,  as  such,  we  present  a  portion 
of  it  in  our  extracts.^ 

"Williams  was  active  as  usual  in  the  affairs  of 
the  colony,  and  was  chosen  its  President  in  1654. 
The  persecution  of  the  Quakers  then  followed  in 
Massachusetts;  then'  rights  were  maintained  in 
Rhode  Island,  though  Williams  held  a  controversy 
with  Fox  and  his  disciples,  an  account  of  which 
he  embodied  in  the  last  of  his  publications  in 
1676,  George  Fox  digged  out  of  his  Burrowes,%  a 
pun  on  the  names  of  the  Quaker  leaders.  Fox 
replied  to  this  in  his  New  England  Firebrand 
Quenched,  with  abundant  bitterness ;  and  Edmund- 
son,  one  of  Williams's  personal  antagonists  in  the 
controversial  encounter,  which  was  held  both  at 
Newport  and  Providence,  in  his  Journal  of  his 
Life,  Sufferings,  and  Labor,  speaks  of  "  one  Roger 
Williams,  an  old  priest  and  an  enemy  to  truth, 
putting  forth  fourteen  propositions,  as  he  called 
them."||  It  was  an  unpleasant  affair,  but  the 
Quakers  had  laid  themselves  open  to  attack 
by  some  outrageous  extravagances.  Seven  years 
afterwards,  in  1683,  in  the  seventy-eighth  year 
of  his  age,  the  Founder  of  Rhode  Island,  the 
friend  of  peace  and  asserter  of  liberty,  died  at 
Providence,  on  the  spot  which  his  genius  and 
labors  had  consecrated.  He  left  a  wife  and  six 
children.  There  is  no  portrait  of  him.  The 
engraving  prefixed  to  the  Life  in  Sparks's  Ameri- 


*  Mr.  Elton  was  lerl  to  the  knowledge  of  these  letters  by  Mr. 
Bancroft  the  historian,  and  copied  them  from  the  original'MSS. 
preserved  in  the  library  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 

+  Elton's  Life,  114. 

i  It  was  first  published  in  the  Ehode  Island  Book  in  1840. 

§  George  Fox  digg'd  out  of  his  Burrowes,  or  an  Offer  of  Dis- 
putation, on  fourteen  Proposal!*  made  this  last  Summer,  1672, 
(so  call'd),  unto  G.  Fox.  then  present  on  Eode  Island,  in  New 
England,  by  E.  W.  As  also  how  (G.  Fox  slily  departing)  the 
Disputation  went  on,  being  managed  three  Dayes  at  Newport 
on  Eode  Island,  and  one  Day  at  Providence,  between  John 
Stubbs,  John  Burnet,  and  William  Edmundson,  on  the  one 
Part,  and  E.  W.  on  the  other.  In  which  many  Quotations 
out  of  G.  Fox  and  Ed.  Burrowes  Book  in  Folio  are  alledged. 
With  an  Appendix,  of  some  Scores  of  G.  F.,  his  simple  lame 
Answers  to  his  Oppositcs  in  that  Book  quoted  and  replied  to, 
by  E.  W.  of  Providence  in  N.  E.  Boston,  printed  by  John 
Foster,  16T6. 

H  See  Memoir  of  Eoger  Williams,  the  Founder  of  the  State 
of  Ehode  Island,  by  James  D.  Knowles,  for  much  careful  his- 
torical investigation  on  this  and  other  poiuts.  Mr.  J.  E.  Bart- 
lett  has  given  an  account  of  Edmundson's  book,  printed  in 
London  1718,  in  some  Early  Notices  of  Ehode  Island,  in  the 
Prwiil&tice  Journal  for  1855. 


can  Biography,  is  from  an  old  painting  put  forth 
a  few  years  since,  which  was  soon  pronounced  an 
indifferent  likeness  of  Benjamin  Franklin. 


CONFERENCE  BE' 


EN  TEOTH  AND  PEACE. — FE03I  THE 
BLOODY  TENENT. 


Truth.  In  what  dark  corner  of  the  world  (siuect 
Peace)  are  we  two  met?  How  hath  this  present 
evil  world  banished  me  from  all  the  coasta  and 
quarters  of  it?  and  how  hath  the  righteous  God  in 
judgment  taken  thee  from  the  earth,  Rev.  vi.  4. 

Peace.  'Tis  lamentably  true  (blessed  Truth)  the 
foundations  of  the  world  have  long  been  out  of 
course :  the  gates  of  earth  and  hell  have  conspired 
together  to  intercept  our  joyful  meeting  and  our 
holy  kisses:  with  what  a  weary,  tired  wing  have  I 
flown  over  nations,  kingdoms,  cities,  towns,  to  find 
out  precious  truth  ? 

Truth.  The  like  enquiries  in  my  flights  and  travels 
have  I  made  for  Peace,  and  still  am  told,  she  hath 
left  the  earth,  and  fled  to  heaven. 

Peace.  Dear  Truth,  what  is  the  earth  hut  a  dun- 
geon of  darkness,  where  Truth  is  not  ? 

Truth.  And  what  is  the  Peace  thereof  but  a  fleet- 
ing dream,  thine  ape  and  counterfeit? 

Peace.  Oh,  where's  the  promise  of  the  God  of 
Heaven,  that  Righteousness  and  Peace  shall  kiss 
each  other? 

Truth.  Patience  (sweet  Peace),  these  heavens  and 
earth  are  growing  old,  and  shall  be  changed  like  a 
garment,  Psal.  cii.  They  shall  melt  away,  and  be 
burnt  up  with  all  the  works  that  are  therein;  and 
the  most  high  Eternal  Creator  shall  gloriously  create 
new  heavens  and  new  earth,  wherein  dwells  right- 
eousness, 2  Peter  iii.  Our  kisses  shall  then  have 
their  endless  date  of  pure  and  sweetest  joys ;  till 
then  both  thou  and  I  must  hope,  and  wait,  and 
bear  the  fury  of  the  dragon's  wrath,  whose  mon- 
strous lies  and  furies  shall  with  himself  be  cast  into 
the  lake  of  fire,  the  second  death,  Rev.  xx. 

Peace.  Most  precious  Truth,  thou  knowest  we  are 
both  pursued  and  laid  for.  Mine  heart  is  full  of 
sighs,  mine  eyes  with  tears.  Where  can  I  better 
veut  my  full  oppressed  bosom,  than  into  thine, 
whose  faithful  lips  may  for  these  few  hours  revive 
my  drooping,  wandering  spirits,  and  here  begin  to 
wipe  tears  from  mine  eyes,  and  the  eyes  of  my 
dearest  children? 

Truth.  Sweet  daughter  of  the  God  of  Peace, 
begin,  pour  out  thy  sorrowes,  vent  thy  complaints ; 
how  joyful  am  I  to  improve  these  precious  minutes 
to  revive  our  hearts,  both  thine  and  mine,  and  the 
hearts  of  all  that  love  the  Truth  and  Peace,  Zaeh.  viii. 

Peace.  Dear  Truth,  I  know  thy  birth,  thy  nature, 
thy  delight.  They  that  know  thee,  will  prize  thee 
far  above  themselves  and  lives,  and  sell  themselves 
to  buy  thee.  Well  spake  that  famous  Elizabeth  to 
her  famous  attorney,  Sir  Edward  Coke:  "Mr. 
Attorney,  go  on  as  thou  hast  begun,  and  still 
plead,  not  pro  Domina  Regina,  but  pro  Domi/ia 
Veritate. 

Truth.  'Tis  true,  my  crown  is  high,  my  sceptres 
strong  to  break  down  strongest  holds,  to  throw 
down  highest  crowns  of  all  that  plead  (though  but 
in  thought)  against  me.  Some  few  there  are,  but 
oh,  how  few  are  valiant  for  the  Truth  and  dare  to 
plead  my  cause,  as  my  witnesses  in  sackcloth, 
Revel,  ii.  While  all  men's  tongues  are  bent  like 
boughs  to  shoot  out  lying  words  against  me! 

Peace.  Oh,  how  could  I  spend  eternal  days  and 
endless  dates  at  thy  holy  feet,  in  listening  to  the 
precious  oracles  of  thy  mouth.  All  the  words  of 
thy  mouth  are  Truth,  and  there  is  no  iniquity  in 
them.  Thy  lips  drop  as  the  honeycomb.  But  oh ! 
since  we  must  part  anon,  let  us  (as  thou  saidst)  im- 


ROGER  WILLIAMS. 


37 


prove  our  minutes,  and  (according  as  tliou  pro- 
niisedst)  revive  me  with  thy  words,  which  are 
sweeter  than  the  honey,  and  the  honeycomb. 


CONCLUSION. 


Peace.  "We  have  now  (dear  Truth)  through  the 
gracious  hand  of  God  clambered  up  to  the  top  of 
this  our  tedious  discourse. 

Truth.  Oh,  'tis  mercy  unexpressible  that  either  thou 
or  I  have  had  so  long  a  breathing  time,  and  that 
together ! 

Peace.  If  English  ground  must  yet  be  drunk  with 
English  blood,  oh,  where  shall  Peace  repose  her  wea- 
ried head  and  heavy  heart? 

Truth.  Dear  Peace,  if  thou  find  welcome,  and  the 
God  of  peace  miraculously  please  to  quench  these 
all-devouring  flames,  yet  where  shall  Truth  find  rest 
from  cruel  persecutions  ? 

Peace.  Oh,  will  not  the  authority  of  holy  scrip- 
tures, the  commands  and  declarations  of  the  Son  of 
God,  therein  produced  by  thee,  together  with  all 
the  lamentable  experiences  of  former  and  present 
slaughters,  prevail  with  the  sons  of  men  (especially 
with  the  sons  of  Peace)  to  depart  from  the  dens  of 
lions,  and  mountains  of  leopards,  and  to  put  on  the 
bowels  (if  not  of  Christianity,  yet)  of  humanity  each 
to  other! 

Truth.  Dear  Peace,  Habacuck's  fishes  keep  their 
constant  bloody  game  of  persecutions  in  the  world's 
mighty  ocean;  the  greater  taking,  plundering,  swal- 
lowing up  the  lesser:  0  happy  he  whose  portion  is 
the  God  of  Jacob!  Who  hath  nothing  to  lose  under 
the  sun,  but  hath  a  state,  a  house,  an  inheritance,  a 
name,  a  crown,  a  life,  past  all  the  plunderers,  ra- 
vishers,  murtherers  reach  and  fury! 

Peace.  But  lo !     Who's  here  ? 

Truth.  Our  sister  Patience,  whose  desired  com- 
pany is  as  needful  as  delightful!  'Tis  like  the  wolf 
will  send  the  scattered  sheep  iu  one:  the  common 
pirate  gathers  up  the  loose  and  scattered  navyi  the 
slaughter  of  the  witnesses  by  that  bloody  beast  unites 
the  Independents  and  Presbyterians.  The  God  of 
Peace,  the  God  of  Truth  will  shortly  seal  this  truth, 
and  confirm  this  witness,  and  make  it  evident  to  the 
whole  world, 

That  the  doctrine  of  persecution  for  cause  of  con- 
science, is  most  evidently  and  lamentably  contrary 
to  the  doctrine  of  Christ  Jesus  the  Prince  of  Peace. 
Amen. 


PLEA  FOE  JOUN  CLARKE. 


The  first  is  peace,  commonly  called  among  all 
men,  the  King's  Peace,  among  ourselves  and  among 
all  the  King's  subjects  and  friends,  in  this  country 
and  wheresoever :  and,  further,  at  our  agent's  most 
reasonable  petition,  the  King  prohibits  all  his  sub- 
jects to  act  any  hostility  toward  our  Natives  inha- 
biting with  us  without  our  consent,  which  hath 
hitherto  been  otherwise  practiced  to  our  continual 
and  great  grievance  and  disturbance. 

The  second  jewel  is  Liberty.  The  first,  of  our 
spirits,  which  neither  Old  nor  New  England  knows 
the  like,  nor  no  part  of  the  world  a  greater. 

2d.  Liberty  of  our  persons;  no  life,  no  limb  taken 
from  us,  no  corporeal  punishment,  no  restraint  but 
by  known  laws  and  agreements  of  our  own  making. 

3.  Liberty  of  our  Estates,  horses,  cattle,  lands, 
goods,  not  a  penny  to  be  taken  by  any  rate  from  us, 
without  every  man's  free  debate  by  his  deputies, 
chosen  by  himself,  and  Bent  to  the  General  As- 
sembly. 

4.  Liberty  of  society  or  corporation,  of  sending  or 
being  sent  to  the  General  Assembly,  of  choosing  and 
being  chosen  to  all  offices  and  of  making  or  repealing 
all  laws  and  constitutions  among  us. 


5.  A  liberty,  which  other  charters  have  not,  to 
wit,  of  attending  to  the  laws  of  England,  with  a 
favorable  mitigation,  viz.  not  absolutely,  but  respect- 
ing our  wilderness  estate  and  condition. 

I  confess  it  were  to  be  wished,  that  these  dainties 
might  have  fallen  from  God,  and  the  King,  like 
showers  and  dews  and  manna  from  heaven,  gratis 
and  free,  like  a  joyful  harvest  or  vintage,  without 
any  pains  of  our  husbandry ;  but  since  the  most  holy 
God,  the  first  Cause,  hath  ordered  second  causes 
and  means  and  agents  and  instruments,  it  is  no  more 
honest  for  us  to  withdraw  in  tlus  case,  than  for  men 
to  come  to  an  Ordinary  and  to  call  for  the  best  wine 
and  liquor,  the  best  meats  roast  and  baked,  the  best 
attendance,  <fec,  and  to  be  able  to  pay  for  all  and 
yet  most  unworthily  steal  away  and  not  discharge 
the  reckoning. 

My  second  witness  is  Common  Gratitude,  famous 
among  all  mankind,  yea,  among  brute  beasts,  even 
the  wildest  and  fiercest,  for  kindness  received.  It 
is  true,  Mr.  Clarke  might  have  a  just  respect  to  his 
own  and  the  peace  and  liberty  of  his  friends  of  his 
own  persuasion.  But  I  believe  the  weight  that 
turned  the  scale  with  him  was  the  truth  of  God,  viz. 
a  just  liberty  to  all  men's  spirits  in  spiritual  matters, 
together  with  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the  whole 
colony.  This,  I  know,  put  him  upon  incredible 
pains  and  travail,  straits  and  anguish,  day  and  night, 
himself  and  his  friends  and  ours,  which  I  believe  a 
great  sum  of  money  would  not  hire  him  to  wade 
through  the  like  again.  I  will  not  trouble  you  with 
the  allowances,  payments,  and  gratuities  of  other 
colonies  in  like  eases.  Only  let  me  present  you  with 
a  famous  story  out  of  our  English  records.  Henry 
the  Third,  as  I  remember,  fell  out  with  the  city  of 
London,  took  away  their  charter  and  set  a  governor 
over  them,  which  brought  many  evils  and  sorrows 
on  them.  But  Doctor  Redman,  so  called,  pacified 
the  King's  anger  and  procured  a  restitution  of  their 
charter,  though  with  great  charges  and  payments  of 
moneys.  Sow  while  this  Redman  lived,  they  ho- 
nored him  as  a  father  and  heaped  all  possible  gra- 
tuities upon  Mm;  and  when  he  died  they  decreed 
that  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Aldermen  and  chief  citi- 
zens, should  yearly  and  solemrdy  visit  his  tomb, 
which  mine  eyes  have  seen  performed  in  the  public 
walks  in  Paul's,  and  I  presume,  it  is  practised  to  this 
day.  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  the  application  of 
this  story,  but  present  you  with  my  third  Witness 
of  the  fairness  of  this  matter,  which  is  Christianity, 
which  we  all  pretend  to,  though  in  various  and  dif- 
ferent persuasions.  This  witness  soars  high  above 
Common  justice  and  Common  gratitude,  yea,  above 
all  religions.  This  not  only  speaks  home  for  due 
payment  and  due  thankfulness,  but  of  doing  good  for 
evil,  of  paying  blessing  for  cursing,  of  praying  for 
enemies  and  persecutors,  of  selling  houses  and  lands, 
yea,  of  laying  down  lives  for  others.  Common  jus- 
tice would  not,  Common  gratitude  would  not,  least 
of  all  will  Christianity,  employ  a  public  messenger 
unto  a  mighty  King  and  there  leave  him  to  shift  for 
his  living  and  means  to  go  through  so  high  a  service, 
nor  leave  him  to  shift  for  moneys  and  to  mortgage 
his  house  and  lands  to  carry  on  our  business  and 
thus  to  forfeit  and  lose  them ;  and  lost  they  are,  a3 
all  must  see,  except  a  speedy  redemption  save  them. 
Shall  we  say  we  are  christians,  yea  but  ingenuous 
or  just  men,  to  ride  securely,  hi  a  troublous  sea  and 
time,  by  a  new  cable  and  anchor  of  Mr.  Clarke's 
procuring  and  to  be  so  far  from  satisfying  his  en- 
gagement about  them,  that  we  turn  him  adrift  to 
languish  and  sink,  with  his  back  broke,  for  putting 
under  his  shoulder,  to  ease  us.  "Which  of  you," 
said  Christ  Jesus  to  his  enemies,  "  will  see  an  ox  or  a 
sheep  fall  into  a  pit  and  not  pull  it  out  on  the  Sab- 


38 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


bath  day?"  What  beast  can  labor  harder,  in  plough- 
ing, drawing,  or  carrying,  than  Mr.  Clarke  hath  done 
so  long  a  time,  and  with  so  little  provender?  Shall 
we  now,  when  he  looks  for  rest  at  night,  tumble 
him  by  our  neglects  into  a  ditch  of  sadness,  grief, 
poverty,  and  ruin? 
******* 

If  we  wholly  neglect  this  business,  what  will  be- 
come of  our  credit?  Rhode-Island,  in  the  Greek 
language,  is  an  Isle  of  Roses,  and  so  the  King's  Ma- 
jesty was  pleased  to  resent  it;  and  his  honorable 
commissioners  in  their  last  letter  to  the  Massachu- 
setts from  the  eastward,  gave  Rhode-Island  and  this 
whole  colony  an  honorable  testimony  which  is  like 
to  be  pointed  to  the  view  of  the  whole  world.  Shall 
we  now  turn  our  roses  into  hemlock  and  our  fra- 
grant ointment  into  carrion?  Our  own  names,  in  a 
righteous  way,  ought  to  be  more  precious  to  us  than 
thousands  of  gold  or  silver,  how  much  infinitely 
more  precious,  the  name  of  the  most  Holy  and  most 
High  and  his  holy  truth  of  soul-liberty  amongst  us. 

JOHN  CLAEKE, 

The  friend  of  Roger  Williams,  was  one  of  the 
earliest  authors  of  Rhode  Island.  He  was  born 
in  1G09,  and  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  native 
of  Bedfordshire.  He  was  educated  as  a  physi- 
cian. Soon  after  his  emigration  to  Massachu- 
setts he  publicly  claimed,  with  Roger  Williams, 
full  license  for  religious  belief.  He  was  one  of 
the  eighteen,  who  on  the  seventh  of  March  1637-8, 
having  formed  themselves  into  an  association, 
purchased  Aquetneck  and  became  the  Founders  of 
Rhode  Island.  In  1644,  he  formed  and  became 
the  pastor  of  the  Baptist  Church  at  Newport,  a 
charge  he  retained  until  his  death.  In  1649  he 
was  treasurer  of  the  colony.  In  1651  he  visited 
his  friends  at  Lynn,  and  while  preaching  there  on 
the  forenoon  of  Sunday,  July  20,  was  arrested, 
compelled  to  attend  meeting  in  the  afternoon,  and 
on  the  31st,  after  trial,  condemned  to  pay  a  fine 
of  twenty  pounds.  He  wrote  from  prison  pro- 
posing a  discussion  of  his  theological  principles,  a 
course  which  had  been  suggested  by  the  judge, 
Endicott,  in  passing  sentence ;  but  the  challenge 
was  not  taken  up,  and  Clarke  soon  after  paying 
his  fine,  was  ordered  to  leave  the  colony.  In 
1651  he  went  with  Roger  Williams  on  an  embassy 
to  England,  where  he  remained  until  he  obtained 
the  second  charter  of  the  colony  dated  July  8, 
1663.  He  published  in  London  in  1652,  III  News 
from  New  England*  It  contains  a  narrative  of 
his  difficulties  and  a  discussion  of  various  theolo- 
gical points,  with  an  inculcation  of  the  great  doc- 
trine of  toleration.  The  work  is  reprinted  in  the 
last  volume  (second  of  the  fourth  series)  of  the  Mas- 
sachusetts Historical  Society,  where  it  occupies  113 
octavo  pages.  Its  style  is  diffuse,  the  sentences 
being  of  intolerable  length,  but  is  in  general  ani- 
mated, and  passages  occasionally  occur  which  ap- 
proach to  eloquence. 

After  his  return,  Clarke  was  elected  for  three  suc- 
cessive years  deputy  governor  of  the  colony.     He 


*  HI  News  from  New  England,  or  a  Narrative  of  New  Eng- 
land's Persecution,  wherein  is  declared  that  while  old  England 
is  becoming  new,  NewEngland  is  become  old.  Also  four  pro- 
posals to  the  Honoured  Parliament  and  Council  of  State,  touch- 
ing the  way  to  Propagate  the  Gospel  of  Christ  (with  small 
charge  and  great  safety),  both  in  Old  England  and  New.  Also 
four  conclusions  touching  the  faith  and  order  of  the  Gospel  of 
Christ,  out  of  bis  last  Will  and  Testament,  confirmed  aud  jus- 
tified. 


died  at  Newport  in  1676,  childless,  and  by  his 
will,  directed  the  annual  income  produced  by  his 
farm  (which  has  amounted  to  about  $200*)  to  he 
given  to  the  poor,  and  employed  for  the  promo- 
tion of  religion  and  learning.  The  same  instru- 
ment bears  testimony  to  his  learning  as  well  as 
charity,  as  he  also  bequeathes  "  to  his  dear  friend  " 
Richard  Bailey,  his  Hebrew  and  Greek  books, 
with  a  Concordance  and  Lexicon  written  by 
himself.  He  also  left  a  paper  expressing  his  Cal- 
vinistic  belief. 

SAMUEL  GOETON. 

Samuel  Gorton  was  born  in  the  town  of  Gorton, 
England,  where  his  ancestors  had  resided  for 
many  generations.  "  I  was  not  brought  up,"  he 
says,  in  a  letter  written  to  Nathaniel  Morton,  the 
annalist,  "in  the  schools  of  human  learning,  and 
I  bless  God  that  I  never  was."  In  his  address  to 
Charles  the  Second,  in  1679,  he  speaks  of  "his 
mother,"  the  Church  of  England,  but  in  1636  we 
find  him  emigrating  from  the  city  of  London, 
where  he  was  engaged  in  business  as  a  clothier, 
to  Boston,  that  he  might  "  enjoy  liberty  of  con- 
science, in  respect  to  faith  towards  God,  and  for 
no  other  end."  After  a  short  residence  in  Boston, 
not  finding  the  theology  there  prevalent  to  his 
taste,  he  removed  to  Plymouth,  where  his  wife's 
servant,  having  smiled  in  church,  "wr.s  threat- 
ened with  banishment  from  the  colony  as  a  com- 
mon vagabond.''t  Gorton  incurred  odium  by  his 
defence  of  the  offender,  which  was  increased  by 
his  success  as  a  preacher  in  drawing  off  hearers 
from  the  Plymouth  church.  This  was  peculiarly 
distasteful  to  the  pastor,  the  Rev.  Ralph  Smith, 
who  was  instrumental  in  his  arraignment  and 
conviction  on  the  charge  of  heresy.  The  court, 
Gorton  says,  "proceeded  to  fine  and  imprison- 
ment, together  with  sentence  given,  that  my 
family  should  depart  out  of  my  own  hired  house 
within  the  space  of  fourteen  days,  upon  the 
penalty  of  another  great  sum  of  money  (besides 
my  fine  paid),  and  their  further  wrath  and  dis- 
pleasure, which  time  to  depart  fell  to  be  in  a 
mighty  storm  of  snow  as  I  have  seen  in  the 
country ;  my  wife  being  turned  out  of  doors  in 

the  said  storm and  myself  to  travel  in  the 

wilderness  I  knew  not  whither,  the  people  com- 
forting my  wife  and  children  when  I  was  gone 
with  this,  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  come 
alive  to  any  plantation."!  This  was  in  the  win- 
ter of  1637-8. 

He  removed  to  Aquetneck,  or  Rhode  Island, 
where  he  soon  became  involved  in  difficulty  about 
"a  small  trespass  of  swine."  He  was  brought 
before  the  governor,  Coddington,  who  ordered, 
"  You  that  are  for  the  king,  lay  hold  on  Gorton." 
He  again,  on  the  other  side,  called  forth,  "All 
you  that  are  for  the  king,  lay  hold  on  Codding- 
ton." He  was  whipped  and  banished  from  the 
island. 

He  next  removed  to  Providence,  wh  ere,  in  Janu- 
ary, 1642,  he  purchased  land  at  Pawtuxet.  Here 
he  was  followed,  as  at  his  previous  Residences,  by 
those  who  sympathized  with  his  doctrines.     He 


*  Allen's  Biog.  Diet.  1836. 

t  Life  of  Gorton,  by  John  M.  Mackie,  a  work  to  which  wc 
are  chiefly  indebted  in  the  preparation  of  this  article.  It  is  ono 
of  the  series  of  American  Biographies  edited  by  Jared  Sparks. 

X  Letter  to  Nath.  Morton. 


.  EDWARD  JOHNSON ;  JOHN"  ELIOT. 


39 


soon  took  part,  with  his  usual  warmth,  in  a  dis- 
pute between  the  inhabitants  of  the  settlements  at 
Moshassuck  and  Pawtuxet.     His  opponents,  in  the 
absence  of  any  chartered  government  of  their  own 
colony,  applied  to  Massachusetts  Bay  tor  assistance. 
That  colony  answered  that  they  had  "  no  calling 
or  warrant  to  interfere  in  their  contentions."     A 
second  application  in  September,  1642,  was  con- 
strued into  an  admission  of  the  jurisdiction  of 
Massachusetts  Bay,  and  Gorton  was  summoned 
to  Boston.  '  He  returned  a  reply  on  the  20th  of 
November,  denying  the  jurisdiction  of  the  "  men 
of  Massachusetts,"  in  which  he  was  clearly  in  the 
right;  and  again  removed  in  1642  to  lands  pur- 
chased at  Shawomet,  from  a  sachem  called  Mian- 
tonomo.     It  was  not  long,  however,  before  two 
inferior  sachems,  acknowledging  the  jurisdiction 
of  Massachusetts,  were  instigated  to  claim  the 
purchased  lands  as  their  property.     The  inhabit- 
ants of  Shawomet  were  cited  to  appear  at  Boston 
to  answer  the  complaint  of  these  sachems.     On 
their  refusal  to  do  so  an  armed  commission  was 
sent  to  settle  the  affair.     The  negotiations  failed, 
and  Gorton  finally  consented  to  appear,  with  his 
followers,  at  Boston.     On  their  arrival  the  ques- 
tion of  the  title  to  the  lands  was  dropped,  and 
they  were  tried  for  heresy.     Gorton  was  convict- 
ed, and,  narrowly  escaping  the  punishment  of 
death,  was  sentenced  to  "  be  confined  to  Charles- 
town,  there  to  be  set  on  work,  and  to  wear  such 
bolts  or  irons,  as  may  hinder  his  escape,  and  to 
continue  during  the  pleasure  of  the  court."     In 
case  he  should  preach  or  publish  his  doctrines  he 
was  to  be  put  to  death.     In  January,  1644,  this 
punishment  was  commuted  to  banishment.     Gor- 
ton repaired  with  his  followers  to  Aquetneck, 
where  they  persuaded  the  sachems  to  deed  their 
lands,  and  place  themselves  under  the  protection 
of  the  English  crown.     In  the  same  year  he  sailed 
from  New  Amsterdam  for  England,  where  ho 
published,  in  1646,  his  tract,  entitled  Simplicities 
Defence  against  Seven-Headed  Policy.     He  also 
preached  on  several  occasions  to  large  audiences. 
He  returned  in  1648  to  Boston,  with  a  letter  from 
the  Earl  of  Warwick,  requesting  that  he  might 
be  allowed  to  pass  through  Massachusetts  unmo- 
lested, and  on  his  arrival  at  Shawomet,  named 
the  place  Warwick,  in  acknowledgment  of  this 
and  other  services  from  that  nobleman.     He  had 
secured,  while  in  England,  the  protection  of  the 
government,  and  passed  the  remainder  of  his  days 
in  tranquillity.     He  died  at  an  advanced  age  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  year  1677,  leaving  several 
children,  one  of  whom,  Samuel,  lived  to  the  age 
of  ninety-four.     His  sect  seems  to  have  survived 
him  abont  a  century,  as  President  Stiles,  of  Yale 
College,  remarks,  in  his  manuscript  diary  on  visit- 
ing at  Providence,  November  18,  1771,  Mr.  John 
Angell,  aged  eighty  years  : — "  He  is  a  Gortonist, 
and  the  only  one  I  have  seen.     Gorton  lives  now 
only  in  him  ;  his  only  disciple  left." 

In  addition  to  "  Simplicitie's  Defence,"  a  tract 
of  one  hundred  and  eleven  pages  quarto,  which 
was  reprinted  in  1647,  and  has  also  been  repub- 
lished in  the  second  volume  of  the  Transactions 
of  the  Rhode  Island  Historical  Society,  Gorton 
wrote  a  commentary  on  the  one  hundred  and 
tenth  psalm,  with  the  title  of  An  Incorruptible 
Key,  composed  of  the  ex.  Psalm,  wherewith  you 
may  Open  the  rest  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  1647, 


pp.  240 ;  Saltmarsh  returned  from  the  Dead,  a 
commentary  on  the  General  Epistle  of  James,  4to. 
pp.  108;  and  An  Antidote  against  th-e  common 
Plague  of  the  World,  a  commentary  on  the  de- 
nunciations of  the  scribes  and  pharisees  in  the 
twenty-third  chapter  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel. 
A  MS.  commentary  on  chapter  vi.  9-13  of  the 
same  Gospel,  in  130  folio  pages,  is  preserved  in 
the  library  of  the  Rhode  Island  Historical  Society. 

EDWAED  JOHNSON. 
Edward  Joiixson  is  supposed  to  have,  emigrated 
to  New  England  with  Governor  Winthrop  in 
1630.  He  was  a  prominent  man  in  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  town  and  church  of  Woburn  in  1642, 
was  chosen  its  representative  in  1 643,  and  annu- 
ally re-elected,  with  the  exception  of  the  year 
1648,  until  1671.  He  held  the  office  of  recorder 
of  the  town  from  its  incorporation  until  his  death 
in  1682.  His  Wonder  Working  Providence  of 
Skin's  Saviour,  in  New  England,  is  a  history  of 
the  country  "  from  the  English  planting  in  the 
year  1628  until  the  year  1652."  It  was  published 
in  London  in  1654,  and  reprinted  in  the  second 
series  of  the  Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  where  it  forms 
about  230  pages.  It  is  somewhat  rambling  and 
diffuse  in  style  and  matter,  and  contains  a  num- 
ber of  verses  on  various  New  England  worthies, 
of  which  the  following,  on  Hooker,  is  an  average 
specimen. 

Come,  Hooker,  come  forth  of  thy  native  soil ; 

Christ,  I  will  run,  says  Hooker,  thou  hast  set 
My  feet  at  large,  here  spend  thy  last  day's  toil ; 

Thy  rhetoric  shall  people's  affections  whet. 

Thy  golden  tongue  and  pen  Christ  eausM  to  be 
The  blaziug  of  his  golden  truths  profound, 

Thou  sorry  worm,  it's  Christ  wrought  this  in  thee ; 
What  Christ  hath  wrought  must  needs  be  very 
sound. 

Then  look  on  Hooker's  works,  they  follow  him 
To  grave,  this  worthy  resteth  there  awhile : 

Die  shall  he  not  that  hath  Christ's  warrior  been ; 
Much  less  Christ's  truth,  cheer'd  by  his  people's 
toil. 

Thou  angel  bright,  by  Christ  for  light  now  made; 

Throughout  the  world  as  seasoning  salt  to  be, 
Although  in  dust  thy  body  mouldering  fade, 

Thy  Head's  in  heaven,  and  hath  a  crown  for  thee. 

The  opening  of  his  preface  is  pithily  expressed, 

Good  Reader :  As  large  gates  to  small  edifices,  so 
are  long  prefaces  to  little  books;  therefore  I  will 
briefly  inform  thee  that  here  thou  shalt  find  the 
time  when,  the  manner  hov,  the  cause  why,  and  the 
great  success  which  it  hath  pleased  the  Lord  to  give 
to  this  handful  of  his  praising  saints  in  N.  Eng.,  cfec 

JOHN  ELIOT, 


<ybiUn. 


l^V/— 


TnE  "  Apostle  to  the  Indians,"  was  born  at 
Nasing,  County  of  Essex,  England,  in  1604,  and 
educated,  like  many  of  the  early  New  England 
divines,  at  Cambridge.  He  was  afterwards  usher 
to  Hooker  in  his  grammar-school  at  Little  Bad- 
dow,  near  Chelmsford,  Essex.  He  emigrated  to 
New  England  in  1631,  arriving  in  Boston  har- 
bor on  the  ninth  of  November.     He  was  soou 


40 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 


after  followed  by  a  young  lady  to  -whom  he  had 
been  betrothed  in  England,  and  on  her  arrival 
they  were  married.  He  had  commenced  preach- 
ing before  he  left  England,  and  had  promised  the 
friends  to  whom  he  officiated  that  if  they  would 
come  to  New  England  he  would  maintain  the 
same  relation  to  them  in  the  new  as  in  the  old 
home.  They  did  so,  and  settling  at  Roxbury 
chose  him  as  their  pastor. 

Eliot  was  intrusted,  in  company  with  Welde  and 
Eichard  Mather,  with  the  preparation  of  the 
metrical  version  of  the  Psalms  published  in  1640, 
and  known  as  the  "  Old  Bay  Psalm  Book." 

In  1646  an  order  was  passed  requesting  the 
elders  of  the  churches  to  take  into  consideration 
the  subject  of  the  conversion  of  the  Indians.  Eliot, 
who  had  some  time  before  this  commenced  the 
study  of  the  Indian  language  with  a  native,  "  a 
pregnant-witted  young  man,"  who  could  speak 
English,  and  was  especially  interested  in  the  race 
from  his  belief  that  they  were  the  long  lost  tribes 
of  Israel,  came  forward  to  respond  to  the  call. 
Notice  was  given  of  his  intention,  and  on  the  28th 
of  October,  1646,  he  proceeded  with  three  others 
to  address  for  the  first  time  in  history,  the  North 
American  Indians  on  the  subject  of  Christianity. 
The  text  of  his  sermon  delivered  in  English,  and 
translated  sentence  by  sentence  by  an  interpreter, 
was  from  Ezekiel  xxxvii.  9, 10.*  It  was  anhour 
and  a  quarter  long,  but  listened  to  with  attention 
by  its  auditors.  A  conversation  followed,  in  which 
the  Indians  propounded  several  questions  on  the 
topics  of  the  discourse,  and  expressed  a  wish  to 
live  together  in  a  town. 

A  second  assembly  was  held  a  fortnight  after, 
when  Eliot  addressed  them  in  their  own  language. 
Other  meetings  followed,  and  a  settlement  of 
'•  praying  Indians,"  as  they  were  styled,  was  form- 
ed, called  Nonantum.  The  Indians  assembled, 
lived  in  accordance  with  the  instructions  they  had 
received,  and  labored  diligently  for  their  subsist- 
ence, under  the  instructions  of  their  missionary, 
who  taught  them  the  use  of  farming  tools. 

A  second  effort  was  made  at  Neponset,  within 
the  town  of  Dorchester,  and  with  similar  success. 
The  Indians  at  Concord,  Pawtucket,  and  on  Cape 
Cod,  were  also  visited  and  addressed  by  Eliot. 

Two  tracts,  Tlie  Day  Breaking,  if  not  the 
Sun  Rising  of  the  Gospel  with  the  Indians  in 
New  England,,  by  an  anonymous  author  (proba- 
bly the  Rev.  John  "Wilson,  "of  Boston),  and  The 
Clear  Sunshine  of  the  Gospel  oreaking  forth  vpon 
the  Indians  in  New  England,  by  the  Eev.  Tho- 
mas Shepard,  of  Cambridge,  were  published  in 
England  in  1647  and  ft48.  The  accounts  they 
gave  of  these  transactions  were  read  with  interest, 
and  an  appeal  was  made  to  Parliament  for  aid  in 
the  cause,  which  resulted  in  the  formation  in  1 640 
of  a  corporation,  "  The  President  and  Society  for 
the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  New  England." 
Money  was  collected  and  transmitted  to  preachers 
and  teachers  among  the  Indians.  On  the  Resto- 
ration, in  1660,  the  society  was  preserved  from 


*  Then  said  he  unto  me.  Prophesy  unto  the  ■wind.  Prophesy, 
eon  of  maD,  and  say  to  the  wind.  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God  ; 
Come  from  the  four  winds,  O  breath,  and  breathe  upon  these 
slain,  that  they  may  live. 

So  I  prophesied  as  be  commanded  me.  and  the  breath  came 
npon  them,  and  tbey  lived,  and  stood  up  upon  their  feet,  an 
exceeding  great  array. 


extinction  by  the  exertions  of  the  Hon.  Robert 
Boyle,  who  was  made  its  president.  This  distin- 
guished man  took  a  deep  interest  in  Eliot's  efforts. 
He  maintained  a  correspondence  with  him,  por- 
tions of  which  have  been  published  in  the  collec- 
tions of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society; 
and  by  his  influence  obtained  an  annual  stipend 
of  fifty  pounds  from  the  Society  for  the  mission- 
ary. 

Meanwhile  Eliot  was  instructing  the  Indians  in 
Christianity  and  civilization ;  and  in  1651,  found- 
ed the  Indian  town  of  Natick,  eighteen  miles 
southwest  of  Boston.  He  framed  laws  for  the 
inhabitants,  which  were  an  exact  copy  of  those  of 
the  Pentateuch.  In  1660,  a  church  was  formed, 
and  the  Indian  converts,  having  given  sufficient 
testimony  of  the  sincerity  of  their  faith  to  satisfy 
the  prudent  and  practical  missionary,  were  admit- 
ted to  the  Holy  Communion. 

In  a  letter  written  to  Winslow,  in  1649,  Eliot 
had  expressed  his  desire  to  translate  "  some  part 
of  the  scriptures"  into  the  Indian  tongue.  In 
1651  we  find  by  a  letter  written  by  him  to  Eng- 
land, that  he  was  engaged  on  the  task,  but  with 
"  no  hope  to  see  the  Bible  translated,  much  les3 
printed,  in  my  days."  He,  however,  kept  steadily 
at  work,  and  the  society  in  England  supplying 
funds,  the  New  Testament  in  the  Indian  language, 
commenced  in  1658  at  the  first  press  set  up  in 
the  colony  at  Harvard,  was  published  in  Septem- 
ber, 166L  In  1663,  the  Old  Testament  was  add- 
ed to  it,  a  catechism  and  translation  of  the  Bay 
Psalm  Book  being  included  in  the  volume.  A. 
dedication  to  the  king  was  prefixed  to  the  copies 
sent  to  England,  but  to  few  of  those  circulated  at 
home. 

This  Bible  was  printed  by  Samuel  Green  and 
Marmaduke  Johnson,  It  was  the  first,  and  for 
nearly  a  century  after,  the  only  version  of  the 
Scriptures  published  in  the  colonies.  A  second 
edition  of  the  New  Testament  appeared  in  16S0, 
and  of  the  Old  in  1685.  Two  thousand  copies 
were  printed  of  these,  and  fifteen  hundred,  it  is 
estimated,  of  the  former  editions.  Eliot  received 
no  remuneration  for  his  labor,  and  contributed 
from  his  small  salary  to  defray  the  expense  of 
publication.  The  translation  is  written  in  a  dia- 
lect of  the  Mohegan  tongue,  which  has  long  since 
become  extinct.  The  work  has  been  of  great 
service  to  the  students  of  the  Indian  languages, 
and  although  it  has  proved,  by  the  dispersion  of 
those  for  whom  it  was  designed,  of  less  practical 
benefit  than  its  author  anticipated,  it  must  ever  be 
honored  as  a  monument  of  Christian  zeal,  patient 
toil,  and  earnest  scholarship. 

Eliot  published  in  1664  a  translation  of  Baxter's 
Call  to  the  Unconverted  in  the  Indian  language, 
and  in  1666  an  Indian  grammar.  Several  com- 
munities of  Christian  Indians  had  been  formed, 
who  were  progressing  satisfactorily  in  a  life  in 
accordance  with  their  profession,  when  an  inter- 
ruption occurred  to  their  advance,  which  proved 
eventually  fatal  to  their  existence.  This  was 
King  Philip's  war.  The  "praying  Indians" 
suffered  from  the  hatred  of  the  red  men,  as  well 
as  from  the  distrust  of  the  white,  and  at  the  close 
of  the  contest  many  of  their  communities  had 
been  broken  up. 

Eliot  had,  throughout  the  whole  period  of  his 
Indian  labors,  retained  his  connexion  with  Rox- 


JOHN  ELIOT. 


41 


bury,  and  had  also  found  time  to  prepare  several 
short  religious  treatises.  He  died  at  the  age  of 
eighty-six,  on  the  20th  of  May,  1690. 

Eliot's  Indian  grammar,  and  his  letters  to  the 
Hon.  Robert  Boyle,  have  been  reprinted  in  the 
Collections  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society. 
His  other  writings  are  The  Christian  Common- 
wealth, a  treatise  on  government,  framed  from 
the  Scriptures  for  his  Indian  converts,  which  he 
published  in  London  in  1654,  with  a  preface 
recommending  its  adoption  to  the  people  of  Eng- 
land ;*  The  Communion  of  Churches ;  or  the 
Divine  Management  of  Gospel  Churches  by  the 
Ordinance  of  Councils,  constituted  in  Order, 
according  to  the  Scriptures,  a  tract  published  in 
1665  ;  and  a  volume  of  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
one  pages,  published  in  1678,  entitled,  The  Har- 
mony of  the  Gospels  in  the  holy  History  of  the 
Humiliation  and  Sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ,  from 
his  Incarnation  to  his  Death  and  Burial. 

In  addition  to  the  translations  already  men- 
tioned, he  published  in  1685  a  version  of  the 
"  Practice  of  Piety,"  a  popular  devotional  work, 
written  by  Lewis  Bayly,  chaplain  to  James  I.,  and 
Bishop  of  Bangor,  from  1616  to  his  death  in 
1632,  and  in  1688,  of  two  tracts  by  Thomas 
Shepard,  "The  Sincere  Convert,"  and  "The 
Sound  Believer."  He  also  published  an  Indian 
primer. 

In  his  intercourse  with  his  parishioners,  and  in 
his  private  life,  Eliot  was  remarkable  for  mild- 
ness, meekness,  and  generosity.  He  combined 
with  the  latter  virtue  a  total  forgetfulness  of  self, 
and  his  household  affairs  would  often  have  been 
in  sorry  plight,  had  he  not  had  a  good  wife  who 
shared  his  old  age  as  she  had  his  youth,  to  look 
after  them.  She  one  day,  by  way  of  a  joke, 
pointing  out  their  cows  before  the  door,  asked 
him  whose  they  were,  and  found  that  he  did  not 
know.  The  treasurer  of  his  church  paying  him 
a  portion  of  his  salary  on  one  occasion,  tied  the 
coin  in  the  pastor's  pocket-handkerchief  with 
an  abundance  of  knots,  as  a  check  to  his  free- 
dom of  disbursement  in  charity.  On  his  way 
home,  the  good  man  stopped  to  visit  a  destitute 
family,  and  was  soon  tugging  at  the  knots  to  get 
at  his  money.  Quickly  growing  impatient  he 
gave  the  whole  to  the  mother  of  the  family,  say- 
ing, "  Here,  my  dear,  take  it ;  I  believe  the  Lord 
designs  it  all  for  you."  He  showed  an  equally  liberal 
disregard  of  self  in  his  dealings  with  his  congre- 
gation, proposing  in  place  of  the  usual  rate  or  tax 
by  which  the  clergy  was  supported,  to  depend  for 
his  maintenance  on  the  voluntary  contributions  of 
his  congregation,  and  towards  the  close  of  his  life 
suggested  the  appointment  of  an  assistant,  on 
whom  he  offered  to  bestow  his  entire  salary.  His 
congregation  answered,  that  they  would  count  his 
very  presence  worth  a  salary,  when  he  should  be 
so  superannuated  as  to  do  no  further  service  to 
them. 

The  last  years  of  his  life  were  much  occupied 
with  endeavors  to  promote  education  among  the 
negroes  who  had  been  introduced  into  the  coun- 
try. "  He  did  not  live,"  says  Mather,t  "  to  make 
much  progress  in  the  undertaking." 


*  It  is  reprinted  in  tho  third  series  of  the  Collections  of  the 
Mass.  Hist.  Soc,  volume  ix. 
t  Mather's  Magnalia, 


Extremely  simple  and  frugal  in  his  personal 
habits,  though  by  no  means  ascetic,  he  opposed 
violently  the  use  of  tobacco,  and  with  Puritan 
consistency,  the  wearing  of  long  hair  or  of  wigs. 

Out  of  six  children,  but  two  survived  him. 
"  My  desire  was,"  he  said  of  the  others,  "  that  they 
should  have  served  God  on  earth ;  but  if  God  will 
choose  to  have  them  rather  serve  him  in  heaven, 
I  have  nothing  to  object  against  it,  but  his  will 
be  done." 

Eliot's  life  has  been  written  by  Convers  Fran- 
cis, in  Sparks's  American  Biography,  occupying  an 
entire  volume  of  that  series.  Mather  devotes 
many  pages  of  the  Magnalia  to  the  record  of  his 
good  words  and  works — pithily  and  quaintly 
remarking  of  him,  that  "lie  was  a  Boniface  as 
well  as  a  Benedict,"  and  gives  us  a  report,  "  writ 
from  him  as  he  uttered  it,"  of  one  of  his  ser- 
mons, "  a  paraphrase  that  I  have  heard  himself 
to  make  upon  that  Scripture,  '  Our  conversation 
is  in  heaven." 

Behold,  said  he,  the  ancient  and  excellent  cha- 
racter of  a  true  Christian ;  'tis  that  which  Peter 
calls  "holiness  in  all  manner  of  conversation;"  you 
shall  not  find  a  Christian  out  of  the  way  of  godly 
conversation.  For,  first,  a  seventh  part  of  our 
time  is  all  spent  in  heaven,  when  we  are  duly 
zealous  for,  and  zealous  on  the  Sabbath  of  God. 
Besides,  God  has  written  on  the  head  of  the  Sab- 
bath, remember,  which  looks  both  forwards  and 
backwards,  and  thus  a  good  part  of  the  week  will 
be  spent  in  sabbatizing.  Well,  but  for  the  rest  of 
our  time!  Why,  we  shall  have  that  spent  in  heaven, 
ere  we  have  done.  For,  secondly,  we  have  many 
days  for  both  fasting  and  thanksgiving  in  our  pil- 
grimage; and  here  are  so  many  Sabbaths  more. 
Moreover,  thirdly,  we  have  our  lectures  every  week; 
and  pious  people  won't  miss  them,  if  they  can  help 
it.  Furthermore,  fourthly,  we  have  our  private 
meetings,  wherein  we  pray,  and  sing,  and  repeat 
sermons,  and  confer  together  about  the  things  of 
God;  and  being  uow  come  thus  far,  we  are  in  heaven 
almost  every  day.  But  a  little  farther,  fifthly,  we 
perform  family-duties  every  day ;  we  have  our 
morning  and  evening  sacrifices,  wherein  having 
read  the  Scriptures  to  our  families,  we  call  upon 
the  name  of  God,  and  ever  now  and  then  carefully 
catechise  those  that  are  under  our  charge.  Sixthly, 
we  shall  also  have  our  daily  devotions  in  our 
closets;  wherein  unto  supplication  before  the  Lord, 
we  shall  add  some  serious  meditation  upon  his  word : 
a  David  will  be  at  this  work  no  less  than  thrice  a 
day.  Seventhly,  we  have  likewise  many  scores  of 
ejaculations  in  a  day;  and  these  we  have,  like  Ne- 
hemiah,  in  whatever  place  we  come  into.  Eighthly, 
we  have  our  occasional  thoughts  and  our  occasional 
talks  upon  spiritual  matters ;  and  we  have  our  occa- 
sional acts  of  charity,  wherein  we  do  like  the  inha- 
bitants of  heaven  every  day.  Ninthly,  in  our  call- 
ings, in  our  civil  callings,  we  keep  up  heavenly 
frames ;  we  buy  and  sell,  and  toil ;  yea,  we  eat  and 
drink,  with  some  eye  both  to  the  command  and  the 
honor  of  God  in  all.  Behold,  I  have  not  now  left 
an  inch  of  time  to  be  carnal ;  it  is  all  engrossed  for 
heaven.  And  yet,  lest  here  should  not  be  enough, 
lastly,  we  have  our  spiritual  warfare.  We  are 
always  encountering  the  enemies  of  our  souls,  which 
continually  raises  our  hearts  unto  our  Helper  and 
Leader  in  the  heavens.  Let  no  man  say,  "  'Tis  im- 
possible to  live  at  this  rate;"  for  we  have  known 
some  live  thus;  and  others  that  have  written  of 
such  a  life  have  but  spun  a  web  out  of  their  own 
blessed  experiences.     New  England  has  example  of 


42 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


this  life:  though,  alas!  'tis  to  be  lamented  that  the 
distractions  of  the  world,  in  too  many  professors,  do 
becloud  the  beauty  of  an  heavenly  conversation. 
In  fine,  our  employment  lies  in  heaven.  In  the  morn- 
ing, if  we  ask,  "  Where  am  I  to  be  to-day  ?"  our  souls 
must  answer,  "  In  heaven."  In  the  evening,  if  we 
ask,  "  Where  have  I  been  to-day?"  our  souls  may 
answer,  "  In  heaven."  If  thou  art  a  believer,  thou 
art  no  stranger  to  heaven  while  thou  livest ;  and 
when  thou  diest,  heaven  will  be  no  strange  place  to 
thee;  no,  thou  hast  been  there  a  thousand  times 
before. 

Gookin,  in  his  Historical  Collections  of  the 
Indians,  gives  this  pleasing  picture  of  Eliot's 
teaching : — 

Besides  his  preaching  to  them,  he  framed  two 
catechisms  in  the  Indian  tongue,  containing  the 
principles  of  the  Christian  religion ;  a  lesser  for 
children,  and  a  larger  for  older  persons.  These  also 
he  communicated  unto  the  Indians  gradually,  a  few 
questions  at  a  time,  according  unto  their  capacity 
to  receive  them.  The  questions  lie  propounded  one 
lecture  day,  were  answered  the  next  lecture  day. 
His  manner  was,  after  he  had  begun  the  meeting 
with  prayer,  then  first  to  catechise  the  children  ; 
and  they  would  readily  answer  well  for  the  gene- 
rality. Then  would  he  encourage  them  with  some 
small  gift,  as  an  apple,  or  a  6mall  biscuit,  which  he 
caused  to  be  bought  for  the  purpose.  And,  by  this 
prudence  and  winning  practice,  the  children  were 
induced  with  delight  to  get  into  their  memories  the 
principles  of  the  Christian  religion.  After  he  had 
done  the  children,  then  would  he  take  the  answers 
of  the  catechetical  questions  of  the  elder  persons  ; 
and  they  did  generally  answer  judiciously.  AVhen 
the  catechizing  was  past,  he  would  preach  to  them 
upon  some  portion  of  scripture,  for  about  three 
quarters  of  an  hour;  and  then  give  liberty  to  the 
Indians  to  propound  questions,  as  I  intimated  before; 
and  in  the  close,  finish  all  with  prayer. 


^«2>  amti 


Daniel  Gookin,  a  native  of  Kent,  in  England, 
was  among  the  early  settlers  of  Virginia,  and  in 
1644  removed  to  Cambridge,  in  consequence  of 
his  doctrinal  sympathies  with  the  New  England 
Puritans.  He  was  soon  appointed  captain  of  the 
military  company  of  the  town,  and  a  member  of 
the  House  of  Deputies.  In  1652  he  was  elected 
assistant  or  magistrate,  and  appointed  in  1656  by 
the  General  Court,  superintendent  of  all  the  In- 
dians who  acknowledged  the  government  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, an  office  he  retained  until  his  death. 
In  1656  he  visited  England,  and  had  an  interview 
with  Cromwell,  who  authorized  him  to  invite  the 
people  of  New  England  to  remove  to  Jamaica, 
then  recently  conquered  from  Spain.  In  1662  he 
was  appointed  one  of  the  two  licensers  of  the 
Cambridge  printing-press.  His  work,  Historical 
Collections  of  the  Indians  in  New  England, 
bears  date  1674.  The  breaking  out  of  King 
Philip's  war  soon  after,  led  to  the  passage  of 
several  measures  against  the  Natick  and  other 
Indians  who  had  submitted  to  the  English. 
Gookin  was  the  only  magistrate  who  joined 
Eliot  in  opposing  these  proceedings,  and,  conse- 
quently, subjected  himself  to  reproaches  from  his 


fellow-magistrates  and  insult  in  the  public  streets. 
He  took  an  active  part  on  the  side  of  the  people 
against  the  measures  which  terminated  in  the 
withdrawal  of  the  charter  cf  the  colony,  in  1686. 
He  died  the  next  year,  so  poor,  that  we  find  John 
Eliot  soon  after  soliciting  a  gift  of  ten  pounds 
from  Eobert  Boyle,  for  his  widow. 

There  is  an  account  of  Gookin  in  the  first  vo- 
lume of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Collections, 
appended  to  the  reprint  of  his  Collections  of  the 
Indians — one  of  the  most  pleasing  of  the  original 
narratives  of  the  aborigines. 

It  was  by  Eliot's  influence  that  an  attempt  was 
made  to  educate  Indian  youths  with  reference  to 
Harvard,  which  encouraged  the  work.  The  plan, 
however,  proved  unsuccessful.  The  health  of 
some  of  the  students  failed,  and  the  courage  of 
others ;  a  number  fell  oft'  to  different  occupations. 
The  name  of  one  graduate  is  on  the  catalogue  of 
the  University,  of  the  year  1665,  "Caleb  Chees- 
hahteaumuck  Indus."  He  soon  afterwards  died 
of  consumption.  Gookin  speaks  of  another,  "a 
good  scholar  and  a  pious  man,  as  I  judge,''  who, 
within  a  few  months  of  the  time  of  taking  his 
degree,  made  a  voyage  to  his  relatives  at  Martha's 
Vineyard,  and  was  drowned  by  shipwreck  or  mur- 
dered by  the  savages  on  his  return.  At  a  later 
day,  in  1714,  an  Indian  student  of  Harvard, 
named  Larnel,  spoken  of  as  "an  extraordinary 
Latin  poet  and  a  good  Greek  one,"  died  during 
his  college  course.* 

THOMAS  SHEPAED. 
Thomas  Sbepaed,  a  writer  whose  reputation  has 
been  among  the  most  permanent  of  his  brethren 
of  the  early  New  England  clergy,  was  born  at 
Towcester,  near  Northampton,  England,  in  1605, 
and  educated  at  Emanuel  college,  Cambridge. 
On  obtaining  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts,  he 
became  a  preacher  at  Earls  Coin,  in  Essex,  where 
a  lecturti  had  been  established  by  endowment  for 

'Jhtuuti)  Sflepewi 

three  years.  His  services  proved  so  acceptable 
to  the  people,  that  at  the  expiration  of  the  time 
they  raised  a  voluntary  subscription  for  his  sup- 
port, and  he  remained  among  them  until  silenced 
not  long  after  for  non-conformity. 

After  passing  some  time  "with  the  kind  family 
of  the  Harlakendens,"|  he  removed  to  Butter- 
crambe,  near  York,  where  he  resided  in  the 
family  of  Sir  Richard  Darby,  whose  daughter  he 
married,  and  preached  in  the  neighborhood,  until 
again  silenced.  After  a  third  attempt,  at  Hed- 
don,  in  Northumberland^  with  like  result,   he 


*  Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Col.,  First  Series,  i.  173.  Quincy's  Hist, 
of  Harvard,  i.  444. 

t  These  lectures  were  originally  established  by  benevolent . 
persons,  as  a  provision  for  spiritual  instruction  in  large  or  des- 
titute parishes,  to  aid  the  established  clergy,  and  in  connexion 
with  the  national  church. 

X  The  second  son  of  Mr.  Harlakenden,  Roger,  accompanied 
Shepard  to  New  England,  settled  with  him  at  Cambridge,  and 
died  at  the  eariy  age  of  twenty-seven.  "  He  was,"  says  Win- 
throp,  "a  very  godly  man,  and  of  good  use,  both  in  the  com- 
monwealth and  in  the  church.  He  was  buried  with  military 
honor,  because  he  was  lieutenant-colonel.  He  left  behind  a 
virtuous  gentlewoman  and  two  daughters.  He  died  in  great 
peace,  and  left  a  sweet  memorial  behind  him  of  his  piety  and 
virtue.    Young's  Chron.  Mass.  Bay,  51T. 

§  According  to  Mather,  he  hired  a  house  in  this  place  which 


THOMAS  SHEPARD. 


43 


resolved  to  emigrate  to  New  England.  He  em- 
barked with  Cotton  at  Yarmouth,  at  the  close  of 
the  year  1634.  The  vessel,  encountering  a  storm 
in  Yarmouth  roads,  returned  to  port  in  a  disabled 
condition.  Passing  a  few  months  in  retirement, 
he  again  sailed  in  July  from  Gravesend,  "in  a 
bottom  too  decayed  and  feeble  indeed  for  such  a 
voyage;  but  yet  well  accomodated  with  the 
society  of  Mr.  Wilson,  Mr.  Jones,  and  other 
christians,  which  more  significantly  made  good 
the  name  of  the  ship,  the  Defence."*  The  vessel 
sprang  a  leak,  which  was,  however,  got  under, 
and  Mr.  Shepard  landed  in  New  England  on  the 
third  of  October.  On  the  first  of  the  following 
February  he  succeeded  Mr.  Hooker  as  minister  at 
Cambridge,  where  he  remained  until  his  death,  at 
the  early  age  of  forty-four  years,  August  25th, 
1649. 

"  The  published  composures  of  this  laborious 
person,"  to  me  Cotton  Mather's  phrase,  were, 
Theses  Sabbat icce ;  The  Matter  of  the  Visible 
Church;  The  Church  Membership  of  Little 
Children;  a  letter  entitled,  New  England's 
Lamentation  for  Old  England's  Err  ours  ;  several 
sermons;  The  Sincere  Convert;  The  Sound  Be- 
liever; and  the  Parable  of  the  Ten  Virgins 
Opened,  published  after  his  death  in  a  folio 
volume.  The  two  last  mentioned  of  these  works, 
with  his  Meditations  and  Spiritual  Experience, 
and  a  treatise  on  Evangelical  Conversion,  have 
been  reprinted  in  England  within  the  last  quarter 
of  a  century,  in  a  popular  form. 

Shepard  left  an  autobiography,  which  remained 
unpublished  until  1832,  when  it  was  printed  for 
the  use  of  the  Shepard  Congregational  Society  at 
Cambridge.  It  is  also  printed  in  the  Chronicles 
of  the  First  Planters  of  the  Colony  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay,  collected  and  edited  by  the  Rev.  Alex- 
ander Young,  where  it  occupies  fifty-eight  octavo 
pages. 

It  is  written  in  a  simple,  earnest  style,  and  is 
occupied  in  a  great  measure  with  an  account  of 
his  spiritual  experiences,  reminding  us  somewhat 
of  John  Bunyan.  He  received  the  name  of  the 
doubting  Apostle,  be  tells  us,  because  be  was  born 
"upon  the  fifth  day  of  November,  called  the 
Powder  Treason  day,  and  that  very  hour  of  the 
day  wherein  the  Parliament  should  have  been 
blown  up  by  Popish  priests,  which  occasioned  my 
father  to  give  me  this  name  Thomas;  because  he 
said,  I  would  hardly  believe  that  ever  any  such 
wickedness  should  be  attempted  by  men  against 
so  religious  and  good  a  Parliament."  Speaking  of 
his  proposed  removal  to  Coggeshall,  he  introduces 
an  anecdote  of  Thomas  Hooker.  "  Mr.  Hooker 
only  did  object  to  my  going  thither;  for  being 
but  young  and  unexperienced,  and  there  being  an 
old,  yet  shy  and  malicious  minister  in  the  town, 
who  did  seem  to  give  way  to  have  it  (the  lecture) 
there,  did  therefore  say  it  was  dangerous  and  un- 
comfortable for  little  birds  to  build  under  the 
nests  of  old  ravens  and  kites." 


?h ?,ft  J5™  'te"anted  hl  a  wit«h,  and  performed  prodigies  in 
SffiKP™  t  ha',ff  TSvS'  aa  he  had  P">™uslysilenced  the 
b£S3w  "L  bf"  ^°"1DS  at  two  °'c!ock  at  night  at  the  Har- 
lakenJer,    homestead.     Shepard    himself  says,    "When  we 

Xltfh;        °  D.01SeS  four  or  flTe  me?hts  together    we 
hi 5S.S mby  PIayer >-t0  remoTe  so  sore  a  tr'a|;  and  the  Lord 
*  AI  th  0S  "nd  rem0Ted  the  tr°oble  " 


One  of  the  most  noticeable  passages  of  the 
work  is  the  account  of  the  shipwreck  off  Yar- 
mouth. 

In  the  year  1634,  about  the  beginning  of  the  win- 
ter, we  set  sail  from  Harwich.  And  having  gone 
some  few  leagues  on  to  the  sea,  the  wind  stopped  us 
that  night,  and  so  we  cast  anchor  in  a  dangerous 
place,  and  on  the  morning  the  wind  grew  fierce,  and 
rough  against  us  full,  and  drave  us  toward  the  sands. 
But  the  vessel  being  laden  too  heavy  at  the  head, 
would  not  stir  for  all  that  which  the  seamen  could 
do,  but  drave  us  full  upon  the  sands  near  Harwich 
harbour;  and  the  ship  did  grate  upon  the  sands,  and 
was  in  great  danger.  But  the  Lord  directed  one 
man  to  cut  some  cable  or  rope  in  the  ship,  and  so 
she  was  turned  about,  and  was  beaten  quite  back- 
ward toward  Yarmouth,  quite  out  of  our  way. 

But  while  the  ship  was  in  this  great  danger,  a 
wonderful  miraculous  providence  did  appear  to  us. 
For,  one  of  the  seamen,  that  he  might  save  the  ves- 
sel, fell  in  when  it  was  in  that  danger,  and  so  was 
carried  out  a  mile  or  more  from  the  ship^aud  given 
for  dead  and  gone.     The  ship  was  then  in  such  daa- 
ger,  that  none  could  attend  to  follow  him  ;  and  when 
it  was  out  of  the  danger,  it  was  a  very  great  hazard 
to  the  lives  of  any  that  should  take  the  skitf  to  seek 
to  find  him.     Yet  it  pleased  the  Lord,  that  being 
discerned  afar  off  floating  upon  the  waters,  three  of 
the  seamen  adventured  out  upon  the  rough  waters, 
and  at  last,  about  an  hour  after  he  fell  into  the  sea 
(as  we  conjectured),  they  came  and  found  him  float- 
ing upon  the  waters,  never  able  to  swim,  but  sup- 
ported by  a  divine  hand  all  this  while.     When  the 
men  came  to  him,  they  were  glad  to  find  him,  but 
concluded  he  was  dead,  and  so  got  him  into  the 
skiff,  and  when  he  was  there,  tumbled  him  down  as 
one  dead.     Yet  one  of  them  said  to  the  rest,   "  Let 
us  use  what  means  we  can,  if  there  be  life,  to  pre- 
serve it;"  and  thereupon  turned  his  head  downward 
for  the  water  to  run  out.     And  having  done  so,  the 
fellow  began  to  gasp  and  breathe.     Then  they  ap- 
plied other  means  they  had:  and  so  he  began  at  last 
to  move,  and  then  to  speak,  and  by  that  time  he 
came  to  the  ship,  he  was  pretty  well,  and  able  to 
walk.     And  so  the  Lord  showed  us  his  great  power. 
Whereupon  a  godly  man  in  the  ship  then  said,  "  This 
man's  danger  and  deliverance  is  a  type  of  ours;  for 
he  did  fear  dangers  were  near  unto  us,  and  that  yet 
the  Lord's  power  should  be  shown  in  saving  of  us." 
For  bo,  indeed,  it  was.     For  the  wind  did  drive  us 
quite  backward  out  of  our  way,  and  gave  us  no 
place  to  anchor  at  until  we  came  unto  Yarmouth 
roads — an  open  place  at  sea,  yet  fit  for  anchorage, 
but  otherwise  a  very  dangerous  place.     And  so  we 
came  thither  through  many  uncomfortable  hazards, 
within  thirty  hours,  and  cast  anchor  in  Yarmouth 
roads.     Which  when  we  had  done,  upon  a  Saturday 
morning,  the  Lord  sent  a  most  dreadful  and  terrible 
storm  of  wind  from  the  west,  so  dreadful  that  to  this 
day  the  seamen  call  it  Windy  Saturday ;  that  it  also 
scattered  many  ships  on  divers  coasts  at  that  time, 
and  divers  ships  were  cast  away.     One  among  the 
rest,  which  was  the  seaman's  ship  who  came  with  us 
from  Newcastle,  was  cast  away,  and  he  and  all  his 
men  perished.     But  when  the  wind  thus  arose,  the 
master  cast  all  his  anchors ;  but  the  storm  was  so 
terrible,  that  the  anchors  broke,  and  the  ship  drave 
toward  the  sands,  where  we  could  not  but  be  cast 
away.     Whereupon  the  master  cries  out  that  we 
were  dead  men,  and  thereupon  the  whole  company 
go  to  prayer.     But  the  vessel  still  drave  so  near  to 
the  sands,  that  the  master  shot  off  two  pieces  of  ord- 
nance to  the  town,  for  help  to  save  the  passengers. 
The  town  perceived  it,  and  thousands  came  upon 


44 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


the  Trails  of  Yarmouth,  and  looked  upon  us,  hearing 
we  were  New-England  men,  and  pitied  much,  and 
gave  us  for  gone,  because  they  saw  other  ships  per- 
ishing near  unto  us  at  that  time ;  but  could  not  send 
any  help  unto  us,  though  much  money  was  offered 
by  some  to  hazard  themselves  for  us. 

So  the  master  not  knowing  what  to  do,  it  pleased 
the  Lord  that  there  was  one  Mr.  Cock,  a  drunken 
fellow,  but  no  seaman,  yet  one  that  had  been  at  sea 
often,  and  would  come  in  a  humor  unto  New  Eng- 
land with  us ;  whether  it  was  to  see  the  country,  or 
no,  I  cannot  tell.  But  sure  I  am,  God  intended  it 
for  good  unto  us,  to  make  him  an  instrument  to  save 
all  our  lives;  for  he  persuaded  the  master  to  cut 
down  his  mainmast.  The  master  was  unwilling  to 
it,  and  besotted,  not  sensible  of  ours  and  Mb  own  loss. 
At  lost  this  Cock  calls  for  hatchets,  tells  the  master, 
"  If  you  be  a  man,  save  the  lives  of  your  passengers, 
cut  down  your  mainmast."  Hereupon  he  encou- 
raged all  the  company,  who  were  forlorn  and  hope- 
less of  life :  and  the  seamen  presently  cut  down  the 
mast  aboard,  just  at  that  very  time  wherein  we  all 
gave  ourselves  for  gone,  to  see  neither  Old  nor  New 
England,  nor  faces  of  friends  any  more,  there  being 
near  upon  two  hundred  passengers  in  the  ship. 
And  so  when  the  mast  was  down,  the  master  had 
one  little  anchor  left,  and  cast  it  out.  But  the  ship 
was  driven  away  toward  the  sands  still ;  and  the 
6eamen  came  to  us,  and  bid  us  look,  pointing  to  the 
place,  where  our  graves  should  shortly  be,  conceiv- 
ing also  that  the  wind  had  broke  off  this  anchor 
also.  So  the  master  professed  he  had  done  what  he 
coidd,  and  therefore  now  desired  us  to  go  to  prayer. 
So  Mr.  Norton  in  one  place,  and  myself  in  another 
part  of  the  ship,  he  with  the  passengers,  and  myself 
with  the  mariners  above  decks,  went  to  prayer,  and 
committed  our  souls  and  bodies  unto  the  Lord  that 
gave  them. 

Immediately  after  prayer,  the  wind  began  to 
abate,  and  the  ship  stayed.  For  the  last  anchor  was 
not  broke,  as  we  conceived,  but  only  rent  up  with 
the  wind,  and  so  drave,  and  was  drawn  along, 
ploughing  the  sands  with  the  violence  of  the  wind ; 
which  abating  after  prayer,  though  still  very  terri- 
ble, the  ship  was  stopped  just  when  it  was  ready  to 
be  swallowed  up  of  the  sands,  a  very  little  way 
off  from  it.  And  so  we  rid  it  out ;  yet  not  without 
fear  of  our  lives,  though  the  anchor  stopped  the 
ship ;  because  the  cable  was  let  out)  so  far,  that  a 
little  rope  held  the  cable,  and  the  cable  the  little 
anchor,  and  the  little  anchor  the  great  ship,  in  this 
great  storm.  But  when  one  of  the  company  per- 
ceived that  we  were  so  strangely  preserved,  had 
these  words,  "  That  thread  we  hang  by  will  save  us ;" 
for  so  we  accounted  of  the  rope  fastened  to  the  an- 
chor in  comparison  of  the  fierce  storm.  And  so 
indeed  it  did,  the  Lord  showing  his  dreadful  power 
towards  us,  and  yet  his  unspeakable  rich  mercy  to 
us,  who,  in  depths  of  mercy,  heard,  nay,  helped  us, 
when  we  could  not  cry  through  the  disconsolate 
fears  we  had,  out  of  these  depths  of  seas,  and  miseries. 

Shepard's  wife  contracted  a  consumption  in 
consequence  of  exposure  during  the  stormy  pas- 
sage in  a  crazy  vessel  across  the  Atlantic,  and 
died  a  few  years  after  their  arrival.  He  married 
a  second  wife,  a  daughter  of  Thomas  Hooker,  and 
the  autobiography  closes  with  a  beautiful  and  pa- 
thetic eulogy  on  her  mild  virtues. 

In  1645  Shepard  published  a  brief  tract,  New 
England's  Lamentations  for  Old  England's  Er- 
rors* from  which  we  quote  a  passage  on  tolera- 
tion: 


VIEWS  OF  TOLEEATION. 

To  cut  off  the  hand  of  the  magistrate  from  touch- 
ing men  for  their  consciences  (which  you  also  men- 
tion), will  certainly,  in  time  (if  it  get  ground),  be 
the  utter  overthrow,  as  it  is  the  undermining,  of  the 
Reformation  begun.  This  opinion  is  but  one  of  the 
fortresses  and  strongholds  of  Sathan,  to  keep  his  head 
from  crushing  by  Christ's  heel,  who  (forsooth),  be- 
cause he  is  crept  into  men's  consciences,  and  because 
conscience  is  a  tender  thing,  no  man  must  here  med- 
dle with  him,  as  if  consciences  were  made  to  be  the 
safeguard  of  sin  and  error,  and  Sathan  himself,  if 
once  they  can  creep  into  them.  As  for  New  Eng- 
land, we  never  banished  any  for  their  consciences, 
but  for  sinning  against  conscience,  after  due  means 
of  conviction,  or  some  other  wickedness  which  they 
had  no  conscience  to  plead  for ;  they  that  censure 
New  England  for  what  they  have  done  that  way, 
should  first  hear  it  speak  before  they  condemn.  We 
have  magistrates,  that  are  gracious  and  zealous ;  we 
have  ministers,  that  are  aged  and  experienced,  and 
holy  and  wise ;  no  man  was  yet  ever  banished  from 
us,  but  they  had  the  zeal  and  care  of  the  one,  the 
holiness,  learning,  and  best  abilities  of  the  other, 
seeking  their  good  before  they  were  sent  from  the 
coasts.  And  when  they  have  been  banished,  as  they 
have  had  warrant  from  the  word,  so  God  from  hea- 
ven hath  ever  borne  witness,  by  some  strange  hand 
of  his  providence  against  them,  either  delivering 
them  up  to  vile  lusts  and  sins,  or  to  confusion  amongst 
themselves,  or  to  some  sudden  and  terrible  deaths, 
for  their  obstinacy  against  the  light,  and  means  used 
to  heal  their  consciences.  I  could  tell  you  large 
stories  (if  need  were)  of  these  things. 

BOGEB  CLAP. 


b&frs*  qCoo^ 


*  Xew  England's  Lamentation  for  Old  England's  present  er- 


Ohe  of  the  most  touching  memorials  of  the  New 
England  worthies,  is  the  simple  narrative  of  Cap- 
tain Roger  Clap  of  Dorchester,  which  he  prepared 
for  the  benefit  of  his  children.  The  incidents  it 
contains  are  few,  but  the  manner  in  which  it  re- 
flects the  spirit  of  the  time  makes  it  valuable  as 
an  historical  document,  while  it  is  far  from  being 
without  claims  to  attention  in  a  literary  point  of 
view.  Roger  Clap  was  horn  at  Sallom,  Devon- 
shire, in  1609,  emigrated  to  Massachusetts  in 
1630,  settled  at  Dorchester,  served  in  the  Peqnot 
war,  and  died  in  1691.  He  had  a  large  family, 
who  bore  the  genuine  Puritan  names  of  Samuel, 
"William,  Elizabeth,  Experience,  "Waitstill,  Pre- 
served, Hopestill,  "Wait,  Thanks,  Desire,  Thomas, 
Unite,  and  Supply.  His  manuscript  "Memoirs'' 
were  first  published  by  the  Rev.  Thomas  Prince, 
the  antiquarian,  in  1731,  and  have  been  five  times 
reprinted,  the  last  impression  having  been  issued 
by  the  Dorchester  Historical  Society,  in  a  duo- 
decimo volume. 

NEW  ENGLAND  EETEOSPECT. 

In  those  days  God  did  cause  his  people  to  trust  in 
him,  and  to  be  contented  with  mean  things.     It  was 

rours  and  divisions,  and  their  feared  future  desolations,  if  not 
timely  prevented ;  occasioned  by  the  increase  of  Anabaptists, 
Bigid  Separatists,  Antinomians,  and  Familists ;  together  with 
some  seasonable  remedies  against  the  infection  of  those  errours, 
prescribed  in  A  Letter,  sent  from  Mr.  Thomas  Shepard,  some- 
time of  Immanuel  College,  in  Cambridge,  and  now  Minister  of 
the  Gospel  in  Cambridge,  in  New  England,  to  a  godly  friend  of 
his  in  Burrs,  in  Suffolk.  London,  printed  by  George  Miller, 
1645. 


NATHANIEL  MORTON;  PETER  BULKLEY;  JOSIAH  WINSLOW. 


45 


not  accounted  a  strange  thing  in  those  days  to  drink 
■water  and  to  eat  samp  or  hominy  without  butter 
or  milk.  Indeed  it  would  have  been  a  strange  thing 
to  see  a  piece  of  roast  beef,  mutton,  or  veal ;  though 
it  was  not  long  before  there  was  roast  goat.  After 
the  first  winter,  we  were  very  healthy;  though 
Borne  of  us  had  no  great  store  of  corn.  The  Indians 
did  sometimes  bring  corn,  and  truck  with  us  for 
clothing  and  knives ;  and  once  I  had  a  peck  of  corn 
or  thereabouts,  for  a  little  puppy-dog.  Frost  fish, 
muscles,  and  clams  were  a  relief  to  many.  If  our 
provision  be  better  now  than  it  was  then,  let  us  not 
(and  do  you,  dear  children,  take  heed  that  you  do 
not)  forget  the  Lord  our  God.  You  have  better 
food  and  raiment  than  was  in  former  times,  but  have 
you  better  hearts  than  your  forefathers  had  ?  If  so, 
rejoice  in  that  mercy,  and  let  New  England  then 
shout  for  joy.  Sure  all  the  people  of  God  in  other 
parts  of  the  world,  that  shall  hear  that  the  children 
and  grandchildren  of  the  first  planters  of  New 
England  have  better  hearts,  and  are  more  heavenly 
than  their  predecessors ;  they  will  doubtless  greatly 
rejoice,  and  will  say,  This  is  the  generation  whom 
the  Lord  hath  blessed. 

And  now,  dear  children,  I  know  not  the  time  of 
my  death  ;  my  time  is  in  God's  hands ;  but  my  age 
shows  me  it  cannot  be  far  o/f.  Therefore  while  I 
am  in  health  and  strength,  I  tho't  good  to  put  into 
writing  and  leave  with  you,  what  I  have  desired  in 
my  heart,  and  oftentimes  expressed  to  you  with  my 
tongue. 

NATHANIEL  MORTON— PETEE  BULKLEY-JOSLAH 
WINSLOW— EDWARD  BULKLEY— SAMUEL  STONE- 
JONATHAN  MITCHELL-JOHN  SHEEMAN^JOSHUA 
SCOTTOW. 

Nathaniel  Morton  was  born  in  the  north  of 
England  in  1612.  His  father,  George  Morton 
emigrated  to  Plymouth  with  his  family  in  1623 
and  died  the  following  year.  Nathaniel  was 
elected  Clerk  of  the  Colonial  Court  in  164-5,  and 
held  the  office  until  his  death,  in  1685. 

The  colony  records  show  him  to  have  been  a 
faithful  and  capable  officer,  and  he  is  said  to  have 
been  equally  estimable  in  all  the  other  relations 
of  life.  His  New  England's  Memorial ;  or,  a 
brief  Relation  of  the  most  memorable  and  re- 
markable Passages  of  the  Providence  of  God, 
manifested  to  the  Planters  of  New  England  in 
America;  with  special  reference  to  the  First 
Colony  thereof  called  New  B&ymouth,  published 
for  the  use  and  benefit  of  present  and  future 
generations,  was  published  at  Cambridge  in 
1669,  a  second  edition  in  1721,  and  three  others 
have  since  appeared,  the  last  in  1826,  with  a 
large  body  of  valuable  notes  by  the  Hon.  John 
Davis.  The  work  is  arranged  in  the  form  of  annals, 
commencing  with  the  departure  of  the  Pilgrims 
from  England,  and  closing  with  the  date  of  pub- 
lication. Apart  from  Ms  honorable  position,  as 
the  first  historian  of  the  country,  Secretary  Mor- 
ton possesses  some  claim-*,  from  the  purity  and 
earnestness  of  his  style,  to  favorable  notice* 

Secretary  Morton  has  preserved  much  of  the 
contemporary  poetry  of  his  time  by  the  insertion 
of  the  elegies,  written  by  their  fellows  on  the 
worthies  whose  deaths  he  has  occasion  to  record 
in  the  progress  of  Ms  annals — a  practice  wMch 
was  also  followed  by  Mather.     Two  of  these — 


the  Mies  on  Hooker  by  Cotton,  and  part  of  the 
tribute  to  Cotton  by  Woodbridge — have  been 
already  given.  We  add  a  few  other  specimens, 
with  brief  accounts  of  their  authors. 

There  is  an  Elegy  on  Hooker,  by  Peter  Bulk- 
lev.  After  twenty-one  years'  service  in  the 
English  Church,  he  was  silenced  for  non-confor- 
mity, and  came  to  Cambridge,  in  New  England, 
in  1635.  The  following  year  he  founded  the 
town  of  Concord,  where  he  remained  until  his 
death,  in  1659.  He  published  several  sermons, 
and  some  brief  Latin  poems. 

A  LAMENTATION  FOR  TITE  DEATH  OF  THAT  PRECIOUS  AND  WOR- 
THY MINISTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST,  MR.  THOMAS  HOOKER,  WHO 
DIED  JULY  7,  1647,  AS  THE  SUN  WAS  SETTING.  THE  SAME 
HOUR  OF  THE  DAY  DIED  BLESSED  CALVIN,  THAT  GLORIOUS 
LIGHT. 

*  *  *  * 

Let  Hartford  sigh,  and  say,  I've  lost  a  treasure ; 

Let  all  New  England  mourn  at  God's  displeasure, 

In  taking  from  us  one  more  gracious 

Than  is  the  gold  of  Ophir  precious. 

Sweet  was  the  savour  which  his  grace  did  give, 

It  season'd  all  the  place  where  he  did  live. 

His  name  did  as  an  ointment  give  its  smell, 

And  all  bear  witness  that  it  aavour'd  well. 

Wisdom,  love,  meekness,  friendly  courtesy, 

Each  moral  virtue,  with  rare  piety, 

Pure  zeal,  yet  mixt  with  mildest  clemency, 

Did  all  conspire  in  this  one  breast  to  lie. 

Deep  was  his  knowledge,  judgment  was  acute, 

His  doctrine  solid,  which  none  could  confute. 

To  mind  he  gave  light  of  intelligence, 

And  search'd  the  corners  of  the  conscience. 

To  sinners  stout,  which  no  law  could  bring  under, 

To  them  he  was  a  son  of  dreadful  thunder, 

When  all  strong  oaks  of  Bashan  us'd  to  quake, 

And  fear  did  Lebanus  his  cedars  shake ; 

The  stoutest  hearts  he  filled  full  of  fears, 

He  clave  the  rocks,  they  melted  into  tears. 

Yet  to  sad  souls,  with  sense  of  siu  cast  down, 

He  was  a  son  of  consolation. 

Sweet  peace  he  gave  to  such  as  were  contrite; 

Their  darkness  sad  he  turn'd  to  joyous  light. 

Of  preacMug  he  had  learn' d  the  Tightest  art, 

To  every  one  dividing  his  own  part. 

Each  ear  that  heard  him  said,  He  spake  to  me  .- 

So  piercing  was  his  holy  miuistry. 

His  life  did  shine,  time's  changes  stain'd  it  not, 

Envy  itself  could  not  there  find  a  spot. 

Josiah  Winslow  celebrates  Governor  Bradford. 
Winslow  was  the  first  Governor  born  in  New 
England.  He  was  annually  chosen  in  the  Ply- 
mouth colony,  from  1678  to  1680.  In  King 
Philip's  war  he  was  commander  of  the  Plymouth 
forces,  and  did  good  service  in  the  field.  He  died 
at  Marshfield  in  1680. 

BY   THE    HONOURED  MAJOR  JOSLAS  WTNBLOW,   ON  MR.   WILUAM 
BRADFORD,  AS  FOLLOWElTi: 

If  we  should  trace  him  from  the  first,  we  find 
|  He  flies  his  country,  leaves  his  friends  behind, 
i  To  follow  God,  and  to  profess  his  ways, 
[  And  here  encounters  hardships  many  days. 

He  is  content,  with  Moses,  if  God  please, 
Renouncing  honour,  profit,  pleasure,  ease, 
To  suffer  tossings,  and  unsettlements, 
And  if  their  rage  doth  rise,  to  banishments. 

He  weighs  it  not,  so  he  may  still  preserve 
His  conscience  clear,  and  with  God's  people  serve 
Him  freely,  'cording  to  his  mind  and  will, 
If  not  in  one  place,  he'll  go  forward  still. 


46 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


If  God  have  work  for  him  in  th'  ends  of  th'  earth, 
Safe,  danger,  hunger,  colds,  nor  any  dearth; 
A  howling  wilderness,  nor  savage  men, 
Discourage  him,  he'll  follow  God  again. 

And  how  God  hath  made  him  an  instrument 
To  us  of  quiet,  peace  and  settlement ; 
I  need  not  speak ;  the  eldest,  youngest  know, 
God  honour'd  him  with  greater  work  than  so. 

To  sum  up  all,  in  this  he  still  went  hence, 
This  man  was  wholly  God's  ;  his  recompense 
Remains  beyond  expression,  and  he  ia 
Gone  to  possess  it  in  eternal  bliss. 

He's  happy,  happy  thrice :  unhappy  we 
That  still  remain  more  changes  here  to  see: 
Let's  not  lament  that  God  hath  taken  him 
From  troubles  hence,  in  seas  of  joys  to  swim. 

The  death  of  Samuel  Stone  introduces  Edward, 
the  son  of  Peter  Bulkley,  just  mentioned.  Ho 
succeeded  his  father  in  his  pastoral  charge  at  Con- 
cord. 

Samuel  Stone  was  born  at  Hartford,  England, 
educated  at  Cambridge,  and  came  to  Plymouth 
in  the  same  ship  with  Cotton  and  Hooker.  He 
accompanied  the  latter  to  Hartford,  which  was 
named  after  his  native  place,  where  he  acted  as 
his  associate  for  fourteen  years,  and  for  sixteen 
more  as  his  successor.  The  latter  part  of  his  life 
was  embittered  by  a  dispute  between  himself  and 
the  ruling  elder  on  a  speculative  point  of  divinity, 
which  led  to  a  division  of  the  church.  He  printed 
a  sermon  and  left  behind  him  two  works  in  MS., 
one  of  which  was  a  body  of  divinity,  "  a  rich 
treasure,"  says  Cotton  Mather,  which  "  has  often 
been  transcribed  by  the  vast  pains  of  our  candi- 
dates for  the  ministry."  Neither  has  been 
printed. 

A  TnRENODIA  UPON  OUR  CHURCnES  SECOND  DARK  ECLIP6E, 
HAPPENING  JULY  20,  1663,  BY  DEATH'S  INTERPOSITION  BE- 
TWEEN US  AND  THAT  GREAT  LIGHT  AND  DIVINE  PLANT,  MR. 
SAMUEL  STONE. 

A  stone  more  than  the  Ebenezer  fam'd ; 

Stone  splendent  diamond,  right  orient  named  ; 

A  cordial  stone,  that  often  cheered  hearts 

With  pleasant  wit,  with  Gospel  rich  imparts ; 

Whetstone,  that  edgify'd  th'  obtusest  mind ; 

Loadstone,  that  drew  the  iron  heart  unkind  ; 

A  pond'rous  stone,  that  would  the  bottom  sound 

Of  Scripture  depths,  and  bring  out  Arcan's  found ; 

A  stone  for  kingly  David's  use  so  fit, 

As  would  not  fail  Goliah's  front  to  hit; 

A  stone,  an  antidote,  that  brake  the  course 

Of  gangrene  errour,  by  convincing  force ; 

A  stone  acute,  fit  to  divide  and  square ; 

A  squared  stone  became  Christ's  building  rare. 

A  Peter's  living,  lively  stone  (so  rear'd) 

As  'live,  was  Hartford's  life ;  dead,  death  is  fear'd. 

In  Hartford  old,  Stone  first  drew  infant  breath, 

In  New,  effus'd  his  last :  0  there  beneath 

His  corps  are  laid,  near  to  his  darling  brother, 

Of  whom  dead  oft  he  sigh'd,  Not  such  another. 

Heaven  is  the  more  desirable,  said  he, 

For  Hooker,  Shepard,  and  Hat/nes'  company. 

E.  B.  (probably  Edward  Bulkley). 

These  lines,  remarkable  for  their  quaint  simpli- 
city, on  John  Wilson,  are  attributed  to  Jonathan 
Mitchell,  a  graduate  of  Harvard  of  1 647,  and  the 
successor  of  Shepard  at  Cambridge  in  1650.  He 
died  in  1668,  at  the  age  of  forty-four. 


UPON  THE  DEATH  OP  THAT  REVEREND,  AGED,  EVER  HONOURED. 
AND  GRACIOUS  SERVANT  OF  CHRIST,  MR.  JOHN  "WILSON. 

Ah !  now  there's  none  who  does  not  know, 

That  this  day  in  our  Israel, 
Is  fall'n  a  great  and  good  man  too, 

A  Prince,  I  might  have  said  as  well : 
A  man  of  princely  power  with  God, 

For  faith  and  love  of  princely  spirit ; 
Our  Israel's  chariots,  horsemen  good, 

By  faith  and  prayer,  though  not  by  merit, 
Renown'd  for  practick  piety 

In  Englands  both,  from  youth  to  age; 
In  Cambridge,  Inns-Court,  Sudbury, 

And  each  place  of  his  pilgrimage. 
As  humble  as  a  little  child, 

When  yet  in  real  worth  high-grown: 
Himself  a  nothing  still  he  stil'd, 

When  God  so  much  had  for  him  done. 
In  love,  a  none-such  ;  as  the  sand, 

With  largest  heart  God  did  him  fill, 
A  bounteous  mind,  an  open  hand, 

Affection  sweet,  all  sweet'ning  still. 
Love  was  his  life;  he  dy'd  in  love; 

Love  doth  embalm  his  memory ; 
Love  is  his  bliss  and  joy,  above 

With  God  now  who  is  love  for  ay : 
A  comprehending  charity 

To  all,  where  ought  appear'd  of  good ; 
And  yet  in  zeal  was  none  more  high 

Against  th'  apparent  serpent's  brood. 
******* 
Gaius,  our  host,  ah  now  is  gone ! 

Can  we  e'er  look  for  such  another  ? 
But  yet  there  is  a  mansion, 

Where  we  may  all  turn  in  together. 
No  moving  inn,  but  resting  place, 

Where  his  blest  soul  is  gathered ; 
Where  good  men  going  are  a  pace 

Into  the  bosom  of  their  Head. 
Ay,  thither  let  us  haste  away, 

Sure  heaven  will  the  sweeter  be, 
(If  there  we  ever  come  to  stay) 

For  him,  and  others  such  as  he. 

Mitchell,  in  his  turn,  is  soon  commemorated  by 
John  Sherman,  a  non-conformist  emigrant  from 
England,  who  officiated  at  Watertown  and  New 
Haven  as  a  clergyman,  and  took  an  active  part  as 
civil  magistrate.  He  was  a  mathematician,  and 
published  for  many  years  an  Almanac,  well  gar- 
nished with  moral  reflections.  He  was  married 
twice,  and  was  the  father  of  twenty-six  children. 
He  died  at  the  age  of  sixty-two,  in  1675. 

AN  EPITAPH  UPON  TnE  DEPLORED  DEATH  OF  THAT  SUPEEEMI- 
NENT  MINISTER  OF  THE  GOSPEL,  MR.  JONATHAN  MITCHELL. 

Here  lies  the  darling  of  his  time, 

Mitchell  expired  in  his  prime ; 

Who  four  years  short  of  forty-seven, 

Was  found  full  ripe  and  pluck'd  for  heaven. 

Was  full  of  prudent  zeal  and  love, 

Faith,  patience,  wisdom  from  above ; 

New-England's  stay,  next  age's  story ; 

The  churches  gem;  the  college  glorj\ 

Angels  may  speak  him  ;  ah  !  not  I, 

(Whose  worth  s  above  Hyperbole) 

But  for  our  loss,  wer't  in  my  power, 

I'd  weep  an  everlasting  shower.  J.  S.* 

J.  S.  has  also  been  supposed  to  refer  to  Joshua 
Scottow,    a    merchant  of  Boston.     The   only 


*  Guided  bv  those  initials  only,  we  are  inclined  to  attribute 
the  lines  to  which  they  are  annexed,  to  the  liev.  John  Sherman, 
(Davis's  note.) 


ANNE  BRADSTREET. 


47 


dates  known  in  reference  to  his  life,  are  those  of 
his  admission  to  church  membership  in  the  Old 
Church,  Boston,  on  "  the  nineteenth  of  the  third 
month,"  1639,  with  his  brother  Thomas,  as  the 
"  sonnes  of  our  sister  Thomasine  Scottowe,"  the 
record  of  the  birth  of  seven  of  his  children,  the 
eldest  of  whom  was  born,  September  30,  1646; 
the  date  of  his  will,  June  23,  16y6 ;  and  of  its 
probate,  March  3,  1698.  His  name  is,  however, 
of  frequent  recurrence  in  the  town  records,  and 
he  appears  to  have  maintained  throughout  his 
long  life  an  honorable  position. 

He  was  the  author  of  Old  Men's  fears  for 
their  own  declensions,  mixed  with  fears  of  their 
and  posterities  further  falling  off  from  New 
England's  Primitive  Constitution.  Published 
by  some  of  Boston's  old  Planters,  and  some  other. 
1691.  pp.  26.  It  contains  a  vigorously  written 
presentation  of  what  the  writer  regarded  as  the 
degeneracy  of  his  times. 

HEW  ENGLAND'S    DECLINE. 

Our  spot  is  not  the  spot  of  God's  children  ;  the 
old  Puritan  garb,  and  gravity  of  heart,  and  habit 
lost  and  ridiculed  into  strange  and  fantastic  fashions 
and  attire,  naked  backs  and  bare  breasts,  and  fore- 
head, if  not  of  the  whorish  woman,  yet  so  like  unto 
it,  as  would  require  a  more  than  ordinary  spirit  of 
discernment  to  distinguish ;  the  virgins  dress  and 
matrons  veil,  showing  their  power  on  their  heads, 
because  of  the  holy  angels,  turned  into  powdered 
foretops  and  top-gallant  attire,  not  becoming  the 
Christian,  but  the  comedian  assembly,  not  the 
church,  but  the  stage  play,  where  the  devil  sits 
regent  in  his  dominion,  as  he  once  boasted  out  of 
the  mouth  of  a  demoniack,  church  member,  he  there 
took  possession  of,  and  made  this  response  to  the 
church,  supplicating  her  deliverance ;  so  as  now  we 
may  and  must  say,  New  England  is  not  to  be  found 
in  New  England,  nor  Boston  in  Boston ;  it  is  become 
a  lost  town  (as  at  first  it  was  called) ;  we  must  now  cry 
out,  our  leanness,  our  leanness,  our  apostacy,  our 
apostacy,  our  Atheism,  spiritual  idolatry,  adultery, 
formality  in  worship,  carnal  and  vain  confidence 
in  church  privileges,  forgetting  of  God  our  rock, 
and  multitude  of  other  abominations. 

Thh  tract  was  reprinted,  with  the  omission  of 
the  address  to  the  reader,  by  D.  Gookin,  in  1749. 
In  1694,  A  Narrative  of  the  Planting  of  the 
Massachusetts  Colony,  Anno  1628,  with  the  Lord's 
signal  presence  the  first  Thirty  years.  Also  a 
caution  from  New  England's  Apostle,  the  great 
Cotton,  how  to  escape  the  calamity,  which  might 
befal  them  or  their  posterity,  and  confirmed  by 
the  evangelist  Norton,  with  prognostics  from  the 
famous  Dr.  Owen,  concerning  the  fate  of  these 
Churches,  and  Animadversions  upon  the  anger  of 
Cod  in  sending  of  evil  angels  among  us.  Pub- 
lished by  Old  Planters,  the  authors  of  the  Old 
Men's  Fears,  a  pamphlet  of  seventy-eight  pages, 
appeared,  much  in  the  style  of  the  author's  former 
productions* 

ANNE  BEADSTEEET. 

It  is  with  a  fine  flourish  of  his  learned  trump  of 
fame  that  Cotton  Mather,  in  his  Magnalia,  intro- 
duces Anne  Bradstreet,  who  wrote  the  first  vo- 
lume of  poems  published  in  New  England.     "If 


*  Memoirs  of  Scottow,  Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  Second  Series, 
iv.  10. 


the  rare  learning  of  a  daughter  was  not  the  least 
of  those  bright  things  which  adorned  no  less  a 


Judge  of  England  than  Sir  Thomas  More ;  it  must 
now  be  said,  that  a  Judge  of  New  England,  name- 
ly, Thomas  Dudley,  Esq.,  had  a  daughter  (besides 
other  children)  to  be  a  crown  unto  him.  Reader, 
America  justly  admires  the  learned  women  of  the 
other  hemisphere.  She  has  heard  of  those  that 
were  witnesses  to  the  old  professors  of  all  philo- 
sophy :  she  hath  heard  of  Hippatia,  who  formerly 
taught  the  liberal  arts;  and  of  Sarocchia,  who, 
more  lately,  was  very  often  the  moderatris  in  the 
disputations  of  the  learned  men  of  Rome :  she 
has  been  told  of  the  three  Corinnas,  which  equal- 
led, if  not  excelled,  the  most  celebrated  poets  of 
their  time :  she  has  been  told  of  the  Empress  Eu- 
docia,  who  composed  poetical  paraphrases  on  va- 
rious parts  of  the  Bible ;  and  of  Rosnida,  who 
wrote  the  lives  of  holy  men ;  and  of  Paraphilia, 
who  wrote  other  histories  unto  the  life :  the  writ- 
ings of  the  most  renowned  Anna  Maria  Schur- 
man,  have  come  over  unto  her.  But  she  now 
prays  that  into  such  catalogues  of  authoresses  as 
Beverovicius,  Hottinger,  and  Voetius,  have  given 
unto  the  world,  there  may  be  a  room  now  given 
unto  Madam  Ann  Bradstreet,  the  daughter  of  our 
Governor  Dudley,  and  the  consort  of  our  Governor 
Bradstreet,  whose  poems,  divers  times  printed, 
have  afforded  a  grateful  entertainment  unto  the 
ingenious,  and  a  monument  for  her  memory  be- 
yond the  stateliest  marbles." 

Thomas  Dudley,  the  father  of  this  gifted  lady, 
had  been  a  soldier  of  the  Protestant  wars  of  Eli- 
zabeth in  the  Low  Countries,  and  afterwards  re- 
trieved the  fortunes  of  the  Earl  of  Lincoln  by  his 
faithful  stewardship  of  his  estates.  He  came 
over  to  Massachusetts  with  a  party  of  Puritan  re- 
fugees, among  whom  was  his  son-in-law,  Simon 
Bradstreet,  from  the  Earl's  count}-,  in  1630;  and 
four  years  afterwards,  succeeded  Winthrop  as  Go- 
vernor of  the  Colony.  In  addition  to  his  various 
valorous  and  religious  qualities,  he  would  appear 
from  an  Epitaph,  of  which  Mather  gives  us  a 
poetical  translation,  to  have  been  something  of  a 
book-worm. 

In  books  a  prodigal,  they  say ; 
A  living  cyclopaedia ; 
Of  histories  of  church  and  priest, 
A  full  compendium,  at  least; 
A  table-talker,  rich  in  sense, 
And  witty  without  wit's  pretence. 

So  that  the  daughter  may  have  inherited  some 
of  her  learning.  Morton,  in  his  "  Memorial,"  has 
preserved  these  lines  by  Dudley,  found  in  his 
pocket  after  his  death,  which  exhibit  the  severity 
of  his  creed  and  practice. 

Dim  eyes,  denf  ears,  cold  stomach  shew 
My  dissolution  is  in  view  ; 
Eleven  times  seven  near  lived  have  I, 
And  now  God  calls,  I  willing  die: 
My  shuttle's  shot,  my  race  is  run, 
My  sun  is  set,  my  deed  is  done ; 
Mjr  span  is  measured,  tale  is  told, 
My  flower  is  faded  and  grown  old, 
My  dream  is  vanished,  shadow's  fled, 


4S 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


My  soul  with  Christ,  my  body  dead ; 
Farewell  dear  wife,  children,  and  friends, 
Hate  heresy,  make  blessed  ends ; 
Bear  poverty,  live  with  good  men, 
So  shall  we  meet  with  joy  again. 

Let  men  of  God  in  courts  and  churches  watch, 

O'er  such  as  do  a  toleration  hatch ; 

Lest  that  ill  egg  bring  forth  a  cockatrice, 

To  poison  all  with  heresy  and  vice. 

If  men  be  left,  and  otherwise  combine, 

My  epitaph's,  /  dy'd  no  libertine. 

The  cares  of  married  life  would  not  appear  to 
have  interrupted  Mistress  Bradstreet's  acquisi- 
tions, for  she  was  married  at  the  age  of  sixteen, 
and  her  poetry  was  written  in  the  early  part  of 
her  life.  As  she  had  eight  children,  and  ad- 
dressed herself  particularly  to  their  education,* 
the  cradle  and  tie  Muse  must  have  been  competi- 
tors for  her  attention.  Her  reading,  well  stuffed 
with  the  facts  of  ancient  history,  was  no  trifle  for 
the  memory ;  but  we  may  suppose  the  mind  to 
have  been  readily  fixed  on  books,  and  even  pe- 
dantic learning  to  have  been  a  relief,  where  there 
were  no  diversions  to  distract  when  the  household 
labors  of  the  day  were  over.  Then  there  is  the 
native  passion  for  books,  which  will  find  its  own 
opportunities.  The  little  volume  of  her  poems, 
published  in  London,  in  1 650,  is  entitled  The  Tenth 
Muse,  lately  sprung  up  in  America ;  or,  Several 
Poems,  compiled  with  great  variety  of  wit  and 
learning,  full  of  delight:  wherein  especially  is 
contained  a  complete  Discourse  and,  Description 
of  the  Four  Elements,  Constitutions,  Ages  of 
Man,  Seasons  of  the  Year.  Together  with  an 
Exact  Epitome  of  the  Four  Monarchies,  viz.,  the 
Assyrian,  Persian,  Grecian,  Roman.  Also  a  Dia- 
logue between  Old  England  and  New  concerning 
the  late  troubles,  with  divers  other  pleasant  and 
serious  Poems.  By  a  Gentlewoman  in  those  parts. 
A  more  complete  edition  was  published  in  Boston 
in  16T8,  which  contains  her  Contemplations,  a 
moral  and  descriptive  poem,  the  best  specimen  of 
her  pen;  The  Flesh  and  the  Spirit,  a  dialogue, 
and  several  poems  on  family  incidents,  left  among 
her  private  papers. 

The  formal  natural  history  and  historical  topics, 
which  compose  the  greater  part  of  her  writings, 
are  treated  with  doughty  resolution,  but  without 
much  regard  to  poetical  equality.  The  plan  is 
simple.  The  elements  of  the  world,  fire,  air, 
earth,  and  water ;  the  humors  of  the  constitution, 
the  choleric,  the  sanguine,  the  melancholy,  and 
phlegmatic ;  childhood,  youth,  manhood,  and  age ; 
spring,  summer,  autumn,  and  winter,  severally 
come  up  and  say  what  they  can  of  themselves,  of 
their  powers  and  opportunities,  good  and  evil, 
with  the  utmost  fairness.  The  four  ancient  mo- 
narchies are  catalogued  in  a  similar  way.  It  is 
not  to  be  denied,  that,  if  there  is  not  much  poetry 
in  these  productions,  there  is  considerable  infor- 
mation.    For  the  readers  of  those  time3  they  con- 


*  She  records  the  number  in  the  posthumous  lines  In  Refer- 
ence to  her  Children.  23d  June,  1656 : 

I  bad  eight  birds  hatch't  in  the  nest ; 

Four  cocks  there  were,  and  hens  the  rest; 

I  nurst  them  up  with  pain  and  care, 

For  cost  nor  labor  did  I  spare. 

Till  at  the  last  they  felt  their  wing, 

Mounted  the  trees,  and  learned  to  sing. 
There  are  two  pages  more  in  continuation  of  this  simile. 


tained  a  very  respectable  digest  of  the  old  histo- 
rians, and  a  fair  proportion  of  medical  and  scien- 
tific knowledge.  It  is  amusing  to  see  this  mother 
in  Israel  writing  of  the  Spleen  with  the  zest  of  an 
anatomist. 

If  any  doubt  this  truth,  whence  this  should  come, 
Show  them  the  passage  to  the  duodenum. 

The  good  lady  must  have  enjoyed  the  perusal 
of  Phineas  Fletcher's  Purple  Island,  a  dissecting 
theatre  in  a  book,  which  appeared  in  1683.  Her 
descriptions  are  extremely  literal.  She  writes  as  if 
under  bonds  to  tell  the  whole  truth,  which  she  does 
without  any  regard  to  the  niceties  or  scruples  of 
the  imagination.  Thus  her  account  of  childhood 
begins  at  the  beginning  somewhat  earlier  than  a 
modern  poetess  would  tax  the  memory  of  the 
muse ;  and  she  thinks  it  necessary  to  tell  us  in  her 
account  of  winter,  how, 

Beef,  brawn  and  pork,  are  now  in  great'st  request, 
And  solid'st  meats  our  stomachs  can  digest 

When  we  come  upon  any  level  ground  in  these 
poems,  and  are  looking  round  to  enjoy  the  pros- 
pect, we  may  prepare  ourselves  for  a  neighboring 
pitfall.  In  "  Summer"  we  set  forth  trippingly 
afield — ■ 

Now  go  those  frolic  swains,  the  shepherd  lad, 

To  wash  their  thiek-cloth'd  flocks,  with  pipes  full 


In  the  cool  streams  they  labor  with  delight, 
Rubbing  their  dirty  coats,  till  they  look  white. 

With  a  little  more  taste  our  poetess  might  have 
been  a  happy  describer  of  nature,  for  she  had  a 
warm  heart  and  a  hearty  view  of  things.  The 
honesty  of  purpose  which  mitigates  her  pedantry, 
sometimes  displays  itself  in  a  purer  simplicity. 
The  account  of  the  flowers  and  the  little  bird  in 
Spring  might  find  a  place  in  the  sincere,  delicate 
poems  of  Dana,  who  has  a  family  relationship 
with  the  poetess. 

The  primrose  pale,  and  azure  violet, 
Among  the  verdurous  grass  hath  nature  set, 
That  when  the  sun  (on's  love)  the  earth  doth  shine, 
These  might,  as  love,  set  out  her  garments  fine ; 
The  fearful  bird  his  little  house  now  builds, 
In  trees,  and  walls,  in  cities,  and  in  fields; 
The  outside  strong,  the  inside  warm  and  neat, 
A  natural  artificer  complete. 

In  the  historic  poems,  the  dry  list  of  dynasties 
is  sometimes  relieved  by  a  homely  unction  and 
humor  in  the  narrative,  as  in  the  picture  of  the 
progress  of  Alexander  and  the  Persian,  host  of 
Darius — though  much  of  this  stuff  is  sheer  dog- 
greL  as  in  the  Life  and  Death  of  Semiramis : 

She  like  a  brave  virago  play*d  the  rex, 
And  was  both  shame  and  glory  of  her  sex. 
******* 

Forty-two  years  she  reign'd,  and  then  she  dy'd. 
But  by  what  means,  we  are  not  certified. 

If  sighs  for  "  imbecility"  can  get  pardon  for  bad 
verses,  we  should  think  only  of  Mrs.  Bradstreet's 
good  ones — for  her  poems  are  full  of  these  depre- 
catory acknowledgments. 

The  literary  father  of  Mrs.  Bradstreet  was 
Silver-tongued  Sylvester,  whose  translation  of  Du 
Bartas  was  a  popular  book  among  Puritan  readers 


ANNE  BRADSTREET. 


49 


at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
His  quaint  volumes,  which  will  be  remembered 
as  favorites  with  Southey's  simple-minded  Dr. 
Daniel  Dove,  were  both  poetical  and  devout ;  and 
if  they  led  our  author's  taste  astray,  they  also 
strengthened  her  finest  susceptibilities.  She  has 
left  a  warm  poem  "  in  his  honor,"  in  which  there 
is  an  original  and  very  pretty  simile. 

My  Muse  unto  a  child,  I  fitly  may  compare, 
Who  sees  the  riches  of  some  famous  fair ; 
He  feeds  his  eyes,  but  understanding  lacks, 
To  comprehend  the  worth  of  all  those  knacks ; 
The  glittering  plate,  and  jewels,  he  admires, 
The  hats  and  fans,  and  flowers,  and  ladies'  tires ; 
And  thousand  times  his  'mazed  mind  doth  wish 
Some  part,  at  least,  of  that  brave  wealth  was  his ; 
But  seeing  empty  wishes  nought  obtain, 
At  night  turns  to  his  mother's  cot  again. 
And  tells  her  tales  (his  full  heart  over  glad) 
Of  all  the  glorious  sights  his  eyes  have  had : 
But  finds  too  soon  his  want  of  eloquence, 
The  silly  prattler  speaks  no  word  of  sense ; 
And  seeing  utterance  fail  his  great  desires, 
Sits  down  in  silence. 

Nathaniel  Ward,  the  author  of  the  Simple 
Cobbler  of  Agawam,  in  some  comic  fetches  pre- 
fixed to  the  poems,  says  : — 

The  Authoresse  was  a  right  Du  Bartas  girle. 

Mrs.  Bradstreet  was  also  a  reader  of  Sir  Philip 
Sidney's  Arcadia,  which  she  has  characterized 
with  more  minuteness  than  others  who  have 
written  upon  it,  in  an  Elegy  which  she  penned 
forty-eight  years  after  the  fall  of  that  mirror  of 
knighthood  at  Zutphen. 

Ann  Bradstreet  died  lGth  September,  1072,  at 
the  age  of  sixty.  That  she  had  not  altogether 
survived  her  poetical  reputation  In  England,  is 
shown  by  an  entry  in  Edward  Phillips's  (the 
nephew  of  Milton)  TJicatrum  Poctarvm,  in  1674, 
where  the  title  of  her  Poems  is  given,  and  their 
memory  pronounced  "•not  j'et  wholly  extinct." 
A  third  edition,  reprinted  from  the  second,  ap- 
peared in  1758. 

CONTEMPLATIONS. 

Some  time  now  past  in  the  Autumnal  Tide, 

When  Phcebus  wanted  but  one  hour  to  bed, 
The  trees  all  richly  chid,  yet  void  of  pride, 
Were  gilded  o'er  by  his  rich  golden  head. 
Their  leaves  and  fruits  scem'd  painted,  but  was  true 
Of  green,  of  red,  of  yellow,  mixed  hew, 
Wrapt  were  my  senses  at  this  delectable  view. 

I  wist  not  what  to  wish,  yet  sure  thought  I, 

If  so  much  excellence  abide  below ; 
How  excellent  is  He,  that  dwells  on  high! 

Whose  power  and  beauty  by  his  works  we  know. 
Sure  he  is  goodness,  wisdome,  glory,  light, 
That  hath  this  under  world  so  richly  dight: 
More  heaven  than  earth  was  here,  no  winter  and  no 
night. 

Then  on  a  stately  oak  I  cast  mine  eye, 

Whose  ruffling  top  the  clouds  seem'd  to  aspire; 

[low  long  since  thou  wast  in  thine  infancy? 
Thy  strength,  and  stature,  more  thy  years  admire. 

Hath  hundred  winters  past  since  thou  wast  born? 

Or  thousands  since  thou  brak'st  thy  shell  of  horn. 

If  so,  all  these  as  nought,  eternity  doth  scorn. 
VOL.  I.— 4 


Then  higher  on  the  glittering  sun  I  gaz'd, 

Whose  beams  were  shaded  by  the  leavie  trae, 

The  more  I  look'd,  the  more  I  grew  amaz'd, 
And  softly  said,  what  glory's  like  to  thee  ? 

Soul  of  this  world,  this  Universe's  eye, 

No  wonder,  some  made  thee  a  deity ; 

Had  I  not  better  kaowa  (alas),  the  same  had  I. 

Thou  as  a  bridegroom  from  thy  chamber  rushest, 

And  as  a  strong  man,  joyes  to  run  a  race, 
The  morn  doth  usher  thee,  with  smiles  and  blushes. 

The  earth  reflects  her  glances  in  thy  face. 
Birds,  insects,  animals  with  vegetive, 
Thy  heart  from  death  and  dulness  doth  revive : 
And  in  the  darksome  womb  of  fruitful  nature  dive. 

Thy  swift  annual,  and  diurnal  course, 

Thy  daily  straight,  and  yearly  oblique  path, 
Thy  pleasing  fervor,  and  thy  scorching  force, 

All  mortals  here  the  feeling  knowledge  hath. 
Thy  presence  makes  it  day,  thy  absence  night, 
Quaternal  seasons  caused  by  thy  might: 
Hail  creature,  full  of  sweetness,  beauty  and  delight. 

Art  thou  so  full  of  glory,  that  no  eye 

Hath  strength,  thy  shining  rayes  once  to  bsholc. 
And  is  thy  splendid  throne  erect  so  high  < 

As  to  approach  it,  can  no  earthly  mould. 
How  full  of  glory  thea  must  thy  Creator  be, 
Who  gave  this  bright  light  luster  unto  thee! 
Admir'd,  ador'd  for  ever,  be  that  Majesty. 

Silent  alone,  where  none  or  saw,  or  heard. 
In  pathful  paths  I  lead  my  wandering  feet, 

My  humble  eyes  to  lofty  skyes  I  rear'd 

To  sing  some  song,  my  mazed  Muse  thought  meet. 

My  great  Creator  I  would  magnifie, 

That  nature  had  thus  decked  liberally : 

But  Ah,  and  Ah,  agaiu  my  imbecility  !  i 

I  heard  the  merry  grasshopper  then  sing, 
The  black  clad  cricket,  bear  a  seco:id  part, 

They  kept  one  tune,  and  plaid  oa  the  same  string, 
Seeming  to  glory  in  their  little  art. 

Shall  creatures  abject,  thus  their  voices  raise? 

And  in  their  kind  resound  their  maker's  praise : 

Whilst  I  as  mute,  can  warble  forth  no  higher  layei. 

When  present  times  look  back  to  ages  past, 

And  men  in  being  fancy  those  are  deid, 
It  makes  things  gone  perpetually  to  last, 

And  calls  back  months  and  years  that  long  since 
fled. 
It  makes  a  man  more  aged  ia  conceit, 
Than  was  Methuselah,  or's  grand-sire  great ; 
While  of  their  persons  and  their  acts  his  mind  doth 
treat. 

Sometimes  in  Eden  fair  he  seems  to  be, 

Sees  glorious  Adam  there  made  Lord  of  all, 

Fancyes  the  Apple,  dangle  on  the  Tree, 
That  turn'd  his  Sovereign  to  a  naked  thral. 

Who  like  a  miscreant's  driven  from  that  place. 

To  get  his  bread  with  pain,  and  sweat  of  face: 

A  penalty  impos'd  on  his  backsliding  race. 

Here  sits  our  Grandame  in  retired  place, 

And  in  her  lap,  her  bloody  Cain  new  born, 
The  weeping  imp  oft  looks  her  in  the  face, 

Bewails  his  unknown  hap,  and  fate  forlorn  ; 
His  mother  sighs,  to  think  of  Paradise, 
And  how  she  lost  her  bliss,  to  be  more  wise, 
Believing  him  that  was,  and  is,  Father  of  lyes. 

|  Here  Cain  and  Abel  come  to  sacrifice. 

Fruits  of  the  earth,  and  failings  each  do  bring; 

:  On  Abel's  gift  the  fire  descends  from  skies, 
But  no  such  sign  on  false  Cain's  offering ; 


50 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


"With  sullen  hnteful  looks  he  goes  his  wayes. 
Hath  thousand  thoughts  to  end  his  brother's  dayes, 
Upon  whose   blood   his   future   good  he  hopes  to 
raise. 

There  Abel  keeps  his  sheep,  no  ill  he  thinks, 
His  brother  comes,  then  acts  his  fratricide, 
The  Virgin  Earth,  of  blood  her  first  draught  drinks, 

But  since  that  time  she  often  hath  been  cloy'd; 
The  wretch  with  ghastly  face  and  dreadful  mind, 
Thinks  each  he  sees  will  serve  him  in  his  kind, 
Though  none  on  Earth  but  kindred  near  then  could 
he  find. 

Who  fancyes  not  his  looks  now  at  the  bar, 

His  face  like  death,  his  heart  with  horror  fraught, 

Nfor  male-factor  ever  felt  like  war, 

When  deep  despair,  with  wish  of  life  hath  fought, 

Branded  with  guilt,  and  crusht  with -treble  woes, 

A  vagabond  to  Land  of  Nod  he  goes, 

A  city  builds,   that  walls   might  him  secure  from 
foes. 

Who  thinks  not  oft  upon  the  Fathers  ages, 

Their  long  descent,  how  nephew's  sons  they  saw, 

The  starry  observations  of  those  Sages, 

And  how  their  precepts  to  their  Bons  were  law. 

How  Adam  sigh'd  to  see  his  progeny, 

Clothed  all  in  his  black  sinfull  livery, 

Who  neither  guilt,  nor  yet  the  punishment  could 

Our  Life  compare  we  with  their  length  of  dayes, 

Who  to  the  tenth  of  theirs  doth  now  arrive  ? 
And  though  thus  short,  we  shorten  many  ways, 

Living  so  little  while  we  are  alive ; 
In  eating,  drinking,  sleeping,  vain  delight, 
So  unawares  comes  on  perpetual  night, 
And  puts  all  pleasures  vain  unto  eternal  flight. 

When  I  behold  the  heavens  as  in  their  prime, 

And  then   the  earth  (though    old)  still  clad  in 
green, 
The  stones  and  trees,  insensible  of  time, 

Nor  age  nor  wrinkle  on  their  front  are  seen  ; 
If  winter  come,  and  greenness  then  do  fade, 
A  Spring  returns,  and  they  more  3"outhful  made ; 
But  Man  grows  old,  lies  down,  remains  where  once 
he's  laid. 

By  birth  more  noble  than  those  creatures  all, 

Yet  seems  by  nature  and  by  custome  cursed, 
No  sooner  born,  but  grief  and  care  make  fall 

That  state  obliterate  he  had  at  first 
Nor  youth  nor  strength,  nor  wisdom  spring  again, 
Nor  habitations  long  their  names  retain, 
But  in  oblivion  to  the  final  day  remain. 

Shall  I  then  praise  the  heavens,  the  trees,  the  earth, 
Because   their   beauty   and  their    strength    last 
longer? 

Shall  I  wish  their,  or  never  to  had  birth, 

Because  they're  bigger,  and  their  bodyes  stronger? 

Nay,  they  shall  darken,  perish,  fade  and  dye, 

And  when  unmade,  so  ever  shall  they  lye,. 

But  man  was  made  for  endless  immortality. 

Under  the  cooling  shadow  of  a  stately  elm 

Close  sate  I  by  a  goodly  River's  side, 
Where  gliding  streams  the  rocks  did  overwhelm ; 

A  lonely  place,  with  pleasures  dignified. 
I  once  that  lov'd  the  shady  woods  so  well, 
Now  thought  the  rivers  did  the  trees  excell, 
And  if  the  sun  would  ever  shine,  there  would  I 
dwell. 

While  on  the  stealing  stream  I  fixt  mine  eye, 
Which  to  the  long'd-for  Ocean  held  its  course, 

I  markt  nor  crooks,  nor  rubs  that  there  did  lye 
Could  hinder  aught,  but  still  augment  its  force: 


0  happy  Flood,  quoth  I,  that  hold'st  thy  race 
Till  thou  arrive  at  thy  beloved  place, 

Nor  is  it  rocks  or  shoals  that  can  obstruct  thy  pace. 

Nor  is't  enough,  that  thou  alone  may'st  slide, 
But  hundred  brooks  in  thy  clear  waves  do  meet, 

So  hand  in  hand  along  with  thee  they  glide 
To  Thetis'  house^  where  all  embrace  and  greet: 

Thou  Emblem  true,  of  what  I  count  the  best, 

Oh  could  I  lead  my  Rivulets  to  rest, 

So  may  we  press  to  that  vast  mansion,  ever  blest. 

Ye  Fish  which  in  this  liquid  region  'bide, 

That  for  each  season,  have  your  habitation, 
Now  salt,  now  fresh,  where  you  think  best  to  glide, 

To  unknown  coasts  to  give  a  visitation, 
In  lakes  and  ponds,  you  leave  3'our  numerous  fry, 
So  nature  taught,  and  yet  you  know  not  why, 
You  watry  folk  that  know  not  your  felicity. 

Look  how  the  wantons  frisk  to  taste  the  air, 

Then  to>  the  colder  bottom  straight  they  dive, 
Eftsoon  to  Neptune's  glassie  Hall  repair 

To  see  what  trade  the  great  ones  there  do  drive, 
Who  forage  o'er  the  spacious  sea-green  field, 
And  take  the  trembling  prey  before  it  yield, 
Whose  armour  is  their  scales,  their  spreading  fins 
their  shield. 

While  musing  thus  with  contemplation  fed, 
And  thousand  fancyes  buzzing  in  my  brain, 

The  sweet  tongued  Philomel  percht  o'er  my  head, 
And  chanted  forth  a  most  melodious  strain 

Which  rapt  me  so  with  wonder  and  delight, 

1  judg'd  my  hearing  better  than  my  sight, 

And  wisht  me  wings  with  her  a  while  to  take  my 
flight. 

0  merry  Bird  (said  I)  that  fears  no  snares, 

That  neither  toyles  nor  hoards  up  in  thy  barn, , 
Feels  no  sad  thoughts,  nor  eruciating  cares 

To  gain  more  good,  or  shun   what  might  thoe 
harm ; 
Thy  cloaths  ne'er  wear,  thy  meat  is  every  where, 
Thy  bed  a  bough,  thy  drink  the  water  clear, 
Reminds  not  what  is  past,  nor  what's  to  come  do3t 
fear. 

The  dawning  morn  with  songs  thou  dost  prevent, 
Sets  hundred  notes  unto  thy  feather'd  crew, 

So  each  one  tunes  his  pretty  instrument, 
And  warbling  out  the  old,  begins  anew, 

And  thus  they  pass  their  youth  in  summer  season, 

Then  follow  thee  into  a  better  region, 

Where  winter's  never  felt  by  that  sweet  airy  legion. 

Man's  at  the  best  a  creature  frail  and  vain, 

In  knowledge  ignorant,  in  strength  but  weak: 
Subject  to  sorrows,  losses,  sickness,  pain, 

Each  storm  his  state,  his  mind,  his  body  break: 
From  some  of  these  he  never  finds  cessation, 
But  day  or  night,  within,  without,  vexation, 
Troubles    from    foes,   from   friends,    from    dearest, 
near'st  relation. 

And  yet  this  sinful  creature,  frail  and  vain, 

This  lump  of  wretchedness,  of  sin  and  sorrow, 
This  weather-beaten  vessel  wreckt  with  pain, 

Joyes  not  in  hope  of  an  eternal  morrow : 
Nor  all  his  losses,  crosses  and  vexation, 
In  weight,  in  frequency  and  long  duration 
Can  make  him  deeply  groan  for  that  divine  Transla 
tioix 

The  Mariner  that  on  smooth  waves  doth  glide, 
Sings  merrily,  and  steers  his  barque  with  ease, 

As  if  he  had  command  of  wind  and  tide, 
And  now  become  great  Master  of  the  seas ; 


ANNE  BRADSTREET. 


51 


But  suddenly  a  storm  spoils  all  the  sport, 
And  makes  him  long  for  a  more  quiet  port, 
Which  'gainst  all  adverse  winds  may  serve  for  fort. 

So  he  that  saileth  in  this  world  of  pleasure, 
Feeding  on  sweets,  that  never  bit  of  th'  sowre, 

That's  full  of  friends,  of  honour  and  of  treasure, 
Fond  fool,  he  takes  this  earth  ev'n  for  heav'n's 
bower. 

But  sad  affliction  comes  and  makes  him  see 

Here's  neither  honour,  wealth,  nor  safety ; 

Only  above  is  found  all  with  security. 

0  Time  the  fatal  wrack  of  mortal  things, 
That  draws  oblivion's  curtains  over  kings, 

Their  sumptuous  monuments,  men  know  them  not, 

Their  names  without  a  Record  are  forgot, 
Their  parts,  their  ports,  their  pomp's  all  laid  in  th' 

dust, 
Nor  wit,  nor  gold,  nor  buildings  'scape  time's  rust ; 
But  he  whose  name  is  graved  in  the  white  stone 
Shall  last  and  shine  when  all  of  these  are  gone. 

OLD     AGE     RECOUNTS    TJIE    niSTORT     OF    TIIE    PURITAN    PEEIOD 
— FROM  THE  FOUR  AGES   OF  MAN. 

"What  you  have  been,  ev'n  such  have  I  before, 
And  all  you  say,  say  I,  and  something  more; 
Babe's  innocence,  Youth's  wildness  I  have  seen, 
And  in  perplexed  middle-age  have  bin  ; 
Sickness,  dangers,  and  anxieties  have  past, 
And  on  this  Stage  have  come  to  act  my  last : 

1  have  bin  young,  and  strong,  and  wise  as  you, 
But  now,  Bis  pueri  series,  is  too  true  ; 

In  every  Age  I've  found  much  varietie, 

An  end  of  all  perfection  now  I  see. 

It's  not  my  valour,  honour,  nor  my  gold, 

My  ruin'd  house,  now  falling  can  uphold ; 

It's  not  my  Learning,  Rhetoric,  wit  so  large, 

Now  hath  the  power,  Dentil's  Warfare  to  discharge ; 

It's  not  my  goodly  house,  nor  bed  of  down, 

That  can  refresh,  or  ease,  if  Conscience  frown  ; 

Nor  from  alliance  now  can  I  have  hope, 

But  what  I  have  done  well,  that  is  my  prop ; 

He"  that  in  youth  is  godly,  wise,  and  sage, 

Provides  a  staff  for  to  support  his  age  ; 

Great  mutations,  some  joyful,  and  some  sad, 

In  this  short  Pilgrimage  I  oft  have  had  ; 

Sometimes  the  Heavens  with  plenty  smil'd  on  me, 

Sometimes  again,  rain'd  all  adversity; 

Sometimes  in  honour,  and  sometimes  in  disgrace, 

Sometimes  an  abject,  then  again  in  place. 

Such  private  changes  oft  mine  eyes  have  seen, 

In  various  times  of  state  I've  also  been. 

I've  seen  a  kingdom  flourish  like  a  tree, 

When  it  was  rul'd  by  that  celestial  she ; 

And  like  a  cedar,  others  to  surmount, 

That  but  for  shrubs  they  did  themselves  account ; 

Then  saw  I  France,  and  Holland  saved,  Cales  won, 

And  Philip,  and  Albertus,  half  undone ; 

I  saw  all  peace  at  home,  terror  to  foes, 

But  ah,  I  saw  at  last  those  eyes  to  close  ; 

And  then,  methought,  the  world  at  noon  grew  dark, 

When  it  had  lost  that  radiant  sun-like  spark, 

In  midst  of  griefs,  I  saw  some  hopes  revive 

(For  'twas  our  hopes  then  kept  our  hearts  alive), 

I  saw  hopes  dasht,  our  forwardness  was  shent, 

And  silene'd  we,  by  Act  of  Parliament. 

I've  seen  from  Rome,  an  execrable  thing, 

A  plot  to  blow  up  Nobles,  and  their  King ; 

I've  seen  designs  at  Ru,  and  Cades  crost, 

And  poor  Palatinate  for  ever  lost ; 

I've  seen  a  Prince,  to  live  on  others'  lands, 

A  Royal  one,  by  alms  from  subjects'  hands, 

I've  seen  base  men,  advane'd  to  great  degree, 

And  worthy  ones,  put  to  extremity : 


But  not  their  Prince's  love,  nor  state  so  high  ; 
Could  once  reverse  their  shameful  destiny. 
I've  seen  one  stabb'd,  another  lose  his  head ; 
And  others  fly  their  Country,  through  their  dread. 
I've  seen  and  so  have  ye,  for  'tis  but  late, 
The  desolation  of  a  goodly  State, 
Plotted  and  acted,  so  that  none  can  tell, 
Who  gave  the  counsel,  but  the  Prince  of  hell. 
I've  seen  a  land  unmoulded  with  great  pain, 
But  yet  may  live  to  see't  made  up  again : 
I've  seen  it  shaken,  rent,  and  soak'd  in  blood, 
But  out  of  troubles,  ye  may  see  much  good. 
These  are  no  old  wives'  tales,  but  this  is  truth  ; 
We  old  men  love  to  tell  what's  done  in  youth. 

ALEXANDER    MEETS  DARIUS — FROM  THE  FOUR    MONARCHIES  OP 
THE  WORLD. 

And  on  he  goes  Darius  for  to  meet; 
Who  came  with  thousand  thousands  at  his  feet, 
Though  some  there  be,  and  that  more  likely,  write, 
He  but  four  hundred  thousand  had  to  fight, 
The  rest  attendants,  which  made  up  no  less; 
(Both  sexes  there)  was  almost  numberless. 
For  this  wise  King  had  brought  to  see  the  sport ; 
Along  with  him,  the  Ladies  of  the  Court. 
His  mother  old,  beauteous  wife,  and  daughters, 
It  seems  to  see  the  Macedonian's  slaughters. 
Sure  it's  beyond  my  time,  and  little  art, 
To  shew,  how  great  Darius  play'd  his  part; 
The  splendor,  and  the  pomp,  he  marched  in, 
For  since  the  world,  was  no  such  pageant  seen. 
Oh,  'twas  a  goodly  sight,  there  to  behold 
The  Persians  clad  in  silk,  and  glitt'ring  gold  ; 
The  stately  Horses  trapt,  the  launces  gilt, 
As  if  they  were  now  all  to  run  at  tilt: 
The  Holy  fire,  was  borne  before  the  Host 
(For  Sun  and  Fire  the  Persians  worship  most); 
The  Priests  in  their  strange  habit  follow  after ; 
An  object  not  so  much  of  fear,  as  laughter. 
The  King  sat  in  a  chariot  made  of  gold, 
With  Robes  and  Crown,  most  glorious  to  behold. 
And  o'er  his  head,  his  golden  gods  on  high, 
Support  a  parti-coloured  canopy. 
A  number  of  spare  horses  next  were  led, 
Lest  he  should  need  them,  in  his  chariot's  stead. 
But  they  that  saw  him  in  this  state  to  lye, 
Would  think  he  neither  thought  to  fight  nor  fly, 
He  fifteen  hundred  had  like  women  drest, 
For  so  to  fright  the  Greeks  he  judg'd  was  best. 
Their  golden  Ornaments  so  to  set  forth, 
Would  ask  more  time,  than  were  their  bodies  worth. 
Great  Sisigambis,  she  brought  up  the  Rear; 
Then  such  a  world  of  Wagons  did  appear, 
Like  several  houses  moving  upon  wheels: 
As  if  she'd  drown,  whole  Sushan  at  her  heels. 
This  brave  Virago,  to  the  King  was  mother; 
And  as  much  good  she  did,  as  any  other. 
Now  lest  this  Gold,  and  all  this  goodly  stuff, 
Had  not  been  spoil,  and  booty  rich  enough, 
A  thousand  Mules,  and  Camels  ready  wait, 
Loaden  with  gold,  with  jewels  and  with  plate, 
For  sure  Darius  thought,  at  the  first  sight, 
The  Greeks  would  all  adore,  and  would  none  fight. 
I  But  when  both  armies  met,  he  might  behold, 
I  That  valour  was  more  worth  than  pearls,  or  gold. 
And  how  his  wealth  serv'd  but  for  baits  failure, 
Which  made  his  over-throw  more  fierce  ami  sure. 
i  The  Greeks  come  on,  and  witli  a  gallant  grace, 
Let  fly  their  arrows  in  the  Persian's  face; 
The  Cowards  feeling  this  sharp  stinging  charge, 
Most  basely  run,  ami  left  their  King  at  large, 
Who  from  his  golden  coach  is  glad  t'alight, 
And  cast  away  his  crown,  for  swifter  flight; 
Of  late,  like  some  immoveable  he  lay. 
Now  finds  both  legs,  and  horse,  to  run  away ; 


52 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


Two  hundred  thousand  men  that  day  were  slain, 
And  forty  thousand  prisoners  also  tane  ; 
Besides,  the  Queens,  and  Ladies  of  the  Court, 
If  Curtius  be  true,  in  his  report. 

THE  FLESH  AN3>  THE  SPIRIT. 

In  secret  place  where  once  I  stood 
Close  by  the  banks  of  Saerirn  flood, 
I  heard  two  sisters  reason  on 
Things  that  are  past  and  things  to  come. 
One  Flesh  was  called,  who  had  her  eye 
On  worldly  wealth  and  vanity ; 
The  other  spirit,  who  did  rear 
Her  thoughts  into  a  higher  sphere: 
Sister,  quoth  Flesh,  what  liv'st  thou  on, 
Nothing  but  meditation  ? 
Doth  contemplation  feed  thee  so 
Regardlessly  to  let  earth  go? 
Can  speculation  satisfy, 
Nation  without  reality  ? 
Dost  dream  of  things  beyond  the  moon 
And  dost  thou  hope  to  dwell  there  soon? 
Hast  treasures  there  laid  up  in  store, 
That  all  in  th'  world  thou  couut'st  but  poor  J 
Art  fancy  sick  or  turn'd  a  sot 
To  catch  at  shadows  which  are  not  ? 
Come,  come,  I'll  show  unto  thy  sense, 
Industry  hath  its  recompense. 
"What  canst  desire,  but  thou  mayst  see 
The  substance  in  variety  ? 
Dost  honor  like?  acquire  the  same, 
As  some,  to  their  immortal  fame : 
And  trophies  to  thy  name  erect, 
Which  "wearing  time  shall  ne'er  deject. 
For  riches  dost  thou  long  full  sore  ? 
Behold  enough  of  precious  store ; 
Earth  hath  more  silver,  pearls,  and  gold. 
Than  eyes  can  see  or  hands  can  hold. 
Affect'st  thou  pleasure?  take  thy  fill. 
Earth  hath  enough  of  what  you  will. 
Then  let  not  go  what  thou  may'st  find 
For  things  unknown,  only  in  mind. 
jSpvBe  still,  thou  unregen'rate  p:irt, 
Disturb  no  more  my  settled  heart, 
For  I  have  vow'd  (and  so  will  do) 
Thee  as  a  foe  still  to  pursue ; 
And  combat  thee  with  will,  and  must 
Until  I  see  thee  laid  in  th'  dust. 
Sisters  we  are,  yea,  twins  we  be, 
Tet  deadly  feud  'twixt  thee  and  me ; 
For  from  one  father  are  we  not, 
Thou  by  old  Adam  wast  begot ; 
But  my  arise  is  from  above, 
Whence  my  dear  father  I  do  love. 
Thou  speak'st  me  fair,  but  hat'st  me  sore, 
Thy  flatt'ring  shows  I'll  trust  no  more. 
How  oft  thy  slave  hast  thou  me  made. 
When  I  believ'd  what  thou  bast  said, 
And  never  had  more  cause  of  woe 
Than  when  I  did  what  thou  bad'st  do. 
ITl  stop  my  cars  at  these  thy  charms, 
And  count  them  for  my  deadly  harms. 
Thy  sinful  pleasures  I  do  hate, 
Thy  riches  are  to  me  no  bate, 
Thy  honors  do  nor  will  I  love, 
For  my  ambition  lies  above. 
My  greatest  honour  it  shall  be, 
When  I  am  victor  over  thee, 
And  triumph  shall,  with  laurel  head. 
When  thou  my  captive  shalt  be  led : 
How  I  do  live  thou  need'st  not  scoff. 
For  I  have  meat  thou  know'st  not  of; 
The  hidden  manna  I  do  eat, 
The  word  of  life.it  is  my  meat. 
My  thoughts'  do  yield  me  more  content 


Than  can  thy  hours  in  pleasure  spent. 

Nor  are  they  shadows  which  I  catch, 

Nor  fancies  vain  at  which  I  snatch  ; 

But  reach  at  things  that  are  so  high 

Beyond  thy  dull  capacity ; 

Eternal  substance  I  do  see, 

With  which  enriched  I  would  be ; 

Mine  eye  doth  pierce  the  heavens,  and  see 

What  is  invisible  to  thee. 

My  garments  are  not  silk  nor  gold, 

Nor  such-like  trash  which  earth  doth  hold, 

But  royal  robes  I  shall  have  on, 

More  glorious  than  the  glist'ning  sun  ; 

My  crown  not  diamonds,  pearls,  and  gold, 

But  such  as  angels'  heads  infold. 

The  city  where  I  hope  to  dwell, 

There's  none  on  earth  can  parallel ; 

The  stately  walls,  both  high  and  strong, 

Are  made  of  precious  jasper  stone; 

The  gates  of  pearl,  both  rich  and  clear, 

And  angels  are  for  porters  there ; 

The  streets  thereof  transparent  gold, 

Such  as  no  eye  did  e'er  behold ; 

A  christal  river  there  doth  run, 

Which  doth  proceed  from  the  Lamb's  throne: 

Of  life  there  are  the  waters  sure, 

Which  shall  remain  for  ever  pure ; 

Nor  sun,  nor  moon,  they  have  no  need, 

For  glory  doth  from  God  proceed: 

No  candle  there,  nor  yet  torch  light, 

For  there  shall  be  no  darksome  night. 

From  sickness  and  infirmity, 

For  evermore  there  shall  be  free, 

Nor  withering  age  shall  e'er  come  there, 

But  beauty  shall  be  bright  and  clear; 

This  city  pure  is  not  for  thee, 

For  things  unclean  there  shall  not  be; 

If  I  of  heaven  may  have  my  fill 

Take  thou  the  world,  and  all  that  "will. 

PETEE  FOLGEE. 

Peter  Folger,  the  maternal  grandfather  of  Ben- 
jamin Franklin,  and  only  child  of  John  Folger, 
came  to  America  with  his  father  from  Norwich, ' 
England,  in  1635,  at  the  age  of  eighteen.  They 
settled  soon  after  their  arrival  at  Martha's  Vine- 
yard, where  John  died  in  1660,  leaving  a  widow, 
Meribell,  who  was  living  in  1663. 

Peter  married,  in  1644,  Mary  Morrell,  an  inmate 
in  the  family  of  the  celebrated  Hugli  Peters,  who 
is  said  to  have  been  a  fellow-passenger  of  the 
Folgers  in  their  voyage  to  America.  In  1663  he 
removed  to  Nantucket,  and  was  among  the  first 
settlers  of  that  island.  He  was  one  of  five  com- 
missioners to  lay  out  land,  a  task  for  which  he 
was  well  qualified  by  his  knowledge  of  surveying; 
and  the  words  of  the  ordef  prove  the  estimation 
in  which  he  was  held  in  the  community,  it  being 
therein  stated,  that  "  whatsoever  shall  be  done  by 
them,  or  any  three  of  them,  Peter  Folger  being 
one,  shall  be  accounted  legal  and  valid." 

He  learned  the  language  of  the  Indians,  and 
was  of  much  service  as  an  interpreter.  The  aid 
rendered  by  him  in  this  manner  to  the  Rev. 
Thomas  Mayhew,  the  Indian  missionary  at 
Martha's  Vineyard,  is  thus  recorded  by  Thomas 
Prince  in  his  account  of  that  good  and  able  man, 
the  ancestor  of  the  great  Dr.  Mayhew  of  the 
Revolution. 

"  He  had,"  says  Prince,  "  an  able  and  godly 
Englishman,  named  Peter  Folger,  employed  in 
teaching  the  youth  in  reading,  writing,  and  the 


PETER  FOLGER. 


gf 


principles  of  religion  by  catechizing;  being  Mell 
learned  likewise  in  the  Scriptures,  and  capable  of 
helping  them  in  religious  matters."  A  long  letter 
to  his  son-in-law,  Joseph  Pratt,  is  a  further  proof 
of  his  familiarity  with  the  Scriptures,  and  with 
religious  topics,  and  he  is  said  to  have  occasionally 
preached.  He  died  in  1090,  and  his  wife  in  1704. 
They  had  two  sons  and  seven  daughters,  the 
youngest  of  whom,  Abiah,  was  Franklin's  mother. 

A  few  lines  in  the  autobiography  of  his  grand- 
son, have  buoyed  up  Peter  Folger  into  immor- 
tality as  an  author.  "  I  was  born  at  Boston,  in 
New  England.  My  mother,  the  second  wife, 
was  Abiah  Folger,  daughter  of  Peter  Folger,  one 
of  the  first  colonists  of  New  England,  of  whom 
Cotton  Mather  makes  honourable  mention,  in  his 
Ecclesiastical  History  of  that  province,  as  a  pious 
and  learned  Englishman,  if  I  rightly  recollect  his 
expressions.  I  have  been  told  of  his  having 
written  a  variety  of  little  pieces ;  but  there  ap- 
pears to  be  only  one  in  print,  wdiich  I  met  with 
many  years  ago.  It  was  published  in  the  year 
1675,  and  is  in  familiar  verse,  agreeably  to  the 
tastes  of  the  times  and  the  country.  The  author 
addresses  himself  to  the  governors  for  the  time 
being,  speaks  for  liberty  of  conscience,  and  in 
favour  of  the  anabaptists,  quakers,  and  other  sec- 
taries, who  had  suffered  persecution.  To  this 
persecution  he  attributes  the  wars  with  the 
natives,  and  other  calamities  which  afflicted  the 
country,  regarding  thein  as  the  judgments  of  God 
in  punishment  of  so  odious  an  offence,  and  he 
exhorts  the  government  to  the  repeal  of  laws  so 
contrary  to  charity.  The  poem  appeared  to  be 
written  with  a  manly  freedom  and  a  pleasing 
simplicity." 

The  outbreaks  of  opinion  and  half-framed  utter- 
ances of  the  Nantucket  surveyor,  were  to  be 
clarified,  in  the  third  generation,  into  the  love  of 
liberty  and  the  clear-toned  expression  of  the 
essayist,  philosopher,  and  patriot.  The  ti  tie  of  Fol- 
ger's  poem  is,  A  Looking-glass  for  the  Times,  or 
the  Former  Spirit  of  New  England  revived,  in 
this  generation.  It  was  reprinted  in  1763. 
Copies  of  it  are  very  rare.  "We  are  indebted  for 
the  one  from  which  we  have  reprinted,  to  a  MS. 
copy  in  possession  of  Mr.  Bancroft. 

A   LOOKING-GLASS  FOR  TI1E  TIMES,   OR  THE    FORMER    SPIRIT  OF 
NEW  ENGLAND   REVIVED  IN  THIS   GENERATION. 

Let  all  that  read  these  verses  know, 
That  I  intend  something  to  show 
About  our  war,  how  it  hath  been 
And  also  what  is  the  chief  sin, 
That  God  doth  so  with  us  contend 
And  when  these  wars  are  like  to  end. 
Read  them  in  love  ;  do  not  despise 
What  here  is  set  before  thine  eyes. 

New  England  for  these  many  years 

hath  had  both  rest  and  peace, 
But  now  the  case  is  otherwise; 

our  troubles  doth  increase. 

The  plague  of  war  is  now  begun 

in  some  great  colonies, 
And  many  towns  are  desolate 

we  may  see  with  our  eyes. 

The  loss  of  many  goodly  men 

we  may  lament  also, 
Who  in  the  war  have  lost  their  lives, 

and  fallen  by  our  foe. 


Our  women  also  they  have  took 

and  children  very  small, 
Great  cruelty  they  have  used 

to  some,  though  not  to  all. 

The  enemy  that  hath  done  this, 

are  very  foolish  men, 
Yet  God  doth  take  of  them  a  rod 

to  punish  us  for  sin. 

If  we  then  truly  turn  to  God, 

He  will  remove  his  ire. 
And  will  forthwith  take  this  his  rod. 

And  cast  it  into  fire. 

Let  us  then  search,  what  is  the  sin 

that  God  doth  punish  for ; 
And  when  found  out,  cast  it  away 

and  ever  it  abhor. 

Sure  'tis  not  chiefly  for  those  sins, 

that  magistrates  do  name, 
And  make  good  laws  for  to  suppress, 

and  execute  the  same. 

But  'tis  for  that  same  crying  sin, 

that  rulers  will  not  own, 
And  that  whereby  much  cruelty 

to  brethren  hath  been  shown. 

The  sin  of  persecution 

such  laws  established, 
By  which  laws  they  have  gone  so  far, 

as  blood  hath  touched  blood. 

It  is  now  forty  years  ago, 

since  some  of  them  were  made, 

Which  was  the  ground  and  rise  of  all 
the  persecuting  trade. 

Then  many  worthy  persons  were 

banished  to  the  woods, 
Where  they  among  the  natives  did, 

lose  their  most  precious  bloods. 

And  since  that,  many  godly  men, 

Have  been  to  prison  sent, 
They  have  been  fined,  and  whipped  also. 

and  suffered  banishment 

The  cause  of  this  their  suffering 

was  not  for  any  sin, 
But  for  the  witness  that  they  bare 

against  babe  sprinkling. 

Of  later  time  there  hath  been  some 

men  come  into  this  land, 
To  warn  the  rulers  of  their  sins 

as  I  do  understand. 

They  call  on  all,  both  great  and  small, 

to  fear  God  and  repent; 
And  for  their  testimonies  thus 

they  suffer  a  punishment 

Yea  some  of  them  they  did  affirm, 

that  they  were  sent  of  God, 
To  testify  to  great  and  small 

that  God  would  send  his  rod. 

Against  those  colonies,  because 
they  did  make  laws  not  good  ; 

And  if  those  laws  were  not  repealM 
the  end  would  be  in  blood. 

And  though  that  these  were  harmless  men, 

and  did  no  hurt  to  any, 
But  lived  well  like  honest  men, 

as  testified  by  many; 


54 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


Yet  did  these  laws  entrap  them  set 
that  they  were  put  to  death, — 

And  could  not  have  the  liberty 
to  speak  near  their  last  breath. 

But  these  men  were,  as  I  have  heard, 

against  our  College  men ; 
And  this  was,  out  of  doubt  to  me, 

that  which  was  most  their  sin. 

They  did  reprove  all  hirelings, 

with  a  most  sharp  reproof, 
Because  they  knew  not  how  to  preach 

till  sure  of  means  enough. 

Now  to  the  sufferings  of  these  men 

I  have  but  gave  a  hint ; 
Because  tbat  in  George  Bishop's*  book 

you  may  see  all  in  print. 

But  may  we  know  the  counsellors 

that  brought  our  rulers  in 
To  be  so  guilty  as  they  are, 

of  the  aforesaid  sin  ? 

They  were  the  tribe  of  ministers, 

as  they  are  said  to  be, 
Who  always  to  our  magistrates 

must  be  the  eyes  to  see. 

These  are  the  men  that  by  their  wits 

have  spun  so  fair  a  shred, 
That  now  themselves  and  others  are 

of  natives  in  a  dread. 

What  need  is  there  of  such  a  fear 

if  we  have  done  no  ill? 
But  'tis  because  that  we  have  been 

not  doing  of  God's  wilL 

When  Cain  had  slain  his  brother,  then 

began  this  fear  to  be, 
That  every  man  would  do  to  him 

the  same  that  did  him  see. 

The  Scripture  doth  declare  the  cause 
why  Cain  did  kill  his  brother ; 

It  was  because  the  deeds  of  one 
was  good,  and  not  the  other. 

Because  that  God  did  favor  show 

to  Abel  more  than  he, 
That  was  in  verity  the  thing 

that  envy  could  not  see. 

Then  let  us  all,  both  great  and  small, 
take  heed  how  we  do  fight 

Against  the  spirit  of  the  Lord, 
which  is  our  highest  light. 

Let  Magistrates  and  ministers 

consider  what  they  do : 
Let  them  repeal  those  evil  laws 

and  break  those  bands  in  two 


*  George  Bishop,  a  Qnaker,  published  "New  England 
judged,  not  by  man's  but  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  and  the 
sum  Eealed  up  of  New  England's  persecutions;  being  a  brief 
relation  of  the  sufferings  of  the  Quakers  in  that  part  of  America, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  month,  1656,  to  the  end  of  the 
tenth  month,  1660;  wherein  the  cruel  whippings  and  scourg- 
ings,  bonds  and  imprisonments,  and  burning  in  the  hand,  and 
cutting  off  of  ears,  banishment  upon  pain  of  death,  and  put- 
ting to  death,  &c.  are  shortly  touched."  1661.  A  second  part 
appeared  in  1667,  and  both  were  reprinted  in  1703,  with  "An 
Answer  to  Cotton  Mather's  Abuses  in  his  late  History  of  New 
England,  by  John  Whiting,  with  an  Appendix." 

Bishop  joined  the  Quakers  in  1654.  lie  was  the  author  of 
several  works  on  the  doctrines  of  the  sect  to  which  he  belong- 
ed, published  at  intervals  from  1660  to  1668. 


Which  have  been  made  as  traps  and  snares 

to  catch  the  innocents, 
And  whereby  it  has  gone  so  far 

to  acts  of  violence. 

I  see  you  write  yourselves  in  print, 

the  Balm  of  Giletvd ; 
Then  do  not  act  as  if  you  were 

like  men  that  are  half  mad. 

If  you  can  fieal  the  land,  what  is 

the  cause  things  are  so  bad  ? 
I  think  instead  of  that,  you  make 

the  hearts  of  people  sad. 

Is  this  a  time  for  you  to  press, 

to  draw  the  blood  of  those 
That  are  your  neighbours  and  your  friend?  ! 

as  if  you  had  no  foes. 

Yea,  some  there  are,  as  I  have  heard, 

have  lately  found  out  tricks 
To  put  the  cause  of  all  the  war 

upon  the  heretics, 

Or  rather  on  some  officers, 

that  now  begin  to  slack 
The  execution  of  those  laws, 

whose  consequence  is  black. 

I  do  affirm  to  you,  if  that 

be  really  your  mind, 
You  must  go  turn  another  leaf, 

before  that  peace  you  find. 

Now,  loving  friends  and  countrymen, 

I  wish  we  may  be  wise, 
'Tis  now  a  time  for  every  man 

to  see  with  his  own  eyes. 

'Tis  easy  to  provoke  the  Lord 

to  send  among  us  war, 
'Tis  easy  to  do  violence, 

to  envy,  and  to  jar. 

To  show  a  spirit  that  is  high, 

to  scorn  and  domineer ; 
To  pride  it  out,  as  if  there  were 

no  God  to  make  us  fear ; 

To  covet  what  is  not  our  own, 

to  cheat  and  to  oppress, 
To  live  a  life  that  might  free  us 

from  acts  of  Righteousness; 

To  swear  and  lie,  and  to  be  drunk, 

to  backbite  one  another ; 
To  carry  tales  that  may  do  hurt 

and  mischief  to  our  brother  I 

To  live  in  such  hypocrisy, 

as  men  may  think  us  good, 
Although  our  hearts  within  are  full 

of  evil  and  of  blood. 

All  these  and  many  evils  more 

are  eas3T  for  to  do : 
But  to  repent,  and  to  reform, 

we  have  no  strength  unto. 

Let  us  then  seek  for  help  from  God, 

and  turn  to  him  that  smite: 
Let  us  take  heed  that  at  no  time 

we  sin  against  our  light. 

Let's  bear  our  testimony  plain 

against  sin  in  high  and  low ; 
And  see  that  we  no  cowards  be, 

to  hide  the  light  we  know 


PETER  FOLGEK. 


55 


When  Jonathan  is  called  to  court, 

shall  we  as  standers  by, 
Be  still  and  have  no  word  to  speak, 

but  suffer  him  to  die ! 

If  that  you  say  you  cannot  help, 

things  will  be  as  they  are; 
I  tell  you  true,  'tis  plain  and  clear, 

those  words  may  come  from  fear. 

That  you  shall  lose  some  carnal  things, 

if  you  do  speak  for  God; 
And  here  you  go  the  nearest  way 

to  taste  deep  of  his  rod. 

Tis  true  there  are  some  times,  indeed, 

of  silence  to  the  meek ; 
Not  ever,  for  the  Lord  doth  say, 

there  is  a  time  to  speak. 

Be  vigilant  then  for  to  see 

the  movings  of  your  heart, 
And  you  will  know  right  well  the  time 

when  you  shall  act  your  part 

I  would  not  have  you  for  to  think, 

tho'  I  have  wrote  so  much, 
That  I  hereby  do  throw  a  stone 

at  magistrates,  as  such. 

The  rulers  in  the  country,  I 

do  own  them  in  the  Lord  ; 
And  such  as  are  for  government, 

with  them  I  do  accord. 

But  that  which  I  intend  hereby, 
is,  that  they  would  keep  bounds, 

And  meddle  not  with  God's  worship, 
for  which  they  have  no  ground. 

And  I  am  not  alone  herein, 
there's  many  hundreds  more, 

That  have  for  many  years  ago 
spake  much  upon  that  score. 

Indeed  I  really  believe, 

it's  not  your  business 
To  meddle  with  the  Church  of  Christ 

in  matters  more  or  less. 

There's  work  enough  to  do  besides, 
to  judge  in  mine  and  thine : 

To  succor  poor  and  fatherless, 
that  is  the  work  in  fine. 

And  I  do  think  that  now  you  find 

enough  of  that  to  do  ; 
Much  more  at  such  a  time  as  this, 

as  there  is  war  also. 

Indeed  I  count  it  very  low, 

for  people  in  these  days, 
To  ask  the  rulers  for  their  leave 

to  serve  God  in  his  ways. 

I  count  it  worse  in  magistrates 

to  use  the  iron  sword, 
To  do  that  work  which  Christ  alone 

will  do  by  his  own  word. 

The  Church  may  now  go  stay  at  home. 

there's  nothing  for  to  do; 
Their  work  is  all  cut  out  by  law, 

and  almost  made  up  too. 

Now,  reader,  least  you  should  mistake, 

in  what  I  said  before 
Concerning  ministers,  I  think 

to  write  a  few  words  more. 


I  would  not  have  you  for  to  think 

that  I  am  such  a  fool, 
To  write  against  learning,  as  such, 

or  to  cry  down  a  school 

But 't  is  that  Popish  college  way, 

that  I  intend  hereby, 
"Where  men  are  inew'd  up  in  a  cage; 

fit  for  all  villainy. 

But  I  shall  leave  this  puddle  stuff 

to  neighbours  at  the  door, 
That  can  speak  more  unto  such  things, 

upon  a  knowing  score. 

And  now  these  men,  though  ne'er  so  bad. 

when  they  have  learn'd  their  trade, 
They  must  come  in  and  bear  a  part, 

whatever  laws  are  made. 

I  can't  but  wonder  for  to  see 

our  magistrates  and  wise, 
That  they  sit  still  and  suffer  them 

to  ride  on  them,  not  rise. 

And  stir  them  up  to  do  that  work, 
that  Scripture  rule  there  wants, 

To  persecute  and  persecute 

those  that  they  judge  are  saints. 

There's  one  thing  more  that  I  believe 

is  worse  than  all  the  rest, 
They  vilify  the  Spirit  of  God, 

and  count  school  learning  best. 

If  that  a  boy  hath  learn'd  his  trade, 

and  can  the  Spirit  disgrace, 
Then  he  is  lifted  up  on  high, 

and  needs  must  have  a  place. 

But  I  shall  leave  this  dirty  stuff, 

and  give  but  here  a  hint, 
Because  that  you  have  Cradock's  book.* 

and  may  see  more  in  print. 

There  are  some  few,  it  may  be,  that 

are  clear  of  this  same  trade ; 
And  of  those  men,  I  only  say, 

these  verses  are  not  made. 

Now  for  the  length  of  time,  how  long 

these  wars  are  like  to  be, 
I  may  speak  something  unto  that, 

if  men  will  reason  see. 

The  Scripture  doth  point  out  the  time, 

and  'tis  as  we  do  chuse, 
For  to  obey  the  voice  of  God, 

or  else  for  to  refuse. 

The  prophet  Jeremy  doth  say, 
when  war  was  threat'ned  sore, 

That  if  men  do  repent  and  turn, 
God  will  afflict  no  more. 

But  such  a  turning  unto  God, 

as  is  but  verbally, 
When  men  refuse  for  to  reform, 

it  is  not  worth  a  fly. 


*  "  Gospel  Liberty,  in  the  Extensions  and  Limitations  of  it," 
Lond.  1646,  4to„  by  Walter  Cradnck,  is  probably  tho  work  re- 
ferred to.  Another  Cradock,  Samuel,  a  non-conformist  divine, 
born  1620,  died  1706,  however,  published  "  Gospel  Liberty: 
;  his  Glad  Tidings  from  Heaven :"  no  date.  Both  were  the 
authors  of  a  number  of  sermons  and  religious  works. 


56 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


Tis  hard  for  you,  as  I  do  hear, 

though  you  be  under  rod, 
To  say  to  Israel,  Go,  you, 

and  serve  the  Lord  your  God. 

Though  you  do  many  prayers  make, 

and  add  fasting  thereto, 
Yet  if  your  hands  be  full  of  blood, 

all  this  will  never  do. 

The  end  that  God  doth  send  his  sword, 

is  that  we  might  amend, 
Then,  if  that  we  reform  aright, 

the  war  will  shortly  end. 

New  England  they  are  like  the  Jews, 

as  like  as  like  can  be ; 
They  made  large  promises  to  God, 

at  home  and  at  the  sea. 

They  did  proclaim  free  Liberty, 

they  cut  the  calf  in  twain, 
They  part  between  the  part  thereof, 

O  this  was  all  in  vain. 

For  since  they  came  into  this  land, 

they  floated  to  and  fro, 
Sometimes,  then,  brethren  may  be  free, 

while  hence  to  prison  go. 

According  as  the  times  to  go, 

and  weather  is  abroad, 
So  we  can  serve  ourselves  sometimes 

and  sometimes  serve  the  Lord. 

But  let  us  hear  what  God  doth  say, 

to  such  backsliding  men, 
That  can  with  ease  to  break  their  vows, 

and  soon  go  back  again.     Jek.  34. 

He  saith  he  will  proclaim  for  them, 

a  freedom  to  the  sword, 
Because  they  would  not  fear  him  so. 

as  to  obey  his  word. 

This  liberty  unto  the  sword, 

he  hath  proclaimed  for  us, 
And  we  are  like  to  feel  it  long, 

if  matters  do  go  thus. 

'Tis  better  for  our  magistrates, 

to  shorten  time,  I  say, 
By  breaking  of  those  bands  in  two 

that  look  an  evil  way. 

You  do  profess  yourselves  to  be 

men  that  do  pray  always, 
Then  do  not  keep  such  evil  laws, 

as  may  serve  at  wet  days. 

If  that  the  peace  of  God  did  rule, 

with  power  in  our  heart, 
Then  outward  war  would  flee  away, 

and  rest  would  be  our  part. 

If  we  do  love  our  brethren, 

and  do  to  them,  I  say, 
As  we  would  they  should  do  to  us, 

we  should  be  quiet  straightway. 

But  if  that  we  a  smiting  go, 

of  fellow -servants  so, 
No  marvel  if  our  wars  increase 

and  things  so  heavy  go. 

'Tis  like  that  some  may  think  and  say, 

our  war  would  not  remain, 
If  so  be  that  a  thousand  more 

of  natives  were  but  slain. 


Alas !  these  are  but  foolish  thoughts, 

God  can  make  more  arise, 
And  if  that  there  were  none  at  all. 

he  can  make  war  with  flies. 

It  is  the  presence  of  the  Lord, 

must  make  our  foes  to  shake, 
Or  else  it's  like  he  will  e'er  long 

know  how  to  make  us  quake. 

Let  us  lie  low  before  the  Lord, 

in  all  humility, 
And  then  we  shall  with  Asa  see 

our  enemies  to  fly. 

But  if  that  we  do  leave  the  Lord, 

and  trust  in  fleshly  arm, 
Then  'tis  no  wonder  if  that  we 

do  hear  more  news  of  harm. 

Let's  have  our  faith  and  hope  in  God, , 

and  trust  in  him  alone, 
And  then  no  doubt  this  storm  of  war 

it  quickly  will  be  gone. 

Thus,  reader,  I,  in  love  to  all, 

leave  these  few  lines  with  thee, 
Hoping  that  in  the  substance  we 

shall  very  well  agree. 

If  that  you  do  mistake  the  verse 

for  its  uncomely  dress, 
I  tell  thee  true,  I  never  thought 

that  it  would  pass  the  press. 

If  any  at  the  matter  kick, 

it's  like  he's  galled  at  heart, 
And  that's  the  reason  why  he  kicks, 

because  he  finds  it  smart. 

I  am  for  peace,  and  not  for  war, 

and  that's  the  reason  why 
I  write  more  plain  than  some  men  do. 

that  use  to  daub  and  lie. 

But  I  shall  cease  and  set  my  name 

to  what  I  hero  insert, 
Because  to  be  a  libeller, 

I  hate  it  with  my  heart. 

From  Sherbon*  town,  where  now  I  dwell, 

my  name  I  do  put  here, 
Without  offence  your  real  friend. 

it  is  Peter  Folgek. 
April  23,  16*76. 

WILLIAM  HUBBAED. 
"William  Hubbaud  was  born  in  1621,  and  was  of 
the  first  class  who   graduated  from  Harvard  in 
1042.     He  became  minister  of  Ipswich,t  where  he 

was  visited  in  1686  by  John  Dunton,*  who  gives 
a  good  account  of  his  hospitality,  amiability,  and 


*  Nantucket. 

+  "The  Life  and  Errors  of  John  Dunton,citi7x>n  of  London/* 
a  De  Boe-ish  sort  of  book,  published  in  lYt'K  The  author  was 
a  bookseller  whose  humor  it  was  to  describe  his  fellow  trad- 
ers, customers,  and  lady  visitors — an  odd  mixture  (as  in  Defoe) 
of  piety  and  Jove-making.  In  1686,  he  visited  Boston  with  a 
venture  of  books,  Puritan  stock,  which  sold  well.  He  describes 
the  Mathers  atiri  others.  From  his  account,  gallantry  was 
greatly  in  vogue  in  the  old  Puritan  metropolis.  His  descrip- 
tions of  the  ladies  are  highly  amusing. 


MICHAEL  WIGGLESWORTH. 


57 


acquirements.  He  published  a  Narrative  of  the 
troubles  with  the  Indians  from  1607  to  1677, 
and  a  number  of  sermons ;  and  died  Sept.  14, 
170-1.  He  wrote  a  History  of  New  England,  for 
which  the  state  paid  him  £50,  and  which  was 
used  by  Mather,  Hutchinson,  who  states  that  it 
was  "of  great  use"  to  him,  and  other  writers.  It 
is  said  to  have  been  saved  from  the  Haines  in  the 
attack  on  Governor  Hutchinson's  house,  by  Dr. 
Andrew  E.  Eliot,  and  was  presented  by  his  son  to 
the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  by  whom  it 
was  finally  printed  in  1815.  It  comprises  the  his- 
tory from  the  discovery  of  the  country  to  the 
year  1680. 


MICHAEL  WIGGLESWOETU. 
Michael  Wig&lbswoeth  was,  in  his  day,  one  of 
the  most  successful  of  our  early  writers.  lie  was 
born  about  16-31,  and  after  completing  his  studies 
at  Harvard,  in  1651,  appointed  a  tutor  in  the  col- 
lege. He  soon  after  "  made  his  remove  to  Meldon," 
where  he  was  ordained,  and  remained  a  "faithful 
pastor,  for  about  a  jubilee  of  years  together." 
Frequent  attacks  of  illness  to  which  his  slight 
constitution  disposed  him,  for  he  was,  as  one  of  his 
friends  informs  us,  in  a  preliminary  address  to  the 
Day  of  Doom,  "  a  little  feeble  shadow  of  a  man," 
forced  him  occasionally  to  suspend  his  pulpit  ex- 
ertions. These  intervals  were,  however,  marked 
by  a  change  rather  than  cessation  of  labor,  as 
during  them  he  composed  his  "  Day  of  Doom"  and 
other  poems.     Notwithstanding  his  weak  frame, 

he  lived  to  the  good  old  age  of  seventy-four, 
dying  in  the  year  1705.  Cotton  Mather  wrote 
his  funeral  sermon,  and  the  following 


THE  EXCELLENT  WIGGLESWORTH  REMEMBERED  BY  SOME  GOOD 
TOKENS. 

His  pen  did  once  meat  from  the  eater  fetch, 
And  now  he's  gone  beyond  the  eater's  reach. 
His  body  once  so  thin,  was  next  to  none  ; 
From  hence,  he's  to  unbodied  spirits  flown. 
Once  his  rare  skill  did  all  diseases  heal, 
And  he  does  nothing  now  uneasy  feeL, 
He  to  his  paradise  is  joyful  come, 
And  waits  with  joy  to  see  his  day  of  Doom. 

Wigglesworth  was  the  author  of  The  Bay  of 
Boom,  or  a  Poetical  Bescription  of  the  Great  and 
Last  Judgment,  with  a  short  Biscourse  about 
Eternity,  and  Meat  out  of  the  Eater,  or  Medita- 
tions concerning  the  necessity,  end,  and  usefulness 
of  Afflictions  unto  God's  Children;  all  tending 
to  prepare  them  for,  and  comfort  them  under  the 
Cross.  Both  are  small  volumes,  and  went 
through  several  editions.  The  second  is  the 
rudest  in  versification,  and  contains  some  amus- 
ing examples  of  incongruous  though  familiar  il- 
lustration. 

We  must  not  on  the  knee 

Be  always  dandled, 

Nor  must  we  think  to  ride  to  Heaven 

Upon  a  feather-bed. 


We  soon  are  surfeited 

With  strong  delicious  matter. 

And,  therefore,  God  who  knows  our  frame, 

Mingleth  our  wine  with  water. 

Meat  out  of  the  Eater,  is  divided  into  a  number 
of  sections  of  some  ten  or  twelve  eight-line  stan- 
zas each.  Its  style  is  in  general  quaint  and  harsh, 
but  passages  occasionally  occur  like  the  following, 
which  possess  high  merit. 

Soldier,  be  strong,  who  fightest 

Under  a  Captain  stout ; 
Dishonour  not  thy  conquering  Heal 

By  basely  giving  out. 

Endure  a  while,  bear  up, 

And  hope  for  better  things. 
War  ends  in  peace,  and  morning  light 

Mounts  upon  midnight's  wing. 

Through  changes  manifold, 

And  dangers  perilous, 
Through  fiery  flames,  and  water  floods, 

Through  ways  calamitous 

We  travel  towards  heaven, 

A  quiet  habitation. 
Christ  shows  a  kingdom  there  prepar'd 

Ev'n  from  the  world's  foundation. 

0  heaven,  most  holy  place, 

Which  art  our  country  dear ! 
What  cause  have  I  to  long  for  thee, 

And  beg  with  many  a  tear. 

Earth  is  to  me  a  prison  ; 

This  boly  an  useless  wight ; 
And  all  things  else  vile,  vain,  and  nought 

To  one  in  such  ill  plight. 

0  Christ,  make  haste,  from  bands 

Of  sin  and  death  me  free, 
And  to  those  heavenly  mansions, 

Be  pleas'd  to  carry  me. 

Where  glorified  saints 

For  ever  are  possest 
Of  God  in  Christ  their  chiefest  good, 

And  from  all  troubles  rest. 

It  is  followed  by  a  collection  of  verses,  similar 
in  form  and  style,  the  title  and  contents  of  which 
are  sufficiently  curious  to  be  quoted  in  full. 

ELDDLES  UNRIDDLED  ;  OR,   CHRISTIAN  PARADOXES. 

Broke  open,  smelling  like  sweet 
Spice  new  taken  out  of  boxes. 

Each  paradox  is  like  a  box, 

That  cordials  rare  incloseth  : 
This  Key  unlock,  op'neth  the  Box, 

And  what's  within  discloseth  ; 
That  whoso  will,  may  take  his  fill 

And  gain  where  no  man  loseth. 

The  contents  follow  on  the  back  of  the  title- 
page. 

ELDDLES  UNRIDDLED  ;   OR,   CHRISTIAN   PAEADOXES. 

Light  in  Darkness, 

Sick  men's  Health, 
Strength  in  Weakness, 

Poor  men's  Wealth, 
In  confinement, 

Liberty, 
In  Solitude 

Good  company. 
Joy  in  Sorrow, 

Life  in  Death's 
Heavenly  Crowns  for 

Thorny  Wreaths. 


58 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


Are  presented  to  thy  view, 
In  the  Poems  that  ensue. 

If  my  trials  had  been  thine, 

These  would  cheer  thee  more  than  wine. 

The  Day  of  Doom  is  a  versification  of  the  scrip- 
tural account  of  the  last  judgment.  It  was  re- 
printed in  London,  and  a  few  years  ago  in  Boston. 
In  the  prefatory  poetical  introduction  the  author 
expresses  his  intention  to  rescue  poetry  from  hea- 
then classical  perversions. 

A  PRAYER  TTNTO  CHRIST,  THE  JUDGE  OF  THE  WOELl>. 

0  dearest,  dread,  most  glorious  King 
I'll  of  thy  justest  judgment  sing  : 

Do  thou  my  head  and  heart  inspire, 
To  sing  aright,  as  I  desire. 
Thee,  thee  alone  I'll  invocate, 
For  I  do  much  abominate 
To  call  the  Muses  to  mine  aid: 
"Which  is  the  unchristian  use,  and  trade 
Of  some  that  Christians  would  be  thought, 
And  yet  they  worship  worse  than  nought. 
Oh !  what  a  deal  of  blasphemy, 
And  heathenish  impiety, 
In  Christian  poets  may  be  found, 
Where  heathen  gods  with  praise  are  crowned, 
They  make  Jehovah  to  stand  by, 
Till  Juno,  Venus,  Mercury, 
With  frowning  Mars  and  thundering  Jove, 
-  Rule  earth  below,  and  heaven  above. 
But  I  have  learnt  to  pray  to  none, 
Save  only  God  in  Christ  alone. 
Nor  will  I  laud,  no  not  in  jest, 
That  which  I  know  God  doth  detest. 

1  reckon  it  a  damning  evil 

To  give  God's  praises  to  the  Devil, 
Thou,  Christ,  and  he  to  whom  I  pray, 
Th}'  glor}'  fain  I  would  display. 
Oh,  guide  me  by  th}'  sacred  spirit, 
So  to  indite  and  so  to  write, 
That  I  thy  holy  name  may  praise, 
And  teach  the  sons  of  man  thy  ways. 

One  of  the  best  passages  of  the  poem,  which  we 
quote,  is  modestly  introduced  at  the  end  of  the 
volume,  "  to  fill  up  the  empty  pages  following." 

A  BONG  OF  EMPTINESS. — VANITY  OF  VANITY. 

Vain,  frail,  short-lived,  and  miserable  man, 
Learn  what  thou  art,  when  thy  estate  is  best, 
A  restless  wave  o'  th'  troubled  ocean, 
A  dream,  a  lifeless  picture  finely  drest. 

A  wind,  a  flower,  a  vapor,  and  a  bubble, 
A  wheel  that  stands  not  still,  a  trembling  reed, 
A  trolling  stone,  dry  dust,  light  chaff  and  stuff, 
A  ehadow  of  something,  but  truly  nought  indeed. 

Learn  what  deceitful  toys,  and  empty  things, 
This  world  and  all  its  best  enjoyments  be : 
Out  of  the  earth  no  true  contentment  springs, 
But  all  things  here  are  vexing  vanity. 

For  what  is  beauty,  but  a  fading  flower, 
Or  what  is  pleasure  but  the  devil's  bait, 
Whereby  he  catcheth  whom  he  would  devour, 
And  multitudes  of  souls  doth  ruinate. 

And  what  are  friends,  but  mortal  men  as  we, 
Whom  death  from  us  may  quickly  separate  ; 
Or  else  their  hearts  may  quite  estranged  be, 
And  all  their  love  be  turned  into  hate. 

And  what  are  riches,  to  be  doated  on  ? 
Uncertain,  fickle,  and  ensnaring  things; 


They  draw  men's  souls  into  perdition, 

And  when  most  needed,  take  them  to  their  wings. 

Ah,  foolish  man !  that  sets  his  heart  upon 
Such  empty  shadows,  such  wild  fowl  as  these, 
That  being  gotten  will  be  quickly  gone. 
And  whilst  they  stay  increase  but  his  disease. 

As  in  a  dropsy,  drinking  drought  begets, 

The  more  he  drinks,  the  more  he  still  requires; 

So  on  this  world  whoso  affection  sets, 

His  wealth's  increase,  increaseth  his  desires. 

0  happy  man,  whose  portion  is  above 

These  floods,  where  flames,  where  foes  cannot  bereave 

him, 
Most  wretched  man,  that  fixed  hath  his  love 
Upon  this  world  that  surely  will  deceive  him. 

For  what  is  Honour?  what  is  sov'reignty, 
Whereto  men's  hearts  so  restlessly  aspire  ? 
Whom  have  they  crowned  with  felicity?        ^ 
When  did  they  ever  satisfy  desire  ? 

The  ear  of  man  with  hearing  is  not  fill'd; 
To  see  new  lights  still  coveting  the  eye : 
The  craving  stomach,  though  it  may  be  still'd, 
Yet  craves  again  without  a  new  supply. 

All  earthly  things  man's  cravings  answer  not, 
Whose  little  heart  would  all  the  world  contain, 
(If  all  the  world  would  fall  to  one  man's  lot) 
And  notwithstanding  empty  still  remain. 

The  Eastern  conqueror  was  said  to  weep, 
When  he  the  Indian  ocean  did  view, 
To  see  his  conquest  bounded  by  the  deep, 
And  no  more  worlds  remaining  to  subdue. 

Who  would  that  man  in  his  enjoyment  bless, 
Or  envy  him,  or  covet  his  estate, 
Whose  gettings  do  augment  his  greediness, 
And  make  his  wishes  more  intemperate? 

Such  is  the  wonted  and  the  common  guise 
Of  those  on  earth  that  bear  the  greatest  sway  ; 
If  with  a  few  the  ease  be  otherwise, 
They  seek  a  kingdom  that  abides  for  aye. 

Moreover  they,  of  all  the  sons  of  men, 
That  rule,  and  are  in  highest  places  set; 
Are  most  inclined  to  scorn  their  brethren  ; 
And  God  himself  (without  great  grace)  forget. 

For  as  the  sun  doth  blind  the  gazer's  eyes, 

That  for  a  time  they  nought  discern  aright :  4 

So  honour  doth  befool  and  blind  the  wise, 

And  their  own  lustre  'reaves  them  of  their  sight 

Great  are  their  dangers,  manifold  their  cares, 
Thro'  which  whilst  others  sleep,  they  scarcely  nap, 
And  yet  are  oft  surprised  unawares, 
And  fall  unwilling  into  envie's  trap. 

The  mean  mechanic  finds  his  kindly  rest, 
All  void  of  fear  sleepeth  the  country  clown : 
When  greatest  princes  often  are  distrest, 
And  cannot  sleep  upon  their  beds  of  down. 

Could  strength  or  valor  men  immortalize, 
Could  wealth  or  honor  keep  them  from  decay, 
There  were  some  cause  the  same  to  idolize, 
And  give  the  lye  to  that  which  I  do  say. 

But  neither  can  such  things  themselves  endure, 
Without  the  hazard  of  a  change  one  hour, 
Nor  such  as  trust  in  them  can  they  secure 
From  dismal  days,  or  death's  prevailing  pow'r. 

If  beauty  could  the  beautiful  defend 
From  death's  dominion,  then  fair  Absalom 
Had  not  been  brought  to  such  a  shameful  end : 
But  fair  and  foul  unto  the  grave  must  come. 


INCREASE  MATHER ;  COTTON  MATHER. 


59 


If  wealth  or  sceptre3  could  immortal  mate, 
Then  wealthy  Croesus  wherefore  art  thou  dead? 
If  warlike  force,  which  makes  the  world  to  quake, 
Then  why  is  Julius  Csesar  perished  ? 

Where  are  the  Scipio's  thunderbolts  of  war  ? 
Renowned  Pompey,  Csesar's  enemy? 
Stout  Hannibal,  Rome's  terror  known  so  far? 
Great  Alexander,  what's  become  of  thee? 

If  gifts  and  bribes  death's  favour  might  but  win. 
If  pow'r,  if  force,  or  threat'nings  might  it  fray, 
All  these,  and  more,  had- still  surviving  been, 
But  all  are  gone,  for  death  will  have  no  nay. 

Such  is  this  world,  with  all  her  pomp  and  glory: 
Such  are  the  men  whom  worldly  eyes  admire, 
Cut  down  by  time,  and  now  become  a  story, 
That  we  might  after  better  things  aspire. 

Oo  boast  thyself  of  what  thy  heart  enjoys, 
Vain  man!  triumph  in  all  thy  worldly  bliss: 
Thy  best  enjoyments  are  but  trash  and  toys, 
Delight  thyself  in  that  which  worthless  is. 

Omnia  prsetereunt  praeter  amare  Deum. 


INCREASE  MATHER— COTTON  MATHEE. 
Cotton  Mather  had  the  fortune  or  misfortune 
to  be  born  into  the  world  to  sustain  a  great  repu- 
tation. The  Mather  family  had  struck  its  roots 
deep  in  the  New  England  polity.  Richard 
Mather,  the  grandfather,  came  to  America  an 
emigrant  non-conformist  divine  in  1636,  and 
immediately  took  an  important  ecclesiastical  posi- 
tion as  pastor  in  Dorchester.  His  son,  Increase 
Mather,  born  at  that  town  in  1639,  developed 
the  learning  of  the  name.  He  was  a  graduate  of 
Harvard,  of  which  institution  he  became  Presi- 
dent in  1085,  in  his  forty-sixth  year,  when  he 
had  fully  established  himself  in  Church  and  State 
as  the  preacher  of  the  North  Church  in  Boston, 
and  the  opponent  of  the  government  of  diaries 
II.,  in  support  of  the  Colonial  Charter.  He  was 
employed  in  England  on  public  affairs  during  the 
difficult  period  of  the  Revolution  of  1688,  bring- 
ing back  with  him  a  new  rojal  charter,  under 
which  he  had  the  privilege  of  nominating  his 
friend,  Sir  William  Phips,  ai  Governor  to  the 
King.  In  that  age,  when  learned  men  gave 
greater  dignity  to  their  names  in  sonorous  Latin, 
he  was  called  Crescentius  Hatherus,*  and  his 
studies  entitled  him  to  the  honor,  for  he  parsed 
two  thirds  of  the  day  amongst  his  books,  and  left 
behind  him  eighty-live  publications,  a  considerable 
number,  which  was  to  be  very  far  outdistanced 
by  his  bookish  son.  These  productions  of  In- 
crease Mather  are  chiefly  sermons  in  the  theolo- 
gical style  of  the  day.  His  Gases  of  Conscience 
concerning  Witchcraft,  published  in  1693,  bears 
an  historical  value.  The  last  work  of  Increase 
Mather  was  his  Agathangelus,  a  preface  to  his 
son  Cotton's  Ccelestinus*    It  has  this  touching  ad- 


*  Which  famous  John  "Wilson  anagrammatized  into  En  ! 
Chrivtii$  merces  tua.  The  appellation  was  once  an  inconve- 
nience to  Mather  when  he  claimed  some  arrears  of  salary  in 
England;  and  some  ofHeial,  ignorant  of  these  refinements, 
denied  his  personal  identity,  in  consequence  of  his  having 
another  name.  Remarkables  in  the  Life  of  Increase  Mather, 
21. 

T  Cce'estinue.  A  Conversation  in  Heaven,  quickened  and 
assisted,  with  Discoveries  of  things  in  the  Heavenly  World. 
And  some  Relations  of  the  Views  and  Joys  that  have  been 


dress  or  "  Attestation,"  which  does  honor  to  the 
father  and  the  man. 

The  landscape  of  heaven  here  exhibited  is  drawn 
by  one  who,  for  two-and-forty  years,  has,  as  a  son 
with  a  father,  served  with  me  in  the  gospel.  It 
will  be  much  if  these  forty-two  periods  do  not  finish 
our  peregrinations  together  through  the  wilderness. 
For  my  own  part,  1  am  every  hour  looking  and 
longing  for  the  pleasant  land,  where  I  am  sure  I 
shall  not  find  things  as  I  do  here  this  day.  And 
having  been  somewhat  comforted  and  strengthened 
by  the  prospect,  which  is  here,  as  from  the  top  of 
Mount  Pisgah,  taken  of  it,  and  entirely  satisfied  in 
it,  1  commend  it  as  one  of  my  last  legacies  to  the 
people  of  God,  which  I  must  leave  behind  me  in  a 
world  which  has  things  come  and  coming  upon  it, 
which  blessed  are  they  that  are  escaped  from. 

Increase  Mather  married  a  daughter  of  John 
Cotton,  of  eminent  rank  in  the  old  New  Eng- 
land Divinity,  who  gave  the  Christian  name  to 
his  son. 

Where  two  great  names  their  sanctuary  take, 
And  in  a  third  combined  a  greater  make. 

He  died  in  his  eighty-fifth  year,  in  1723,  and  in 
the  sixty-sixth  of  his  ministry.  Theology  was 
long  lived  in  ancient  New  England*  His  life 
was  written  by  his  illustrious  son  with  great 
spirit  and  unction.t 


(f  mabfor. 

Cotton  Mather  wa*  born  in  Boston,  Feb.  12, 
1663.     He  was  well  trained  for  Harvard  by  the 


granted  unto  several  persons  In  the  confines  of  It.  Introduced 
by  Agathangelus,  or,  an  Essay  on  the  Ministry  of  the  Holy 
Angels,  and  recommended  unto  the  people  of  God,  by  tho 
reverend  Dr.  Increase  Mather;  waiting  in  the  daily  expecta- 
tion of  his  departure  to  that  glorious  world.  Boston  :  printed 
by  S.  Kneeland,  for  Nath.  Belknap,  at  his  shop,  the  corner  of 
Scarlett's  Wharffe  and  next  door  to  the  Mitre  Coffee  House. 
1723.    18mo.  pp.  162. 

*  Mr.  J.  P.  Dabney  has  published.  Am.  Quar.  Register,  xiv. 
377,  a  list  of  one  hundred  and  eighty-nine  graduates  6f  Har- 
vard, chiefly  clergymen,  who,  up  to  1S42,  had  reached  or 
passed  the  age  of  eighty-four.  There  are  four  graduates  of 
Harvard  centenarians.  Dr.  Farmer,  in  the  same  work  (x.  39), 
has  published  a  series  of  Ecclesiastical  Statistics,  including  the 
Ases  of  8411  deceased  Ministers  of  the  Gospel,  who  were  gra- 
duated at  Harvard  College,  from  1642  to  1826.  Of  these,  343 
died  at  seventy  and  upwards.  There  are  17  at  ninety  and 
upwards. 

t  Parentator.  Memoirs  of  Remarkables  in  the  Life  and  tho 
Death  of  the  Ever  Memorable  Dr.  Increase  Mather,  who  ex- 
pired August  23, 1723.  2  Kings  ii.  12.  My  Father,  my  Fathor. 
Boston:  Printed  by  B.  Green  for  Nathaniel  Belknap.    1724. 


60 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 


venerable  schoolmaster  Ezekiel  Cheever,*  and  was 
a  precocious  student;  for  at  twelve  years  of  age 
he  had  read  Cicero,  Terence,  Ovid,  and  Virgil, 
the  Greek  Testament,  and  entered  upon  Socrates, 
Homer,  and  the  Hebrew  Grammar.  To  adopt 
the  old  reading  of  Shakespeare, 

From  his  cradle, 
He  was  a  scholar,  and  a  ripe  and  good  one. 

A  mountain  of  learning  and  theology  was 
heaped  upon  his  childhood.  When  he  left  col- 
lege, with  a  handsome  compliment  in  Latin 
from  President  Oakes,  he  employed  himself  for 
several  years  in  teaching.  In  1684,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-one,  he  was  ordained,  when  he 
preached  the  first  time  for  his  grandfather,  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Richard  Mather,  at  Dorchester;  the 
next  Lord's  day  for  his  own  father  at  Boston; 
and  the  Lord's  day  after,  for  his  grandfather 
Cotton  at  Boston.  His  spiritual  life  was  of  an 
earlier  date;  for  in  religion,  he  was  a  divine 
almost  from  his  cradle.  He  had,  as  a  youth, 
acquired  a  habit  of  meditation  and  religious  im- 
provement, modelled  upon  Bishop  Hall's  Occa- 
sional Meditations,  in  which  the  most  familiar 
occurrences  are  chosen  for  remark. 

This  quaintness  suited  the  genius  of  Mather. 
Every  incident  in  life  afforded  him  a  text.  He 
had  a  special  consideration  for  the  winding  up  of 
his  watch.  As  he  mended  his  fire  he  thought  of 
rectifying  his  life;  the  act  of  paring  his  nails 
warned  him  to  lay  aide  "all  superfluity  of 
naughtiness;"  while  "drinking  a  di-h  of  tea"  he 
was  especially  invited  to  fragrant  and  grateful  re- 
flections. He  appropriated  the  time  while  he 
was  dressing  to  particular  speculations,  parcelling 
out  a  different  set  of  questions  for  every  day  in 
the  week.  On  Sunday  morning  he  commented 
on  himself,  as  pastor;  on  Monday,  as  husband 
and  father;  on  Tuesday  he  thought  of  his  rela- 
tions, "taking  a  catalogue  which  began  with  his 
parents  and  extended  as  far  a-;  the  children  of  his 
cousin-germans,"  and,  by  an  odd  distribution,  in- 
terchanging them  sometimes  with  his  enemies; 
Wednesday  he  gave  to  the  consideration  of  the 
church  throughout  the  world;  on  Thursday  he 
turned  over  his  religious  society  efforts;  Friday 
he  devoted  to  the  poor  and  suffering,  and  Satur- 
day he  concluded  with  his  own  spiritual  in- 
terests.t 

To  these  devout  associations  he  added  the 
most  humorous  turns,  not  merely  improving, — a 
notion  readily  entertained — such  similes  of  mortal 
affairs  as  the  striking  of  a  clock  or  the  dying 
flame  of  a  candle,  but  pinning  his  prayers,  on  a 
tall  man,  that  he  might  have  "high  attainments 
in  Christianity ;"  on  a  negro,  that  he  might  be 


*  Cheever,  a  Londoner  by  birth,  was  for  more  than  seventy 
years  a  teacher  in  this  country — at  Newhaven,  Ipswich,  Char- 
lestown,  and  at  Boston,  where  he  passed  the  last  thirty-seven 
years  of  his  life,  till  bis  death,  in  1718,  at  the  venerable  age  of 
ninety-three.  His  Latin  Accidence  had  reached  its  twentieth 
edition  in  1768.  He  also  wrote  on  the  Scripture  Prophecies. 
Cotton  Mather  says,  in  one  of  his  carefully  twisted  elegies, 
that  his  numerous  pupils  employed  the  parts  of  speech  which 
he  taught  them  in  sounding  his  praises: — 

"  With  interjections  they  break  off  at  last, 
But,  ah  is  all  they  use,  wo,  and  alasl" 

The  story  is,  that  Cheever  used  to  boast  of  having  flogged 
seven  of  the  judges  on  the  bench, 
t  Life  by  Samuel  Mather,  50-59. 


washed  white  by  the  Spirit ;  on  a  very  small 
man,  that  he  might  have  great  blessings ;  upon  a 
man  on  horseback,  that  as  the  creature  served 
him,  so  he  might  serve  the  Creator ;  and,  at  the 
suggestion  of  so  suspicious  an  incentive,  savoring 
so  strongly  of  unholy  egotism,  as  a  person  passing 
by  without  observing  him,  "  Lord,  I  pray  thee, 
help  that  man  to  take  a  due  notice  of  Christ."* 

It  may  not  be  unreasonable  to  trace  this  habit, 
with  the  disposition  of  mind  upon  which  it  grew 
in  Mather,  till  he  carried  out  the  doctrine  of  spe- 
cial providence  to  an  excess  which  assumed  the 
worst  forms  of  dyspeptic  and  morbid  suspicion. 
Pious  persons  sometimes  forget  that,  while  Deity 
rales  the  world  with  particular  control,  in  which 
nothing  is  so  small  as  not  to  be  great,  it  becomes 
not  the  ignorance  of  short-sighted  man  to  be  the 
interpreter. 

It  was  probably  one  form  of  this  not  uncom- 
mon delusion  which  led  Cotton  Mather  to  enter- 
so  vigorously  upon  the  prosecution  of  witchcraft. 
Wherever  in  life  he  saw  an  effect,  he  looked 
about  him  for  an  immediate  cause,  and  would 
•take  up  the  nearest  one  which  suited  his  taste 
and  humor.  He  was  undoubtedly  instrumental 
in  fomenting  the  murderous  proceedings  at  Salem ; 
it  would  be  harsh  to  suppose  with  the  deliberate 
intent  of  reviving  a  fading  ecclesiastic  tyranny 
and  priestly  despotism  in  the  land,  but  certainly 
with  an  over-zealous  eagerness  and  inordinate 
credulity.  Wi-er  men  than  Mather,  in  those 
days,  had  a  certain  kind  of  belief  in  the  possi- 
bility of  witchcraft.  Chief  Justice  Hale,  in  1682, 
had  sanctioned  the  punishment  of  death  for  a 
piece  of  intolerable  nonsense  in  England,  and 
witches  had  been  executed  in  New  England  before 
Mather  was  born.  There  was  ju-t  lurking  super- 
stition enough  about  in  the  country,  in  the  thin 
settlements  and  in  the  purlieus  of  the  wilder- 
ness, fostered  by  the  disuse  of  independent  thinking 
under  the  dogmatic  puritan  theology,  to  be  effec- 
tively worked  upon  by  a  credulous,  zealous,  unscru- 
pulous advocate ;  and  such,  for  the  time  being,  was 
Cotton  Mather.  Vanity  appears  to  have  been  his 
ruling  passion,  and  vanity  associated  with  priestly 
power  and  superstition  presents  a  fearful  combi- 
nation for  the  times.  Self-blinded,  he  was  fooled 
by  the  most  transparent  absurdities.  He  gives  an 
account,  in  the  Magnalia-,  of  the  freaks  of  a  young 
girl,  one  of  the  bewitched  family  of  the  Good- 
wins, whom  he  took  into  his  house,  and  who 
played  him  a  variety  of  silly  pranks,  his  relation 
of  which  is  exceedingly  quaint  and  amusing,  all 
of  them  to  be  explained  by  the  mischievous 
caprices  of  the  sex,  with  so  capital  an  object  as 
himself  to  work  upon,  but  which  the  learned 
doctor  in  divinity  magnified  in  the  pulpit — he 
speaks  of  "entertaining  his  congregation  with  a 
sermon"  on  the  subject — and  the  "famous  Mr. 
Baxter"  echoed  in  London,  as  a  "  great  instance, 
with  such  convincing  evidence,  that  he  must  be  a 
very  obdurate  Sadducee,  that  will  not  believe  it." 
This  was  in  1088.  His  Memorable  Providences 
relating  to  Witchcraft  appeared  in  1689.  The 
twenty  executions  of  Salem  took  place  in  1692; 
nineteen  were  hung,  and  another  pressed  to  death, 
by  that  peculiar  institution  of  the  old  English 


*  Life  by  Samuel  Mather,  107-9. 


COTTON  MATHEE. 


Gl 


law,  the  peine  forte  et  dure.  Mather  was  on  the  ! 
spot,  aiding  and  abetting  u  riding  in  the  whirl- 
wind, and  directing  the  storm."  At  the  execu- 
tion of  the  Btergyman,  George  Burroughs,  he  was 
present  among  the  crowd  on  horseback,  address- 
ing the  people,  and  cavilling  at  the  ordination  of 
his  brother  pastor.*  Hi*  Wonders  of  the  Invisible 
World;  being  an  account  of  the  trial  of  several 
witches  lately  executed  in  New  England,!?  tells 
the  story  of  these  melancholy  judicial  crimes, 
with  a  hearty  unction  which  gloats  over  the 
victims.  His  faith  is  as  unrelenting  as  the  zeal 
of  an  antiquarian  or  a  virtuoso.  His  spiritual 
rant,  forgetting  the  appropriate  language  of  the 
scholar  and  the  divine,  anticipates  the  burlesque 
of  a  Maw-worm,  or  the  ravings  of  a  Mucklewrath. 
When  the  witch  mania  had  run  out,  having 
brought  itself  to  a  reductio  ad  absurdum,  by  ; 
venting  suspicions  of  the  diabolical  agencies  of 
the  wife  of  Governor  Phips,  which  was  carrying 
the  matter  quite  too  far,  and  Robert  Galef  had 
published  his  spirited  exposure  of  the  affair  in 
1700,{  Mather  repeating  the  stories  in  the  old  i 
strain  in  the  Magnalia,  makes  no  retraction  of  his  ' 
former  judgments  or  convictions.  In  1723,  in  the 
chapter  of  the  "  Remarkables"  of  his  father,  en- 
titled Troubles  from  the  Invisible  World,  he 
repeats  the  absurd  stories  of  the  "  prodigious  pos-  j 
session  of  devils"  at  Salem.§ 

*  Bancroft's  U.  S.  iii.  92. 

t  The  Wonders  of  tbe  Invisible  World:  being  an  account  of 
the  Tryals  of  Several  Witches,  lately  executed  in  New  England, 
and  of  several  remarkable  curiosities  therein  occurring."  Tu- 
cctlier  with,  1.  Observations  upon  the  nature,  the  number,  and 
the  operations  of  the  Devils.  2.  A  short  narrative  of  a  late 
outrage  committed  by  a  knot  of  witches  in  Swedeland,  very 
much  resembling,  and  so  uir  explaining,  that  under  which  New 
England  has  labored.  3.  Some  councils  directing  a  due  im- 
provement of  the  terrible  things  lately  done  by  the  unusual 
and  amazing  Kange  of  Evil  Spirits  in  New  England.  4.  A 
brief  discourse  upon  those  Temptations  which  are  tbe  more 
ordinary  Devices  of  Satan,  by  Cotton  Mather.  Published  by 
the  special  command  of  his  Excellency  the  Governor  of  the 
Province  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay,  in  New  England.  Printed 
first  at  Boston,  in  New  England ;  and  reprinted  at  London,  for 
John  Dunton,  at  the  Raven,  in  the  Poultry.  1093.     4to.  pp.  93. 

X  More  Wonders  of  the  Invisible  World;  or  the  Wonders 
of  the  invisible  World  Displayed  in  five  parts.  An  account  of  j 
the  sufferings  of  Margaret  Rule,  collected  by  Robert  Calef, 
merchant  of  Boston,  iii  New  England.  London,  1700.  Caief's  '' 
book,  on  its  arrival  in  this  country,  was  publicly  burnt  by  the 
Mather  agency,  in  tbe  college  yard  at  Cambridge.  Samuel 
Mather,  in  the  Life  of  his  Father  (p.  46).  disposes  of  it  more 
summarily  than  posteiity  is  willing  to  do.  "There  was  a 
certain  disbeliever  of  witchcraft,  who  wrote  against  this  book ; 
but  as  the  man  is  dead,  his  book  died  long  before  him."  This 
merchant  of  Boston  deserves  to  be  well  remembered  for  his 
independence  and  acuteness.  He  is  deserving  of  more  special 
notice  than  he  has  received.    He  died  in  1720. 

§  The  witchcraft  executions  had  been  the  work  of  a  few 
clergymen  and  their  friends  in  office,  and  had  been  carried 
through  by  a  special  court  got  up  among  them  for  the  occasion. 
Bancroft  (iii.  88)  assigns  the  "  responsibility  of  the  tragedy1'  to 
the  '■  very  few,  hardly  five  or  six,  in  whose  hands  the  transition 
state  of  the  government  left,  fora  season,  unlimited  influence," 

When  Mr.  Ophtim  published  his  Lecture*  on  this  subject,    ' 
he  was  called  upon  by  a  writer  in  the  public  prints,  to  make    i 
good  his  charge  against  Cotton  Mather,  of  having  exerted  him- 
self to  increase  and  extend  the  frenzy  of  the  public  mind.    He 
produced  in  reply,  an   original    letter  from   Dr.  Mather  to 
Stephen  Sewall,  of  Salem,  in  which  he  manifests  an  oxcessive    | 
earnestness  to  prevent  the  excitement  from  subsiding.    This 
was  written  in  September,  after  the  summer  which  had  wit- 
nessed the  executions  in  Salem,  and  contained  an  importunate    , 
request,  that  Mr.  Sewall  would  furnish  him  with  the  evidence 
given  at  the  trials.     "  Imagine  me  as  obdurate  a  Saddncee  and 
witch-advocate  as  any  among  us ;  address  me  as  one  that  believed 
nothing  reasonable;  and  when  you  have  so  knocked  me  down, 
in  a  spectre  so  unlike  me,  you  will  enable  me  to  box  it  about 
among  my  neighbors  till  it  come,  I  know  not  where  at  last." 
Peabo'dy's  Life.  249.    Chandler  Robbins,  in  his  History  of  the 
Second  Church,  or  Old  North  in  Boston,  has  taken  an  apologe- 
tic view  of  these  transactions,  and  exempted  Mather  from  the 
charge  of  conscious  deception.    "He  may  be  called  a  fool  for 
bis  credulity  ;  but  he  certainly  cannot  be  called  a  knave  for  bis 


The  lesson,  however,  was  not  without  profit  to 
hiin.  "When  a  great  humanitarian  question,  which 
he  was  the  first  to  introduce,  afterwards  came  up, 
in  the  year  1721,  the  new  discovery  of  the  inocu- 
lation for  the  small -pox,  and  the  superstitious 
feeling  of  the  day  was  opposed  to  it,  Mather  set 
himself  against  the  popular  outcry  on  the  side  of 
the  reform.*  It  was  in  vain  now  that  his  op- 
ponents brought  up  the  diabolical  agencies  of  the 
new  remedy.  Mather  had  chosen  the  other  side, 
and  the  wicked  suggestions  of  the  spiritual  world 
were  silenced.  It  was  a  noble  position  for  a  man 
to  hold,  and  he  resolutely  maintained  it.  Even 
as  all  scandal  touching  the  fair  Lady  Mary  Wort- 
ley  Montagu  is  forgotten,  when  she  is  seen  angeli- 
cally bringing  this  protection  for  humanity  from 
Turkey  to  England,  so  may  the  bigotry  and  super- 
stition of  Mather  be  overlooked  when,  not  wait- 
ing for  English  precedents,  he  took  upon  himself 
the  introduction  of  this  new  remedy  in  America. 

In  many  other  respects,  Mather's  memory  de- 
serves to  be  held  in  esteem  by  the  present  genera- 
tion. He  carried  about  with  him  that  indefatigable 
sense  of  usefulness  which  we  associate  with  the 
popular  memory  of  Franklin,  whose  character 
doubtless  he  helped  to  mould.  The  philosopher 
in  his  autobiography,  acknowledges  his  obligations 
to  Dr.  Mather,  in  a  paragraph  in  which  he  asso- 
ciates the  Essays  to  do  goooZvrith  a  book  by  De 
Foe  as  "  perhaps  giving  him  a  turn  of  thinking 
that  had  an  influence  on  some  of  the  principal 
future  events  of  his  life."  He  has  left-  another  me- 
morandum of  this  obligation  in  a  letter  to  Samuel 
Mather,  from  Passey,  May  12,  1784:— "When 
I  was  a  boy,  I  met  with  a  book,  entitled  ;  Essays 
to  do  Good,1  which  I  think  was  written  by  your 
father.  It  had  been  so  little  regarded  by  its 
former  possessor,  that  several  leaves  of  it  were 
torn  out;  but  the  remainder  gave  me  such  a  turn 
of  thinking,  as  to  have  an  influence  ou  my  con- 
duct through  life.3 1 

cunning,"  p.  102.  Quincy  ha?  handled  Mather  less  mildly  in 
his  History  of  Harv.  tTniv.  i.  346. 

*  An  interesting  and  instructive  history  of  the  introduction 
of  inoculation  into  New  England,  will  be  found  in  Mr.  W.  B. 
O.  Peabody's  Life  of  Cotton  Mather,  in  volume  iv.  of  Sparks's 
American  Biography.  uThe  clergy,  who  were  generally  in 
favor  of  inoculation,* supported  it  by  arguments  drawn  from 
medical  science;  while  the  physicians,  who  were  as  much 
united  against  it,  opposed  it  with  arguments  which  were  chiefly 
theological,  alleging  that  it  was  presumptuous  in  man  to  inflict 
disease  on  man,  that  being  the  prerogative  of  the  Most  High." 
Dr.  Zabdiel  Boylston  stood  alone  in  the  faculty.  He  defended 
inoculation  by  ids  pen,  and  promoted  it  by  his  example.  Br. 
Douglass,  a  Scotchman,  a  physician  of  note  in  Boston,  and 
afterwards  the  author  of  "A  Summary,  Historical  and  Political, 
of  the  British  Settlements  in  North  America,"  1760,  was  an  in- 
dignant opponent. 

+  This  letter  also  preserves  an  anecdote  characteristic  of 
both  parties — the  theoretical  Cotton  Mather,  and  the  practi- 
cal Franklin.  "You  mention  your  being  in  your  seventy- 
eighth  year.  I  am  in  my  seventy-ninth.  We  are  grown  old 
together.  It  is  now  more  than  sixty  years  since  I  left  Boston: 
but  I  remember  well  both  your  father  and  grandfather,  having 
heard  them  both  in  the  pulpit,  and  seen  them  in  their  houses. 
The  last  time  I  saw  your  father  was  in  the  beginning  of  1724, 
when  1  visited  him  after  my  first  trip  to  Pennsylvania ;  he 
received  me  in  his  library,  and  on  my  taking  leave,  showed  mo 
a  shorter  way  out  of  the  hous^,  through  a  narrow  passage, 
crossed  by  a  beam  over  head.  We  were  still  talking  as  I  with- 
drew, he  accompanying  me  behind,  and  I  turning  partly  to- 
wards him,  when  he  said  hastily,  '  Stoop,  stoop!'  I  did  not 
understand  him,  till  1  felt  my  head  hit  against  the  beam.  Ho 
was  a  man  who  never  missed  any  occasion  of  giving  instruc- 
tion ;  and  upon  this  he  said  to  me,  'You  are  young,  and  have 
the  world  before  you:  stoop  as  you  go  through  it,  and  you  will 
miss  many  hard  thumps.'  Tliis  advice,  thus  beat  into  my 
head,  has  frequently  been  of  use  to  me :  and  I  often  think  of 
it,  when  I  see  pride  mortified,  and  misfortunes  brought  upon 
people  by  their  carrying  their  heads  too  high." 


62 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Mather  was  always  exercising  his  ingenuity  to 
contribute  something  useful  to  the  world.  He 
was  one  of  the  first  to  employ  the  press  exten- 
sively in  the  dissemination  of  tracts ;  he  early 
lifted  his  voice  in  favor  of  temperance;  he 
preached  and  wrote  for  sailors  ;  he  instructed  ne- 
groes ;  he  substituted  moral  and  sagacious  intellec- 
tual restraints  with  his  children  for  flogging;*  con- 
versation he  studied  and  practised  as  an  art ;  and 
he  was  a  devoted  historiographer  of  his  country 
for  posterit}- — besides  his  paramount  employment, 
according  to  the  full  measure  of  his  day  and  gene- 
ration, of  discharging  the  sacred  duties  of  his 
profession.  Pity  that  any  personal  defects  of 
temperament  or  "follies  of  the  wise"  should 
counterbalance  these  noble  achievements — that 
so  well  freighted  a  bark  should  at  times  experi- 
ence the  want  of  a  rudder.  Good  sense  was  the 
one  stick  occasionally  missing  from  the  enormous 
faggot  of  Mather's  studies  and  opinions. 

The  remark  that  Mather  made  of  one  of  the 
many  opinionists  of  the  times,  whose  notions  did 
not  agree  with  his  own,  or  whose  nonsense,  to 
reverse  the  saying  of  Charles  II.  of  Bishop  Woolly 
and  the  non-conformists,  did  not  suit  his  non- 
sense, that  his  brain  was  a  windmill,  may  be 
applied  to  himself.  He  was  full  of  a  restless,  un- 
easy mental  action.  He  wrote  history  without 
being  an  historian,  and  painted  character  without 
being  a  biographer.  But  he  had  a  great  genius 
for  the  odd  and  the  fantastic. 

One  thing  he  never  could  attain,  though  he 
nearly  inherited  it,  though  his  learning  almost 
irresistibly  challenged  it,  though  he  spiritually 
anticipated  it — the  prize  of  the  presidency  of 
Harvard  College.  One  and  another  was  chosen 
in  preference  to  him.  The  ghostly  authority  of 
the  old  priestly  influence  was  passing  away.  Cot- 
ton Mather  was,  in  age,  a  disheartened  and  dis- 
appointed man.  The  possession,  in  turn,  of  three 
wives  had  proved  but  a  partial  consolation.  One 
of  his  sons  he  felt  compelled  to  disown  ;t  his 
wife  was  subject  to  fits  of  temper  bordering  on 
insanity ;  the  glooms  of  his  own  disposition  grew 
darker  in  age  as  death  approached,  a  friend  whom 
he  was  glad  to  meet,  when  he  expired,  at  the 
completion  of  his  sixty-fifth  year,  the  13th  Feb- 
ruary, 1728.  His  last  emphatic  charge  to  his  son 
Samuel  was,  "  Remember  only  that  one  word, 
'  Fructuosus.' " 

It  was  a  word  which  had  never  been  forgotten 
by  himself — for  his  genius  had  indeed  borne  much 
fruit.  The  catalogue  of  his  printed  works  enu- 
merated by  his  son  Samuel,  at  the  close  of  the  life 


*  The  kind  and  shrewd  disposition  of  Mather  in  this  parti- 
cular is  worthy  of  special  mention.  "He  would  have  his 
children  account  it  a  privilege  to  be  taught;  and  would  some- 
times manage  the  matter  so,  that  refusing  to  teach  them  some- 
thing should  be  looked  upon  as  a  punishment.  The  strain  of 
his  threatenings  therefore  was :  you  shall  not  be  allowed  to 
read,  or  to  write,  or  to  learn  such  a  thing,  if  you  do  not  as  I 
have  bidden  you.  The  slavish  way  of  education,  carried  on 
with  raving,  and  kicking,  and  scourging  (in  schools  as  well  as 
families)  he  looked  upon  as  a  dreadful  judgment  of  God  on  the 
world;  he  thought  the  practice  abominable,  and  expressed  a 
mortal  aversion  to  it." — Lije  by  Samuel  Mather,  p.  17. 

t  His  Diary  speaks  of  bis  "miserable  son,1'  and  threatens  "a 
tremendous  letter  to  my  wicked  son."  Samuel  Mather,  his 
brother,  writes  kindly  of  him  ; — "  The  third  son  was  Increase, 
a  young  man,  well  beloved  by  all  who  knew  him  for  his  supe- 
rior good  nature  and  manners,  his  elegant  wit  and  ready  expres- 
sions. He  went  to  sea,  and  on  his  passage  from  Barbadoes  to 
Newfoundland  was  lost  in  the  Atlantic.1 — Life  of  Cotton  Ma- 
ther, p.  14. 


of  his  father,  which  supplied  us  with  so  many 
characteristic  traits  of  the  man,*  numbers  three 
hundred  and  eighty-two,  a  Cottonian  library  in 
itself,  bearing  date  during  more  than  forty  years, 
from  1686  to  1727.t  As  an  ancient  Roman  Em- 
peror took  for  his  adage,  "  nulla  dies  sine  linea," 
so  Cotton  Mather  may  be  said  to  have  enlarged 
the  motto,  "  no  year  without  a  book,"  for  in  the 
ripe  period  of  his  book  productiveness,  not  a  date 

i  is  missing.     These  publications  were,  many  of 

!  them,  light,  and  occasional  tracts,  single  sermons, 
and  the  like ;  but  there  were  many  among  them 
of  sufficient  magnitude,  and  all  were  greatly  con- 

|  densed.  The  famous  sentence  which  he  wrote  in 
capitals  over  his  study  door,  as  a  warning  to  all 

:  tedious  and  impertinent  visitors,  "  Be  short,"  he 
bore  in  mind  himself  for  his  own  writings  when 
he  approached  that  much  enduring  host,  the  pub- 

j  he.     Books  and  reading  were  his  delight :  he  was 

i  one  of  the  old  folio  race  of  scholars,  the  gluttons 
of  ancient  authors,  transplanted  to  America.  The 
vigorous  pedantic  school  which  grew  up  under 
the  shade  of  Harvard,  in  those  days,  between  the 

i  wilderness  and  the  sea,  was  a  remarkable  feature 
of  the  times. 

Warmly  writes  poetical  John  Adams,  of  New- 
port, of  Mather's  productiveness. 

What  numerous  volumes  scatter'J  from  his  hand, 
Lighten'd  his  own,  and  warm'd  each  foreign  land? 
What  pious  breathings  of  a  glowing  soul 
Live  in  each  page,  and  animate  the  whole? 
The  breath  of  heaven  the  savory  pages  show, 
As  we  Arabia  from  its  spices  know. 
The  beauties  of  his  style  are  careless  strew'd, 
And  learning  with  a  liberal  hand  bestow'd: 
So,  on  the  field  of  Heav'n,  the  seeds  of  fire 
Thick-sown,  but  careless,  all  the  wise  admire.}: 

In  one  of  Mather's  private  thanksgivings,  he 
records  his  gratitude  for  the  usual  rewards  of  a 
pastor's  ministry,  and  adds  as  special  items  of  hap- 
piness, "  my  accomplishments  in  any  points  of 
learning — my  well  furnished  library."  On  ano- 
ther occasion,  he  describes  the  culture  of  his 
genius :  "  I  am  not  unable,  with  a  little  study,  to 
write  in  seven  languages :  I  feast  myself  with  the 
secrets  of  all  the  sciences  which  the  more  polite 


*  Life  of  the  Very  Reverend  and  learned  Cotton  Mather,  D.D. 
and  F.R.S.,  late  Pastor  of  the  North  Church,  in  Boston  ;  who 
died  Feb.  18, 1727-8,  by  Samuel  Mather,  M.A.,  Boston.  Print- 
ed for  Samuel  Gerrish,  in  Cornhill,  1729.  12mo.  pp.  186.  An 
abridgment  of  this  life  was  published  in  London,  1744,  bv  Da- 
vid Jennings,  at  the  suggestion  of  Dr.  Watts,  who  speaks  in 
his  "  Recommendation"  of  his  "  happy  Correspondence  with 
the  Reverend  Dr.  Cotton  Mather,  for  near  twenty  years  before 
his  death  :  as  well  as  with  the  Reverend  Mr.  Samuel  Mather, 
his  son,  ever  since.  I  found  much  of  his  learned  and  pious 
character  very  early,  from  the  spirit  of  his  Letters,  and  of  his 
public  writings,  which  he  favored  me  with  every  year." 

t  Large  as  this  catalogue  is,  and  carefully  prepared  by  his 
son,  it  does  not  include  all  Mather's  publications.  Extensive 
collections  of  them  may  be  found  in  the  Library  of  the  Ameri- 
can Antiquarian  Society  at  Worcester,  which  has  aiso  a  Ma- 
ther alcove  of  weather-beaten  divinity  in  ragged  black  covers, 
as  if  smoked  by  the  fires  of  the  Inquisition,— hardly  one  has  a 
label  left — rich  in  such  old  time  works  as  the  "  Chuicli  Poli- 
tics" of  Voetius,  the  "  Scholastical  Divinity"  of  Henry  Jcanes. 
Bilson's  "Christian  Subjections,"  Sib'sPious  Writings,  relieved 
by  an  old  Latin  volume  of  Henry  More,  of  Erasmus,  and  a  lew 
broken  sets  of  Roman  poets.  Books  which  once  belonged  to 
grandfather,  father,  son,  and  grandson,  Richard,  Increase,  Cot- 
ton, and  Samuel.  There  are  fifty-two  Cotton  Mather  items  on 
the  catalogue  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum.  The  Mather  MSS.  are 
chiefly  in  the  archives  of  the  Mass.  Historical  Society,  and  the 
American  Antiq.  Society. 

t  On  the  Death  of  Dr.  Cotton  Mather,    Poems,  p.  85. 


COTTON  MATHER. 


63 


part  of  mankind  ordinarily  pretend  unto.  I  am 
entertained  with  all  kinds  of  histories,  ancient  and 
modern.  I  am  no  stranger  to  the  curiosities, 
which  by  all  sorts  of  learning  are  brought  unto 
the  curious.  These  intellectual  pleasures  are  far 
beyond  my  sensual  ones."* 

The  great  work  of  Mather,  to  which  many  of 
his  writings  are  properly  appendices,  the  Magno- 
lia Christi  Americana,  is  a  monument  of  these 
studies.  In  its  plan  it  is  a  compound  of  quaint 
English  Dr.  Thomas  Fuller's  Church  History  and 
Worthies  ;  but  in  the  execution,  the  wit  and  saga- 
city of  the  American  are  not  of  so  line  an  edge, 
and  the  poetical  fancy  is  missing.  The  book  pur- 
ports, on  its  title-page,  to  be  The  Ecclesiastical 
History  of  New  England,  from  its  first  Planting 
in  the  year  1620,  unto  the  year  of  our  Lord  1698 ; 
but  includes  also  the  civil  history  of  the  times,  an 
account  of  Harvard  college,  of  the  Indian  wars, 
of  the  witchcraft  "troubles,"  together  with  the 
lives  of  more  than  eighty  individuals,  celebrities 
of  church  and  state.  By  the  year  1718  Mather 
had  published  the  lives  of  no  less  than  one  hun- 
dred and  fourteen  men  and  twenty  women,  and 
more,  says  his  biographer,  afterward3,  "  not  to  say 
anything  of  the  transient  but  honorable  mention 
many  others  have  had  in  the  doctor's  tractates." 
Character  painting,  in  funeral  sermons  and  eu- 
logies, was  one  of  the  strong  points  of  Mather's 
genius,  an  exercise  of  amiability  which  the  poet 
Halleck  has  kindly  remembered  among  the  verses 
in  which  he  has  so  happily  depicted  the  peculi- 
arities of  the  man : 

0  Genius!  powerful  with  thy  praise  or  blame, 
When  art  tiiou  feigning?  when  art  thou  sincere? 

Mather,  who  banned  his  living  friends  with  shame, 
In  funeral  sermons  blessed  them  on  their  bier, 

And  made  their  deathbeds  beautiful  with  fame — 
Fame  true  and  gracious  as  a  widow's  tear 

To  her  departed  darling  husband  given  ; 

Him  whom  she  scolded  up  from  earth  to  heaven. 

Thanks  for  his  funeral  sermons,  they  recall 

The  sunshine  smiling  through  his  folio's  leaves, 

That  makes  his  readers'  hours  in  bower  or  hall 
Joyous  as  plighted  hearts  on  bridal  eves; 

Chasing,  like  music  from  the  soul  of  Saul, 

The  doubt  that  darkens,  and  the  ill  that  grieves ; 

And  honoring  the  author's  heart  and  mind, 

That  beats  to  bless,  and  toils  to  ennoble  human  kind,  j 

The  Magnolia  was  printed  in  London,  in  folio, 
in  1702,  through  the  agency  of  a  friend,  Mr.  Ro- 
bert Hackshaw,  who  bore  the  expense  as  an  act 
of  faith.  It  was  not  till  182fLHiat  it  was  reprinted 
in  America,  at  Hartford.  As  an  historical  work 
its  incidental  liglrts  are  more  valuable  than  its 
direct  opinions;  Kb  credulity  and  prejudice  are 
unbounded,  but  they  painfully  exhibit  the  manage- 
ment of  the  old  ecclesiasticism  of  New  England  ; 
for  the  rest,  its  vigorous  oddity  of  expression  is 
amusing,  and  will  long  attract  the  curious  reader. 
Giving  Mather  every  credit  for  sincerity,  his  judg- 
ment appears  sadly  at  fault :  the  mixture  of  high 
intentions  with  low  puerilities  recalls  to  us  the 
exclamation  of  Coleridge  upon  perusing  a  book 


*  Life  by  Samuel  Mather,  p.  21. 

t  The  whole  of  this  characterization  of  Mather  and  the  old 
Puritan  times  iB  admirable,  balancing  virtues  and  defects  with 
a  poet's  discrimination.  It  is  from  that  quarry  of  the  author's 
portfolio,  the  "  unpublished  poem"  Connecticut, 


of  the  same  school,  John  Reynolds's  old  folio  of 
God's  Revenge  against  Murther,  "Oh,  wdiat  a 
beautiful  concordia  discordantium  is  an  unthink- 
ing, good-hearted  man's  soul." 

The  book  of  Mather's  which  is  mentioned  most 
frequently  after  the  Mogilalia,  is  the  Chris- 
tian Philosopher,  a  collection  of  Natural  Theo- 
logy instances  and  improvements,  leaning  upon 
Boyle,  Ray,  Derham,  and  similar  writers.  Com- 
mencing with  light,  the  planets,  and  such  pheno- 
mena as  snow,  wind,  cold,  he  travels  through 
the  mineral,  vegetable,  and  animal  world,  to  man, 
into  whose  anatomy  he  enters  intimately.  He 
quotes  for  poetry  "  the  incomparable  Sir  Richard 
Blackmore,"  with  whom  he  corresponded^  and 
recognises  "  our  ingenious  Mr.  Waller."  The 
natural  history  is  sometimes  of  the  simplest,  and 
the  moral  improvements  are  overdone.  His  pro- 
totype, Boyle,  in  his  Occasional  Reflections  on 
Several  Subjects,  had  carried  a  good  thing  so  far 
as  to  excite  the  humor  of  Swift,  who  wrote  his 
Pious  Meditation  on  a  Broomstick,  in  parody  of 
his  style.  Mather  adopts  the  popular  credulities 
touching  the  victim  of  the  bite  of  the  tarantula, 
and  narrates  them  with  great  emotion;  and  he 
tells  us,  out  of  Beccone,  that  men,  if  need  requires, 
may  suckle  infants  from  their  breasts.  His  love 
for  the  curiosities  of  reading  will  carry  him  any- 
where for  an  example.  Thus  he  remarks,  "  What 
a  sympathy  between  the  feet  and  the  bowels !  the 
priests  walking  barefoot  on  the  pavement  of  the 
temple,  were  often  afflicted,  as  the  Talmuds  tell 
us,  with  diseases  in  the  bowels.  The  physician 
of  the  temple  was  called  a  bowel  doctor.  Belly- 
aches, occasioned  by  walking  on  a  cold  floor,  are 
cured  by  applying  hot  bricks  to  the  soles  of  the 
feet."  There  is,  however,  an  obvious  good  inten- 
tion to  be  useful  and  devout  everywhere. 

The  Essays  to  do  Good,  an  abridgment  of 
which  has  been  in  popular  circulation  with  "  im- 
provements "  by  George  Bnrder,  the  author  of  the 
"  Village  Sermons,"  may  be  best  described  by 
their  original  title,  in  the  publication  of  1710, 
"  Bonifacius ;  an  Essay  upon  the  Good,  that  is 
to  be  devised  and  designed,  by  those  who  desire 
to  answer  the  Great  End  of  Life,  and  to  do  Good 
while  they  live.  A  Book  offered,  first,  in  Gene- 
ral, unto  all  Christians,  in  a  Personal  Capacity,  or 
in  a  relative:  Then  more  particularly  unto  Magis- 
trates, Ministers,  Physicians,  Lawyers,  School- 
masters, Gentlemen,  Officers,  Churches,  and  unto 
all  Societies  of  a  religious  character  and  intention: 
with  humble  Proposals  of  unexceptionable  me- 
thods to  Do  Good  in  the  world."  The  treatment 
is  ingenious,  and  the  design  affords  a  model  for  a 
wider  treatment  with  reference,  to  all  the  promi- 
nent arts  and  pursuits  of  life. 

Mather,  too,  sometimes,  like  so  many  of  the 
worthies  he  celebrated,  tried  his  hand  upon 
poetry.  Whether  Minerva  was  willing  or  not, 
the  verses  must  be  produced.  He  has  the  gift  of 
Ilolofernes  for  "smelling  out  the.  odoriferous  flow- 
ers of  fancy,  the  jerks  of  invention."  But  the 
puns  and  quibs  which  he  has  for  others  take  a 
more  natural  form  when  he  writes  his  own  sor- 
rows on  the  death  of  his  son  and  daughter. 

The  Psalterium  Amcrieanwn,  published  in 
1718,  was  an  attempt  to  improve  the  careless 
version  of  the  Psalms  then  current,  by  a  translation 
exactly  conformed  to  the  original,  and  written  in 


64 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


blank  verse.  Mr.  Hood,  in  his  History  of  Music, 
speaks  of  the  work  with  respect.  To  the  transla- 
tions were  appended  brief  devotional  and  learned 
comments,  or,  as  the  author  more  pointedly  chal- 
lenges attention  to  them — "  Eveiy  Psalm  is  here 
satellited  with  illustrations,  which  are  not  fetched 
from  the  vulgar  annotations,  but  are  the  more 
fine,  deep,  and  uncommon  thoughts,  which  in  a 
course  of  long  reading  and  thinking  have  been 
brought  in  the  way  of  the  collector.  They  are 
golden  keys  to  immense  treasures  of  Truth." 
Verily,  Mather  understood  well  the  learned  trick 
of  displaying  Lis  literary  wares.* 

This  literal  translation,  "  without  any  jingle  of 
words  at  the  end,"  is  printed  by  Mather  in  the 
several  metres,  separated  from  prose  by  rules  set 
upright  in  the  solid  paragraph.  We  quote  one  of 
them,  restored  to  the  form  of  poetry : — 

PSALM  c. 

Now  unto  the  eternal  God 
Make  you  the  joyful  shouts 
Which  are  heard  in  a  jubilee, 
All  ye  who  dwell  on  earth. 

Yield  service  with  a  shining  jcy 
To  the  eternal  God; 
With  joyful  acclamations  come 
Ye  in  before  His  face. 

Know  that  th'  eternal  God,  He's  God, 
He  made  us,  and  we're  His ; 
We  are  His  people,  and  we  are 
The  sheep  which  He  does  feed. 

With  due  confessions  enter  ye 
His  gates,  His  courts  with  praise ; 
Make  due  confessions  unto  Him ; 
Speak  ye  well  of  His  name. 

For  the  eternal  God  is  good ; 
His  mercy  is  forever; 
And  unto  generations  doth 
His  faithfulness  endure. 

An  immense  unpublished  MS.  of  Mather,  his 
Illustrations  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures,  is  stored 
in '  the  library  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Society,  where  it  is  shown  in  six  volumes  folio, 
of  rough-edged  whity-brown  foolscap,  written  in 
the  author's  round,  exact  hand,  in  double  columns; 
its  magnitude  and  forgotten  theology  bidding  de- 
fiance to  the  enterprise  of  editors  and  publisher*. 
Portions  of  his  Diary,  a  painful  psychological 
curiosity,  are  also  to  be  found  there,  including  the 
torn  leaf  from  which  the  invisible  hand  of  witch- 
craft plucked  a  piece,  according  to  his  declaration, 
before  his  eyes. 

AN  nOfiTATOEY  AND  NECESSARY  ADDRESS,  TO  A  COUNTRY  NOW 
EXTRAORDINARILY  ALARM'D  EY  THE  WRATH  OP  TIIE  DEVIL. 
— PROM  TIIE  WONDERS  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  "WORLD. 

That  the  Devil  is  come  down  unto  us  with  great 
wrath,  we  find,  we  feel,  we  now  deplore.  In  man}' 
wa3's,  for  many  years,  haih  the  Devil  been  assaying 
to  extirpate  the  Kingdom  of  our  Lord  Jesus  here. 
New  England  may  complain  of  the  Devil,  as  in 
Psalm  exxix.  1,  2 :  Many  a  time  have  they  afflictcdme, 
from  my  youth,  may  New  England  now  say  ;  many  a 
time  have  they  afflicted  me  from  my  youth  ;   yet  they 


*  Some  of  his  title-pages  are  exquisite.  Brontologia  Sacra 
is  the  name  lie  gives  to  a  few  sermons  on  remarkable  thunder- 
storms. The  titles  of  several  of  these  occasional  publications 
are,  ATails  Fastened,  or  Proposals  of  Piety  ;  Adversus  Liber- 
tinas  ;  An  Essay  on  Evanydival  Ohediencc. ;  T/ieopolis  Ame- 
ricana, An  Essay  on  the  Golden  Street  of  Vie  Holy  City, 


have  not  prevailed  against  me.  But  now  there  is  a 
more  than  ordinary  affliction,  with  which  the  Ijevil 
is  Galling  of  us:  and  such  an  one  as  is  indeed  Un- 
parallelable.  The  things  confessed  by  Witches,  and 
the  things  endured  by  Others,  laid  together,  amount 
unto  this  account  of  our  Affliction.  The  Devil,  Ex- 
hibiting himself  ordinarily  as  a  small  Black  man, 
has  decoy'd  a  fearful  ki.ot  of  proud,  forward,  igno- 
rant, envious,  and  malicious  creatures,  to  list  them- 
selves in  his  horrid  Service,  by  entring  their  Names 
in  a  Book,  by  him  tendered  unto  them.  These 
Witches,  whereof  above  a  Score  have  now  Con- 
fessed, and  shown  their  Deeds,  and  some  are  now 
tormented  by  the  Devils,  for  Confessing,  have  met 
in  Hellish  Rendezvous,  wherein  the  Confessors  do 
say,  they  have  had  their  diabolical  Sacraments, 
imitating  the  Baptism  and  the  Supper  of  our  Lord. 
In  these  hellish  meetings,  these  Monsters  have  asso- 
ciated themselves  to  do  no  less  a  thing  than,  To  de- 
stroy the  Kingdom  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  these 
parts  of  the  World;  and  in  order  hereunto,  First 
they  each  of  them  have  their  Spectres,  or  Devils, 
commissioned  by  them  and  representing  of  them,  to 
be  the  Engines  of  their  Malice.  By  these  wicked 
Spectres,  they  seize  poor  people  about  the  country, 
with  various  and  bloody  Torments.;  and  of  those 
evidently  Preternatural  torments  there  are  some 
have  dy'd.  They  have  bewitched  some,  even  so  far 
as  to  make  Self  destroyers :  and  others  are  in  many 
Towns  here  and  there  languishing  under  their  Evil 
hands.  The  people  thus  afflicted,  are  miserably 
scratched,  and  bitten,  so  that  the  Marks  are  most 
visible  to  all  the  World,  but  the  causes  utterly 
invisible;  and  the  same  Invisible  Furies  do  most 
visibly  stick  Pins  into  the  bodies  of  the  Afflicted, 
and  scale  them,  and  hideously  distort,  and  disjoint 
all  their  members,  besides  a  thousand  other  sorts  of 
Plague,  beyond  these  of  any  natural  diseases  which 
they  give  unto  them.  Yea,  they  sometimes  drag 
the  poor  people  out  of  their  chambers,  and  carry 
them  over  Trees  and  Hills,  for  divers  miles  together. 
A  large  part  of  the  persons  tortured  by  these  Dia- 
bolical Spectres,  are  horribly  tempted  by  them, 
sometimes  with  fair  promises,  and  sometimes  with 
hard  threatenings,  but  always  with  felt  miseries,  to 
sign  the  Devil's  Laivs  in  a  Spectral  Book  laid  before 
them ;  which  two  or  three  of  these  poor  Sufferers, 
being  by  their  tiresome  sufferirgs  overcome  to  do, 
they  have  immediately  been  released  from  all  their 
miseries,  and  they  appeared  in  Spectre  then  to  Tor- 
ture those  that  were  before  their  fellow-sufferers. 
The  Witches,  which  by  their  covenant  with  the 
Devil  are  become  Owners  of  Spectres,  are  often- 
times by  their  own  Spectres  required  and  compelled 
to  give  their  consent,  for  the  molestation  of  some, 
which  they  had  no  mind  otherwise  to  fall  upon:  and 
cruel  depredations  are  then  made  upon  the  Vicinage. 
In  the  Prosecution  of  these  Witchcrafts,  among  a 
thousand  other  unaccountable  things,  the  Spectres 
have  an  odd  faculty  of  cloatliing  the  most  substan- 
tial and  corporeal  Instruments  of  Torture,  with  In- 
visibility, while  the  wounds  thereby  given  have 
been  the  most  palpable  things  in  the  World;  so  that 
the  Sufferers  assaulted  with  Instruments  of  Iron, 
wholly  unseen  to  the  standers  by,  though,  to  their 
cost,  seen  by  themselves,  have,  upon  snatching, 
wrested  the  Instruments  out  of  the  Spectre's  hands, 
and  every  one  has  then  immediately  not  only  beheld, 
but  handled,  an  Iron  Instrument  taken  by  a  Devil 
from  a  Neighbor.  These  wicked  Spectres  have  pro- 
ceeded so  far,  as  to  steal  several  quantities  of  Monev 
from  divers  people,  part  of  which  Money  has,  before 
sufficient  Spectators,  been  dropt  out  of  the  Air  into 
the  Hands  of  the  Sufferers,  while  the  Spectres  have 
been  urging  them  to  subscribe  their  Covenant  with 


COTTON  MATHER. 


65 


Death.  In  such  extravagant  ways  have  these 
Wretches  propounded,  the  Dragooning  of  as  many 
as  they  can,  into  their  own  Combination,  and  the 
.Destroying  of  others,  with  lingring,  spreading, 
deadly  diseases;  till  our  Country  should  at  last  be- 
come too  hot  for  us.  Among  the  Ghastly  Instances 
of  the  success  which  those  Bloody  Witches  have  had, 
we  have  seen  even  some  of  their  own  Children,  so 
dedicated  unto  the  Devil,  that  in  their  Infancy,  it  is 
found,  the  Imps  have  sucked  them,  and  rendered 
them  Venomous  to  a  Prodigy.  We  have  also  seen 
the  Devil's  first  battries  upon  the  Town  where  the 
first  Church  of  our  Lord  in  this  Colony  was  gathered, 
producing  those  distractions,  which  have  almost 
ruin'd  the  Town.  We  have  seen,  likewise,  the 
Plague  reaching  afterwards  into  the  Towns  far  and 
near,  where  the  Houses  of  good  Men  have  the 
Devils  filling  of  them  with  terrible  vexations! 

This  is  the  descent,  which,  it  seems,  the  devil  has 
now  made  upon  us.  But  that  which  makes  this 
descent  the  more  formidable,  is,  The  Multitude  and 
quality  of  Persons  accused  of  an  interest  in  this 
Witchcraft,  by  the  Efficacy  of  the  Spectres  which 
take  their  name  and  shape  upon  them;  causing 
very  many  good  and  wise  men  to  fear,  that  many 
innocent,  yea,  and  some  virtuous  persons,  are,  by  the 
devils  in  this  matter,  imposed  upon  ;  that  the  devils 
have  obtain'd  the  power  to  take  on  them  tlie  like- 
ness of  harmless  people,  and  in  that  likeness  to  afflict 
other  people,  and  be  so  abused  by  Prestigious 
Dasmoas,  that  upon  their  look  or  touch,  the  afflicted 
shall  be  oddly  affected.  Arguments  from  the  Pro- 
vidence of  God,  o.i  the  one  side,  and  from  our 
charity  towards  man  on  the  other  side,  have  made 
this  now  to  become  a  most  agitated  Co.itroversie 
among  us.  There  is  an  Agony  produced  in  the 
Minds  of  Men,  lest  the  Devil  should  sham  us  with 
Devices,  of  perhaps  a  finer  Thread,  than  was  ever 
yet  practised  upon  the  World.  The  whole  business 
is  become  hereupon  so  Snarled,  and  the  determina- 
tion of  the  Question  one  way  or  another,  so  dismal, 
that  our  Honourable  Judges  have  a  Room  for  Jeho- 
saphat's  Exclamation,  We  know  not  what  to  do  I 
They  have  used,  as  Judges  have  heretofore  done, 
the  Spectral  Evidences,  to  introduce  their  further 
Enquiries  into  the  Lives  of  the  persons  accused ; 
and  they  have  thereupon,  by  the  wonderful  Provi- 
dence of  God,  been  so  strengthened  with  other 
evidences,  that  some  of  the  Witch  Gang  have  been 
fairly  Executed.  But  what  shall  be  done,  as  to 
those  against  whom  the  evidence  is  chiefly  founded 
in  the  dark  world?  Here  they  do  solemnly  demand 
our  Addresses  to  the  Father  of  Lights,  on  their  be- 
half. But  in  the  mean  time,  the  Devil  improves  the  \ 
Darkness  of  this  Affair,  to  push  us  into  a  Blind 
Man's  Buffet,  and  we  are  even  ready  to  be  sinfully, 
yea,  hotly  and  madly,  mauling  one  another  in  the 
dark. 

THE  TARANTULA. — FROM  TnE    "cniUSTTAN   PHILOSOPHER." 

What  amazing  effects  follow  on  the  bite  of  the 
tarantula!  the  patient  is  taken  with  an  extreme  dif- 
ficulty of  breathing,  and  heavy  anguish  of  heart,  a 
dismal  sadness  of  mind,  a  voice  querulous  and  sor- 
rowful, and  his  eyes  very  much  disturbed.  When 
the  violent  symptoms  which  appear  on  the  first  day 
are  over,  a  continual  melancholy  hangs  about  the 
person,  till  by  dancing  or  singing,  or  change  of  air, 
the  poisonous  impressions  are  extirpated  from  the 
blood,  and  the  fluid  of  the  nerves ;  but  this  is  a 
happiness  that  rarely  happens;  nay,  Baglivi,  this 
wicked  spider's  countryman,  says,  there  is  no  expec- 
tation of  ever  being  perfectly  cured.  Many  of  the 
poisoned  are  never  well  but  among  the  graves,  and 
in  solitary  places  ;    and  they  lay  themselves  along 

VOL.  I. — 5 


upon  a  bier  as  if  they  themselves  were  dead :  like 
people  in  despair,  they  will  throw  themselves  into 
a  pit ;  women,  otherwise  chaste  enough,  cast  away 
all  modesty,  and  throw  themselves  into  efery  in- 
decent posture.  There  are  some  colours  agreeable 
to  them,  others  offensive,  especially  black  ;  and  if 
the  attendants  have  their  clothes  of  ungrateful 
colours,  they  must  retire  out  of  their  sight.  The 
music  with  the  dancing  which  must  be  employed 
for  their  cure,  continues  three  or  four  days;  in  this 
vigorous  exercise  they  sigh,  they  are  full  of  com- 
plaints ;  like  persons  in  drink,  they  almost  lose  the 
right  use  of  their  understanding  ;  they  distinguish 
not  their  very  parents  from  others  in  their  treating 
of  them,  and  scarce  remember  any  thing  that  is 
past.  Some  during  this  exercise  are  much  pleased 
with  green  boughs  of  reeds  or  vines,  and  wave  them 
with  their  hands  in  the  air,  or  dip  them  in  the 
water,  or  bind  them  about  their  face  or  neck ;  others 
love  to  handle  red  cloths  or  naked  swords.  And 
there  are  those  who,  upon  a  little  intermission  of 
the  dancing,  fall  a  digging  of  holes  in  the  ground, 
which  they  fill  with  water,  and  then  take  a  strange 
satisfaction  in  rolling  there.  When  they  begin  to 
dance,  they  call  for  swords  and  aet  like  fencers  ; 
sometimes  they  are  for  a  looking-glass,  but  then 
they  fetch  many  a  deep  sigh  at  beholding  them- 
selves. Their  fancy  sometimes  leads  them  to  rich 
clothes,  to  necklaces,  to  fineries  and  a  variety  of 
ornaments  ;  and  they  are  highly  courteous  to  the 
bystanders  that  will  gratify  them  with  any  of  these 
things ;  they  lay  them  very  orderly  about  the  place 
where  the  exercise  is  pursued,  and  in  dancing  please 
themselves  with  one  or  other  of  these  things  by 
turns,  as  their  troubled  imagination  directs  them. 

How  miserable  would  be  the  condition  of  man- 
kind, if  these  animals  were  common  in  every 
country !  But  our  compassionate  God  has  confined 
them  to  one  little  corner  of  Italy  ;  they  are  exist- 
ing  elsewhere,  but  nowhere  thus  venomous,  except 
in  Apulia.  My  God,  I  glorify  thy  compassion  to 
sinful  mankind,  in  thy  restraints  upon  the  poisons 
of  the  tarantula. 

THE  LIFE  OF  MR.  RALPH  PARTRIDGE — FROM  THE   "  MAGNALIA." 

When  David  was  driven  from  his  friends  into  the 
wilderness,  he  made  this  pathetical  representation 
of  his  condition,  "  'Twas  as  when  one  doth  hunt  a 
partridge  in  the  mountains."  Among  the  many  wor- 
thy persons  who  were  persecuted  into  an  American 
wilderness,  for  their  fidelity  to  the  ecclesiastical  king- 
dom of  our  true  David,  there  was  one  that  bore  the 
name  as  well  as  the  state  of  an  hunted  partridge. 
What  befel  hirn,  was,  as  Bede  saith  of  what  was 
done  by  Fselix,  Juxta  nominis  sui  Sacramentum. 

This  was  Mr.  Ralph  Partridge,  who  for  no  fault 
but  the  delicacy  of  his  good  spirit,  being  distressed 
by  the  ecclesiastical  setters,  had  no  defence,  neither 
of  beak  nor  clam,  but  a  fight  over  the  ocean. 

The  place  where  he  took  covert  was  the  colony  of 
Plymouth,  and  the  town  of  Duxbury  in  that  colony. 

This  Partridge  had  not  only  the  iunocency  of  the 
dove,  conspicuous  in  his  blameless  and  pious  life, 
which  made  him  very  acceptable  in  his  conversation, 
but  also  the  loftiness  of  an  eagle,  in  the  great  soar  of 
his  intellectual  abilities.  There  are  some  interpret- 
ers who,  understanding  church  officers  by  the  living 
creatures,  in  the  fourth  chapter  of  the  Apocalypse, 
will  have  the  teacher  to  be  intended  by  the  eagle 
there,  for  his  quick  insight  into  remote  and  hidden 
tilings.  The  church  of  Duxbury  had  such  an  eagle 
in  their  Partridge,  when  they  enjoyed  such  a  teacher. 

By  the  same  token,  when  the  Platform  of  Church 
Discipline  was  to  be  composed,  the  Synod  at  Cam- 
bridge appointed  three  persons  to  draw  up  each  of 


66 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN"  LITERATURE. 


them,  "  a  model  of  church-government,  according  to 
the  word  of  God,"  unto  the  end  that  out  of  those  the 
synod  might  form  -what  should  be  found  most  agree- 
able ;  which  three  persons  were  Mr.  Cotton,  and  Mr. 
Mather,  and  Mr.  Partridge.  So  that,  in  the  opinion 
of  that  reverend  assembly,  this  person  did  not  come 
far  behind  the  first  two  for  some  of  his  accomplish- 
ments. 

After  he  had  been  forty  years  a  faithful  and  pain- 
ful preacher  of  the  gospel,  rarely,  if  ever,  in  all  that 
while  interrupted  in  his  work  by  any  bodily  sick- 
ness, he  died  in  a  good  old  age,  about  the  year  1G58. 

There  was  one  singular  instance  of  a  wearied  spirit, 
whereby  he  signalized  himself  unto  the  churches  of 
God.  That  was  this :  there  was  a  time  when  most 
of  the  ministers  in  the  colony  of  Plymouth  left  the 
colony,  upon  the  discouragement  which  the  want  of 
a  competent  maintenance  among  the  needy  and  fro- 
ward  inhabitants  gave  unto  tliem.  Nevertheless 
Mr.  Partridge  was,  notwithstanding  the  paucity  and 
the  poverty  of  his  congregation,  so  afraid  of  being 
anything  that  looked  like  a  bird  wandering  from  his 
nest,  that  he  remained  with  his  poor  people  till  he 
took  wing  to  become  a  bird  of  paradise,  along  with 
the  winged  seraphim  of  heaven. 

EPITAPHIUM. 

Avolavit. 

MINISTRY  OF  ANGELS — FROM  "  C(ELESTTNU8." 

"When  the  Angel  of  the  Lord  encamps  round  about 
those  that  fear  Him,  the  next  news  is,  They  that 
seek  the  Lord  shall  want  nothing  that  is  good  for 
them.  O  servant  of  God,  art  thou  afraid  of  wants, 
of  straits,  of  difficulties?  The  angels  who  poured 
down  at  least  250,000  bushels  of  manna  day  by  day 
unto  the  followers  of  God  in  the  wilderness;  the 
angel  that  brought  meat  unto  the  Prophet;  the 
angel  that  showed  Hagar  and  her  son  how  to  supply 
themselves;  who  can  tell  what  services  they  may  do 
for  thee !  Art  thou  in  danger  by  sicknesses  ?  The 
angel  who  strengthened  the  feeble  Daniel,  the  angel 
who  impregnated  the  waters  of  Bethesda  with  such 
sanative  and  balsamic  virtues;  who  can  tell  what 
services  they  may  do  for  thee !  Art  thou  iu  danger 
from  enemies?  The  angel  who  rescued  Jacob  from 
Laban  and  from  Esau ;  the  angel  who  fetched  Peter 
out  of  prison,  who  can  tell  what  services  they  may 
do  for  thee  1  The  angels  which  directed  the  Patri- 
arch in  his  journeys,  may  give  a  direction  to  thy 
steps,  when  thou  art  at  a  loss  how  to  steer.  The 
angels  who  moved  the  Philistines  to  dismiss  David ; 
the  angels  who  carried  Lot  out  of  Sodom ;  the  angels 
who  would  not  let  the  lions  fall  upon  Daniel,  they 
are  still  ready  to  do  as  much  for  thee,  when  God 
thy  Saviour  shall  see  it  seasonable.  And  who  can 
tell  what  services  the  angels  of  God  may  do  for  the 
servants  of  God,  when  their  dying  hour  is  coming 
upon  them;  then  to  make  their  bed  for  them,  then 
to  make  all  things  easy  to  them.  When  we  are 
in  our  agonies,  then  for  an  angel  to  come  and 
strengthen  us ! 

The  holy  angels,  who  have  stood  by  us  all  our 
life,  will  not  forsake  us  at  our  death.  It  was  the 
last  word  of  a  Divine,  dying  in  this,  but  famous  in 
other  countries ;  O  you  holy  angels,  come,  do  your 
office.  'Tis  a  blessed  office,  indeed,  which  our  Sa- 
viour sends  his  holy  angels  to  do  for  us  in  a  dying 
hour.  At  our  dissolution  they  will  attend  us,  they 
will  befriend  us,  they  will  receive  us,  they  will  do 
inconceivable  things  as  a  oonvoy  for  us,  to  set  us 
before  the  presence  of  our  Saviour  with  exceeding 
joy.  0  believer,  why  art  thou  so  afraid  of  dying? 
What!  afraid  of  coming  into  the  loving  and  the 
lovely  hands  of  the  holy  angels  I     Afraid  of  going 


from  the  caverns  of  the  earth,  which  are  full  of  bru- 
tish people,  and  where  thy  moan  was,  My  soul  is 
among  lions,  and  I  lie  among  them  that  are  set  on 
fire,  even  among  the  sons  of  men ;  and  afraid  of  going 
to  dwell  among  those  amiable  spirits,  who  have 
rejoiced  in  all  the  good  they  ever  saw  done  unto 
thee ;  who  have  rejoiced  in  being  sent  by  thy  God 
and  theirs,  times  without  number,  to  do  good  unto 
thee ;  who  have  rejoiced  in  the  hopes  of  having  thee 
to  be  with  them,  and  now  have  what  they  hoped  for 
by  having  thee  associated  with  them  in  the  satisfac- 
tions of  the  heavenly  world!  Certainly,  thou  wilt 
not  be  afraid  of  going  to  those,  whom  thou  hast 
already  had  so  sweet  a  conversation  with. 

It  was  a  good  Memento  written  on  the  door  of 
a  study  that  had  much  of  Heaven  in  it:  Angeli 
Astant;  there  are  Holy  Angels  at  hand. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  nIS  SON. 


on  his  gravestone,  "  Reserved  for  a  glori- 
ous Resurrection." 

The  exhortation  of  the  Lord, 

With  consolation  speaks  to  us, 
As  to  his  children  his  good  word, 

We  must  remember  speaking  thus : 

My  child,  when  God  shall  chasten  thee, 
His  chastening  do  thou  not  contemn : 

When  thou  his  just  rebukes  dost  see, 
Faint  not  rebuked  under  them. 

The  Lord  with  fit  afflictions  will 

Correct  the  children  of  his  love  ; 
He  doth  himself  their  father  still, 

By  his  most  wise  corrections  prove. 

Afflictions  for  the  present  here, 

The  vexed  flesh  "will  grievous  call, 
But  afterwards  there  will  appear, 

Not  grief,  but  peace,  the  end  of  alL 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  mS  DAUGHTER. 

The  motto  inscribed  on  her  gravestone,  "  Gone,  but  not  lost" 
The  dearest  Lord  of  heaven  gave 

Himself  an  offering  once  for  me : 
The  dearest  thing  on  earth  I  have, 
Now,  Lord,  I'll  offer  unto  Thee. 

I  see  my  best  enjoyments  here, 

Are  loans,  and  flowers,  and  vanitie"  ■ 

Ere  well  enjoyed  they  disappear: 

Vain  smoke,  they  prick  and  leave  our  eyes. 

But  I  believe,  0  glorious  Lord, 

That  when  I  seem  to  lose  these  toys, 

What's  lost  will  fully  be  restored 
In  glory,  with  eternal  joys. 

I  do  believe,  that  I  and  mine, 

Shall  come  to  everlasting  rest; 
Because,  blest  Jesus,  we  are  thine, 

And  with  thy  promises  are  blest. 

I  do  believe,  that  every  bird 

Of  mine,  which  to  the  ground  shall  fall, 
Does  fall  at  thy  kind  will  and  word ; 

Nor  I,  nor  it,  is  hurt  at  all. 

Now  my  believing  soul  does  hear, 

This  among  the  glad  angels  told: 
I  know  thou  dost  thy  Maker  fear, 

From  whom  thou  nothing  dost  withhold ! 

BENJAMIN  TOMPSON". 

Benjamin  Tompson,  "learned  schoolmaster  and 
physician,  and  y"  renowned  poet  of  New  Eng- 
land," according  to  the  eulogistic  language  of  his 
tombstone,  was  born  in  1640,  and  graduated  at 
Harvard  in  1662.     He  was  master  of  the  public 


BENJAMIN  TOMPSON. 


67 


school  in  Boston  from  1667  to  1670,  when  he 
received  a  call  and  removed  to  Cambridge.  He 
died  April  13,  1714,  and  is  buried  at  Roxbury .* 

He  was  the  author  of  an  Elegy  on  the  Rev. 
Samuel   Whiting  of  Lynn,  who  died  December 
11,  1679,  which  is  printed  in  the  Hagnalia.     He 
also  figures  in  the  same  volume  among  the  rhym- 
ing eulogists  at  its  commencement,  where  he  turns 
a  compliment  with  some  skill. 
Quod  patrios  Manes  revoensti  a  sedibus  nltis, 
Sylvestres  Mubsb  grates,  Matuere,  rependunt. 
Haee  nova  Progenies,  veterum  sub  Imagine,  coelo 
Arte  tua  terrain  visitans,  demissa,  salutat. 
Grata  Deo  pietas;  grates  persolvimus  onines; 
Semper  honos,  uomenque  luum,  Matheee,  manebunt. 

Is  the  bless'd  Mather  necromancer  turn'd, 
To  raise  His  country's  fatliers'  ashes  urn'd? 
Elisha's  dust,  life  to  the  dead  imparts ; 
This  prophet,  by  his  more  familiar  arts, 
Unseals  our  heroes'  tombs,  and  gives  them  air ; 
They  rise,  they  walk,  they  talk,  look  wondrous  fair ; 
Each  of  them  in  an  oi'b  of  light  doth  shine, 
In  liveries  of  glory  most  divine. 
When  ancient  names  I  in  thy  pages  met, 
Like  gems  on  Aaron's  costly  breastplate  set, 
Methinks  heaven's  open,  while  great  saints  descend, 
To  wreathe  the  brows  by  which  their  acts  were 
penn'd. 

His  chief  production  is  a  poem  entitled  New  Eng- 
land's Crisis.  The  piece,  after  an  eulogy  on  certain 
patriotic  women,  who  turned  out  to  build  a  wall 
for  the  defence  of  the  town,  gives  a  comparison 
between  old  times  and  new  in  the  colony,  in  which 
he  assigns  the  palm,  as  usual  in  such  discussiotS, 
at  least  in  poetry,  to  the  days  gone  by ;  and  then 
passes  to  King  Philip's  war,  with  which  the  re- 
mainder is  occupied. 

ON  A  FOETTFICATION  AT  BOSTON  BEGUN  BT  WOltEN. 

Dux  fomvina  fatdi, 

A  grand  attempt  some  Amazonian  Dames 
Contrive  whereby  to  glorify  their  names, 
A  ruff  for  Boston  Neck  of  mud  and  turfe, 
Reaching  from  side  to  side,  from  surf  to  surf, 
Their  nimble  hands  spin  up  like  Christmas  pyes, 
Their  pastry  by  degrees  on  high  doth  rise. 
The  wheel  at  home  counts  in  an  holiday, 
Since  while  the  mistress  worketh  it  may  play. 
A  tribe  of  female  hands,  but  manly  hearts, 
Forsake  at  home  their  pasty  crust  and  tarts, 
To  knead  the  dirt,  the  samplers  down  they  hurl, 
Their  undulating  silks  they  closely  furl. 
The  piek-axe  one  as  a  commandress  holds, 
While  t'other  at  her  awk'ness  gently  scolds. 
One  puffs  and  sweats,  the  other  mutters  why 
Cant  you  promove  your  work  so  fast  as  I  ? 
Some  dig,  some  delve,  and  others'  hands  do  feel 
The  little  waggon's  weight  with  single  wheel. 
And  least  some  fainting-fits  the  weak  surprize, 
They  want  no  sack  nor  cakes,  they  are  more  wise. 
These  brave  essays  draw  forth  male,  stronger  hands, 
More  like  to  dawbers  than  to  marshal  bands ; 
These  do  the  work,  and  sturdy  bulwarks  raise, 
But  the  beginners  well  deserve  the  praise. 

THE  PEOLOGTTE. 

The  times  wherein  old  Pompion  was  a  saint, 
When  men  fared  hardly  yet  without  complaint, 
On  vilest  cntes;  the  dainty  Indian  maize 
Was  eat  with  clamp-shells  out  of  wooden  trays, 

*  Kettell's  Specimens  of  American  Poetry,  Vol.  i.  xxxvii. 


Under  thatch'd  hurts  without  the  cry  of  rent, 
And  the  best  sawce  to  every  dish,  content. 
When  flesh  was  food  and  hairy  skins  made  coats, 
And  men  as  well  as  birds  had  chirping  notes. 
When  Cimnels  were  aceouuted  noble  bloud; 
Among  the  tribes  of  common  herbage  food. 
Of  Ceres'  bounty  form'd  was  many  a  knack, 
Enough  to  fill  poor  Robin's  Almanack. 
These  golden  times  (too  fortunate  to  hold,) 
Were  quickly  sin'd  away  for  love  of  gold. 
T  was  then  among  the  bushes,  not  the  street, 
If  one  in  place  did  an  inferior  meet, 
"  Good  morrow,  brother,  is  there  aught  you  want? 
"  Take  freely  of  me,  what  I  have  you  ha'nt." 
Plain  Tom  and  Dick  would  pass  as  current  now. 
As  ever  since  "  Your  Servant  Sir,"  and  bow. 
Deep-skirted  doublets,  puritanic  capes, 
Which  now  would  render  men  like  upright  apes, 
Was  comlier  wear,  our  wiser  fathers  thought, 
Than  the  cast  fashions  from  all  Europe  brought, 
'T  was  in  those  days  an  honest  grace  would  hold 
Till  an  hot  pudding  grew  at  heart  a  cold. 
And  men  had  better  stomachs  at  religion, 
Than  I  to  capon,  turkey-cock,  or  pigeon ; 
When  honest  sisters  met  to  pray,  not  prate, 
About  their  own  and  not  their  neighbour's  state. 
During  Plain  Dealing's  reign,  that  worthy  stud 
Of  the  ancient  planters'  race  before  the  flood, 
Then  times  were  good,  merchants  car'd  not  a  rush 
For'other  fare  than  Jonakin  and  Mush. 
Although  men  far'd  and  lodged  very  hard, 
Yet  innocence  was  better  than  a  guard. 
'T  was  long  before  spiders  and  worms  had  drawn 
Their  dungy  webs,  or  hid  with  cheating  lawne 
New  England's  beautyes,  which  still  seem'd  to  me 
Illustrious  in  their  own  simplicity. 
'T  was  ere  the  neighbouring  Virgin-Land  had  broke 
The  hogsheads  of  her  worse  than  hellish  smoak. 
'T  was  ere  the  Islands  sent  their  presents  in, 
Which  but  to  use  was  counted  next  to  sin. 
'T  was  ere  a  barge  had  made  so  rich  a  freight 
As  chocolate,  dust-gold  and  bitts  of  eight. 
Ere  wines  from  France  and  Muscovadoe  to, 
Without  the  which  the  drink  will  scarsly  doe. 
From  western  isles  ere  fruits  and  delicacies 
Did  rot  maids'  teeth  and  spoil  their  handsome  faces. 
Or  ere  these  times  did  chance,  the  noise  of  war 
Was  from  our  towns  and  hearts  removed  far. 
No  bugbear  comets  in  the  chrystal  air 
Did  drive  our  christian  planters  to  despair. 
No  sooner  pagan  malice  peeped  forth 
But  valour  snib'd  it.     Then  were  men  of  worth 
Who  by  their  prayers  slew  thousands,  angel-like; 
Their  weapons  are  unseen  with  which  they  strike. 
Then  had  the  churches  rest ;  as  yet  the  coales 
Were  covered  up  in  most  contentious  souls: 
Freeness  in  judgment,  union  in  affection, 
Dear  love,  sound  truth,  they  were  our  grand  pro- 
tection. 
Then  were  the  times  in  which  our  councells  sate. 
These  gave  prognosticks  of  our  future  fate. 
If  these  be  longer  liv'd  our  hopes  increase, 
These  warrs  will  usher  in  a  longer  peace. 
But  if  New  England's  love  die  in  its  youth, 
The  grave  will  open  next  for  blessed  truth. 
This  theame  is  out  of  date,  the  peacefull  hours 
When  castles  needed  not,  but  pleasant  bowers. 
Not  ink,  but  bloud  and  tears  now  serve  the  turn 
To  draw  the  figure  of  New  England's  urne. 
New  England's  hour  of  passion  is  at  hand; 
No  power  except  divine  can  it  withstand. 
Scarce  hath  her  glass  of  fifty  years  run  out, 
But  her  old  prosperous  steeds  turn  heads  about. 
Tracking  themselves  back  to  their  poor  beginnings, 
To  fear  and  fare  upon  their  fruits  of  sinnings. 


6S 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


So  that  the  mirror  of  the  christian  world 
Lyes  burnt  to  heaps  in  part,  her  streamers  furl'd. 
Grief  sighs,  joyes  flee,  and  dismal  fears  surprize 
Not  dastard  spirits  only,  but  the  wise. 
Thus  have  the  fairest  hopes  deceiv'd  the  eye 
Of  the  big-swoln  expectant  standing  by : 
Thus  the  proud  ship  after  a  little  turn, 
Sinks  into  Neptune's  arms  to  find  its  urne: 
Thus  hath  the  heir  to  many  thousands  born 
Been  in  an  instant  from  the  mother  torn : 
Even  thus  thine  infant  checks  begin  to  pale, 
And  thy  supporters  through  great  losses  fail. 
This  is  the  Prologue  to  thy  future  woe, 
The  Epilogue  no  mortal  yet  can  know. 

OUE  FOREFATHERS'  SONG. 
This  song  is  stated  in  the  Massachusetts  Histo- 
rical Collections  to  have  been  "  taken  memoriter, 
in  1785,  from  the  lips  of  an  old  lady  at  the 
advanced  period  of  96."  It  is  also  found  in  the 
Massachusetts  Magazine  for  January,  1791.  Botli 
copies  are  identical.  It  is  of  an  early  date,  and 
has  been  carried  back  to  the  year  1630.  Four 
lines  in  the  stanza  before  the  last  appear  missing. 

New  England's  annoyances  you  that  would  know 

them, 
Pray  ponder  these  verses  which  briefly  doth  shew 

them. 
The  place  where  we  live  is  a  wilderness  wood, 
Where  grass  is  much  wanting   that's  fruitful  and 

good: 
Our  mountains  and  hills  and  our  vallies  below, 
Being  commonly  covered  with  ice  and  with  snow  ; 
And  when  the  north-west  wind  with  violence  blows, 
Then  every  man  pulls  his  cap  over  his  nose : 
But  if  any's  so  hardy  and  will  it  withstand, 
He  forfeits  a  finger,  a  foot  or  a  hand. 

But  when  the  Spring  opens  we  then  take  the  hoe, 
And  make  the  ground  ready  to  plant  and  to  sow ; 
Our  corn  being  planted  and  seed  being  sown, 
The  worms  destroy  much  before  it  is  grown ; 
And  when  it  is  growing  some  spoil  there  is  made, 
By  birds  and  by  squirrels  that  pluck  up  the  blade ; 
And  when  it  is  come  to  full  corn  in  the  ear, 
It  is  often  destroyed  by  raccoon  and  by  deer. 

And  now  our  garments  begin  to  grow  thin, 
And  wool  is  much  wanted  to  card  and  to  spin  ; 
If  we  can  get  a  garment  to  cover  without, 
Our  other  in-garments  are  clout  upon  clout : 
Our  clothes  we  brought  with  us  are  apt  to  be  torn, 
They  need  to  be  clouted  soon  after  they're  worn, 
But  clouting  our  garments  they  hinder  us  nothing, 
Clouts  double,  are  warmer  than  single  whole  cloth- 
ing. 

If  fresh  meat  be  wanting,  to  fill  up  our  dish, 

We  have  carrots  and  turnips  as  much  as  we  wish  ; 

And  is  there  a  mind  for  a  delicate  dish 

We  repair  to  the  clam-banks,  and  there  we  catch 

fish. 
Instead  of  pottage  and  puddings,  and  custards  and 

pies, 
Our  pumpkins  and  parsnips  are  common  supplies ; 
We  have  pumpkins  at  morning,  and  pumpkins  at 

noon, 
If  it  was  not  for  pumpkins  we  should  be  undone. 

If  barley  be  wanting  to  make  into  malt. 
We  must  be  contented,  and  think  it  no  fault ; 
For  we  can  make  liquor  to  sweeten  our  lips, 
Of  pumpkins  and  parsnips  ana  walnut  tree  chips. 


Now  while  some  are  going  let  others  be  coming, 
For  while  liquor's  boiling  it  must  have  a  scumming; 
But  I  will  not  blame  them,  for  birds  of  a  feather, 
By  seeking  their  fellows  are  flocking  together. 
But  you  whom  the  Lord  intends  hither  to  bring, 
Forsake  not  the  honey  for  fear  of  the  sting ; 
But  bring  both  a  quiet  and  contented  mind, 
And  all  needful  blessings  you  surely  will  find. 

THOMAS  MAKIN. 

Thomas  Makin  was  the  author  of  two  Latin 
poems  addressed  to  James  Logan,  and  found 
among  his  papers  after  his  death  ;  they  are  entitled, 
Encomium  Pennsylvania!,  and  In  laudcs  Pennsyl- 
vania poema,  seu  descriptio  Pennsylvania?,  and 
bear  date  in  1728  and  1729.  The  second  is 
"  principally  retained,"  as  he  phrases  it,  by  Robert 
Proud,  who  adds  an  English  translation  by  him- 
self, in  his  History  of  Pennsylvania.  Makin 
was  an  usher  under  George  Keith,*  in  1689,  in 
the  Friends'  Public  Grammar  School  in  Philadel- 
phia, and  succeeded  him  as  principal  in  the  follow- 
ing year.  He  was  frequently  chosen  clerk  of  the 
Provincial  Assembly,  but  his  school  not  proving 
productive,  he  removed  to  the  interior.f  His 
verses  describing  the  features  of  town  and  coun- 
try appear  to  have  been  written  for  amusement, 
and  belong  to  the  curiosities  of  literature.  We 
give  a  brief  passage  of  both  the  rural  and  city 
descriptions. 

Hie  avis  est  quaedam  dulci  celeberrima  voce, 
Qua;  variare  sonos  usque  canendo  solet. 

Hie  avis  est  qusedam  minima  et  pulcherrima  pluinis, 
Sugere  qua;  fiores  usque  volando  solet. 

Laide  fugam  muscaj  in  morem  properare  videtur, 
Tanquam  non  oculis  aspicienda  diu. 

Hie  avis  est  qua;dam  rubro  formosa  colore, 

Gutture  qua;  pluinis  est  maculata  nigris. 
Hie  avis  est  repeteus,  Whip,  Whip,  Will,  voce  jocosu  ; 

Qua;  tota  verno  tempore  nocte  canit. 
Hie  et  aves  alia;,  quotquot  generantur  ab  ovis, 

Scribere  jam  quarmn  nomina  inane  foret, 
Innumera;  volitare  solent  hie  sa;pe  columba; ; 

Unde  frequens  multis  obvia  piseda  datur. 

Hie  testate  solet  tanquam  ttere  gaudeat  alto, 
Tollere  se  ex  summis  ssepe  acipenser  aquis. 

Qui  salit  ac  resilit  toties  (mirabile  visu) 
In  cymbas  ingens  pra;da  aliquando  cadit. 

P.egius  hie  piseis  miuime  pretiosus  habetur  ; 
Karior  est  at  ubi,  carior  est  et  ibi. 

'Tis  here  the  mocking  bird  extends  his  throat, 
And  imitates  the  birds  of  ev'ry  note ; 
'Tis  here  the  smallest  of  the  feather'd  train. 
The  humming  bird,  frequents  the  flow'ry  plain. 


*  George  Keith,  celebrated  both  as  an  advocate  and  opponent 
of  the  Quakers,  was  born  in  Aberdeen,  and  came  to  East 
Jersey  in  16S2,  where  be  was  appointed  surveyor-general.  He 
was.  as  we  have  seen,  at  the  bead  of  a  school  in  Philadelphia 
in  16S9.  In  1691,  after  having  made  a  propagandist  tour  in 
New  England,  he  left  the  sect  with  a  few  followers,  tho 
eeceders  calling  themselves  Christian  Quakers.  He  not  long 
after  took  orders  in  the  Church  of  England,  officiated  about  ii 
year  in  New  York  and  Boston,  and  travelled  through  the 
settlements  as  a  missionary.  He  returned  to  England  in  17(;6, 
and  passed  the  remainder  of  his  life  as  rector  of  Edburton  in 
Sussex.  He  published  in  1706  a  Journal  of  Travels  from  New 
Hampshire  to  Caratuck,  which  was  reprinted  in  1S52  by  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  Historical  Society,  in  the  first  volume  of 
their  Collections,  and  a  number  of  controversial  works,  which 
were  not  deficient  in  energy. 

+  Proud's  History,  ii.  861.  Some  Account  of  the  Early  Poets 
and  Poetry  of  Pennsylvania,  by  Joshua  Francis  Fisher.  Penn. 
Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  vol.  h.,  pt.  2,  p.  78. 


JOHN"  JOSSELTN. 


69 


Its  motion  quick  seems  to  elude  the  eye  ; 
It  now  a  bird  appears,  and  now  a  fly. 

The  various  woodpeckers  here  charm  the  sight ; 
Of  mingled  red,  of  beautious  black  and  white. 
Here  whip-per-will ;  a  bird,  whose  fanci'd  name 
From  its  nocturnal  note  imagined,  came. 
Here,  in  the  fall,  large  flocks  of  pigeons  fly, 
So  numerous,  that  they  darken  all  the  sky. 
Here  other  birds  of  ev'ry  kind  appear, 
Whose  names  would  be  too  long  to  mention  here. 

Large  sturgeons  num'rons  crowd  the  Delaware  ; 
"Which,  in  warm  weather,  leap  into  the  air; 
So  higli,  that  (strange  to  tell !)  thej'  often  fly 
Into  the  boats,  which  on  the  river  ply ! 
That  royal  fish  is  little  valu'd  here  ; 
But  where  more  scarce,  'tis  more  esteemed  and  dear. 

Pulehra  duos  inter  6ita  stat  Philadelphia  rivos; 

Inter  quos  duo  sunt  millia  longa  via;. 
Delawar  hie  major,  Sculkil  minor  ille  vocatur ; 

India  et  Suevis  notus  uterque  diu. 
^Edibus  ornatur  multis  urbs  limite  longo, 

Qua;  parva  eniicuit  tempore  magna  brevi. 
Hie  plateas  mensor  spatiis  delineat  recmis, 

Et  domui  recto  est  ordine  juneta  domus. 
Quinque  sacra;  hac  a;des  una  numerantur  in  urbe, 

Altera  non  etiam  distat  ab  urbe  procul. 
Ex  quibus  una  alias  est  qua;  supereminet  omnes ; 

Cujus  nondum  ingeus  perficiatur  opus. 
Prtecinit  hie  sacros  divina  melodia  psalmos: 

Et  vox  totius  succinit  inde  chori. 
Elevet  hoc  hominum  mentes,  et  mulceat  aures, 

Sed  cor  devotum  psallit  in  aure  Dei. 
Basis  huic  posita  est  excelsa;  firma  futurse 

Turns,  ubi  dicunt  a;ra  sonora  fore. 
Hie  in  gymnasiis  linguae  doeentur  et  artes 

Ingenua; ;  multis  doctor  &  ipse  fui. 
Una  schola  hie  alias  etiarn  supereminet  omnes 

Romano  et  Grwco  qua;  docet  ore  loqui. 

Fair  Philadelphia  next  is  rising  seen, 
Between  two  rivers  plac'd,  two  miles  between ; 
The  Delaware  and  Sculkil,  new  to  fame, 
Both  ancient  streams,  j'et  of  a  modern  name, 
The  city,  form'd  upon  a  beautious  plan, 
Has  many  houses  built,  tho'  late  began ; 
Rectangular  the  streets,  direct  and  fair ; 
And  rectilinear  all  the  ranges  are. 
Five  houses  here  for  sacred  use  are  known, 
Another  stands  not  far  without  the  town. 
Of  these  appears  one  in  a  grander  style, 
But  yet  unfinished  is  the  lofty  pile. 
Here  psalms  divine  melodious  accents  raise, 
And  choral  symphony  sweet  songs  of  praise: 
To  raise  the  mind,  and  sooth  the  pious  ear  ; 
But  God  devoted  minds  doth  always  hear. 
A  lofty  tow'r  is  founded  on  this  ground, 
For  future  bells  to  make  a  distant  sound. 
Here  schools,  for  learning,  and  for  arts,  are  seen ; 
In  which  to  many  I've  a  teacher  been : 
But  one,  in  teaching,  doth  the  rest  excel, 
To  know  and  speak  the  Greek  and  Latin  welk 

JOIIN  JOSSELYK 
Tiie  first  mention  we  have  of  John  Josselyn  is 
from  his  own  words,  that  he  set  sail  for  New 
England  April  26,  and  arrived  at  Boston  on  the 
3d  of  July,  1638.  Here  he  "presented  his  re- 
spects to  Mr.  Winthrop  the  governor,  and  to  Mr. 
Cotton  the  teacher  of  Boston  church,  to  whom  he 
delivered,  from  Mr.  Francis  Quarles  the  poet,  the 
translation  of  the  16,  25,  51,  88,  113,  and  137 
Psalms  into  English  meter."  lie  returned  to 
England  in  October  of  the  following   year.     A 


storm  which  occurred  on  his  voyage  seems  to  have 
made  him  poetical.     He  thus  discourses : 

And  the  bitter  storm  augments ;    the  "wild  winds 

wage 
"War  from  all  parts ;  and  join  with  the  6ea's  rage. 
The  sad  clouds  sink  in  showers;  you  would  have 

thought, 
That     high-swoln-seas     even     unto    Heaven     had 

wrought 
And  Heaven  to  seas  descended :  no  star  Bhown  ; 
Blind  night  in  darkness,  tempests  and  her  own 
Dread  terrors  lost;  yet  this  dire  lightning  turns 
To  more  fear'd  light ;  the  sea  with  lightning  burns. 
The  pilot  knew  not  what  to  chuse  or  fly, 
Art  stood  arnaz'd  in  ambiguity. 

He  thus  commences  the  recital  of  his  second 
voyage. 

I  have  heard  of  a  certain  merchant  in  the  west  of 
England,  who  after  many  great  losses,  walking  upon 
the  sea  bank  in  a  calm  sun-shining  day ;  observing 
the  smoothness  of  the  sea,  coming  in  with  a  che- 
quered or  dimpled  wave:  Ah  (quoth  he)  thou  flat- 
tering element,  many  a  time  hast  thou  inticed  me  to 
throw  myself  and  my  fortunes  into  thy  arms ;  but 
thou  hast  hitherto  proved  treacherous;  thinking  to 
find  thee  a  mother  of  increase,  I  have  found  thee  to 
be  the  mother  of  mischief  and  wickedness;  yea  the 
father  of  prodigies;  therefore,  being  now  secure,  I 
will  trust  thee  no  more.  But  mark  this  man's  reso- 
lution a  while  after,  periculum  maris  spes  lucri 
superat.  So  fared  it  with  me,  that  having  escaped 
the  dangers  of  one  voyage,  must  needs  put  on  a 
resolution  for  a  second,  wherein  I  plowed  many  a 
churlish  billow  with  little  or  no  advantage,  but 
rather  to  my  loss  and  detriment.  In  the  setting 
down  whereof  I  propose  not  to  insist  in  a  methodical 
way,  but  according  to  my  quality,  in  a  plain  and 
brief  relation  as  I  have  done  already;  for  I  perceive, 
if  I  used  all  the  art  that  possibly  I  could,  it  "would 
be  difficult  to  please  all,  for  all  men's  eyes,  ears,  faith, 
and  judgments  are  not  of  a  size.  There  be  a  sort  of 
stagnant  stinking  spirits,  who,  like  flies,  lie  sucking 
at  the  botches  of  carnal  pleasures,  and  never  tra- 
velled so  much  sea  as  is  between  Heth  ferry  and 
Lyon  Key ;  yet  notwithstanding  (sitting  in  the  chair 
of  the  scornful  over  their  whists  and  draughts  of 
intoxication)  I  will  desperately  censure  the  relations 
of  the  greatest  travellers.  It  was  a  good  proviso  of 
a  learned  man,  never  to  report  wonders,  for  in  so 
doing  of  the  greatest  he  will  be  sure  not  to  be  be- 
lieved, but  laughed  at,  which  certainly  bewrays 
their  ignorance  and  want  of  discretion.  Of  fools 
and  madmen  then  I  shall  take  no  care,  I  will  not 
invite  these  in  the  least  to  honour  me  with  a  glance 
from  their  supercilious  eyes ;  but  rather  advise  them 
to  keep  their  inspection  for  their  fine  tougu'd  ro- 
mances and  plays.  This  homely  piece,  I  protest 
ingenuously,  is  prepared  for  such  only  who  well 
know  how  to  make  use  of  their  charitable  construc- 
tions towards  works  of  this  nature,  to  whom  I  submit 
myself  in  all  my  faculties,  and  proceed  in  my  second 
voyage. 

He  sailed  May  23d,  1663,  and  returned  De- 
cember 1,  1671 — the  interval  of  eight  and  a  half 
years  having  been  passed  in  New  England.  He 
published,  the  year  after  his  return,  New  Eng- 
land's Rarities  Discovered*     In  it  he  gives  us  a 


*  New  England's  Rarities  Discovered  in  Birds,  Beasts, 
Fishes,  Serpents,  and  Plants  of  that  Country;  Together  with 
the  Physical  and  Chyrurjrical  Remedies  wherewith  the  Na- 
tives constantly  use  to  cure  their  Distempers,  Wounds,  and 
Sores.    Also  a  Perfect  Description  of  an  Indian  Squa,  in  all 


70 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


glimpse  of  Boston  in  1663.  "  The  buildings  are 
handsome,  joining  one  another  as  in  London,  with 
many  large  streets,  most  of  them  paved  with 
pebble  stcSte;  in  the  high  street  towards  the 
Common  there  are  fair  buildings,  some  of  stone, 
and  at  the  east  end  of  the  town  one  amongst  the 
rest,  built  by  the  shore  by  Mr.  Gibs  a  merchant, 
which  it  is  thought  will  stand  him  in  less  than 
80001.  before  it  be  fully  finished.  The  town  is 
not  divided  into  parishes,  yet  they  have  three  fair 
meeting  houses  or  churches,  which  hardly  suffice 
to  receive  the  inhabitants  and  strangers  that  come 
in  from  all  parts." 

He  next  issued  a  brief  work  entitled,  An  Ac- 
count of  Two  Voyages  to  New  England* 

His  books  are  mainly  occupied  with  a  view  of 
the  natural  history  of  the  country,  but  he  occa- 
sionally gives  us  some  hints  of  the  inhabitants, 
and  is  uniformly  amusing.  He  also  published  in 
1674,  Chronological  Observations  of  America, 
from  the  year  of  the  World  to  the  year  of  Christ, 
1673. 

JOHN  WILLIAMS, 

The  author  of  the  Redeemed  Captive,  was  born 
at  Roxbury,  Massachusetts,  December  16,  1664, 
where  his  grandfather  had  settled  in  the  year 
1638,  on  his  emigration  from  England.  By  the 
aid  of  his  maternal  grandfather,  William  Park,  he 
received  a  liberal  education,  and  was  graduated 
at  Harvard  at  the  age  of  nineteen.  In  the  spring 
of  1686  he  became  the  first  minister  of  Deerfield. 
This  was  a  post  of  unusual  peril,  as  the  place,  then 
a  frontier  settlement,  the  first  houses  in  which 
were  erected  in  1671,  had  suffered  since  1675 
continued  attacks  from  the  Indians  engaged  in 
King  Philip's  war.  It  was  burnt  by  these  savages 
after  their  slaughter  of  Captain  Lathrop  and  his 
company,  on  the  18th  of  September,  1675,  and 
the  site  was  not  again  permanently  occupied  by 
the  whites  until  1682.  In  1693,  depredations  re- 
commenced. Attacks  were  made  from  time  to 
time  on  the  fort  by  parties  of  French  and  Indians, 
and  on  the  29th  February  (O.S.)  1704,  the  place 
was  taken,  destroyed  by  fire,  some  thirty-eight 
of  the  townspeople  slain,  and  about  one  hundred 
carried  into  captivity,  among  whom  were  Mr. 
"Williams,  his  wife  (who  was  murdered  on  the 
route),  and  children.  They  were  marched  through 
the  wilderness  to  Montreal,  where  they  arrived 
about  the  end  of  March.  They  remained  in  Ca- 
nada until  October  25,  1706,  when  fifty-seven 


her  Bravery;  -with  a  Poem  not  improperly  conferred  upon 
her.  Lastly,  a  chronological  table  of  the  most  remarkable  pas- 
sages in  that  country  among  the  English.  Illustrated  with 
cuts.  By  John  Josselyn,  Gent.  London,  printed  for  G.  Wid- 
dows.    1672. 

*  An  Account  of  Two  Voyages  to  New  England;  wherein 
you  have  the  setting  out  of  a  ship  with  the  charges,  &c.  By 
John  Josselyn,  Gent.  Menner.  distich  rendred  English  by 
Dr.  Heylin. 

Heart,  take  thine  ease, 
Men  hard  to  please 

Thou  haply  inight'st  offend, 
Though  one  speak  ill 
Of  thee,  some  will 

Say  better;  there's  an  end. 
London,  printed  by  Giles  Widdows,  at  the  Green  Dragon 
In  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  1674 


were  removed  in  a  vessel  sent  from  Boston  to 
that  city,  where  they  arrived  on  the  21st  of  No- 
vember following.  A  portion  of  the  remainder 
had  fallen  from  fatigue  or  violence  on  the  march 
or  died  during  their  captivity,  and  some  preferred 
to  remain  with  their  Indian  captors.  Williams 
with  two  of  his  children  returned,  and  in  the 
March  following  published  his  work  on  his  cap- 
tivity,* one  of  the  most  interesting  productions  in 
our  early  literature. 

He  was  invited  immediately  after  his  arrival  to 
return  to  Deerfield,  and,  although'  the  situation 
was  still  perilous,  ventured  on  his  old  field  of 
labor.  Here  lie  married  a  daughter  of  Captain 
Allen,  of  Windsor,  Connecticut.  The  town  had 
been  rebuilt  after  its  destruction  in  1704,  and 
was  again  attacked  in  1709,  but  the  assailants, 
finding  the  inhabitants  prepared  to  give  them  a 
warm  reception,  withdrew.  Soon  after  this 
Williams  was  appointed  a  commissioner  in  the 
expedition  to  Canada,  under  the  command  of 
Col.  Stoddard,  undertaken  to  redeem  the  prisoners 
yet  remaining  there.  The  attempt  was  success- 
ful in  several  instances,  but  not  in  obtaining  the 
daughter  of  Mr.  Williams.  The  remainder  of  his 
life  was  passed  in  comparative  tranquillity,  and 
he  died  at  Deerfield,  June  12,  1729,  leaving  eight 
children. 

The  Redeemed  Captive  has  been  frequently 
reprinted.  The  last  edition  (published  by  Hop- 
kins, Bridgman  &  Co.,  Northampton,  Mass.)  is 
excellently  edited  with  a  life  of  the  writer,  to 
which  we  have  been  mainly  indebted  in  the 
present  sketch,  and  an  account  of  his  descendants 
by  one  of  their  number,  Dr.  Stephen  W.  Williams. 
We  present  a  passage  from  the  record  of  the 
perilous  and  painful  journey. 

We  travelled  not  far  the  first  day  ;  God  made  the 
heathen  so  to  pity  our  children,  that  though  they 
had  several  wounded  persons  of  their  own  to  carry 
upon  their  shoulders,  for  thirty  miles,  before  they 
came  to  the  river,  yet  they  carried  our  children, 
incapable  of  travelling,  in  their  arms,  and  upon  their 
shoulders.  When  we  came  to  our  lodging  place, 
the  first  night,  they  dug  away  the  snow,  and  made 
some  wigwams,  cut  down  some  small  branches  of 
the  spruce-tree  to  lie  down  on,  and  gave  the  prison- 
ers somewhat  to  eat ;  but  we  had  but  little  appetite. 
I  was  pinioned  and  bound  down  that  night,  and  so 
I  was  every  night  whilst  I  was  with  the  army. 
Some  of  the  enemy  who  brought  drink  with  them 
from  the  town  fell  to  drinking,  and  in  their  drunken 
fit  they  killed  my  negro  man,  the  only  dead  person 
I  either  saw  at  the  town,  or  in  the  way. 

In  the  night  an  Englishman  made  his  escape ;  in 
the  morning  (March  1),  I  was  called  for,  and  ordered 
by  the  general  to  tell  the  English,  that  if  any  more 
made  their  escape,  they  would  burn  the  rest  of  the 
prisoners.  He  that  took  me  was  unwilling  to  let 
me  speak  with  any  of  the  prisoners,  as  we  marched ; 
but  on  the  morning  of  the  second  day,  he  being  ap- 
pointed to  guard  the  rear,  I  was  put  into  the  hands 
of  my  other  master,  who  permitted  me  to  speak  to 
my  wife,  when  I  overtook  her,  and  to  walk  with  her 


*  The  Redeemed  Captive  returning  to  Zion  :  or  a  faithful 
history  of  remarkable  occurrences  in  the  captivity  and  deliver- 
ance of  Mr.  John  Williams,  Minister  of  the  Gospel  in  Deerfield, 
who  in  the  desolation  which  befel  that  plantation  by  an  incur- 
sion of  the  French  and  Indians,  was  by  them  carried  awav. 
with  his  family  and  his  neighbourhood,  into  Canada.  Drawn 
up  by  himself. 


JOHN  LEDERER. 


71 


to  help  her  in  her  journey.  On  the  way,  we  dis- 
coursed of  the  happiness  of  those  who  had  a  right  to 
an  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens ;  and  God  for  a  father  and  friend  ;  as  also, 
that  it  was  our  reasonable  duty  quietly  to  submit  to 
the  will  of  God,  and  to  say,  "  The  will  of  the  Lord 
be  done."  My  wife  told  me  her  strength  of  body 
began  to  fail,  and  that  I  must  expect  to  part  with 
her;  saying,  she  hoped  God  would  preserve  my 
life,  and  the  life  of  some,  if  not  of  all  our  children 
with  us ;  and  commended  to  me,  under  God,  the 
care  of  them.  She  never  spake  any  discontented 
word  as  to  what  had  befallen  us,  but  with  suitable 
expressions  justified  God  iu  what  had  happened. 
We  soon  made  a  halt,  in  which  time  my  chief  sur- 
viving master  came  up,  upon  which  I  was  put  upon 
marching  with  the  foremost,  aud  so  made  my  last 
farewell  of  my  dear  wife,  the  desire  of  my  eyes,  and 
companion  in  many  mercies  and  afflictions.  Upon 
our  separation  from  each  other,  we  asked  for  each 
other  grace  sufficient  for  what  God  should  call  us 
to.  After  our  being  parted  from  one  another,  she 
spent  the  few  remaining  minutes  of  her  stay  in 
reading  the  Holy  Scriptures ;  which  she  was  wont 
personally  every  day  to  delight  her  soul  in  reading, 
praying,  meditating  on,  by  herself,  in  her  closet, 
over  and  above  what  she  heard  out  of  them  iu  our 
family  worship.  I  was  made  to  wade  over  a  small 
river,  and  so  were  all  the  English,  the  water  above 
knee  deep,  the  stream  very  swift ;  and  after  that  to 
travel  up  a  small  mountain ;  my  strength  was 
almost  spent,  before  I  came  to  the  top  of  it.  No 
sooner  had  I  overcome  the  difficulty  of  that  ascent, 
but  I  was  permitted  to  sit  down,  and  be  unburdened 
of  my  pack.  I  sat  pitying  those  who  were  behind, 
and  entreated  my  master  to  let  me  go  down  and 
help  my  wife  ;  but  he  refused,  and  would  not  let  me 
stir  from  him.  I  asked  each  of  the  prisoners  (as 
they  passed  by  me)  after  her,  aud  heard  that, 
passing  through  the  above-said  river,  she  fell  down, 
and  was  plunged  over  head  and  ears  in  the  water  ; 
after  which  she  travelled  not  far,  for  at  the  foot  of 
that  mountain,  the  cruel  and  blood-thirsty  savage 
who  took  her  slew  her  with  his  hatchet  at  one 
stroke,  the  tidings  of  which  were  very  awfuL  Aud 
yet  such  was  the  hard-heartedness  of  the  adversary, 
that  my  tears  were  reckoned  to  me  as  a  reproach. 
My  loss  and  the  loss  of  my  children  was  great;  our 
hearts  were  so  filled  with  sorrow,  that  nothing  but 
the  comfortable  hopes  of  her  being  taken  away,  in 
mercy  to  herself,  from  the  evils  we  were  to  see,  feel, 
and  suffer  under,  (and  joined  to  the  assembly  of  the 
epirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  to  rest  in  peace, 
and  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,  and  the  good 
pleasure  of  God  thus  to  exercise  us,)  could  have  kept 
us  from  sinking  under,  at  that  time.  That  Scrip- 
ture, Job  i.  21,  "  Naked  came  I  out  of  my  mother's 
womb,  and  naked  shall  I  return  thither  :  the  Lord 
gave,  aud  the  Lord  hath  taken  away ;  blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord," — -was  brought  to  my  mind,  and 
from  it,  that  an  afflicting  God  was  to  be  glorified ; 
with  some  other  places  of  Scripture,  to  persuade  to 
a  patient  bearing  my  afflictions. 

We  were  again  called  upon  to  march,  with  a  far 
heavier  burden  on  my  spirits  than  on  my  back.  I 
begged  of  God  to  overrule,  in  his  providence,  that 
the  corpse  of  one  so  dear  to  me,  and  of  one  whose 
spirit  he  had  taken  to  dwell  with  him  in  glory, 
might  meet  with  a  Christian  burial,  and  not  be  left 
for  meat  to  the  fowls  of  the  air  and  beasts  of  the 
earth ,  a  mercy  that  God  graciously  vouchsafed  to 
grant.  For  God  put  it  into  the  hearts  of  my  neigh- 
bors, to  come  out  as  far  as  she  lay,  to  take  up  her 
corpse,  carry  it  to  the  town,  and  decently  to  bury  it 
soon  after.     In  our  march  they  killed  a  sucking  in- 


fant of  one  of  my  neighbors ;  and  before  night  a  girl 
of  about  eleven  years  of  age.  I  was  made  to  mourn, 
at  the  consideration  of  my  flock  being,  so  far,  a  flock 
of  slaughter,  many  being  slain  iu  the  town,  and  so 
many  murdered  in  so  few  miles  from  the  town  ; 
and  from  fears  what  we  must  yet  expect,  from  such 
who  delightfully  imbrued  their  hands  in  the  blood 
of  so  many  of  His  people.  When  we  came  to  our 
lodging  place,  an  Indian  captain  from  the  eastward 
spake  to  my  master  about  killing  me,  and  taking  off 
my  scalp.  I  lifted  up  my  heart  to  God,  to  implore 
his  grace  aud  mercy  in  such  a  time  of  need ;  and 
afterwards  I  told  my  master,  if  he  intended  to  lull 
me,  I  desired  he  would  let  rue  know  of  it;  assuring 
him  that  my  death,  after  a  promise  of  quarter,  would 
bring  the  guilt  of  blood  upon  him.  He  told  me  he 
would  not  kill  me.  We  laid  down  and  slept,  for 
God  sustained  and  kept  us. 

Mr.  S.  G.  Drake,  of  Boston,  has  preserved  in 
his  Indian  Captivities,  and  Booh  of  the  Indians, 
a  number  of  original  narratives,  of  a  character 
similar  to  that  of  Williams,  forming  a  collection 
of  much  historical  value.  These  will  always 
retain  their  place  in  popular  interest,  but  from 
their  necessary  resemblance  of  subject  and  treat- 
ment to  the  "  Redeemed  Captive,"  do  not  call 
for  separate  notice. 

JOHN  LEDEEEE. 

Jonsr  Ledeeer,  the  first  explorer  of  the  AUe- 
ganies,  prepared  an  account  of  his  Three 
several  Marches  from  Virginia  to  the  toest  of 
Carolina  and  other  parts  of  the  continent,  begun 
in  March,  1669,  and  ended  in  September,  1670;* 
in  Latin,  which  was  translated  by  Sir  William 
Talbot,  and  published  in  1672.  The  address  to 
the  reader,  by  Talbot,  informs  us, 

That  a  stranger  should  presume  (though  with  Sir 
William  Berkly's  commission)  to  go  into  those  parts 
of  the  American  continent  where  Englishmen  never 
had  been,  and  whither  some  refused  to  accompany 
him,  was,  in  Virginia,  looked  on  as  so  great  an  inso- 
lence, that  our  traveller,  at  his  return,  instead  of 
welcome  and  applause,  met  nothing  but  affronts  and 
reproaches;  for,  indeed,  it  was  their  part  that  for- 
sook him  in  the  expedition,  to  procure  him  discredit 
that  was  a  witness  to  theirs.  Therefore  no  industry 
was  wanting  to  prepare  men  with  a  prejudice 
against  him,  and  this  their  malice  improved  to  such 
a  general  animosity,  that  he  was  not  safe  in  Vir- 
ginia from  the  outrage  of  the  people,  drawn  into  a 
persuasion,  that  the  public  levy  of  that  year  went 
all  to  the  expense  of  his  vagaries.  Forced  by  this 
storm  into  Maryland,  he  became  known  to  me, 
though  then  ill  affected  to  the  man,  by  the  stories 
that  went  about  of  him.  Nevertheless,  finding  him, 
contrary  to  my  expectation,  a  modest,  ingenious  per- 
son, and  a  pretty  scholar,  I  thought  it  common  jus- 
tice to  give  him  an  occasion  of  vindicating  himself 
from  what  I  had  heard  of  him ;  which  truly  he  did, 
with  so  convincing  reason  and  circumstance  as  quite 
abolished  those  former  impressions  in  me,  and  made 
me  desire  this  account  of  his  Travels. 

Lederer  does  not  appear  in  either  of  his  ex- 
peditions to  have  penetrated  further  than,  in  his 


*  The  Discoveries  of  John  Lederer,  in  three  sever.il  marches 
from  Virginia,  to  the  west  of  Carolina,  and  other  parts  of  the 
continent:  be^un  in  March  1660,  and  ended  in  September  1G70. 
Together  with  A  general  Map  of  the  whole  Territory  which  he 
traversed.  Collected  and  Translated  out  of  Latine,  from  his 
Discourse  and  Writings,  by  Sir  William  Talbot,  Baronet, 
London:  printed  by  J.  C,  for  Samuel  Ileyrick,  1672. 


72 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


own  words,  "  to  the  top  of  the  Apalata?an  moun- 
tains." His  tract  contains  but  twenty-seven 
quarto  pages,  a  portion  of  which  is  tilled  with 
accounts  of  the  Indians.  His  "Conjectures  of 
the  Land  beyond  the  Apalatcean  Mountains  "  are 
curious : 

They  are  certainly  in  a  great  error,  who  imagine 
that  the  continent  of  North  America  is  but  eight  or 
ten  da3-s'  journey  over  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  In- 
dian ocean:  which  all  reasonable  men  must  acknow- 
ledge, if  they  consider  that  Sir  Francis  Drake  kept 
a  west-north-west  course  from  Cape  Mendocino  to 
California.  Nevertheless,  by  what  I  gathered  from 
the  stranger  Indians  at  Akeuatzy,  of  their  voyage 
by  sea  to  the  very  mountains  from  a  far  distant 
north-west  country,  I  am  brought  over  to  their 
opinion  who  think  that  the  Indian  ocean  does 
stretch  an  arm  or  bay  from  California  into  the  con- 
tinent, as  far  as  the  Apalatcean  mountains,  answer- 
able to  the  gulfs  of  Florida  and  Mexico  on  this  side. 
Yet  I  am  far  from  believing  with  some,  that  such 
great  and  navigable  rivers  are  to  be  found  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Apalatoeans  falling  into  the  Indian 
ocean,  as  those  which  run  from  them  to  the  east- 
ward. My  first  reason  is  derived  from  the  know- 
ledge and  experience  we  already  have  of  South 
America,  whose  Andes  send  the  greatest  rivers  in 
the  world  (as  the  Amazon  and  the  Rio  de  la  Plata, 
&c.)  into  the  Atlantiek,  but  none  at  all  into  the 
Pacifique  Sea.  Another  argument  is,  that  all  our 
waterfowl,  which  delight  in  lakes  and  rivers,  as 
swanB,  geese,  ducks,  <fee.,  come  over  the  mountains 
from  the  lake  of  Canada,  when  it  is  frozen  over 
every  winter,  to  our  fresh  rivers :  which  they  would 
never  do,  could  they  find  any  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Apalatoeans.* 

FEANCIS  KNAPP. 
Francis  Knapp,  the  son  of  George  Knapp,  of 
Chilton,  in  Berkshire,  was  born  in  the  year  1672, 
and  matriculated  at  St.  John's  college,  Oxford.f 
His  father,  a  captain  in  the  British  navy,  com-' 
mantled  a  ninety-gun  ship  on  the  American  coast 
in  the  early  part  of  the  last  century.  The  son 
came  to  America  to  take  possession  of  some  lands 
acquired  by  his  grandfather  at  Watertown,  near 
Boston,  where  he  passed  the  remainder  of  his 
life,  engaged  in  the  quiet  pursuits  of  a  scholar. 
He  was  a  composer  of  music,  and  the  author  of 
a  poetical  Ejihtle  to  Mr.  B.,  reprinted  in  J.  | 
Nichols's  "  Select  Collection  of  Poems,  1780,"  and 
of  a  poetical  address  to  Mr.  Pope,  on  his  Wind- 
sor Forest,  dated  June  7,  1715,  which  appears 
among  the  commendatory  poems  prefixed  to  the 
first  and  subsequent  editions  of  that  poet's  works. 
It  is  claimed  by  Samuel  L.  Knapp,  in  his  Ameri- 
can Biography,  as  an  American  production,  but 
in  a  note  by  William  Roscoe  to  his  edition  of 
Pope,  is  said  to  have  been  written  in  Killala, 
Mayo  county,  Ireland. 

The  Epistle  in  Nichols  is  a  well-penned  satire 
on  the  author  tribe,  with  an  ungenerous  flin<r  at 


*  "A  Mapp  of  Virginia  discovered  to  ye  Hills,11 1651,  makes 
the  distance  less  than  three  hundred  miles  from  the  southern- 
most cape  of  Delaware  to  ''the  Sea  of  China,  and  the  Indies/' 
The  author  of  "A  Perfect  Description  of  Virginia,"  sent  from 
Virginia  at  the  request  of  a  gentleman  of  worthy  note,  who 
desired  to  know  the  true  state  of  Virginia  as  it  now  stands,  re- 
printed in  Vol.  ix.  of  the  Second  Series  Mass.  Hist  Soc.  Coll., 
has  a  similar  opinion  with  Lederer  as  to  rivers  running  west 
from  the  Alleganies.  Account  by  John  Penington.  of  Plan- 
tagenet's  New  Albion.    Penn.  Hist.  MemoirB,  Vol.  iv.  pt,  1. 

t  Wood's  Ath.  Oxon.,  Ed.  Bliss. 


Wesley,  and  a  humorous  preference  of  Eymer 
over  Dryden,  while  the  author  deprecates  an 
act  of  parliament  which  should  restrain  the  race 
of  poetasters. 

I  grant  you,  such  a  course  as  this  might  do 
To  make  them  humbly  treat  of  what  thej-  know, 
Not  venturing  further  than  their  brains  will  go. 
But  what  should  I  do  then,  for  ever  spoil'd 
Of  this  diversion  which  frail  authors  yield? 
I  should  no  more  on  Lunton's  counter  meet, 
Bards  that  are  deeply  skill'd  in  rhyme  and  feet; 
For  I  am  charm'd  with  easy  nonsense  more, 
Thau  all  the  wit  that  men  of  sense  adore. 
With  fear  I  view  great  Drydeu's  hallow'd  page, 
With  fear  I  view  it,  and  1  read  with  rage. 
I'm  all  with  fear,  with  grief,  and  love  possest, 
Tears  in  my  eyes,  and  anguish  in  my  breast, 
While  I  with  mourning  Anthony  repine  : 
And  all  the  hero's  miseries  are  mine. 
If  I  read  Edgar,  then  my  soul's  at  peace, 
Lull'd  in  a  lazy  state  of  thoughtless  ease. 
No  passion's  ruffled  by  the  peaceful  lay, 
No  stream,  no  depth,  to  hurry  me  away  ; 
Rymer  in  both  professions  harmless  proves, 
Nor  wounds  when  critic,  nor  wheu  poet  moves. 

The  lines  prefixed  to  Pope  announce  a  man  of 
wit  and  taste,  by  whose  presence  Watertown 
should  have  been  the  gainer. 

Hail,  sacred  Bard !  a  Muse  unknown  before 
Salutes  thee  from  the  bleak  Atlantic  shore. 
To  our  dark  world  thy  shining  page  is  shown, 
And  Windsor's  gny  retreat  becomes  our  own. 
The  Eastern  pomp  had  just  bespoke  our  care, 
And  India  poured  her  gaudy  treasures  here: 
A  various  spoil  adorned  our  naked  land, 
The  pride  of  Persia  glittered  on  our  strand, 
And  China's  Earth  was  cast  on  common  sand : 
Tossed  up  and  down  the  glossy  fragments  lay, 
And  dressed  the  rocky  shelves,  and  paved  the  painted 

bay. 
Thy  treasures  next  arrived :  and  now  we  boast 
A  nobler  cargo  on  our  barren  coast : 
From  thy  hixnta  ;t  Forest  we  receive 
More  lasting  glories  than  the  East  can  give. 

Where'er  we  dip  in  thy  delightful  page, 
What  pompous  scenes  our  busy  thoughts  engage  I 
The  pompous  scenes  in  all  their  pride  appear, 
Fresh  in  the  page,  as  in  the  grove  they  were. 
Nor  half  so  true  the  fair  Lodona  shows 
The  sylvan  state  that  on  her  border  grows, 
While  she  the  wandering  shepherd  entertains 
With  a  new  Windsor  in  her  watery  plains ; 
Thy  juster  lays  the  lucid  wave  surpass, 
The  living  scene  is  in  the  Muse's  glass. 
Nor  sweeter  notes  the  echoing  forests  cheer, 
When  Philomela  sits  and  warbles  there, 
Than  when  you  sing  the  greens  and  opening  glades, 
And  give  us  Harmony  as  well  as  Shades: 
A  Titian's  hand  might  draw  the  grove,  but  you 
Can  paint  the  grove,  and  add  the  music  too. 

In  the  New  England  Weekly  Journal  for  June 
28,  1731,  we  have  met  with  a  poem,  hitherto 
unnoticed,  descriptive  of  Watertown,  worthy  of 
Knapp's  pen — of  which  the  reader  may  judge  by 
a  few  passages,  marking  an  early  and  true  employ- 
ment of  American  incidents : — 

A  NEW   ENGLAND  POND. 

Of  ancient  streams  presume  no  more  to  tell, 
The  fam'd  Castalian  or  Pierian  well. 
Fresh-pond  superior,  must  those  rolls  confess, 
As  much  as  Cambridge  yields  to  Rome  or  Greece: 


BENJAMIN  COLMAN. 


73 


More  limpid  water  ean  no  fountain  show, 

A  fairer  bottom  or  a  smoother  brow; 

A  painted  world  its  peaceful  gleam  contains 

The  heavenly  arch,  the  bord'ring  groves  and  plains: 

Here  in  mock  silver  Cynthia  seems  to  roll, 

And  trusty  pointers  watch  the  frozen  pole. 

Here  sages  might  observe  the  wand' ring  stars, 

And  rudest  swains  commence  astrologers: 

Along  the  brim  the  lovely  plover  stalks 

And  to  his  visionary  fellow  talks: 

Amid  the  wave  the  vagrant  blackbird  sees, 

And  tries  to  perch  upon  the  imag'd  trees; 

On  flying  clouds  the  simple  bullocks  gaze 

Or  vainly  reach  to  crop  the  shad'wy  grass; 

From  uei'bring  hills  the  stately  horse  espies 

Himself  a  feeding  and  himself  envies. 

Hither  pursu'd  by  op'uiug  hounds  the  hare 

Blesses  himself  to  see  a  forest  near, 

The  waving  shrubs  he  takes  for  real  wood, 

And  boldly  plunges  in  the  yielding  flood. 

On  tins  side  willows  hem  the  basin  round, 

There  graceful  trees  the  promontory  crown, 

Whose  mingled  tufts  and  outspread  arms  compose 

A  shade  delightful  to  the  laurell'd  brows ; 

Here  mossy  couches  tempt  to  pleasing  dreams 

The  love-sick  soul,  and  ease  the  weary  limbs: — 

No  noxious  snake  disperses  poison  here, 

Nor  screams  of  night  bird  read  the  twilight  air. 

Excepting  him  who  when  the  groves  are  still, 

Hums  aui'rous  tunes  and  whispers  whip-poor-will, 

To  hear  whose  carol  elves  in  circles  trip. 

And  lovers'  hearts  within  their  bosoms  leap, 

Whose  savage  notes  the  troubled  mind  amuse, 

Banish  despair,  and  hold  the  falling  dews. 

No  ghastly  horrors  conjure  tho'ts  of  woe, 

Or  dismal  prospects  to  the  fancy  show. 


Bir.DS   AND  FISHES. 


Hither  ye  bards  for  inspiration  come, 
Let  every  other  fount  but  this  be  dumb. 
Which  way  soe'er  your  airy  genius  leads. 
Receive  your  model  from  these  vocal  shudes. 
Wou'd  you  in  homely  pastoral  excel, 
Take  pattern  from  the  merry  piping  quail; 
Observe  the  blue-bird  for  a  roundelay, 
The  chattering  p3~e  or  ever  babbling  jay. 
The  plaintive  dove  the  soft  love  verse  can  teach, 
And  mimic  thrush  to  imitators  preach. 
In  Pindar's  strain  the  lark  salutes  the  dawn, 
The  lyric  robin  chirps  the  evening  on. 
For  poignant  satire  mind  the  mavis  well, 
And  hear  the  sparrow  for  a  madrigal. 
For  ev'ry  sense  a  pattern  here  you  have, 
From  strains  heroic  down  to  humble  stave. 
Not  Phoebus'  self,  altho'  the  God  of  verse, 
Could  hit  such  fine  and  entertaining  airs ; 
Nor  the  fair  maids  who  round  the  fountain  sate, 
Such  artless  heav'nly  music  modulate. 
Each  thicket  seems  a  Paradise  renew'd, 
The  soft  vibrations  fire  the  moving  blood. 
Each  sense  its  part  of  sweet  delusion  shares, 
The  scenes  bewitch  the  eye,  the  song  the  ears. 
Pregnant  with  scent  each  wind  regales  the  smell, 
Like  cooling  sheets  th'  enwrapping  breezes  feel. 
During  the  dark,  if  poets'  eyes  we  trust, 
These  lawns  are  haunted  by  some  swarthy  ghost. 
Some  Indian  prince  who,  fond  of  former  joys, 
With  bow  and  quiver  thro'  the  shadow  plies; 
He  can't  in  death  his  native  grove  forget, 
But  leaves  Elyzium  for  his  ancient  seat. 
O  happy  pond,  hadst  thou  in  Grecia  flowM, 
The  bounteous  blessing  of  some  watry  God, 
Or  had  some  Ovid  sung  this  liquid  rise, 
Distill'd,  perhaps,  from  slighted  Virgil's  eyes. 
Well  is  thy  worth  in  Indian  story  known, 


Thy  living  lymph  and  fertile  borders  shown, 
Thy  various  flocks  the  cover'd  shore  can  shun, 
Drove  by  the  fowler  and  the  fatal  gun. 
Thy  shining  roach  and  yellow  bristly  breme, 
The  piek'rel,  rav'nous  monarch  of  the  stream, 
The  perch,  whose  back  a  ring  of  colours  shows, 
The  horny  pout,  who  courts  the  slimy  ooze, 
The  eel  serpentine,  some  of  dubious  race, 
The  tortoise  witli  his  golden  spotted  ease ; 
Thy  hairy  musk  rat,  whose  perfume  defies 
The  balmy  odour  of  Arabian  skies; 
The  throng  of  Harvard  know  thy  pleasures  well, 
Joys  too  extravagant,  perhaps,  to  tell ; 
Hither  ofttiuies  the  learned  tribe  repair, 
When  Sol  returning  warms  the  glowing  year. 

BENJAMIN  COLMAN. 
Benjamin'  Colman  was  born  in  Boston,  Oct.  19, 
1073.  He  entered  "young  and  small"  into  the 
school  of  Ezekiel  Cheever,  by  whom  he  was  pre- 
pared for  Harvard  college,  where  he  was  graduated 
in  1692.  He  began  to  preach  in  the  following  year 
at  Medford,  near  Bostun,  and  in  1695,  embarked 
for  England.  The  mother  country  was  then  at 
war  with  France,  and  the  ship  was  attacked  by  a 
French  privateer.  Mr.  Colman  took  a  gallant  part 
in  her  defence,  and  "  was  exposed  all  the  while  on 
the  quarter-deck,  where  four  out  of  seven  were 
wounded,  and  one  mortally.  He  was  much  praised 
for  his  courage  when  the  fight  was  over ;  but 
though  he  charged  and  discharged  like  the  rest, 
yet  he  declared  he  was  sensible  of  no  courage,  but 
of  a  great  deal  of  fear,  and  when  they  had  received 
two  or  three  broadsides,  he  wondered  when  bis 
courage  would  come,  as  he  had  heard  others  talk. 
In  short,  he  fought  like  a  philosopher  and  a  Chris- 
tian."* The  vessel  was  captured,  and  all  on  board 
taken  to  France,  where  Mr.  Colman  was  tor  some 
time  imprisoned,  until  an  exchange  of  prisoners 
between  the  two  belligerents  enabled  him  to  visit 
England,  where  he  preached  several  times  with 
great  success,  and  gained  the  friendship  of  Bates, 
Calamy,  Howe,  and  other  leading  dissenting  minis- 
ters. He  was  urged  to  remain  in  London,  but  in 
1699  receiving  a  call  from  a  number  of  leading 
citizens  of  Boston,  who  had  built  the  Brattle  street 
church,  to  become  their  first  minister,  he  accepted 
it,  and  consequently  returned  to  Boston,  where  ho 
arrived  "after  a  long  eight  weeks'  sick  passage," 
on  the  first  of  November.  The  congregation  was 
formed  in  opposition  to  the  Cambridge  platform, 
and  the  remaining  churches  of  Boston  refused, 
for  some  }'ears,  to  hold  communion  with  its  minis- 
ter.')' He  continued  his  connexion  with  the  con- 
gregation until  his  death  in  1747,  preaching  to 
them  on  the  last  Sunday  of  his  life.  He  was  held 
in  great  esteem  as  a  pulpit  orator,  received  the 
degree  of  D.D.  from  the  University  of  Glasgow  in 
1731,  and  a  large  number  of  his  sermons  were 
published.  In  1724  he  was  elected  president  of 
Harvard  college,  but  declined  the  office.  He  was, 
however,  a  good  friend  to  the  institution,  and 
also  to  Yale,  procuring  for  both  many  donations 
from  his  English  as  well  as  American  friends. 
He  was  thrice  married  and  left  a  numerous  family. 
The  Rev.  Ebenezer  Turell,  who  married  bis  daugh- 
ter in  1749,  published  a  life  of  her  father,  from 


*  Life  by  the  Rev.  Ebenezer  Turell,  p.  G, 
t  Eliot's  Bio;;.  Diet. 


74 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


which  the  materials  of  this  sketch  have  been  de- 
rived. It  forms  a  quarto  volume  of  over  two 
hundred  pages,  and  deserves  high  commendation 
among  American  biographies.  Dr.  Colman  wrote 
a  short  poem,  Elijah's  Translation,  on  the  death 
of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Willard,  1707,  and  a  few  oc- 
casional verses  and  poetical  epistles  are  preserved 
in  his  life.  He  also  wrote  a  tract  in  favor  of  in- 
oculation for  the  small-pox,  in  1721. 

ELIJAH'S  ASCENSION. 

'Twas  at  high  noon,  the  day  serene  and  fair, 
Mountains  of  lum'nous  clouds  rolled  in  the  air, 
When  on  a  sudden,  from  the  radiant  skies, 
Superior  light  flashed  in  Elisha's  eyes ; 
The  heavens  were  cleft,  and  from  th'  imperial  throne 
A  stream  of  glory,  dazzling  splendor  shone : 
Beams  of  ten  thousand  suns  shot  round  about, 
The  sun  and  every  blazoned  cloud  went  out: 
Bright  hosts  of  angels  lined  the  heavenly  way, 
To  guard  the  saint  up  to  eternal  day. 
Then  down  the  steep  descent,  a  chariot  bright, 
And  steeds  of  fire,  swift  as  the  beams  of  light. 
Winged  seraphs  ready  6tood,  bowed  low  to  greet 
The  favorite  saint,  and  hand  him  to  his  seat. 
Enthroned  he  sat,  transformed  with  joys  his  mien, 
Calm  his  gay  soul,  and  like  his  face  serene. 
His  eye  and  burning  wishes  to  his  God, 
Forward  he  bowed,  and  on  the  triumph  rode. 
Saluted,  as  he  passed  the  heavenly  cloud, 
With  shouts  of  joy,  and  hallelujahs  loud. 
Ten  thousand  thousand  angel-trumpets  sound, 
And  the  vast  realms  of  heaven  all  echoed  round. 

TO  T7BANIA  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HEE  FIF.ST  AND  ONLY  CHILD. 

Why  mourns  my  beauteous  friend  bereft  ? 
Her  Saviour  and  her  heaven  are  left : 
Her  lovely  babe  is  there  at  rest, 
In  Jesus'  arms  embraced  and  blest. 

Would  you,  Urania,  wish  it  down 
From  yon  bright  Throne  and  shining  Crown  ? 
To  your  cold  arms  and  empty  breast, 
Could  Heaven  indulge  you  the  request ; 
Your  bosom's  neither  warm  nor  fair, 
Compared  with  Abraham's :  leave  it  there. 

He  the  famed  father  of  the  just, 
Beheld  himself  but  earth  and  dust, 
Before  the  will  of  God  most  high, 
And  bid  his  darling  Isaac  die. 

When  Heaven  required  in  sacrifice 
The  dear  desire  of  his  eyes.; 
And  more  to  prove  his  love  commands 
The  offering  from  the  Father's  hands ; 
See  how  th'  illustrious  parent  yields, 
And  seeks  Moriah's  mournful  fields. 

He  bound  his  lovely  only  child 
For  death  ;  his  soul  serene  and  mild, 
He  reached  his  hand,  and  grasped  the  knife, 
To  give  up  the  devoted  life. 
Less  Heaven  demands  of  thee,  my  friend ; 
And  less  thy  faith  shall  recommend. 
All  it  requires  is  to  resign, 
To  Heaven's  own  act  and  make  it  thine, 
By  silence  under  discipline. 

The  least  we  to  our  Maker  owe ! 
The  least,  Urania,  you  did  vow ! 
The  least  that  was  your  Saviour's  claim, 
When  o'er  your  babe  his  glorious  Name 
Was  called  in  awful  Baptism !     Then 
You  gave  it  back  to  Heaven  again. 

You  freely  owned  that  happy  hour, 
Heaven's  right,  propriety,  and  power, 
The  loan  at  pleasure  to  resume, 
And  call  the  pretty  stranger  home. 

A  witness  likewise  at  its  birth 


I  stood,  that  hour  of  joy  and  mirth: 
I  saw  your  thankful  praises  rise, 
And  flow  from  pleased,  uplifted  eyes 
With  raised  devotion,  one  accord, 
We  gave  the  infant  to  its  Lord. 

And  think,  Urania,  ere  that  day, 
While  the  fair  fruit  in  secret  lay, 
Unseen,  yet  loved  within  the  womb 
(Which  also  might  have  been  its  tomb). 
How  oft,  before  it  blest  your  sight, 
In  secret  prayers,  with  great  delight, 
You  did  recognize  Heaven's  right. 

Now  stand  by  these  blest  acts,  my  friend ; 
Stand  firmly  by  them  to  the  end. 
Now  you  are  tried,  repeat  the  act ; 
Too  just,  too  glorious  to  retract. 

Think,  dear  Urania,  how  for  thee, 
God  gave  his  only  Son  to  be 
An  offering  on  the  cursed  tree. 

Think,  how  the  Son  of  God  on  earth 
(The  spotless  Virgin's  blessed  birth),    . 
Our  lovely  babes  took  up  and  blest, 
And  them  high  heirs  of  Heaven  contest ! 

Think,  how  the  blest  of  Woman  stood, 
While  impious  hands,  to  the  cursed  wood, 
Nailed  down  her  only  Son  and  God ! 

Learn  hence,  Urania,  to  be  dumb ! 
Learn  thou  the  praise  that  may  become 
Thy  lighter  grief,  which  Heaven  does  please 
To  take  such  wondrous  ways  to  ease. 

Adore  the  God  who  from  thee  takes 
No  more  than  what  he  gives  and  makes: 
And  means  in  tenderest  love  the  rode 
To  serve  to  thy  eternal  good. 

WILLIAM  BYED. 

In  1841,  Edmund  Ruffin,  of  "Virginia,  prepared 
for  the  press  and  published  a  volume  entitled 
The  Westover  Manuscripts*  It  was  the  produc- 
tion of  a  gentleman  once  much  celebrated  in 
the  Old  Dominion,  whose  story  cannot  be  better 
told  for  our  purpose  than  in  the  distinguished 
recital  of  the  inscription  upon  the  monument 
which  covers  his  remains  in  the  garden  of  his 
once  splendid  Estate  of  Westover,  on  the  north 
bank  of  James  River.  "  Here  lieth  the  Honor- 
able William  Byrd,  Esq.,  being  born  to  one  of  the 
amplest  fortunes  in  this  country,  he  was  sent  early 
to  England  for  his  education ;  where,  under  the 
care  and  direction  of  Sir  Robert  Southwell,  and 
ever  favoured  with  his  particular  instructions,  he 
made  a  happy  proficiency  in  polite  and  various 
learning.  By  the  means  of  the  same  noble  friend, 
he  was  introduced  to  the  acquaintance  of  many 
of  the  first  persons  of  that  age  for  knowledge, 
wit,  virtue,  birth,  or  high  station,  and  particularly 
contracted  a  most  intimate  and  bosom  friendship 
with  the  learned  and  illustrious  Charles  Boyle, 
Earl  of  Orrery.  He  was  called  to  the  bar  in  the 
Middle  Temple,  studied  for  some  time  in  the  Low 
Countries,  visited  the  court  of  France,  and  was 
chosen  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society.  Thus  emi- 
nently fitted  for  the  service  and  ornament  of  his 
country,  he  was  made  receiver  general  of  his  ma- 
jesty's revenues  here,  was  thrice  appointed  public 
agent  to  the  court  and  ministry  of  England,  and 

*  The  Westover  Manuscripts :  containing  the  History  of  the 
Dividing  Line  betwixt  Virginia  and  North  Carolina;  aJourney 
to  the  tand  of  Eden,  a.d.  1783 ;  and  a  Progress  to  the  Mines. 
Written  from  172S  to  1T36,  and  now  first  published.  By  Wil- 
liam Byrd,  of  Westover.  Petersburg:  Printed  by  Edmund 
and  Julian  C.  Euffln.    1841.    Large  8vo.  pp.  143. 


WILLIAM  BYRD. 


'75 


being  thirty-seven  years  a  member,  at  last  became 
president  of  the  council  of  this  colony.  To  all 
this  were  added  a  great  elegancy  of  taste  and  life, 
the  well-bred  gentleman  and  polite  companion, 
the  splendid  economist  and  prudent  father  of  a 
family,  with  the  constant  enemy  of  all  exorbitant 
power,  and  hearty  friend  to  the  liberties  of  his 
coimtry.  Nat.  Mar.  28,  1674.  Mort.  Aug.  26, 
1744.     An.  SBtat.  70." 

The  gentleman  thus  described,  a  man  of  plea- 
sure and  literature,  at  the  age  of  fifty-four,  set  out 
with  a  select  party,  composed  of  two  fellow  Vir- 
ginian commissioners,  Riclnvrd  Fitz- William  and 
William  Dandridge ;  two  surveyors,  William 
Mayo,  and  the  mathematical  professor  of  William 
and  Mary,  Alexander  Irvin  ;  with  the  Eeverend 
Peter  Fountain*  as  chaplain,  and  a  party  of  seven- 
teen woodmen  and  hunters,  for  the  purpose  of 
meeting  a  similar  body  of  commissioners  of  North 
Carolina  to  draw  the  boundary  line  between  the 
two  states.  There  were  two  expeditions  for  tins 
purpose,  one  in  the  spring,  the  other  in  the  fall 
of  the  year  1728.  Ool.  Byrd  conducted  the  Vir- 
ginia party  gallantly  and  safely  through  its  perils 
on  what  was  then  a  tour  of  discovery,  and  on  his 
return  to  his  seat  at  Westover  caused  his  notes 
of  the  journey  to  be  fairly  copied,  and  revised 
them  with  his  own  hand.  As  now  printed  they 
form  one  of  the  most  characteristic  and  entertain- 
ing productions  of  the  kind  ever  written.  They 
have  that  sharp  outline  in  description  and  fresh- 
ness of  feeling  in  sentiment  which  marks  the  best 
Virginia  tracts  of  Captain  John  Smith  and  his 
fellows  a  century  earlier  ;  with  a  humor  of  a  more 
modern  date  derived  from  a  good  natural  vein 
and  the  stores  of  experience  of  a  man  acquainted 
with  books,  and  of  society  in  intimacy  with  what 
was  best  in  the  old  world  and  the  new ;  and  more- 
over of  that  privileged  license  of  fortune  which 
permits  a  man  to  please  others  by  first  pleasing 
himself.  Col.  Byrd  is  a  little  free  in  his  language 
at  times,  but  that  belongs  to  the  race  of  hearty 
livers  of  his  century.  There  are  touches  in  the 
Journal  worthy  of  Fielding ;  indeed  it  is  quite  in 
the  vein  of  his  exquisite  Journey  from  London  to 
Lisbon. 

The  business  of  the  expedition  is  narrated  in 
a  clear,  straightforward  manner.  It  had  its  diffi- 
culties in  encounters  with  morasses,  pocosons,  and 
slashes,  beginning  with  the  Dismal  Swamp ;  and 
there  was  occasionally  a  rainy  day  and  sometimes 
a  prospect  of  short  commons.  But  it  was  free  from 
any  serious  disasters,  and,  at  the  worst,  seems 
never  to  have  overpowered  the  good  humor  of  its 
leader;  showing  that  however  daintily  he  may 
have  been  brought  up,  there  is  nothing  like  the 
spirit  of  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar  in  encounter- 
ing hardships.  A  good  portion  of  this  pleasant 
narrative  is  taken  up  with  accounts  of  the  scenery, 
the  Indians,  and  the  large  stock  of  game  and 
"varmint"  which  gave  employment  to  the  hunters 
of  the  party,  and  doubtless  furnished  the  staple 
of  the  highly-flavored  stories  of  the  "Manuscripts" 


*  The  son  of  the  Eev.  James  Fontaine,  i  Huiruenot  refugee, 
on  the  Revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  who  settled  in  Ire- 
land and  prepared  an  Autobiography  for  "the  use  of  all  his 
children,"which  is  printed  with  valuable  illustrative  matter  in 
the  "  Memoirs  of  a  Huguenot  Family,"  in  a  second  edition, 
New  York,  1S53.  by  Ann  Maury,  one  of  his  numerous  descen- 
dants. The  volume  includes  a  sermon  and  several  letters  by 
the  clergyman  of  Westover. 


over  the  camp  kettle  at  night.  In  the  early  parts 
no  little  wit  is  expended  upon  the  traditional 
traits  of  character  of  the  North  Carolinians,  who 
fare  no  better  in  Byrd's  hands  than  the  Yankees 
or  the  Dutchmen  in  the  annals  of  Diedrich 
Knickerbocker.  The  inhabitants  of  the  vicinity 
of  Coratuck  inlet  seem  to  have  furnished  some 
extraordinary  specimens  of  humanity  in  those 
days — one  in  particular  of  a  marooner  whose  sole 
dress  was  his  beard,  and  whose  subsistence  was 
"  chiefly  upon  oysters,  which  bis  handmaid  made 
a  shift  to  gather  from  the  adjacent  rocks."  To 
which  he  adds,  "  thus  did  these  wretches  live  in 
a  state  of  nature,  and  were  mere  Adamites,  inno- 
cence only  excepted."  The  disputed  ground  of 
the  boundary  was  then  a  refuge  for  runaway 
debtors,  of  whom  we  are  told  :  "  Nor  were  these 
worthy  borderers  content  to  shelter  runaway 
slaves,  but  debtors  and  criminals  have  often  met 
with  the  like  indulgence.  But  if  the  government 
of  North  Carolina  has  encouraged  this  unneigh- 
bourly policy  in  order  to  increase  their  people,  it 
is  no  more  than  what  ancient  Borne  did  before 
them,  which  was  made  a  city  of  refuge  for  all 
debtors  and  fugitives,  and  from  that  wretched 
beginning  grew  up  in  time  to  be  mistress  of  a 
great  part  of  the  world.  And,  considering  how 
fortune  delights  in  bringing  great  things  out  of 
small,  who  knows  but  Carolina  may,  one  time  or 
other,  come  to  be  the  seat  of  some  other  great 
em]  lire?" 

As  for  religion,  these  careless  settlers  seem  to 
be  quite  without  it,  as  recorded  by  Col.  Byrd, 
on  occasion  of  a  Sunday  service  when  part  of  his 
company  were  in  the  perils  of  the  Dismal  Swamp  : 
"  In  these  sad  circumstances,  the  kindest  tiling 
we  could  do  for  our  suffering  friends  was  to  give 
them  a  place  in  the  Litany.  Our  chaplain,  for 
his  part,  did  his  office,  and  rubbed  us  up  with  a 
seasonable  sermon.  This  was  quite  a  new  thing 
to  our  brethren  of  North  Carolina,  who  live  in  a 
climate  where  no  clergyman  can  breathe,  any 
more  than  spiders  in  Ireland."  Arriving  at 
Edenton  we  are  told :  "  I  believe  this  is  the  only 
metropolis  in  the  Christian  or  Mahometan  world, 
where  there  is  neither  church,  chapel,  mosque, 
synagogue,  or  any  other  place  of  public  worship 
whatsoever.  What  little  devotion  there  may 
happen  to  be  is  much  more  private  than  their 
vices.  The  people  seem  easy  without  a  minister, 
as  long  as  they  are  exempted  from  paying  him. 
Sometimes  the  Society  for  propagating  the  Gos- 
pel has  had  the  charity  to  send  over  missionaries 
to  this  country ;  but  unfortunately  the  priest  has 
been  too  lewd  for  the  people,  or,  which  oftener 
happens,  they  are  too  lewd  for  the  priest.  For 
these  reasons  these  reverend  gentlemen  have  al- 
ways left  their  flocks  as  arrant  heathen  as  they 
found  them.  Thus  much  however  may  be  said  for 
the  inhabitants  of  Edenton,  that  not  a  soul  has 
the  least  taint  of  hypocrisy,  or  superstition,  acting 
very  frankly  and  above-board  in  all  their  excess- 
es." There  is  also  a  hint  for  the  Virginian  clergy, 
which  his  friend  Fountain  could  have  stood  in  no 
need  of :  "We  christened  two  of  our  landlord's 
children,  which  might  have  remained  infidels  all 
their  lives,  had  not  we  carried  Christianity  home 
to  his  own  door.  The  truth  of  it  is,  our  neigh- 
bours of  North  Carolina  are  not  so  zealous  as  to 
go  much  out  of  their  way  to  procure  this  benefit 


76 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN"  LITERATURE. 


for  their  children :  otherwise,  being  so  near  Vir- 
ginia, they  might,  without  exceeding  much 
trouble,  make  a  journey  to  the  next  clergyman, 
upon  so  good  an  errand.  And  indeed  should  the 
neighbouring  ministers,  once  in  two  or  three 
years,  vouchsafe  to  take  a  turn  among  these  gen- 
tiles, to  baptize  them  and  their  children,  it  would 
look  a  little  apostolical,  and  they  might  hope  to 
be  requited  for  it  hereafter,  if  that  be  not  thought 
too  long  to  tarry  for  their  reward."  The  terms 
of  expression  in  these  sentences  show  the  ready 
wit,  and  there  is  here  and  there  a  moderate 
allowance  for  poetry  in  sight  of  the  natural 
beauties  of  the  country;  when  he  speaks  apolo- 
getically for  marrying  the  vines  to  the  trees,  and 
pitches  the  tent  "on  the  western  banks  of  the 
Mayo  for  the  pleasure  of  being  lulled  to  sleep  by 
the  cascade," — when  a  churl  would  have  taken 
the  other  side.  But  he  does  not  affect  that  kind 
of  writing,  though  the  material  for  it  is  there. 
He  is  more  inclined  to  such  illustrations  as  this  : 
"  In  this  fine  land,  however,  we  met  with  no 
water,  till  at  the  end  of  three  miles  we  luckily 
came  upon  a  crystal  stream,  which,  like  some 
lovers  of  conversation,  discovered  every  thing 
committed  to  its  faithless  bosom."  His  naming 
of  places  is  by  their  fanciful  characteristics,  as 
a  "  noisy  impetuous  stream"  ho  calls  Matri- 
mony Creek;  one  hill  a  Pimple  and  a  larger 
elevation  a  Wart.  He  is  a  vivid  describer  of  a 
wild  beast  or  an  Indian.  His  description  of  the 
savage  scalping  makes  the  flesh  creep: — "  Those 
that  are  killed  of  the  enemy,  or  disabled,  they 
scalp,  that  is,  they  cut  the  skin  all  around  the 
head  just  below  the  hair,  and  then  clapping  their 
feet  to  the  poor  mortal's  shoulders,  pull  the  scalp 
off  clean  and  carry  it  off  in  triumph."  Of  the 
frequent  Natural  History  stories  we  may  take 
that  on  Bruin,  how  he  eats  and  is  eaten. 

Our  Indian  killed  a  bear,  two  years  old,  that  was 
feasting  on  these  grapes.  He  was  very  fat,  as  they 
generally  are  in  that  season  of  the  year.  In  the 
fall,  the  flesh  of  this  animal  has  a  high  relish,  differ- 
ent from  that  of  other  creatures,  though  inclining 
nearest  to  that  of  pork,  or  rather  of  wild  boar.  A 
true  woodsman  prefers  this  sort  of  meat  to  that  of 
the  fattest  venison,  not  only  for  the  haut  r/out,  but 
also  because  the  fat  of  it  is  well  tasted,  and  never 
rises  in  the  stomach.  Another  proof  of  the  goodness 
of  this  meat  is,  that  it  is  less  apt  to  corrupt  than  any 
other  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  As  agreeable 
as  such  rich  diet  was  to  the  men,  yet  we  who  were 
not  accustomed  to  it,  tasted  it  at  first  with  some 
sort  of  squeamishness,  that  animal  being  of  the  dog 
kind  ;  though  a  little  use  soon  reconciled  us  to  this 
American  venison.  And  that  its  being  of  the  dog 
kind  might  give  us  the  less  disgust,  we  had  the  ex- 
ample of  that  ancient  and  police  people,  the  Chinese, 
who  reckon  dog's  flesh  too  good  for  any  under  the 
quality  of  a  mandarin.  This  beast  is  in  truth  a 
very  clean  feeder,  living,  while  the  season  lasts, 
upon  acorns,  chestnuts  and  chinquapins,  wild  honey 
and  wild  grapes.  They  are  naturally  not  carnivo- 
rous, unless  hunger  constrain  them  to  it,  after  the 
mast  is  all  gone,  and  the  product  of  the  woods  quite 
exhausted.  They-  are  not  provident  enough  to  lay 
up  any  hoard,  like  the  squirrels,  nor  can  they,  after 
all,  live  very  long  upon  licking  their  paws,  as  Sir 
John  Mandevil  and  some  other  travellers  tell  us, 
but  are  forced  in  the  winter  months  to  quit  the 
mountains,  and  visit  the  inhabitants.  Their  errand 
is  then  to  surprise  a  poor  hog  at  a  pinch  to  keep 


them  from  starving.  And  to  show  that  they  are 
not  flesh-eaters  by  trade,  they  devour  their  prey 
very  awkwardly.  They  do  not  kill  it  right  out, 
and  feast  upon  its  blood  and  entrails,  like  other 
ravenous  beasts,  but  having,  after  a  fair  pursuit, 
seized  it  with  their  paws,  they  begin  first  upon  the 
rump,  and  so  devour  one  ,collop  after  another,  till 
they  come  to  the  vitals,  the  poor  animal  crying  all 
the  while,  for  several  minutes  together.  However, 
in  so  doing,  Bruin  acts  a  little  imprudently,  because 
the  dismal  outcry  of  the  hog  alarms  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  it  is  odds  but  he  pays  the  forfeit  with  his 
life,  before  he  can  secure  his  retreat.  But  bears  soon 
grow  weary  of  this  unnatural  diet,  and  about  Janu- 
ary, when  there  is  nothing  to  be  gotten  in  the 
woods,  they  retire  into  some  cave  or  hollow  tree, 
where  they  sleep  away  two  or  three  months  very 
comfortably.  But  then  they  quit  their  holes  in 
March,  when  the  fish  begin  to  run  up  the  rivers,  on 
which  they  are  forced  to  keep  Lent,  till  some  fruit 
or  berry  comes  in  season.  But  bears  are  fondest  of 
chestnuts,  which  grow  plentifully  towards  the 
mountains,  upon  very  large  trees,  where  the  soil 
happens  to  be  rich.  We  were  curious  to  know  how 
it  happened  that  man}'  of  the  outward  branches  of 
those  trees  came  to  be  broken  off  in  that  solitary 
place,  and  were  informed  that  the  bears  are  so  dis- 
creet as  not  to  trust  their  unwieldy  bodies  on  the 
smaller  limbs  of  the  tree,  that  would  not  bear  their 
weight ;  but  after  venturing  as  far  as  is  safe,  which 
they  can  judge  to  an  inch,  they  bite  off  the  end  of 
the  branch,  which  falling  down,  they  are  content  to 
finish  their  repast  upon  the  ground.  In  the  same 
cautious  manner  they  secure  the  acorns  that  grow 
on  the  weaker  limbs  of  the  oak.  And  it  must  be 
allowed  that,  in  these  instances,  a  bear  carries 
instinct  a  great  way,  and  acts  more  reasonably  than 
many  of  his  betters,  who  indiscreetly  venture  upon 
frail  projects  that  will  not  bear  them. 

The  practical  suggestions  for  the  investigation 
of  the  country  are  acute  and  valuable — nor 
should  his  simple  expressions  of  thankfulness  to 
God  be  forgotten. 

On  the  t\vent3'-seeond  day  of  November  he 
closes  the  Diary  with  this  satisfactory  review  of 
the  affair : — 

Thus  ended  our  second  expedition,  in  which  we 
extended  the  line  within  the  shadow  of  the  Chariky 
mountains,  where  we  were  obliged  to  set  up  our 
pillars,  like  Hercules,  and  return  home.  We  had 
now,  upon  the  whole,  been  out  about  sixteen  weeks, 
including  going  and  returning,  and  had  travelled  at 
least  six  hundred  miles,  and  no  small  part  of  that 
distance  on  foot.  Below,  towards  the  seaside,  our 
course  lay  through  marshes,  swamps,  and  great 
waters  ;  and  above,  over  steep  hills,  craggy  rocks 
and  thickets,  hardly  penetrable.  Notwithstanding 
this  variety  of  hardships,  we  may  say,  without 
vanity,  that  we  faithfully  obeyed  the  king's  orders, 
and  performed  the  business  effectually,  in  which  we 
had  the  honour  to  be  employed.  Nor  can  we  by 
any  means  reproach  ourselves  of  having  put  the 
crown  to  any  exorbitant  expense  in  this  difficult 
affair,  the  whole  charge,  from  beginning  to  end, 
amounting  to  no  more  than  one  thousand  pounds. 
But  let  no  one  concerned  in  this  painful  expedition 
complain  of  the  scantiness  of  his  pay,  so  long  as  his 
majesty  has  been  graciously  pleased  to  add  to  our 
reward  the  honour  of  his  royal  approbation,  and  to 
declare,  notwithstanding  the  desertion  of  the  Caro- 
lina commissioners,  that  the  line  by  us  run  shall 
hereafter  stand  as  the  true  boundary  betwixt  the 
governments  of  Virginia  and  North  Carolina, 


JAMES  LOGAN. 


77 


There  are  two  other  sketches  of  Old  Virginia 
travel  in  the  volume  of  the  Westover  Manuscripts ; 
— one  of  a  Progress  to  the  Mines  in  the  year 
1732,  and  another  in  the  following  year  of  A 
Journey  to  the  Land  of  Eden,  which  possess  the 
same  pleasant  characteristics  of  adventure,  per- 
sonal humor,  and  local  traits. 

JAMES  LOGAN. 
James  Logan,  the  founder  of  the  Loganian 
Library  of  Philadelphia,  was  a  man  of  note  in 
his  literary  and  scientific  accomplishments  and 
writings.  He  was  born  in  Ireland  in  1674;  was 
a  good  scholar  in  the  classics  and  mathematics  in 
his  youth,  was  for  a  while  a  teacher,  then  engaged 
in  business,  when  he  fell  in  with  Penn,  and  came 
over  with  him  to  America  as  his  secretary  in  1699. 
He  rose  to  the  dignities  of  Chief  Justice  and 
President  of  the  Council.  He  continued  the 
administration  of  Penn  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
colony.  .  As  a  testimony  of  the.  respect  in  which 
he  was  held  by  the  Indians,  the  chief,  Logan, 
celebrated  for  his  speech  presented  in  Jefferson's 
Notes  on  Virginia,  was  named  after  him. 


James  Logan. 

In  1735,  he  communicated  to  Peter  Collinson, 
of  London,  an  account  of  his  experiments  on 
maize,  with  a  view  of  investigating  the  sexual 
doctrine,  which  was  printed  in  the  Philosophical 
Transactions.*  This  was  afterwards  enlarged, 
and  printed  in  a  Latin  essay  at  Leyden,  in  1739, 
with  the  title  Experimenta  et  Meletemata  de 
Plantarum  Generatione,  and  republished  in  Lon- 
don, with  an  English  translation,  by  Dr.  Fother- 
gill,  in  17-17.  He  also  published  at  Amsterdam, 
in  1740,  Epistola  ad  Viruin  Clarissimum  Joan- 
nem  Albertum  Fabricium,  and  at  Leyden,  in 
1741,  Demonstrationes  de  Iiadiorum  Lucis  in 
Superficies  spherical  ah  A.re  incidentium  a  pri- 
mario  Foco  Aberrationibus. 

He  passed  his  old  age  in  retirement,  at  his 
country  seat  named  Stenton,  near  Germantown, 
penning  the  translation  of  Cicero's  De  Senectute, 
to  which  he  added  extensive  familiar  notes.  The 
first  edition,  a  very  neat  specimen  of  printing,! 
was  published  by  his  friend  Franklin  in  1744, 
with  this  preface : — ■ 


*  Miller's  Retrospect,  i.  134. 

t  M.  T.  Cicero's  Cato  Major,  or  his  Discourse  of  Old  Age: 
with  Explanatory  Notes.  Philadelphia:  Printed  and  Sold  by 
B.  Franklin.    1744.    4to.  pp.  159. 


THE  PRINTER  TO  THE  READER. 

This  version  of  Cicero's  tract  De  Senectute  was 
made  ten  years  since,  by  the  honorable  and  learned 
Mr.  Logan,  of  this  city;  undertaken  partly  for  his 
own  amusement  (being  then  in  his  60th  year,  which 
is  said  to  be  nearly  the  age  of  the  author  when  he 
wrote  it),  but  principally  for  the  entertainment  of  a 
neighbor,  then  in  his  grand  climacteric  ;  and  the 
notes  were  drawn  up  solely  on  that  neighbor's  ac- 
count, who  was  not  so  well  acquainted  as  himself 
with  the  Roman  history  and  language  ;  some  other 
friends,  however  (among  whom  I  had  the  honor  to 
be  ranked),  obtained  copies  of  it  in  MS.  And,  as  I 
believed  it  to  be  in  itself  equal  at  least,  if  not  far 
preferable  to  any  other  translation  of  the  same 
piece  extant  in  our  language,  besides  the  advantage 
it  has  of  so  many  valuable  notes,  which  at  the  same 
time  they  clear  up  the  text,  are  highly  instructive 
and  entertaining,  I  resolved  to  give  it  an  impression, 
being  confident  that  the  public  would  not  unfavor- 
ably receive  it. 

A  certain  freed-mau  of  Cicero's  is  reported  to 
have  said  of  a  medicinal  well,  discovered  in  his 
time,  wonderful  for  the  virtue  of  its  waters  in  restor- 
ing sight  to  the  aged,  That  it  was  a  gift  of  the  boun- 
tiful Gods  to  men,  to  the  end  that  all  might  now  have 
the  pleasure  of  reading  his  Master's  works.  As  that 
well,  if  still  in  being,  is  at  too  great  a  distance  for  our 
use,  I  have,  gentle  reader,  as  thou  seest,  printed  this 
piece  of  Cicero's  in  a  large  and  fair  character,  that 
those  who  begin  to  think  on  the  subject  of  OLD 
AGE  (which  seldom  happens  till  their  sight  is  some- 
what impaired  by  its  approach),  may  not,  in  read- 
ing, by  the  pain  small  letters  give  to  the  eyes,  feel 
the  pleasure  of  the  mind  in  the  least  allayed. 

I  shall  add  to  these  few  lines  my  hearty  wish,  that 
this  first  translation  of  a  classic  in  this  Western 
"World/*  may  be  followed  with  many  others,  per- 
formed with  equal  judgment  and  success;  and  be  a 
happy  omen,  that  Philadelphia  shall  become  the 
seat  of  the  American  muses. 

This  was  reprinted  in  London  in  1750,  at  Glas- 
gow in  1751,  and  in  1778,  with  Franklin's  name 
falsely  inscribed  on  the  title-page.  Buckminster 
reviewed  this  translation  at  length  in  the  Monthly 
Anthology,!  with  his  accustomed  scholarship,  and 
has  given  it  the  praise  of  being  the  best  transla- 
tion previous  to  that  of  Melmoth.  The  notes, 
biographical  and  narrative,  are  entertaining,  and 
are  taken  from  the  original  classics,'  of  which 
Logan  had  a  great  store  in  his  library.  Buck- 
minster suggests  that  "  from  their  general  com- 
plexion, it  would  not  be  surprising  if  it  should 
prove  that  Dr.  Franklin  himself  had  occasionally 
inserted  some  remarks.  There  is  sometimes  much 
quaintness  and  always  great  freedom  in  the  reflex- 
ions, which,  perhaps,  betray  more  of  Pagan  than 
of  Christian  philosophy  ."J 

Besides  these  writings,  Logan  made  A  Trans- 
lation of  Catd's  Distichs  into  English  verse,  which 
was  printed  at  Philadelphia.  He  left  behind  him 
in  MS.  part  of  an  ethical  treatise  entitled,  The 
Ditties  of  Man  as  they  may  be  deduced  from 
Nature;  fragments  of  A  Dissertation  on  the 
Writings  of  Moses  ;  A  Defence  of  Aristotle  and 
the  Ancient  Philosophers ;  Essays  on  Languages 
and  the  Antiquities  of  the  British  Isles;  a  trans- 


*  It  had  been  preceded  by  Sandys,  in  his  translation  of  Ovid, 
ante.  1. 
t  V.  251.  810,  301.    Memoi-s  by  Mrs.  Lee,  Sf-i 
%  Monthly  Anthology,  v.  305. 


78 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


lation  of  Maurocordatus  7ttpt,  xa0r;xov?u,i;  and  of 
Philo  Judaeus's  Allegory  of  the  Esseans.* 

Like  Franklin,  Logan  was  a  diligent  correspon- 
dent with  the  learned  scientific  men  of  Europe. 
Among  his  correspondents,  says  Mr.  Fisher,  who 
speaks  from  acquaintance  with  his  papers,  were, 
"in  this  country,  Cadwallader  Colden,  Governor 
Burnet,  and  Colonel  Hunter,  the  accomplished 
friendof  Swift;t  and  in  Europe,  Collinson,  Fother- 
gill,  Mead,  Sir  Hans  Sloane,  Flamsteed,  Jones  the 
mathematician,  father  of  the  celebrated  Sir  "Wil- 
liam Jones,  Fabricius,  Gronovius,  and  Linnaeus; 
the  last  of  whom  gave  the  name  of  Logan  to  a 
class  in  botany." 

Logan  was  a  man  of  general  reading  in  the  an- 
cient and  modern  languages,  and  had  formed  for 
himself  a  valuable  library.  He  was  making  pro- 
vision, at  the  time  of  his  death,  which  occurred 
October  31,  1751,  to  establish  this  collection  of 
books  as  a  permanent  institution,  and  confer  it 
upon  the  city,  and  had  erected  a  building  for  the 
purpose.  His  heirs  liberally  carried  out  his  inten- 
tions, and  founded  the  Loganian  Library  at  Phi- 
ladelphia. It  consisted  at  first  of  more  than  two 
thousand  volumes  which  Logan  had  collected, 
chiefly  Greek  and  Latin  classics,  and  books  in  the 
modern  languages  of  the  European  continent.  A 
large  collection  of  books  was  afterwards  be- 
queathed by  Doctor  William  Logan,  a  younger 
brother  of  the  founder,  who  was  for  some  time 
librarian.  The  library  remained  unopened  for 
some  time  after  the  Revolution,  when  the  legis- 
lature of  Pennsylvania,  in  1792,  annexed  it  to  the 
library  company  established  by  Franklin  and  his 
associates.  It  then  contained  nearly  four  thou- 
sand volumes.  The  collection  has  been  kept 
separate.  It  received  a  handsome  accession  of  five 
thousand  volumes,  by  the  bequest  of  William 
Mackenzie,  a  Philadelphian,  in  1828. 

John  Davis,  in  his  Travels  in  America,  speaks 
of  his  visit  to  the  Loganian  Library  in  1798,  in 
terms  which  remind  us  of  the  corresponding  com- 
pliment to  Roscoe  and  the  Liverpool  Athenaeum 
in  the  Sketch  Booh.  "  I  contemplated  with 
reverence  the  portrait  of  James  Logan,  which 
graces  the  room — Magnum  et  venerabile  nornsn. 
I  could  not  repress  my  exclamations.  As  I  am 
only  a  stranger,  said  I,  in  this  country,  I  affect  no 
enthusiasm  on  beholding  the  statues  of  her  Gene- 
rals and  Statesmen.  I  have  left  a  church  filled 
with  them  on  the  shore  of  Albion  that  have  a 
prior  claim  to  such  feeling.  But  I  here  behold 
the  portrait  of  a  man  whom  I  consider  so  great  a 


*  A  Sketch  of  Logan's  Career,  by  J.  Francis  Fisher,  in 
Bparks's  Life  of  Franklin,  vii.  24 — 27.  A  volnme  of  Memoirs 
of  Logan,  by  W.  Arcnistead,  was  published  in  London  in  1S52. 
12mo.~pp.  192. 

t  When  Swift  was  in  London  in  1708  and  '9,  "there  was," 
says  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  his  memoirs  of  that  personage,  "a 
plan  suggested,  perhaps  by  Col.  Hunter,  governor  of  Virginia, 
to  send  out  Dr.  Swift  as  bishop  of  that  province,  to  exercise  a 
sort  of  metropolitan  authority  over  the  colonial  clergy."  Vol. 
i.  of  works,  98.  He  was  appointed  Governor  of  Virginia  in 
1708,  and  was  taken  by  the  French  on  his  voyage  thither. 
There  is  an  amusing  letter  of  Swift's  to  Hunter,  in  Paris,  dated 
January  12,  1708-9.  Colonel  Hunter  arrived  in  America  as 
Governor  of  New  York  in  1710.  In  1719  he  returned  to  Eng- 
land, and  on  the  accession  of  George  II.  was  continued  Gover- 
nor of  New  Tork  and  the  Jerseys.  He  obtained,  on  account 
of  his  health,  the  government  of  Jamaica,  where  he  died  in 
1734  He  was  the  author  of  a  celebrated  "  Letter  on  Enthu- 
siasm," ascribed  to  Swift ;  and  a  farce,  entitled  Androboros,  has 
been  attributed  to  him.  Nichols's  Lit  Anecdotes  of  18th  Cen- 
tury, vi.  89.  90.    Beed's  Biog.  Dram.  i.  250.    Bancroft,  iii.  64 


benefactor  to  literature,  that  he  is  scarcely  less 
illustrious  than  its  munificent  patrons  of  Italy; 
his  soul  has  certainly  been  admitted  to  the  com- 
pany of  the  congenial  spirits  of  a  Cosmo  and 
Lorenzo  of  Medicis.  The  Greek  and  Roman 
authors,  forgotten  on  their  native  banks  of  the 
Dyssus  and  Tiber,  delight,  by  the  kindness  of  a 
Logan,  the  votaries  to  learning  on  those  of  the 
Delaware."* 

We  take  a  single  passage,  characteristic  of  our 
philosopher's  pursuits,  from  his  translation  ot 
Cicero : — 

THE  INTELLECTUAL  DELIGHT  OF  AGE. 

For  hove  solid,  how  sincere,  think  you,  must  that 
pleasure  be  to  the  mind,  when,  after  it  has  happily 
worked  through  the  ruffling  tides  of  those  uneasy 
passions,  lust,  ambition,  emulation,  contention,  and 
every  strong  impetuous  desire,  it  finds  itself  arrived 
at  its  harbor,  and  like  a  veteran  discharged  from 
the  fatigues  of  war,  got  home,  and  retired  within 
itself  into  a  stnte  of  tranquillity?  But  if  it  has  the 
farther  advantage'of  literature  and  science,  and  can 
by  that  means  feed  on,  or  divert  itself  with  some 
useful  or  amusing  study,  no  condition  can  be  ima- 
gined more  happy  than  such  calm  enjoyments,  in 
the  leisure  and  quiet  of  old  age.  How  warm  did  we 
see  Gallus,  your  father's  intimate  friend,  Scipio,  in 
pursuit  of  his  astronomical  studies  to  the  last  t 
How  often  did  the  rising  sun  surprise  him,  fixed  on 
a  calculation  he  began  over  night  ?  And  how  often 
the  evening,  on  what  he  had  begun  in  the  morning? 
What  a  vast  pleasure  did  it  give  him,  when  he 
could  foretell  to  us,  when  we  should  see  the  sun  or 
moon  in  an  eclipse?  And  how  many  others  have 
we  known  in  their  old  age  delighting  themselves  in 
other  studies?  which,  though  of  less  depth  than 
those  of  Gallus,  yet  must  be  allowed  to  be  in  them- 
selves ingenious  and  commendable?  How  pleased 
was  Nfevius  with  his  poem  of  the  Punic  war?  And 
how  Plautus,  with  his  Truculentus  and  Pseudolus  ? 
I  remember  even  old  Livius,  who  had  his  first 
dramatic  piece  acted  six  years  before  I  was  born,  in 
the  consulship  of  Cento  and  Tuditanus,  and  con- 
tinued his  compositions  till  I  was  grown  up  towards 
the  state  of  manhood.  "What  need  I  mention 
Licinius  Oassus's  studies  in  the  pontifical  and  civil 
law?  Or  those  of  Publius  Scipio,  now  lately  made 
supreme  pontiff?  And  all  these  I  have  seen,  not 
only  diverting  themselves  in  old  age,  but  eagerly 
pursuing  the  several  studies  they  affected.  With 
what  unwearied  diligence  did  we  behold  Marcus 
Cethegus,  whom  Ennius  justly  enough  called  the 
soul  of  persuasion,  applying  himself  at  a  great  age 
to  oratory,  and  the  practice  of  pleading  ?  Upon  all 
which  let  me  ask  you,  what  gratifications  of  sense, 
what  voluptuous  enjoyments  in  feasting,  wine, 
women,  or  play,  and  tne  like,  are  to  be  compared 
with  those  noble  entertainments?  Those  pure  and 
serene  pleasures  of  the  mind,  the  rational  fruits  of 
knowledge  and  learning,  that  grafted  on  a  good 
natural  disposition,  cultivated  by  a  liberal  educa- 
tion, and  trained  up  in  prudence  and  virtue,  are  so 
far  from  being  palled  in  old  age,  that  they  rather 
continually  improve,  and  grow '  on  the  possessor. 
Excellent,  therefore,  was  that  expression  of  Solon, 
which  I  mentioned  before,  when  he  said,  that  daily 
learning  something,  he  grew  old:  for  the  pleasures 
arising  from  such  a  course,  namely,  those  of  the 
mind,  must  be  allowed  incomparaoly  to  exceed  all 
others. 


*  Travels,  40. 


ROGER  WOLCOTT. 


79 


EOGEE  WOLCOTT. 
Roger  Woloott  was  born  at  "Windsor,  Conn., 
Jan.  4,  1679.  Owing  to  the  unsettled  state  of  the 
country,  and  the  constant  incursions  of  Indians, 
it  was  impossible  to  maintain  a  school  or  clergy- 
man at  that  time  in  the  little  town,  and  Wolcott 
was  consequently  deprived  of  the  advantages  of 
early  education.  At  the  age  of  twelve  he  was 
apprenticed  to  a  mechanic.  On  becoming  his 
own  master,  at  twenty-one,  he  was  enabled  to 


Co-C^^ 


establish  himself  on  the  banks  of  the  Connecti- 
cut, where,  by  diligence  and  frugality,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  acquiring  a  competence.  In  1711  he 
was  appointed  a  commissary  of  the  forces  of  the 
colony  in  the  attack  on  Canada,  and  he  bore  the 
commission  of  major-general  at  the  capture  of 
Louisbourg,  in  1745.  He  was  also  prominent  in 
the  civil  service  of  the  colony,  and  after  passing 
through  various  judicial  and  political  grades  of 
office,  was  chosen  governor  from  1751  to  1754. 
He  died  May  17, 1767,  at  the  advanced  age  of  88. 
He  wrote  A  Brief  Account  of  the  Agency  of  the 
Honorable  John  Winthrop,  Esq.,  in  the  Court  of 
King  Charles  the  Second,  Anno  Dom.  1662,  when, 
he  obtained  a  Charter  for  the  Colony  of  Connec- 
ticut, a  narrative  and  descriptive  poem  of  1500 
lines,  which  has  been  printed  in  the  Collections  of 
the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  and  a  small 
volume  of  verse,  in  1725,  entitled,  Poetical  Medi- 
tations, being  the  improvement  of  some  Vacant 
Hours*  It  is  prefaced  by  a  rambling  dissertation, 
chiefly  on  titles  to  land,  by  the  Eeverend  Mr. 
Bulkley,  of  Colchester,  in  which  he  expresses  the 
opinion,  that  "the  darling  principle  of  man}',  viz. 
that  native  rightt  is  the  only  valuable  title  to  any 
lands  in  the  country,  is  absurd  and  foolish,  and 
may  with  reason  be  look't  upon  as  one  of  our 
vulgar  errors."  This  dissertation  fills  fifty-sis 
pages,  the  poems  which  it  preludes  occupying  but 
seventy-eight,  and  these  are  flanked  at  the  close 
by  the  advertisement  of  Joseph  Dewey,  clothier, 
who,  "  having  been  something  at  charge  in  pro- 
moting the  publishing  the  foregoing  meditations," 
takes  the  liberty  to  advertise  his  country  people 
touching  certain  rules  which  ought  to  be  observed 
in  the  making  and  working  of  cloth. 

"Wolcott's  verses  are  rude,  but  possess  some 
force.  The  lines  we  give  are  one  of  the  briefest 
of  his  "Meditations:" 

Proverbs  xviii.  14. 

A  WOUNDED  SPIEIT,  WHO  CAK  BEAE? 

Money  answers  everything 
But  a  Guilty  Conscience  sting, 
"Whose  immortal  torments  are 
Quite  insupportable  to  bear. 
Nor  the  silver  of  Peru, 
Nor  the  wealth  the  East  do  shew, 


*  Poetical  Meditations,  being  tbe  improvement  of  some 
Vacant  Hours,  by  Roger  Wolcott.  Esq.,  with  a  preface  by  the 
Eeverend  Mr.  Bulkley,  of  Colchester.  New  London:  printed 
and  sold  by  T.  Green,'  1725. 

t  That  of  the  aborigines. 


Nor  the  softest  bed  of  down, 

Nor  the  jewels  of  a  crown, 

Can  give  unto  the  mind  a  power 

To  bear  its  twinges  half  an  hour. 

When  God's  iron  justice  onee 

Seizeth  on  the  conscience, 

And  in  fearful,  ample  wise, 

Lays  before  the  sinner's  eyes, 

His  life's  horrible  transgressions, 

In  their  dreadful  aggravations ; 

And  then  for  his  greater  aw, 

In  most  ample  forms  doth  draw 

All  the  curses  of  his  law ; 

Then  the  worm  begins  to  knaw, 

And  altho'  it  every  hour 

Doth  the  very  soul  devour, 

Yet  it  nothing  doth  suffice ; 

Oh !  this  worm  that  never  dies — 

Oh !  the  multitude  of  thought 

Into  which  the  sinner's  brought ; 

Looking  up,  he  sees  God's  power, 

Through  his  angry  face  doth  lour; 

And  hath  for  his  ruin  join'd 

Ten  thousand  chariots  in  the  wind, 

All  prepar'd  to  glorify 

The  strong  arm  of  the  Most  High, 

By  inflicting  punishments 

Equal  to  his  vengeance. 

Looking  down,  he  amply  seeth 

Hell  rowling  in  her  flames  beneath; 

Enlarg'd  to  take  his  soul  into 

Its  deep  caverns  full  of  wo : 

Now  the  sinner's  apprehension 

Stretcheth  large  as  hell's  dimensions, 

And  doth  comprehensively 

Fathom  out  eternity. 

The  most  extreme  and  vexing  sense 

Fasten  eth  on  the  conscience. 

Fill'd  with  deepest  agony, 

He  maketh  this  soliloquy : 

View  those  torments  most  extreme, 

See  this  torrid  liquid  stream, 

In  the  which  my  soul  must  fry 

Ever,  and  yet  never  dy. 

When  a  thousand  years  are  gone, 

There's  ten  thousand  coming  on; 

And  when  these  are  overworn, 

There's  a  million  to  be  born, 

Yet  they  are  not  comprehended, 

For  they  never  shall  be  ended. 

Now  despair  by  representing 
Eternity  fill'd  with  tormenting, 
By  anticipation  brings 
All  eternal  sufferings 
Every  moment  up  at  onee 
Into  actual  sufferance. 
Thus  those  pains  that  are  to  come, 
Ten  thousand  ages  farther  down, 
Every  moment  must  be  born 
Whilst  eternity  is  worn. 
Every  moment  that  doth  come, 
Snch  torments  brings ;  as  if  the  sum 
Of  all  God's  anger  now  were  pressing, 
For  all  in  which  I  liv'd  transgressing. 
Yet  the  next  succeeding  hour, 
Holdeth  forth  his  equal  power ; 
And,  succeeding  with  it,  brings 
Up  the  sum  of  sufferings. 
Yet  they  are  not  comprehended, 
For  they  never  shall  be  ended. 

For  God  Himself.  He  is  but  one, 
Without  least  variation  ; 
Just  what  He  was,  is,  is  to  come. 
Always  entirely  the  same. 


so 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Possessing  His  Eternity 
Without  succession  instantly, 
With  whom  the  like  proportion  bears, 
One  day  as  doth  a  thousand  years. 
He  makes  the  prison  and  the  chain, 
He  is  the  author  of  my  pain. 
'Twas  unto  Him  I  made  offence, 
'Tis  He  that  takes  the  recompence, 
'Tis  His  design,  my  misery 
Himself  alone  shall  glorify  ; 
Therefore  must  some  proportion  bear 
With  Him  whose  glory  they  declare. 
And  so  they  shall,  being  day  and  night 
Unchangeable  and  infinite. 

These  very  meditations  are 

Quite  unsupportable  to  bear: 

The  fire  within  my  conscience 

Is  grown  so  fervent  and  intense 

I  cannot  long  its  force  endure, 

But  rather  shall  my  end  procure ; 

Griesly  death's  pale  image  lies 

On  my  ghastly,  piercing  eyes. 

My  hands,  made  fo^  my  life's  defence, 

Are  ready  to  do  violence 

Unto  my  life:  And  send  me  hence, 

Unto  that  awful  residence. 

There  to  be  fill'd  with  that  despair, 

Of  which  the  incipations  are, 

A.  wounded  spirit  none  can  bear. 

But,  oh !  my  soul,  think  once  again. 
That  there  is  for  this  burning  pain, 
One  only  medicine  Sovereign. 
Christ's  blood  will  fetch  out  all  this  fare 
If  that  God's  Spirit  be  the  applyer. 
Oh !  then  my  soul,  when  grief  abounds, 
Shroud  thyself  within  these  wounds; 
■And  that  thou  there  may'st  be  secure, 
Be  purified  as  he  is  pure. 

And  oh !  my  God,  let  me  behold  Thy  Son, 

Impurpled  in  his  crucifixion, 

With  such  an  eye   of  faith  that  may  from 

thence, 
Derive  from  Him  a  gracious  influence, 
To  cure  my  sin  and  wounded  conscience. 
There,  there  alone,  is  healing  to  be  had: 
Oh!  let  me  have  that  Balm  of  Gilead. 

CADWALLADEE  COLDEN. 
Cadwallader  Colden,  who  heads  with  honor 
the  ranks  of  the  authors  of  the  State  of  New  York, 
unless  we  except  the  previous  compositions  in  the 
Dutch  language,  the  political  tract  of  Van  der 
Donck,  the  satire  of  the  Breeden  Raedt,  and  an 
account  of  the  Maquaas  Indians,  in  Latin,  by  Me- 
gapolensis,*  was  the  son  of  the  Rev.  Alexander 


*  Adrian  Van  der  Donck,  a  graduate  of  the  University  of 
Lej'den,  was  appointed  by  the  pafcroon  of  Rensselaerwick  sheriff 
of  his  colony,  and  came  to  New  Netherlands  in  1642.  In  1648 
we  find  a  grant  of  land  made  to  him  as  YonkerVan  der  Donck, 
at  Tonkevs  on  the  Hudson,  Tonker  being  the  usual  title  of 
gentleman.  His  name  appears  as  one  of  the  eleven  signers  of 
a  tract  of  fifty  pages  quarto,  published  at  the  Hague'in  1650, 
entitled,  Vertoqyh  van  Nimiio  Nedr-rlandt ;  Representation 
from  New  Netherland,  concerning  the  situation,  fruitfulness, 
and  poor  condition  of  the  same.  It  is  addressed  to  the  West 
India  Company  as  a  petition  for  changes  in  the  government  of 
Kieft  and  Stuyvesant.  It  has  been  translated  by  Mr.  Henry 
C.  Murphy  for  the  New  York  Historical  Society,  aud  pub- 
lished by  them  and  also  by  Mr.  James  Lenox  of  "this  city,  in 
a  quarto  edition  for  private  circulation.  In  consequence 
of  its  attacks  on  the  government  Van  der  Donck  was  denied 
access  to  the  colonial  records  during  the  preparation  of  his 
Description  of  New  Netherlands,  a  work  the  translation  of 
which  occupies  lu6  pages  of  the  New  York  Historical  Society's 


Colden,  of  Dnnse,  Scotland,  where  he  was  born 
February  17, 1688.  He  was  prepared,  by  the  pri- 
vate instructions  of  his  father,  for  the  University 
of  Edinburgh,  where  he  was  graduated  in  1705. 
He  devoted  the  three  following  years  to  medical 
and  mathematical  studies,  when  he  emigrated  to 
Pennsylvania  and  practised  physic  with  great 
success  in  Philadelphia  until  1715.  At  that  time 
he  visited  London,  and  there  became  acquainted 
with  Halley,  the  astronomer,  who  was  so  well 
pleased  with  a  paper  on  Animal  Secretions, 
written  by  Colden  some  years  before,  that  he  read 
it  before  the  Royal  Society,  by  whom  the  pro- 
duction was  received  with  equal  favor.  In  1716 
he  returned  to  America,  having  in  the  mean- 
time married  in  Scotland  a  young  lady  of  the 
name  of  Christie. 

He  settled  in  New  York  in  1718,  where  he 
soon  abandoned  his  profession  for  the  service  of 
the  State,  filling  in  succession  the  offices  of  sur- 
veyor-general of  the  province,  master  in  chancery, 
member  of  the  council,  and  lieutenant-governor. 
In  1756  he  removed  with  his  family  to  a  tract  of 
land  on  the  Hudson,  near  Newburgh,  which  he 
named  Coldenham.  He  was  appointed  lieutenant- 
governor  of  the  province  in  1760,  and  retained 
the  office  until  his  death,  September  21,  1776, 
having  been  several  times  called  upon  to  act  as 
governor  in  consequence  of  the  death  or  retire- 
ment of  various  occupants  of  the  office. 


Collections,  1841.  It  contains  an  account  of  the  rural  products, 
animals,  and  inhabitants  of  the  Colony.  The  date  of  the  first 
edition  is  unknown.  The  second  appeared  at  Amsterdam  in 
1656,  bv  Evert  Nieuwenhof,  who  introduces  the  work  with  a 
poetical  preface.  The  Breeden-Ilaedt  (Broad  Advice  to  the 
United  Netherland  Provinces,  by  J.  A.,  G.  W.  C,  Antwerp, 
1649),  is  a  coarse  but  to  some  extent  amusing  satire,  growing 
out  of  the  disaffection  to  the  Colonial  Government.  The  Rev. 
Johannes  Megapolensis,  the  ''Dominie"  of  the  colony  ofRens- 
selaerwick,  where  he  officiated  from  his  arrival  in  New  Nether- 
lands August,  1642,  wrote  in  1644,  and  published  in  1651,  a 
tract  on  the  Maquaas  Indians, — a  translation  of  which  was  pub- 
lished in  Hazard's  Historical  Collections  (Phila.  1792),  vol.  i. 
p.  517,  where  it  occupies  eight  quarto  pages.  Megapolensis's 
activity  as  a  missionary  among  the  Indians  furnished 
him  with  excellent  opportunities  for  observing  their  pecu- 
liarities. In  1649  he  became  pastor  of  the  Church  of  New 
Amsterdam.  His  name  appears  frequently  in  the  city  annals 
down  to  the  time  of  the  surrender  to  the  English. 


THOMAS  PRINCE. 


81 


Colden  was  the  author  of  the  History  of  the 
Five  Indian  Nations*  The  object  of  this  work 
was  to  call  attention  to  the  importance  of  Indian 
affairs  in  reference  to  commerce.  It  contains  a 
brief  history  of  the  intercourse  between  the 
aborigines  and  the  Europeans  from  the  settlement 
of  the  country  to  the  period  of  its  publication  in 
1727.  It  was  reprinted  at  London  in  1747,  with 
the  addition  of  a  number  of  treaties  and  other 
documents,  and  the  remarkable  transfer  by  the 
London  publisher  of  the  dedication  from  Governor 
Burnet  to  General  Oglethorpe.t  a  liberty  at  which 
Colden  was  justly  indignant.  A  third  edition,  in 
two  neat  12mo.  volumes,  appeared  at  London  in 
1755  He  also  wrote  a  philosophical  treatise, 
published  in  1751,  entitled,  The  Principles  of 
Action  in  Matter.  He  printed  in  1742,  a  tract 
on  a  fever  which  had  recently  ravaged  the  city 
of  New  York,  in  which  he  showed  how  greatly 
the  deadly  effects  of  disease  were  enhanced  by 
filth,  stagnation,  and  foul  air,  pointing  out  those 
portions  of  the  city  which  most  needed  purifica- 
tion. The  corporation  voted  him  their  thanks, 
and  carried  out  many  of  his  sanitary  suggestions 
with  good  effect.  Colden  took  a  great  interest 
in  the  study  of  botany,  and  was  the  first  to  intro- 
duce the  Linnaean  system  in  America,  a  few 
months  after  its  publication  in  Europe.  His 
acquaintance  with  Kalm,  the  Swedish  traveller,  a 
pupil  of  the  great  naturalist,  may  have  aided  him 
in  the  prosecution  of  his  inquiries.  His  essay 
On  the  Virtues  of  the  Great  Water  Dock  led  to 
a  correspondence  with  Linnaeus,  who  included  an 
account  of  between  three  and  four  hundred 
American  plants,  furnished  by  Colden,  and  about 
two  hundred  of  which  were  described  for  the 
first  time  in  the  Acta  Upsala,  and  afterwards 
bestowed  the  name  of  Coldenia  on  a  plant  of  the 
tetrandrous  class,  in  honor  of  his  American 
disciple.  Colden  maintained  an  active  corres- 
pondence from  the  year  1710  to  the  close  of 
his  life,  with  the  leading  scientific  men  of 
Europe  and  America.  Franklin  was  among  the 
most  constant  as  well  as  celebrated  of  these 
correspondents,  and  it  was  to  this  friend  that 
Colden  communicated  one  of  his  most  valu- 
able inventions,  that  of  the  art  of  stereotyp- 
ing. The  letter  is  dated  October,  1743.  It  is 
probable  that  Franklin  may  have  conversed  on 
the  subject  in  France,  and  that  thus  the  hint  of 
the  process  was  communicated  to  the  German, 
Herhan,  who  in  the  commencement  of  the  pre- 
sent century  carried  it  into  successful  practice 
in  Paris,  and  obtained  the  credit  of  being  its 
originator. 


*  The  History  of  the  Five  Indian  Nations  of  Canada,  which 
are  dependent  on  the  Province  of  New  York  in  America,  and 
are  the  Barrier  between  the  English  and  the  French  in  that 
part  of  the  world,  with  particular  accounts  of  their  religion, 
manners,  easterns,  laws,  and  forms  of  government ;  their 
several  battles  and  treaties  with  the  European  nations ;  their 
wars  with  other  iDdians;  and  a  true  account  of  the  present 
6tate  of  our  trade  with  them.  In  which  are  shewn  the  great 
Advantage  of  their  Trade  and  Alliance  to  the  British  nation, 
and  the  Intrigues  and  attempts  of  the  French  to  encage  them 
from  us;  a  subject  nearly  concerning  all  our  American  Planta- 
tions, and  highly  meriting  the  attention  of  the  British  nation 
at  this  juncture.  To  which  are  added.  Accounts  of  the  several 
other  Nations  of  Indians  in  North  America,  their  numbers, 
strength,  &c.,  and  the  Treaties  which  have  been  lately  made 
with  them.     3rd  edit.,  London,  1755. 

t  Rich,  Bibl.  Amer.  The  additions  seem  also  to  have  been 
without  the  author's  sanction.  "  I  send  you  herewith,1'  Frank- 
lin writes  to  Colden  from  Philadelphia,  Oct.  1,  1747,  "The 
VOL.  I. — 6 


In  the  correspondence  of  Jefferson  there  is  a 
letter,  in  which,  writing  to  Francis  Hopkinson,  ha 
says,  "  Many  years  ago  Cadwallader  Colden  wrote 
a  very  small  pamphlet  on  the  subjects  of  attrac- 
tion and  impulsion,  a  copy  of  which  he  sent  to 
Monsieur  de  Buffon.  He  was  so  charmed  with 
it,  that  he  put  it  into  the  hands  of  a  friend  to 
translate  it,  who  lost  it.  It  has  ever  since 
weighed  on  his  mind,  and  he  has  made  repeated 
trials  to  have  it  found  in  England."* 

The  unpublished  Colden  Papers,t  embracing  a 
large  Correspondence  and  a  number  of  treatises 
and  notes  on  historical  and  philosophical  topics, 
now  form  part  of  the  valuable  manuscript  Collec- 
tions of  the  New  York  Historical  Society.  The 
value  of  these  papers  as  records  of  the  ante- 
revolutionary  period  has  been  tested  by  Mr.  Ban- 
croft, who  acknowledges  his  indebtedness  to  this 
source  in  the  preface  to  the  sixth  volume  of  his 
History. 

THOMAS  PRINCE. 

Thomas  Peince,  a  grandson  of  John  Prince,  of 
Hull,  who  emigrated  to  America  in  1633,  was 


'77H  O  m.Co 


r~  t  n.c  «  . 


born  in  Sandwich,  Massachusetts,  May  15,  1687. 
He  graduated  at  Harvard  in  1707,  and  in  1709 
visited  Europe,  and  preached  for  several  j'ears  at 
Comb3  in  Suffolk.  He  was  urged  to  remain 
longer,  but  returned  to  Boston  in  July,  1717,  and 
was  ordained  pastor  of  the  Old  South  Church,  as 
colleague  of  his  class-mate,  Dr.  Sewall,  October  1, 
1718,  where  he  remained  until  his  death,  October 
22, 1758. 

He  commenced  in  1703,  and  continued  during 
his  life,  to  collect  documents  relating  to  the 
history  of  New  England.  He  left  the  valuable 
collection  of  manuscripts  thus  formed,  to  the  care 
of  the  Old  South  Church.  They  were  deposited 
in  an  apartment  in  the  tower,  which  also  con- 
tained a  valuable  library  of  the  writings  of  the 
early  New  England  Divines,  formed  by  Mr. 
Prince,  where  they  remained  until  the  manuscripts 
were  destroyed  by  the  British,  during  their  oc- 
cupation of  the  city  in  the  revolutionary  war. 
The  books  were  preserved,  and  are  now  deposited 
in  the  library  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Society. 

Mr.  Prince  was  the  author  of  a  Chronological 
History  of  New  England,  in  the  form  of  annals, 
the  first  volume  of  which  was  published  in  a 
duodecimo  form  in  1736,  and  two  numbers  of 
the  second  in  1755.  He  unfortunately  com- 
menced with  an  epitome  of  history  from  the 
creation,  on  which  he  bestowed  much  time,  which 
might  have  been  better  employed  on  his  specific 
object,  that  of  presenting  a  brief  narrative  of 
occurrences  in  New  England,  from  1602  to  1730. 
His  work  unfortunately  does  not  come  down  later 
than  the  year  1633. 


History  of  the  Five  Nations.  You  will  perceive  that  Osborne, 
to  puff  up  the  book,  has  inserted  the  charters,  Ac.,  of  this 
province,  all  under  the  title  of  '  The  History  of  the  Five 
Nations.1  " — Sparks's  Franklin,  vii.  IS. 

*  Jefferson's  Works,  i.  392. 

+  Biographical  Sketches  of  Colden,  bv  J.  W.  Francis. — Am. 
Med.  &  Philos.  Reg.,  Jan.  1811.  Eedfleld's  Family  Magazine, 
183S,  v.  834    O'Callaghan's  Doc.  Hist  N.  Y.,  4to.  ill.  495. 


82 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


He  also  prepared,  in  1727,  an  account  of  the 
English  Ministers  at  Martha's  Vineyard,  which 
was  annexed  to  Mayhew's  Indian  Converts,  and 
published  a  large  number  of  funeral  and  other 
sermons.  He  was  pronounced  by  Dr.  Ohauncy 
the  most  learned  scholar,  with  the  exception  of 
Cotton  Mather,  in  New  England,  and  maintained 
a  high  reputation  as  a  preacher,  and  as  a  devout 
and  amiable  man.  Six  of  his  manuscript  sermons 
were  published  after  bis  death,  by  Dr.  John 
Erskine,  of  Edinburgh. 

WILLIAM  AND  MART  COLLEGE. 

At  an  early  period  in  the  settlement  of  Virginia 
attempts  were  made  to  establish  an  institution  of 
learning.  In  1619,  the  treasurer  of  the  Virginia 
company,  Sir  Edmund  Sandys,  received  from  an 
unknown  hand  five  hundred  pounds,  to  be  ap- 
plied by  the  company  to  the  education  of  a  cer- 
tain number  of  Indian  youths  in  the  English 
language  and  in  the  Christian  religion.  Other 
sums  of  money  were  also  procured,  and  there  was 
a  prospect  of  being. able  to  raise  four  or  five 
thousand  pounds  for  the  endowment  of  a  col- 
lege. The  king  favored  the  design,  and  recom- 
mended to  the  bishops  to  have  collections  made 
in  their  dioceses,  and  some  fifteen  hundred  pounds 
were  gathered  on  this  recommendation.  The  col- 
lege was  designed  for  the  instruction  of  English 
as  well  as  Indian  youths.  The  Company  appro- 
priated ten  thousand  acres  of  land  to  this  purpose 
at  Henrico,  on  the  James  river,  a  little  below  the 
present  site  of  Richmond.  The  plan  of  the  col- 
lege was  to  place  tenants  at  halves  on  these 
lands,  and  to  derive  its  income  from  the  profits. 
One  hundred  tenants  was  the  number  fixed  upon, 
and  they  calculated  the  profits  of  each  at  five 
pounds.  George  Thorpe  was  sent  out  with  fifty 
tenants,  to  act  as  deputy  for  the  management  of 
the  college  property ;  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Copeland, 
a  man  every  way  qualified  for  the  office,  consented 
to  be  president  of  the  college  as  soon  as  it  shoidd 
be  organized.  Mr.  Thorpe  went  out  in  1621,  but 
had  hardly  commenced  operations  when,  with 
nearly  all  his  tenants,  he  was  slain  by  the  Indians 
in  the  groat  Massacre  of  1622,  and  the  project  of 
a  college  was  abandoned.* 

The  early  American  colleges  grew  out  of  the  reli- 
gious feeling,  of  the  country,  and  the  necessity  of 
a  provision  for  a  body  of  educated  clergy.  We 
have  seen  this  at  Harvard,  and  it  was  the  preva- 
lent motive  for  a  long  time  at  Yale.  In  the  act 
of  the  Assembly  of  Virginia,  in  1660,  previous 
to  the  foundation  of  William  and  Mary,  express 
allusion  is  made  to  the  supply  of  the  ministry  and 
promotion  of  piety,  and  the  lack  of  able  and  faith- 
ful clergy.  The  attempt  at  this  time  to  found  a 
college  failed  from  the  royal  governor's  discou- 
ragement to  the  enterprise.  It  was  the  state 
policy.  In  his  Answers  to  Questions  put  by  the 
Lords  of  Plantations  in  1671,  Sir  William  Berkeley 
"  thanks  God  that  there  are  no  free  schools  nor 
printing"  in  the  colony,  and  hopes  "  there  will  not 
be  these  hundred  years.''t 


*  Stith'sHist.  ofVa.  162. 

t  Answers  of  Sir  William  Berkeley  to  the  inquiries  of  the 
Lords  of  the  Committee  of  Colonies.  From  Virg.  Pap.  75  B. 
p.  4.  Printed  in  Chalmers's  Political  Annals,  p.  828,  para- 
"123:— 


In  1692,  a  charter  was  obtained  from  the 
Government  in  England,  through  the  agency  of 
the  Rev.  Jame3  Blair,  and  the  assistance  of 
Nicholson,  the  lieut.-governor  of  the  colony.* 
The  new  institution  took  its  name  from  the  royal 
grantore,  who  appropriated  funds,  land,  and  a 
revenue  duty  on  tobacco  for  its  support.  Build- 
ings were  erected,  and  Blair  became  its  president. 
The  first  building  erected  at  Williamsburgh  was 
burnt  in  1705.  By  the  bounty  of  Queen  Anne, 
and  the  assistance  of  the  House  of  Burgesses,  and 
the  exertions  of  Governor  Spotswood,  it  was  not 
long  after  restored.  In  the  square  in  front  of 
this  building  still  stands,  in  a  mutilated  condition, 
though  with  evidence  of  its  old  elegance,  a  statue 
of  Lord  Botetourt,  ordered  by  the  colony,  in 
1771,  in  gratitude  for  his  administration  of  the 
government. 


William  and  Mary  College. 

In  1718,  a  thousand  pounds  were  granted  to 
the  college  for  the  support  (as  the  grant  runs)  of 
as  many  ingenious  scholars  as  they  should  see  fit. 
A  part  of  this  was  laid  out  for  the  Nottoway 
estate,  out  of  the  income  of  which  several 
scholars  were  supported  who  were  designated 
students  on  the  Nottoway  foundation.  Thi3 
estate  was  sold  in  1777.  The  remainder  of  the 
grant  supported  the  Assembly  scholarship. 

Robert  Boyle,  the  philosopher,  who  died  in 
1691,  left  his  whole  estate,  after  his  debts  and 
legacies  should  be  disposed  of  by  his  executors, 
for  such  pious  uses  as  in  their  discretion  they 
should  think  fit,  but  recommended  that  it  should 
be  expended  for  the  advancement  of  the  Christian 
religion.  The  executors,  who  were  the  Earl  of 
Burlington,  Sir  Henry  Ashurst,  and  John  Marr, 
laid  out  £5,400  for  the  purchase  of  the  property 
known  as  the  Brafferton  estate,  the  yearly  rent 
of  which  was  to  be  applied  towards  "the  pro- 
pagating the  Gospel  among  infidels."  Of  this 
income,  £90  was  appropriated  to  New  England — 


"23.  The  same  course  is  taken  here,  for  instructing  the 
people,  as  there  is  in  England:  Out  of  towns  every  man  in- 
structs his  own  children  according  to  his  own  ability.  We 
have  forty-eight  parishes,  and  our  ministers  are  well  paid,  and 
by  my  consent  should  be  better,  if  they  would  pray  oftener, 
and  preach  less.  But  as  of  all  other  commodities,  so  of  this, 
the  worst  are  sent  us,  and  we  have  few  that  we  can  boast  of, 
since  the  persecution  in  Cromwell's  tyranny  drove  divers 
worthy  men  hither.  Yet,  I  thank  God,  there  are  no  freo 
schools  nor  printing;  and  1  hope  we  shall  not  have  these  hun- 
dred years.  For  learning  has  brought  disobedience,  and 
heresy,  and  sects,  into  the  world,  and  printing  has  divulged 
them  and  libels  against  the  best  government;  God  keep  us 
from  both ! 

"William  Beekelet. 

"  VmGlNiA,  20  June,  1671." 

*  Beverley,  Hist  Ta,  88. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY  COLLEGE. 


83 


one  half  for  the  support  of  two  missionaries 
among  the  Indians,  and  the  other  to  be  given  "to 
the  President  and  Fellows  of  Harvard  College  for 
the  salaries  of  two  ministers  to  teach  the  said 
natives,  in  or  near  the  said  college,  the  Christian 
religion."  The  remainder  of  the  income  of  the 
estate  was  given  to  the  College  of  William  and 
Mary,  -on  condition  of  supporting  one  Indian 
scholar  for  every  fourteen  pounds  received.  A 
house  was  built  for  this  purpose  on  the  grounds 
atWilliamsburgh,  as  a  school  for  Indian  boys  and 
their  master,  which  still  bears  upon  it  the  date 
of  1723.  It  was  called,  after  the  estate,  Braffer- 
ton — the  title  of  the  incumbent  was  Master  of  the 
Indian  School.  The  experience  with  the  Indians 
of  the  south  does  not  appear  to  have  varied 
much  from  that  of  Eliot  and  his  friends  in  the 
north.  Indians,  however,  were  taught  in  it  as 
late  as  1774.  Hugh  Jones,  the  chaplain  of  the 
Assembly,  who  was  also  mathematical  professor 
at  the  college,  in  his  volume  entitled,  "  The  Pre- 
sent State  of  Virginia,"  says  of  this  attempt — 
"The  young  Indians,  procured  from  the  tribu- 
tary or  foreign  nations  with  much  difficulty,  were 
formerly  boarded  and  lodged  in  the  town,  where 
abundance  of  them  used  to  die,  either  through 
sickness,  change  of  provision  and  way  of  life ; 
or,  as  some  will  have  it,  often  for  want  of  pro- 
per necessaries  and  due  care  taken  with  them. 
Those  of  them  that  have  escaped  well,  and  been 
taught  to  read  and  write,  have,  for  the  most  part, 
returned  to  their  home,  some  with  and  some 
without  baptism,  where  they  follow  their  own 
savage  customs  and  heathenish  rites.  A  few  of 
them  have  lived  as  servants  among  the  Eng- 
lish, or  loitered  and  idled  away  their  time  in 
laziness  and  mischief.  But  'tis  a  great  pity  that 
more  care  is  not  taken  about  them  after  they 
are  dismissed  from  school.  They  have  admirable 
capacities  when  their  humors  and  tempers  are 
perfectly  understood."* 

Colonel  William  Byrd,  in  1728,  laments  the 
"  bad  success  Mr.  Bojde's  charity  has  hitherto  had 
towards  converting  any  of  these  poor  heathens  to 
Christianity.  Many  children  of  our  neighboring 
Indians  have  been  brought  up  in  the  college  of 
William  and  Mary.  They  have  been  taught  to 
read  and  write,  and  have  been  carefully  instructed 
in  the  principles  of  the  Christian  religion  till  they 
came  to  be  men.  Yet,  after  they  returned  home, 
instead  of  civilizing  and  converting  the  rest, 
they  have  immediately  relapsed  into  infidelity 
and  barbarism  themselves."  Of  the  efforts  of 
Colonel  Spotswood  in  this  behalf,  Byrd  preserves 
the  following  epigram  : — 

*  P.  92.  The  whole  title  of  this  work  sufficiently  describes 
its  contents: — The  Present  State  of  Virginia:  giving  a  particu- 
lar and  short  account  of  the  Indian,  English,  and  Negro  inha- 
bitants of  that  colony.  Shewing  their  Religion,  Manners, 
Government,  Trade,  Way  of  Living,  &c,  with  a  description  of 
the  Country,  from  whence  is  inferred  a  short  View  of  Mary- 
land and  North  Carolina.  To  which  are  added,  Schemes  and 
Propositions  for  the  better  Promotion  of  Learning,  Religion, 
Inventions,  Manufactures  and  Trade  in  Virginia,  and  the  other 
Plantations.  For  the  Information  of  the  Curious  and  for  tho 
Service  of  such  as  are  Engaged  in  the  Propagation  of  the  Gos- 
pel and  Advancement  of  Learning,  and  for  the  Use  of  all  Per- 
sons concerned  in  the  Virginia  Trade  and  Plantation.  Gen.  ix. 
27,  God  shall  enlarge  Japheth,  and  he  shall  dwell  in  the  tents 
of  Shem,  and  Canaan  shall  be  his  Servant.  By  Hugh  Jones, 
A.M.,  Chaplain  to  the  Honourable  Assembly,  and  lately  Minis- 
ter of  James-Town,  &c.,  in  Virginia.  London:  Printed  for  J. 
Clarke,  at  the  Bible,  under  the  Royal  Exchange,  hdcoxxiv. 
8vo.  pp.  152. 


Long  has  the  furious  priest  assayed  in  vain, 
With  sword  and  figgot,  infidels  to  gain, 
But  now  the  milder  soldier  wisely  tries 
By  gentler  methods  to  unveil  their  eyes. 
Wonders  apart,  he  knew  'twere  vain  t'engage 
The  fix'd  preventions  of  misguided  age. 
With  fairer  hopes  he  forms  the  Indian  youth 
To  early  manners,  probity  and  truth. 
The  lion's  whelp  thus,  on  the  Lybian  shore, 
Is  tamed  and  gentled  by  the  artful  Moor, 
Not  the  grim  sire,  inured  to  blood  before.* 

The  old  story  of  the  fading  race,  and  pretty 
much  the  same  whether  related  by  South  Ameri- 
can Jesuits,  Virginia  cavaliers,  or  New  England 
zealots.  Philip  Freneau  has  pointed  the  moral  in 
his  poem  of  the  Indian  Student,  who, 

laid  his  Virgil  by 
To  wander  with  his  dearer  bow. 

Though  little  good  may  have  been  effected  for  the 
Indians,  the  scheme  may  have  brought  with  it 
incidental  benefit.  The  instruction  of  the  Indian 
was  the  romance  of  educational  effort,  and  acted 
in  enlisting  benefactors  much  as  favorite  but  im- 
practicable foreign  missions  have  done  at  a  later 
day.  It  was  a  pian  of  a  kindred  character  with 
this  in  Virginia  which  first  engaged  the  benevo- 
lent and  philosophic  Berkeley  in  his  eminent 
services  to  the  American  colleges.  One  of  these 
institutions,  Dartmouth,  grew  out  of  such  a  foun- 
dation. 

The  first  organization  of  the  college  was  under 
a  body  of  Visitors,  a  President,  and  six  Profes- 
sors. The  Visitors  had  power  to  make  laws  for 
the  government  of  the  college,  to  appoint  the 
professors  and  president,  and  fix  the  amount  of 
their  salaries.  The  Corporation  was  entitled  The 
President  and  Master,  or  Professors  of  William  and 
"Mary  College.  There  were  two  Divinity  Professor- 
ships— one  of  Greek  and  Latin,  one  of  Mathema- 
tics, one  of  Moral  Philosophy,  and  Boyle's  Indian 
professorship  was  a  sixth.  The  college  had  a 
representative  in  the  General  Assembly.  In  its 
early  history  it  was  a  subject  of  complaint  that  it 
was  too  much  a  school  for  children,  the  rudiments 
of  Latin  and  Greek  being  taught  there.  The  old 
colonial  administration  lent  its  picturesque  dignity 
to  the  college.  As  a  quit-rent  for  the  land 
granted  by  the  Crown,  two  copies  of  Latin  verses 
were  every  year  presented  to  the  Royal  Governor. 
This  was  done  sometimes  with  great  ceremony,  the 
students  and  professors  marching  in  procession  to 
the  palace,  and  formally  delivering  the  lines.  At 
tho  Revolution,  tho  endowments  of  the  college  un- 
derwent great  changes.  The  war  put  an  end  to  the 
colonial  revenue'  taxes  for  the  college  support ;  the 
Brafferton  fund  in  England  disappeared  ;  and 
after  the  peace  the  loss  of  the  old  Church  and 
State  feeling  was  shown  in  an  act  of  the  visitors 
abolishing  the  two  Divinity  Professorships,  and 
substituting  others  for  them.  On  tho  breaking 
out  of  the  Revolution,  one  half  of  the  students, 
among  whom  was  James  Monroe,  entered  tho 
army. 

The  French  troops  occupied  the  College  build- 
ings, or  a  part  of  them,  after  the  surrender  of 
Lord  Cornwallis,  and  while  they  had  possession, 
the  president's   house  was  burnt.      The  French 


*  Westover  Manuscripts,  86-7. 


84 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


government  promptly  paid  for  rebuilding  it.  The 
college  building  was  occupied  as  a  hospital  at  the 
same  time,  and  much  damaged  and  broken  up, 
but  the  United  States  government  has  never  made 
an}'  remuneration. 

The  following  is  a  complete  list  of  the  college 
Presidents,  in  the  order  of  their  succession,  with 
the  periods  of  their  incumbency  : — The  Rev. 
James  Blair,  from  the  foundation  to  his  death,  in 
1743 ;  the  Rev.  William  Dawson  till  1752 ;  Wil- 
liam Stith  till  1755  ;  Thomas  Dawson  till  1761 ; 
William  Yates  till  1764;  James  Horrocks  till 
1771 ;  John  Camm  till  1777;  James  Madison,  till 
his  death,  in  1812;  John  Bracken  till  1814;  John 
Augustine  Smith  till  1826;  the  Rev.  W.  H.  Wil- 
mer,  till  his  death,  in  1827;  the  Rev.  Adam 
Empie  till  1836;  Thomas  R.  Dew,  till  his  death, 
in  1846;  Robert  Saunders  till  1848;  Benjamin 
S.  Ewell  till  1849;  Bishop  John  Johns  till  1854; 
and  Benjamin  S.  Ewell,  the  present  occupant. 


Dr.  Blair  was  a  Scotchman  by  birth,  was  edu- 
cated in  Scotland,  and  took  orders  in  the  Scottish 
Episcopal  Church.  He  went  to  England  towards 
the  close  of  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  and  was  per- 
suaded by  the  Bishop  of  London  to  emigrate  to 
Virginia  about  the  year  1685,  and  was  probably 
employed  as  a  missionary,  as  there  is  no  record 
of  his  having  been  connected  with  any  parish  till 
as  late  as  1711,  when  he  was  made  Rector  of 
Bristow  parish  in  Williamsburgh. 

In  1689,  the  Bishop  of  London  appointed  him 
his  Commissary  in  the  colonies  of  Virginia  and 
Maryland,  which  office  he  continued  to  hold  till 
Ms  death.  In  virtue  of  this  office,  he  had  a  seat 
in  the  Council  of  State,  and  received  £100  per 
annum  as  Councillor.  Through  his  exertions,  a 
subscription  of  £2,500  was  raised  towards  the 
endowment  of  a  college,  and  he  was  sent  to  Eng- 
land by  the  GenerarAssembly  in  1692,  for  the 
purpose  of  soliciting  a  charter.  The  charter  was 
obtained,  and  he  appointed  President  in  the 
charter  itself.  This  office  he  held  till  the  day  of 
his  death,  a  period  of  fifty  years.  He  died  in 
March,  1743,  in  the  eighty-eighth  year  of  his  age. 
He  appears  to  have  been  a  man  of  great  energy 


and  perseverance.  He  had  to  contend  with  great 
discouragements  and  difficulties  during  the  wholo 
of  his  course.  He  was  opposed  and  thwarted  in 
his  plans  for  the  establishing  and  improvement 
of  the  college  by  the  royal  governors,  by  the 
council,  and  even  by  the  clergy  at  times;  but  he 
persevered  through  all  discouragements.  He 
must  also  have  been  a  man  of  great  purity  of 
character,  for  in  all  the  contests  in  which  he  was 
engaged,  his  adversaries  never  reproached  him 
with  any  immorality.  At  one  time  a  large  ma- 
jority of  the  clergy  were  arrayed  against  him. 
They  accused  him  of  exercising  his  office  in  a 
stern  and  haughty  manner,  but  with  nothing 
further.  The  clergy  were  many  of  them  men  of 
very  questionable  character — the  very  refuse  of 
the  Established  Church  in  England;  and  these 
were  not  a  little  offended  at  the  strictness  of  the 
discipline  he  attempted  to  enforce. 

Dr.  Blair  has  left  behind  him  three  volumes  of 
Sermons,  from  texts  selected  from  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount.  They  are  written  in  a  lucid  and 
simple  style,  and  are  remarkable  for  their  good 
sense  and  practical  character.  Waterland  edited 
the  Third  Edition  of  these  Sermons,  printed  in 
London  in  1741,  and  wrote  a  preface  containing 
a  brief  sketch  of  the  author's  life.  He  highly 
commends  the  Sermons  as  both  sound  in  doctrine 
and  felicitous  in  style.  Such  a  commendation 
from  such  an  author  is  no  small  praise.  There 
is  still  extant  another  small  work,  which  Dr. 
Blair  took  part  in  compiling.  It  is  entitled  The 
State  of  his  Ifajesty's  Colony  in  Virginia;  by 
Hartvvell,  Blair,  and  Chilton:  and  gives  an  ac- 
count of  the  soil,  productions,  religion,  and  laws 
of  the  colony,  with  a  particular  account  of  the 
condition  of  AVilliam  and  Mary  College.  It  was 
printed  in  1727,  but  it  bears  strong  internal 
marks  of  having  been  drawn  up  about  the  vear 
1699. 

Dr.  Blair  was  more  than  sixty  years  a  clergy- 
man, fifty-eight  of  which  he  spent  in  Virginia. 
He  was  'Commissary  fifty-four  years,  and  Presi- 
dent of  the  college  fifty  years.  His  remains  were 
deposited  in  the  churchyard  at  Jamestown,  and 
an  inscription,  alluding  to  his  life  and  services,  was 
engraved  on  his  tombstone.  But  the  stone  has 
been  broken,  and  the  inscription  is  so  damaged 
that  it  cannot  now  be  deciphered.  He  left 
the  whole  of  his  library,  consisting  mostly  of 
works  on  divinity,  to  the  college.  These  books 
are  still  in  the  college  library,  and  many  of  them 
contain  notes  in  his  handwriting. 

Of  the  successor  of  Dr.  Blair  but  little  is 
known,  further  than  that  he  was  educated  at 
Oxford,  and  was  accounted  an  able  scholar. 
Stith  is  only  known  from  the  History  of  Virginia, 
which  he  began,  but  carried  down  no  further 
than  to  1624.  Thomas  Dawson,  the  fourth  Pre- 
sident, was  also  the  Commissary  of  the  Bishop 
of  London.  Yates  was  a  clergyman  in  the 
colony  when  he  was  called  to  the  Presidency  of 
the  college. 

James  Horrocks,  if  we  may  judge  from  certain 
papers  of  his,  drawn  up  in  consequence  of  a  dis- 
pute between  the  Visitors  and  the  Faculty,  in 
relation  to  the  extent  of  their  powers  respectively, 
was  an  able  and  vigorous  writer. 

Several  clergymen  of  the  province  succeeded 
Stith  in  the  Presidency.    Lord  Botetourt,  who 


iTALE  COLLEGE. 


85 


arrived  as  the  royal  governor  in  1768,  took  much 
interest  in  its  affairs.  He  instituted  prizes  of  gold 
medals  for  the  best  Latin  oration,  and  for  superior- 
ity in  the  mathematics,  and  attended  the  morning 
and  evening  prayers.* 

James  Madison,  in  1788  chosen  Bishop  of  the 
Episcopal  Church  in  Virginia,  was  a  Virginian 
by  birth,  and  a  graduate  of  the  college.  He 
was  for  several  years  Professor  of  Mathematics, 
both  before  and  after  his  occupation  of  the  Pre- 
sidency. He  also  gave  lectures  in  natural,  moral, 
and  political  philosophy — first  introducing  the 
study  of  political  economy,  which  has  since  been 
pursued  in  the  college  with  much  distinction. 
Bishop  Madison  was  a  man  of  amiable  character. 
His  lectures  on  Natural  Philosophy  were  much 
thought  of.  They  have  not  been  published.  He 
was  a  contributor  to  the  Philosophical  Trans- 
actions. His  delivery  as  a  preacher  was  per- 
fectly toned. 

During  the  Presidency  of  Dr.  John  Augustine 
Smith,  an  effort  was  made  to  remove  the  college 
to  Richmond.  The  discipline  had  become  some- 
what relaxed,  and  President  Smith  met  with  con- 
siderable opposition  in  his  measures  to  restore  it. 
Previously  to  his  holding  the  office,  Dr.  Smith 
had  been  a  lecturer  on  anatomy  in  New  York,  in 
the  College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons.  In  1809, 
he  edited  the  New  York  Medical  and  Physical 
Journal,  in  which  he  published  a  reply  to  the 
work  of  Dr.  Smith,  of  Princeton,  on  the  Unity 
of  the  Race.  Since  his  retirement  from  the  Pre- 
sidency, he  lias  become  a  resident  of  New  York, 
where  he  has  occasionally  delivered  metaphysical 
and  scientific  lectures,  which  are  included  in  his 
volume,  Prelections  on  some  of  the  more  important 
s-ubjects  connected  with  Moral  and  Physical 
Science. 

Thomas  R.  Dew,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three 
had  occupied  the  chair  of  moral  science  in  the 
college,  of  which  he  was  a  graduate.  He  pub- 
lished a  volume  on  Slavery,  in  which  he  held  the 
views  urged  by  Calhoun,  and  a  volume  of  Lec- 
tures on  Ancient  and  Modern  History.  He  died 
suddenly  at  Paris,  of  an  affection  of  the  lungs,  on 
a  second  visit  to  Europe,  in  the  summer  of  1816. 
Of  the  Professors,  none  was  more  distinguished 
than  William  Small,  who  was  Mr.  Jefferson's 
tutor  in  mathematics.  He  was  not  only  an 
eminent  mathematician,  but,  as  Mr.  Jefferson 
informs  us,  was  possessed  of  a  philosophic  mind, 
and  of  very  extensive  and  accurate  information 
on  a  great  variety  of  subjects.  He  went  to  Eng- 
land some  time  before  the  Revolution,  and  never 
returned,  but  became  a  distinguished  mathemati- 
cian in  England. 

The  Professorship  of  Moral  and  Intellectual 
Philosophy,  Belles  Lsttres,  and  Rhetoric,  is  at 
present,  in  1855,  held  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Silas 
Totten,  formerly  President  of  Washington  College, 
at  Hartford.  He  has  in  preparation  an  Historical 
Account  of  the  College,  an  undertaking  rendered 
difficult  by  meagre  and  imperfect  records ;  but 
his  work  will  be  an  important  one,  from  the  con- 
sideration of  the  men  and  times  which  will  pass 
under  his  view,  and  from  the  circumstance,  that 
what  may  be  known  of  the  institution  has  never 


*  Miller's  Retrospect,  ii.  873. 


hitherto  been  properly  narrated.  It  is  to  his  kind 
assistance,  that  we  are  indebted  for  much  of  the 
information  here  presented. 

Since  the  Law  Department  was  added  to  the 
college,  there  have  been  some  eminent  professors 
;  of  law.  Wythe,  Nelson,  St.  George,  and  Beverly 
Tucker  are  among  these. 

Four  Presidents  of  the  United  States,  viz.  Jef- 
ferson, Madison,  Monroe,  and  Tyler,  were  edu- 
cated in  the  college.  Chief  Justice  Marshall  and 
General  Scott  were  also  students  of  William  and 
Mary. 

The  secret  literary  society  of  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  originated  at  William  and  Mary,  about 
1775.  The  affiliated  society  of  Harvard  derived 
its  charter  from  that  source.  The  original,  how- 
ever, was  interrupted  by  the  Revolutionary  war. 

When  the  college  broke  up  in  1781,  the  records 
of  the  society  were  sealed  up  and  placed  in  the 
hands  of  the  college  steward.  Subsequently  they 
came  into  the  possession  of  the  Historical  Society 
of  Virginia.  On  examination,  it  was  found  that 
one  of  the  old  members,  William  Short,  of  Phila- 
delphia, still  survived  in  1850.  It  was  also  dis- 
covered that  he  was  President  of  the  Society 
when  it  had  been  interrupted.  Measures  were 
immediately  taken  to  revive  it  in  the  college, 
with  Mr.  Short  as  the  connecting  link  with  the 
original  society,  and  it  is  now  in  active  operation, 
with  the  old  records  restored  to  the  college. 

TALE    COLLEGE. 

Tnis  institution  dates  its  formal  beginning  from  the 
year  1700.  As  early  as  1647,  the  people  of  New 
Haven,  at  the  instance  of  the  Rev.  John  Daven- 
port, who  was  eminent  for  his  zeal  in  the  cause 
of  education,  undertook  the  enterprise  of  establish- 
ing a  college  in  that  colony,  but  postponed  it  in 
deference  to  the  interests  of  Cambridge.  In  1700 
a  meeting  of  ministers  of  Connecticut,  represent- 
ing, by  general  understanding,  the  churches  and 
people  of  the  colony,  took  place  at  New  Haven, 
for  the  purpose  of  forming  a  college  association. 
!  This  was  arranged  to  consist  of  eleven  clergymen, 
living  within  the  colony.  The  original  parties* 
shortly  met  again  at  Branford,  when  each  mem- 
ber brought  a  number  of  books  and  laid  them 
upon  a  table,  with  the  declaration,  "  I  give  these 
books  for  the  founding  a  college  in  this  colony." 
About  forty  folios  were  thus  deposited.  An 
application  for  a  charter  was  made  and  granted 
by  the  General  Court  in  1701.  It  had  been  at 
first  proposed  that  the  objects  of  the  college 
should  be  especially  theological.  This  pian,  how- 
ever, was  modified  to  the  design  of  "  instructing 
youth  in  the  arts  and  sciences,  who  may  be 
fitted  for  public  employments  both  in  Church  and 
Civil  State,"  though  the  religious  instruction  for 
a  long  while  practically  predominated.  The 
creed  of  the  Saybrook  platform  was  adopted  in 
1708  by  the  agency  of  the  trustees,  and  made 
binding  upon  the  officers  of  the  college. 

Abraham  Pierson  was  made  the  first  rector  of 


*  Thev  were  James  Noyes,  of  Stonintrton  ;  Israel  Chauney, 
of  Stratford;  Thomas  Buckingham,  of  Saybrook;  Abraham 
Pierson,  of  KlUirjgworth ;  Samuel  Mather,  of  Windsor; 
Samuel  Andrew,  of  Milford;  Timothy  Woodbridfo,  of  Hart- 
ford ;  James  Pierpont,  of  New  Haven  ;  Noadiah  Kussell,  of 
Middlotown;  Joseph  Webb,  of  Fairfield.  To  theso  Samuel 
Eussell,  of  Branford,  was  afterwards  added. 


86 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  college,  and  instructed  the  students  in  his 
house  atKillingworth.  The  first  Commencement 
was  held  at  Say  brook,  in  1702,  with  advanced 
scholars,  several  of  them  from  Harvard,  of  which 
college  Pierson  was  also  a  graduate.  He  continued 
to  receive  his  pupils  at  Killingworth,  till  his 
death  in  1707.  He  prepared  a  text-book  for  the 
students  in  Natural  Philosophy.  The  collegiate 
school,  as  it  was  called,  was  now  set  up  at  Say- 
brook,  under  the  care  of  tutors,  where  the  com- 
mencements continued  to  be  held,  though  the 
Rev.  Samuel  Andrew,  of  Milford,  rector  pro  tern., 
instructed  the  senior  class  at  his  home.  New 
Haven  and  Hartford,  too,  had  their  claims  for  the 
seat  of  the  college.  There  was  much  agitation 
of  the  matter,  but  it  was  finally  carried  in  favor 
of  New  Haven,  in  1716.*  The  first  Commence- 
ment in  New  Haven  was  held  in  1717. 


Elibu  Tale. 

Elihu  Yale,  a  native  of  the  place,  who  had 
left  it  in  his  boyhood,  became  possessed  of  great 
wealth  in  the  East  Indies,  and  was  created 
Governor  of  Fort  St.  George,  and  had  married, 
moreover,  an  Indian  fortune.  On  his  return  to 
London,  he  contributed  books  and  merchandise 
to  the  college  of  his  native  town.  The  trustees 
now  took  advantage  of  this  prominent  opportu- 
nity to  name  the  new  college  house  after  so 
liberal  a  benefactor,  and  Tale  College  soon  be- 
came the  name  of  the  institution  itself.  Yale 
"  was  a  gentleman,"  says  President  Clap,  in  his 
history  of  the  college,  "  who  greatly  abounded  in 
good  humour  and  generosity,  as  well  as  in 
wealth.t  The  following  is  a  copy  of  his  epitaph 
in  the  church-yard  at  Wrexham,  Wales. 

Under  this  tomb  lyes  interr'd  Elihu  Yale 
of  Place  Gronow,  Esq. ;  born  5th  April,  1048, 
and  dyed  the  8th  of  July,  1721,  aged  73  years. 

Born  in  America,  in  Europe  bred, 

In  Afric  travell'd,  and  in  Asia  wed, 

Where  long  he  liv'd  and  thriv'd  :  at  London  dead. 

Much  Good,  some  111  he  did :  so  hope  all's  Even, 

And  that  his  soul  thro'  Mercy's  gone  to  Heav'n. 
Yon  that  survive  and  read,  take  care 
For  this  most  certain  Exit  to  prepare, 

*  Wethersfield  had  its  pretensions,  and  a  number  of  students 
having  been  educated  there,  under  the  care  of  Elisba  Williams, 
a  commencement  was  held  there  and  degrees  conferred,  which 
were  afterwards  ratified  at  New  Haven.  To  remove  the  library 
from  Savbrook  to  New  Haven  process  was  issued  and  the 
sheriff  resisted.  Important  papers,  and  two  hundred  and  fifty 
valuable  volumes  were  lost  to  the  college  in  the  struggle. 
— SaMimn's  Hi-it.  qf  Yale,  1st  Ed.  p.  85. 

t  History  of  Yale  College,  80. 


For  only  the  Actions  of  the  Just, 
Smell  sweet  and  blossom  in  the  dust. 

Under  an  engraved  picture  of  Governor  Yale, 
sent  to  the  cjllege  at  an  early  period,  was  the 
following  inscription  in  manuscript : — 

Effigies  clarissimi  viri  D.  D.  Elihu  Yale 
Londinensis,  Armigeri. 
En  vir !  cui  meritas  laudes  ob  facta,  per  orbis 

Extremos  fines,  inclyta  fauna  dedit. 
jEquor  arans  tumidum,  gnzas  adduxit  ab  Indis, 

Quas  Ille  sparsit  munificante  manu : 
Inscitiaj  tenebrns,  ut  noctis  luce  eorusca 

Phoebus,  ab  oceiduis  pellit  et  llle  plagis. 
Dum  mens  grata  manet,  nomen  laudesque  Yalenses 

Cantabunt  Soboles,  unanimique  Patees. 

which  the  poet  Percival  has  thus  imitated. 

Behold  the  man,  for  generous  deeds  renown'd, 

Who  in  remotest  regions  won  his  fame: 
With  wise  munificence  he  scattered  round 

The  wealth  that  o'er  the  sea  from  India  came. 
From  western  realms  he  bids  dark  ignorance  fly, 

As  flies  the  night  before  the  dawning  rays: 
So  long  as  grateful  bosoms  beat,  shall  high 

Yaie's  sons  and  pious  fathers  sing  his  praise.* 

Jeremiah  Dummer,  of  Boston,  the  agent  of 
Massachusetts  in  England,  in  1714,  had  been  an 
earlier  generous  donor  to  the  library.  He  gave, 
or  procured,  some  eight  hundred  valuable  volumes. 
The  names  of  his  friends  who  were  associated 
with  him  in  the  gift,  impart  to  it  additional 
value.  They  were  among  the  most  distinguished 
men  of  that  day,  and  include  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
Sir  Richard  Steele,  Burnet,  Woodward,  Halley, 
Bentley,  Kennet,  Calamy,  Edwards,  and  Whis- 
ton,  who  gave  copies  of  their  writings  to  the 
collection. 

When  the  college  was  thus  established  at  New 
Haven,  the  Rev.  Timothy  Cutler,  of  Stratford, 
was  chosen  its  Rector,  and,  as  a  compensation  to 
the  people  of  the  place  he  was  leaving,  the  trus- 
tees of  Yale  bought  their  minister  from  them, 
paying  for  his  house  and  lot,  and  giving  them  to 
the  town.  A  new  difficulty  now  presented  itself. 
The  orthodox  Rector,  with  a  tutor  and  two 
neighboring  clergymen,  announced,  in  1722,  their 
intention  to  give  up  New  England  theology  for 
Episcopal  ordination  in  England.  The  discovery 
was  made  at  the  time  of  Commencement,  shortly 
after  which  occasion,  Gov.  Saltonstall  held  a  per- 
sonal dispute  on  the  subject  with  the  recusant 
Rector  and  one  of  his  most  distinguished  asso- 
ciates, the  Rev.  Samuel  Johnson,  of  New  Haven. 
The  trustees  met,  and  voted  that  they  "  do  excuse 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Cutler  from  all  further  service,  as 
Rector  of  Yale  College."  The  connexion  was  at  an 
end.  Mr.  Cutler,  with  his  friend  Johnson,  after- 
wards President  of  Columbia  College,  and  several 
other  of  the  New  England  clergy,  went  to  Eng- 
land, where  he  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  in 
Divinity  from  Oxford ;  he  returned  to  America, 
and  was  rector,  till  his  death,  in  1765,  of  Christ 
Church,  in  Boston.  He  was  a  loss  to  Yale,  from 
his  strength  of  mind  and  his  acquirements  in 
Oriental  literature.  He  was,  says  President 
Stiles,  in  his  Diary,  "  a  good  logician,  geographer, 


*  Ktnirsley's  Sketch  of  Tale  College.  Am.  Qnar.  He?.  viiL 
19.  Sketches  of  Tale  College,  with  numerous  anecdotes. 
1S43,  p.  28. 


YALE  COLLEGE. 


87 


and  rhetorician.  In  the  philosophy  and  meta- 
physics and  ethics  of  his  day,  he  was  great.  He 
spoke  Latin  with  great  fluency  and  dignity,  and 
with  great  propriety  of  pronunciation.  He  was 
a  man  of  extensive  reading  in  the  academic 
sciences,  divinity,  and  ecclesiastical  history;  and 
of  a  commanding  presence  and  dignity  in  govern- 
ment. He  was  of  a  lofty  and  despotic  mien,  and 
made  a  grand  figure  at  the  head  of  a  college."* 

Mr.  Andrew,  of  Milford,  one  of  the  trustees, 
again  took  the  management,  as  head  of  the  col- 
lege, fro  tempore,  till  1726,  when  the  Rev.  Elisha 
Williams,  of  Wethersfield,  became  Rector,  which 
he  continued  till  1739.  It  was  during  this  time  that 
Berkeley,  afterwards  the  Bishop  of  Cloyne,  made 
his  celebrated  donations  to  the  college,  which, 
with  great  liberality,  he  took  under  his  particular 
favor.  He  had  become  acquainted,  at  Newport, 
R.  I.,  with  one  of  the  trustees,  the  Rev.  Jared  Eliot, 
and  with  the  Rev.  Samuel  Johnson,  of  Stratford, 
who  called  his  attention  to  the  wants  of  the  col- 
lega.  On  his  return  to  England,  in  1732,  he  gave 
to  the  college  a  deed  of  his  house  and  farm  in  New- 
port, for  the  assistance  of  the  three  best  scholars 
in  Latin  and  Greek  who  should  reside  at  college 
for  nine  months  of  each  of  the  three  years 
between  the  first  and  second  degrees.  To  deter- 
mine the  priority  in  scholarship,  a  special  examina- 
tion is  to  bo  held  annually,  by  the  President  and 
senior  Episcopal  missionary  within  the  colony. 
If  these  do  not  agree,  the  choice  is  to  be  deter- 
mined by  lot.  The  persons  selected  are  to  be 
called  "scholars  of  the  house."  Any  surplus 
which  may  remain  by  vacancies  is  to  be  expend- 
ed in  Greek  and  Latin  books,  to  be  distributed  as 
prizes  to  undergraduates.  Such  were  the  pro- 
visions of  the  settlement.  The  property  does  not 
yield  any  considerable  income,  having  been  leased 
for  a  long  term  at  a  time  when  money  was  of 
more  value  than  it  is  now.  There  have  been  a 
number  of  successful  applicants  for  "  the  dean's 
bounty,"  who  have  afterwards  become  dis- 
tinguished. Of  these  may  be  mentioned,  Dr. 
Wheelock,  the  first  President  of  Dartmouth ;  the 
Rev.  Aaron  Burr,  President  of  the  College  of 
New  Jersey;  the  Hon.  Jared  Ingersoll,  Presi- 
dents Daggett  and  Dwight,  the  Rev.  Joseph 
Buckminster,  and  the  Hon.  Abraham  Baldwin. 
The  Berkeleian  prizes  have  also  reflected  honor  on 
the  college.t  Berkeley  also  procured  a  choice 
collection  of  books  for  the  college — contributing 
in  all  nearly  a  thousand  volumes,  including  a  set 
of  the  Christian  Fathers,  a  large  representation 
of  the  Greek  and  Latin  Classics,  and  other  well 
chosen  works,  among  which  were  Ben  Jon- 
son,  Dryden  and  Pope,  Butler  and  Wycherley. 
When  Rector  Clap  arranged  the  general  collec- 
tion, in  1742,  he  tells  us,  "in  honour  to  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Berkeley  for  his  extraordinary  donation,  his 
hooks  stood  by  themselves,  at  the  south  end  of 
the  library."]: 

The  career  of  Rector  Williams  was  more  varied 
than  falls  to  the  lot  of  most  college  Presidents. 
He  was  born  in  Massachusetts,  and  was  a  graduate 
of  Harvard.     He  passed  from  his  parish  duties  at 

*  Appendix  to  Holmes's  Stiles,  887. 

+  Prof.  Kingsley's  Sketch  of  the  History  of  Yale  College. 
Am.  Quar.  Register,  viii.  211.  List  of  Scholars  of  the  House 
in  Yale  Lit.  Mag.  xvii.  190. 

J  Clap's  History,  43. 


Wethersfield  to  the  Presidency  of  Yale.  Com- 
pelled to  retire  from  the  latter  by  ill  health,  ha 
became  member  of  the  Connecticut  House  of  Re- 
presentatives and  a  Judge.  In  1745  he  revived 
his  clerical  functions  to  become  army  chaplain  in 
the  Cape  Breton  expedition.  The  next  year  he 
was  appointed  colonel  of  a  regiment  in  the  expe- 
dition against  Canada.  Going  to  England  to 
secure  his  half-pay,  he  married  there  and  returned 
to  die  at  Wethersfield  in  1755,  at  the  age  of  sixty- 
one.  President  Stiles,  in  his  Literary  Diary, 
speaks  of  him  as  "  a  good  classical  scholar,  well 
read  in  logic,  metaphysics  and  ethics,  and  in 
rhetoric  and  oratory.  He  presided  at  commence- 
ment with  great  honor.  He  spoke  Latin  freely, 
delivered  orations  gracefully  and  with  animated 
dignity." 

Williams  was  succeeded,  in  the  year  1740,  by  the 
Rev.  Thomas  Clap,  who  was  withdrawn  from  the 
ministry  of  Windham,  the  college  as  before  buying 
his  time  from  the  townspeople.  The  compensation 
for  loss  of  services  was  referred  to  three  members 
of  the  General  Assembly,  who  "  were  of  opinion, 
that  inasmuch  as  Mr.  Clap  had  been  in  the 
ministry  at  Windham  fourteen  years,  which  was 
about  half  the  time  miuisters  in  general  continue 
in  their  public  work ;  the  people  ought  to  have 
half  as  much  as  they  gave  him  for  a  settlement ; 
which,  upon  computation,  was  about  fifty-three 
pounds  sterling."*  Clap  entered  vigorously  upon 
the  duties  of  the  college,  drew  up  a  body  of  laws, 
the  books  were  catalogued,  and  a  new  charter 
obtained,  by  which  the  Rector  and  Trustees 
became  entitled  President  and  Fellows. 

In  1747,  a  part  of  the  means  for  erecting  a  new 
college  building,  to  accommodate  the  increasing 
number  of  students,  was  raised  by  a  lottery.  The 
preaching  of  Whitefield  having  agitated  the  popu- 
lar faith,  a  theological  professorship  was  founded, 
which  took  its  name  from  its  first  contributor,  the 
Hon.  Philip  Livingston,  of  New  York.  A  new 
confession  was  made  of  the  college  faith,  according 
to  the  Assembly's  Catechism,  Dr.  Ames's  Medulla 
and  Cases  of  Conscience,  and  the  Rev.  Naphtali 
Daggett,  from  Long  Island,  was  appointed  Pro- 
fessor of  Divinity  in  1755.  In  1703,  the  question 
whether  the  Legislature  of  the  State  had  a  right 
to  exercise  visitatorial  power  over  the  college  was 
much  agitated.  President  Clap  argued  that  the 
legislature,  not  being  the  founders,  had  no  such . 
power,  and  successfully  maintained  this  position. 
Difficulties  in  the  discipline  and  administration  of 
the  college  led  to  the  resignation  of  President 
Clap  in  1766.  His  death  occurred  a  few  months 
after.  He  was  a  man  of  piety,  and  a  diligent 
head  of  his  college,  which  greatly  increased  under 
his  administration  of  twenty-seven  years.  He 
had  been  educated  by  Dr.  M'Sparran,  the  mission- 
ary clergyman  of  Rhode  Island.  His  literary 
accomplishments  were  large.  He  excelled  espe- 
cially in  the  Mathematics  and  Natural  Philosophy 
— and  constructed  the  first  orrery  or  planetarium 
in  America.  He  published  a  letter  to  Jonathan 
Edwards,  on  the  Whitefield  matter.  His  other 
publications  were  an  essay  on  the  Religious  Con- 
stitution of  Colleges,  1754;  a  Vindication  of  the 
Doctrines  of  the  New  England  Churches,  in 
1755 ;  an  Essay  on  the  Nature  and  Foundation 


Clap's  nistory  of  Yale  College,  41. 


88 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


of  Moral  Virtue  and  Obligation,  in  1765 ;  and 
a  History  of  Yale  College  in  1766.*  His  Con- 
jectures on  the  Nature  and  Motion  of  Me- 
teors above  the  Atmosphere,  was  issued  posthu- 
mously in  1781.  He  made  collections  for  a  His- 
tory of  Connecticut.  His  manuscripts,  then  in 
the  possession  of  his  daughter,  the  wife  of  General 
Wooster,  were  plundered  in  Tryon's  expedition 
against  New  Haven,  and  thrown  overboard  into 
Long  Island  Sound.  A  few  were  picked  up  after 
some  days  by  boatmen,  but  most  were  lost. 

Pre^dent  Stiles  has  left  a  minute  literary  cha- 
racter of  him,  in  which  he  speaks  enthusiastically 
of  the  extent  of  his  attainments ;  his  knowledge  of 
Newton's  Principia ;  his  study  of  moral  philoso- 
phy in  Wollaston,  and  of  the  ancient  and  modern 
powers  of  Europe.  Stiles,  warming  with  the 
recollections  of  his  predecessor,  describes  his 
habits  of  reading,  by  subjects  rather  than  volumes 
■ — and  his  aspect,  "  light,  placid,  serene,  and  con- 
templative," adding,  "he  was  a  calm,  still,  judi- 
cious great  man.vt 

In  1767,  Professor  Daggett  was  chosen  Presi- 
dent pro  tempore,  and  continued  in  this  position 
until  1777,  when  Dr.  Ezra  Stiles  was  elected  Pre- 
sident, Pres.  Daggett  continuing  in  his  Chair  of 
Divinity.  The  latter  was  a  man  of  worth  and  use- 
fulness. "When  the  British  took  possession  of 
New  Haven  in  1779,  he  was  taken  by  the  enemy 
wounded,  with  his  musket  in  his  hand,  resisting 
their  advance.  He  was  unhandsomely  treated 
with  violence  and  personal  injury  by  his  captors.}: 
His  college  Presidency  is  memorable  in  our  nar- 
rative for  the  presence  in  the  college  as  pupils,  of 
Trumbull,  Dwight,  Humphreys,  and  Barlow. 

Of  Stiles  and  of  Dwight,  who  succeeded  with 
bo  much  distinction  to  the  college,  something  is 
said  on  other  pages  of  this  book.  The  Presi- 
dency of  the  former  extended  from  1777  to  1795 ; 
of  Dwight,  from  that  date  till  1817.  The  college 
increased  greatly  in  influence  and  resources  at 
these  periods,  after  the  interruption  of  the  Revo- 
lution. The  personal  influence  of  these  men  was 
great.  Dwight  enlarged  the  scope  of  studies  by 
furthering  the  claims  of  general  literature,  in 
which  he  was  himself  so  accomplished  a  profi- 
cient. The  Professorships  of  Kingsley  and  Silli- 
man  were  instituted  during  Dwight's  adminis- 
tration. 

Jeremiah  Day  held  the  presidency  from  1817 
till  his  retirement  in  184:6.  He  was  born  in  New 
Preston,  Connecticut,  in  1773,  and  in  1795  had 
succeeded  Dwight  in  the  conduct  of  his  school  at 
Greenfield  Hill.  He  was  a  graduate  of  Yale,  and 
in  1801  had  received  the  appointment  of  Professor 
of  Mathematics  and  Natural  Philosophy,  which 
he  held  till  his  election  to  the  government  of  the 
college.  He  has  published  several  mathematical 
treatises  for  students,  which  have  been  widely 
circulated,  and  in  1838,  An  Inquiry  Respecting 
the  Self-Determining  Power  of  the  Will ;  or,  Con- 


*  The  Annals  or  History  of  Yale  College,  In  New  Haven,  in 
the  Colony  of  Connecticut,  from  the  first  founding  thereof  in 
the  year  1700,  to  the  year  1766:  with  an  Appendix,  containing 
the  present  state  of  the  College,  the  Method  of  Instruction 
and  Government,  with  the  Officers,  Benefactors,  and  Gradu- 
ates. By  Thomas  Clap,  A.M.,  President  of  the  said  College. 
New  Haven :  Printed  for  John  liotchkiss  and  B,  Mecoin, 
1766.  8vo. 

t  Appendix  to  Life  of  Stiles,  by  Holmes,  S90. 

i  Baldwin's  Hist.  Tale  Col.  1C3. 


tingent  Volition.  12mo.  And  in  1841,  An  Ex- 
amination of  Pres.  Edwards's  Inquiry  on  the 
Freedom  of  the  Will.     12mo. 

Alexander  Metcalf  Fisher  was  the  successor  to 
President  Day  in  his  Professorship.  He  was  a 
young  man  of  high  promise,  and  had  already 
made  important  contributions  to  mathematical 
and  physical  science.  His  sudden  death,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-eight,  in  the  shipwreck  of  the 
Albion  on  the  coast  of  Ireland,  in  1822,  when  he 
was  on  his  voyage  to  Europe  for  the  collection 
of  scientific  materia^  and  for  self-improvement, 
has  lent  additional  interest  to  his  memory. 

Theodore  Dwight  Woolsey  succeeded  to  Presi- 
dent Day.  He  was  born  in  New  York  in  1801, 
the  son  of  a  merchant,  and  a  nephew  on  the  mo- 
ther's side  of  President  Dwight.  His  education, 
was  at  Yale  and  the  Theological  Seminary  at 
Princeton.  After  this  he  passed  several  years  in 
Europe,  extending  his  studies  of  the  Greek  lan- 
guage and  literature  in  Germany.  On  his  return 
he  was  appointed  Professor  of  Greek  at  Yale  in 
1831,  and  discharged  the  duties  of  the  position 
for  twenty  years,  giving  to  the  public  during  this 
period  his  editions  of  the  Greek  tragedians,  the 
Prometheus  of  ^Eschylus,  the  Antigone  and  Elec- 
tra  of  Sophocles,  and  the  Aleestis  of  Euripides. 
He  has  also  edited  the  Gorgias  of  Plato.  His 
inauguration  discourse  in  1846,  on  the  subject  of 
college  education,  was  a  philosophical  view  of  the 
subject,  asserting  the  claims  of  a  classical  education. 
In  his  Historical  Discourse,  delivered  before  the 
graduates  of  Yale  in  1850,  on  the  completion  of  the 
third  semi-centennial  period,  he  has  sketched  the 
development  of  the  college,  in  its  studies,  with  an 
able  pen.  In  the  sphere  of  philosophical  discourse 
he  has  a  thoroughly  disciplined  mind. 

The  college  has  been  distinguished  by  the  long 
periods  of  service  maintained  by  its  officers  and 
professors.  The  terms  of  four  of  its  presidents, 
Clap,  Stiles,  Dwight,  and  Day,  cover  a  period  of 
nearly  a  hundred  years.  Kingsley  was  tutor  and 
professor  for  more  than  fifty  years.  The  con- 
nexion of  Benjamin  Silliman  with  the  instruction 
of  the  college,  dates  from  1799;  of  Chauncey 
Allen  Goodrich,  from  1812;  of  Olmsted,  from 
1815;  of  President  Woolsey,  from  his  tutorship 
in  1823. 

Professor  James  L.  Kingsley  was  long  a  repre- 
sentative man  of  the  college.  He  had  taught  in 
nearly  every  one  of  its  departments,  and  identi- 
fied himself  with  each  step  of  its  development. 
Born  in  Connecticut,  he  was  a  graduate  of  the 
college  of  the  class  of  1799,  the  same  year  with. 
Moses  Stuart.  Two  years  afterwards  he  wa3 
appointed  tutor,  and  in  1805,  professor  of  the 
Greek,  Hebrew,  and  Latin  Languages  and  of  Ec- 
clesiastical History,  discharging  with  ability  the 
various  duties  of  these  offices  as  required,  till 
with  the  improved  adjustment  of  the  college  in- 
struction, he  entered  in  1831  upon  a  distinct  pro- 
fessorship of  the  Latin  Language  and  Literature, 
continuing  for  some  time  to  give  instruction  In 
Hebrew.  He  resigned  his  post  in  1851,  exactly 
half  a  century  after  his  first  appointment  from  the 
college,  and  was  then  honored  with  the  title  of 
Emeritus  Professor,  till  his  death,  shortly  after, 
in  August,  1852.  He  was  a  close  and  accurate 
scholar,  well  versed  in  Greek  and  Hebrew,  and 
an  adept  in  Latin.  "  I  doubt,"  said  President  Wool- 


YALE  COLLEGE. 


89 


sey  in  an  address  at  his  funeral,  "  if  any  Ameri- 
can scholar  has  ever  surpassed  him  in  Latin 
style."  He  first  introduced  into  use  in  America, 
about  1805,  as  a  text-book,  the  two  volumes  of 
the  Ormca  Majora,  with  which  most  American 
students  have  been  at  some  time  familiar.  His 
encouragement  of  mathematical  science  was  also 
of  importance.  His  familiarity  with  American 
history,  particularly  of  his  own  state,  was  great; 
and  he  had  given  to  the  college  annals,  and  the 
large  opportunities  of  biographical  study  offered 
by  the  Triennial  Catalogues,  in  the  preparation 
of  which  he  was  concerned,  au  attention  inspired 
by  taste  and  habit.  The  Historical  Discourse, 
which  he  delivered  in  1838,  On  the  Two  Hun- 
dredth Anniversary  of  the  First  Settlement  of 
the  Town  and  Colony  of  New  Haven,  and  his 
Sketch  of  the  History  of  Yale  College,  published 
in  1835,  in  the  American  Quarterly  Register, 
are  proofs  of  this.  He  was,  besides,  the  author 
of  The  Life  of  President  Stiles,  in  Sparks'* 
American  Biography,  of  a  Eulogy  on  Professor 
Fisher,  and  of  various  critical  articles  in  the 
North  American  Review,  the  Christian  Spectator, 
the  New  Englander,  the  American  Journal  of 
Science,  the  Biblical  Repository,  and  other  peri- 
odicals. His  successor  in  the  Professorship  of 
Latin,  Thomas  A.  Thacher,  in  a  Commemorative 
Discourse,  in  October,  1852,  speaks  of  his  genuine 
love  of  his  classical  studies,  of  his  fondness  for 
biographical  anecdote,  and  of  his  intimacy  with 
English  literature.* 

Professor  Benjamin  Silliman  was  born  in  1779, 
in  Trumbull,  in  Connecticut.  He  was  a  graduate 
of  the  college,  of  the  year  1796,  for  a  time 
studied  the  law,  in  1799  became  a  college  tutor, 
and  has  since  been  prominent  in  its  faculty, — 
his  Professorship  of  Chemistry,  Mineralogy,  and 
Geology  dating  from  1804.  He  visited  Europe 
the  following  year,  to  procure  books  and  appara- 
tus for  the  college,  and  was  abroad  fifteen  months. 
In  1810,  he  published  an  account  of  this  tour  in 
his  Journal  of  Travels  in  England,  Holland,  and 
Scotland,  and  two  p  .stages  on  the  Atlantic,  in  the 
years  1805  and  1806.  Nearly  fifty  years  later, 
he  crossed  the  Atlantic  again,  and  has  contrasted 
his  observations  after  this  interval  in  the  two 
volumes  which  he  published  in  1853,  with  the 
title,  A  Visit  to  Europe  in  1851.  Another  record 
of  his  travels  is  his  Remarks  made  in  a  Short 
Tour  between  Hartford  and  Quebec  in  the  autumn 
of  1819.  In  the  course  of  his  college  engage- 
ment, he  has  published  Elements  of  Chemistry 
in  the  order  of  the  Lectures  in  Yale  College,  in 
1830;  and  has  edited  Henry's  Chemistry  and 
Bake  well's  Geology.  His  lectures  on  Chemistry, 
to  which  the  public  have  been  admitted,  at  Yale, 

*  "He  enjoyed  a  kind  of  personal  acquaintance  with  Addison 
and  Johnson  and  Milton  and  Shakespeare,  and  many  others, 
whose  writings  ho  relished  the  more  from  his  habit  of  giving 
a  personal  existence  to  the  writers.  He  took  an  interest  in 
their  history;  and  when  he  visited  England  the  streets  and 
corners  of  the  capital  seemed  to  be  peopled,  almost,  with  the 
old  worthies  of  his  library,  from  Johnson,  with  his  ghost  in 
Cock-lane,  to  Milton,  in  St.  Giles's,  Cripplegate.  One  could 
easily  have  imagined,  at  times,  from  observing  the  heartiness 
of  the  pleasure  he  derived  from  the  more  elegant  writers  of 
past  times,  both  classical  and  later,  that  he  might  even  join  in 
Walter  Pope's  wish,  and  ask  for  retirement  from  the  world,  to 
live  in  intellectual  converse, 

"  With  Horace,  and  Petrarch,  and  two  or  three  more, 
Of  the  best  wits  that  reigned  in  the  ages  before." 

Discourse,  p.  46. 


and  which  he  ..as  delivered  in  the  chief  cities  of 
the  country,  have  gained  him  much  reputation, 
which  has  been  extended  at  home  and  abroad  by 
his  American  Journal  of  Science,  of  which  he 
commenced  the  publication  in  1818. 

Denison  Olmsted  succeeded  to  the  chair  of  Ma- 
thematics and  Natural  Philosophy  in  1825,  which 
he  held  till  1836,  when  a  new  distribution  of  the 
duties  took  place,  under  which  he  entered  upon 
his  present  Professorship  of  Natural  Philosophy 
and  Astronomy.  He  was  born  at  East  Hartford, 
the  son  of  a  farmer,  in  1791.  became  a  graduate 
of  the  college  in  1813,  then  a  tutor,  when  in  1817 
he  was  appointed  to  the  Professorship  of  Che- 
mistry in  the  University  of  North  Carolina,  "which 
he  held  for  seven  years.  At  that  time  he  com- 
menced, with  the  support  of  the  legislature,  tho 
Geological  Survey  of  the  State,  the  first  survey  of 
the  kind  in  the  country,  and  published  papers  on 
the  Gold  Mines  of  North  Carolina,  and  Illumi- 
nating Gas  from  cotton  seed,  in  the  American 
Journal  of  Science,  to  which  he  has  been  a  fre- 
quent contributor.  His  chief  writings  have  been 
Thoughts  on  the  Clerical  Profession,  a  series  of 
Essavs,  in  1817 ;  his  Introduction  to  Natural 
Philosophy,  in  1832;  an  Introduction  to  Astro- 
nomy, in  1839,  the  substance  of  which  he  embo- 
died in  a  volume,  Letters  on  Astronomy  addressed 
to  a  Lady,  in  1840;  Rudiments  of  Natural  Phi- 
losophy  and  Astronomy,  1843,  a  work  of  such 
clearness  and  simplicity  that  it  has  been  published 
in  raised  letters  for  the  use  of  the  blind,  by  the 
Massachusetts  Asylum,  and  has  been  found  well 
adapted  to  the  instruction  of  the  deaf  and  dumb  ; 
a  Life  of  Mason,  the  young  astronomer,  and 
materials  for  several  volumes  of  miscellanies  in 
his  contributions  to  the  leading  reviews,  consist- 
ing of  Moral  Essays,  Biographical  Sketches, 
one  of  the  earliest  being  Pres.  Dwight,  in  tho 
Port  Folio  of  1817,  Addresses,  and  Scientific 
Memoirs. 

Connected  with  the  labors  of  this  chair  of  Ma- 
thematics and  Natural  Philosophy,  was  a  young 
man,  a  graduate  of  the  College,  whose  career,  soon 
cut  short  by  the  fatal  malady  of  consumption, 
was  yet  long  enough  to  make  a  name  for  himself, 
and  confer  lasting  honor  on  the  institution.  This 
was  Ebenezer  Porter  Mason,  who  died  in  1840, 
at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  the  story  of  whose  pre- 
cocious childhood,  early  mature  development,  and 
scientific  acquirements,  has  been  narrated  with 
many  sound  reflections  by  the  way,  in  an  interest- 
ing volume  by  Prof.  Olmsted,  with  whom  he  was 
associated.*  Mason  was  born  at  Washington, 
Litchfield  County,  Connecticut,  in  1819;  he  died 
in  1840,  at  the  house  of  a  relative  near  Richmond, 
Virginia.  His  attention  was  awakened  in  his 
childhood  to  books  of  science.  He  studied  with  in- 
terest when  he  was  nine  years  old  the  treatises  in 
the  Library  of  Useful  Knowledge.  At  the  age 
of  thirteen  he  read  the  iEneid,  and  made  excellent 
translations  from  it  in  heroic  verse.  His  original 
verses  written  shortly  after  this  time,  if  they  dis- 
play ingenuity  rather  than  poetic  conception, 
show  the  general  powers  of  his  mind  and  his 
literary  tastes.     Science,  however,  was  to  be  his 

*  Life  and  Writings  of  Ebenezer  Porter  Mason  ;  interspersed 
with  hints  to  Parents  and  Instructors  on  the  training  and  edu- 
cation of  a  Child  of  Genius,  By  Tenison  Olmsted.  New  York, 
Dayton  and  Newman,  1842.    12mo.  pp.  252. 


90 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAS'  LITERATURE 


Tale  College. 


peculiar  vocation,  and  astronomy  that  branch 
which  he  was  especially  to  cultivate.  His  skill 
and  manual  tact  in  constructing  instruments  and 
recording  observations,  while  a  College  student, 
were  very  remarkable.  On  the  completion  of  his 
course  in  1839,  he  became  a  Resident  Graduate; 
and  in  the  short  interval  which  remained  before 
his  death,  found  time  in  narrow  circumstances, 
with  rapidly  failing  health,  to  pursue  and  pub- 
lish his  Observations  on  Nebulm*  a  paper  which 
gained  the  admiration  of  Sir  John  Herschel,  who 
has  thus  spoken  of  the  composition  and  its  au- 
thor : — "  Mr.  Mason,  a  young  and  ardent  astrono- 
mer, a  native  of  the  United  States  of  America, 
whose  premature  death  is  the  more  to  be  regret- 
ted as  he  was  (so  far  as  I  am  aware)  the  only 
other  recent  observer  who  has  given  himself  with 
the  assiduit3T  which  the  subject  requires,  to  the 
exact  delineation  of  Nebulre,  and  whose  figures  I 
find  at  all  satisfactory.''!  He  also  prepared  a  col- 
lege treatise  on  Practical  Astronomy.  In  the 
autumn  of  1840,  he  was  engaged  in  the  difficult 
public  service  of  Prof.  Renwick's  North  Eastern 
Boundary  Survey.  He  returned  to  his  friends  to 
die  before  the  year  closed. 

Oh!  what  a  noble  heart  was  here  undone, 
When  Science'  self  destroyed  her  favourite  son. 

The  Rev.  Chauncey  A.  Goodrich  was  elected 
professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Oratory  in  1817,  and 
discharged  the  duties  of  this  office  until  1839,  when 
he  was  transferred  to  the  Professorship  of  Pas- 
toral Theology,  in  which  office  he  still  continues. 
He  was  for  several  years  editor  of  the  Quarterly 
Christian  Spectator,  and  is  extensively  and  favor- 
ably known  by  his  works  of  Greek  elementary 
instruction,  his  Collection  of  Select  British  Elo- 


*  In  the  Transactions  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society 
for  1840. 

t  Sir  John  F.  W.  Herschel's  Results  of  Astronomical  Obser- 
vations, 1S84-S,  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  p.  7. 


quence,  and  his  revised  and  enlarged  edition  of 
Webster's  Dictionary. 

In  1841,  a  Professorship  of  the  Arabic  and 
Sanskrit  languages  and  literature  was  established 
in  the  college,  and  Prof.  Edward  E.  Salisbury  was 
appointed  to  the  chair.  His  Inaugural  Discourse 
(New  Haven,  1843,  8vo.  pp.  51)  is  a  learned  and 
comprehensive  survey  of  the  wide  and  important 
field  of  Oriental  literature.  He  has  for  many 
years  been  the  Secretary  of  the  American  Orien- 
tal Society,  and  the  editor  of  its  journal,  to  which 
he  has  contributed  many  valuable  papers.  This 
work  has  reached  its  fourth  volume,  and  is  highly 
creditable  to  American  scholarship.  In  1854  the 
professorship  was  divided,  Prof.  Salisbury  re- 
taining the  Arabic,  and  resigning  the  Sanskrit. 
To  the  latter  professorship  Mr.  William  D.  Whit- 
ney, an  eminent  Sanskrit  scholar,  was  then  ap- 
pointed. 

The  Medical  establishment  was  organized  in 
1813,  and  has  enjoyed  the  services  of  many 
eminent  men  as  instructors  from  that  time  to  the 
present.     The  number  of  professors  is  now  six. 

The  Theological  department  of  the  college  was 
organized  in  1822,  the  Rev.  Nathaniel  W.  Taylor 
being  associated  as  Professor  of  Didactic  Theology 
with  the  Rev.  Eleazar  T.  Fitch,  who,  in  1817,  suc- 
ceeded Dr.  Dwight  as  Professor  of  Divinity. 
These  gentlemen  have  long  been  well  known  by 
their  lectures  and  published  works.  In  1824, 
Josiah  Willard  Gibbs  was  chosen  Professor  of 
Sacred  Literature,  which  office  he  still  holds.  He 
is  the  author  of  a  valuable  Lexicon  of  the  He- 
brew Language,  and  of  very  many  contributions 
to  general  philology. 

The  Law  School,  which  was  commenced  about 
1820,  was  not  definitely  connected  with  the  col- 
lege until  1830;  and  the  degree  of  LL.B.  was 
first  conferred  here  in  1843.  The  school  is  con- 
ducted by  two  professors — Clark  Bissell,  late 
Judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Connecticut,  and 
Henry  Dntton,  Governor  of  that  State. 


YALE  COLLEGE. 


91 


In  1847  was  established  the  department  of 
Philosophy  and  the  Arts.  By  this  it  was  intended 
to  provide  means  by  which  some  of  the  collegiate 
studies,  such  as  philosophy,  philology,  pure  mathe- 
matics, and  the  like,  might  be  prosecuted  by 
graduates  under  systematic  instruction,  and  others, 
not  graduates,  who  should  be  properly  qualified, 
might  be  trained  to  fulfil  in  a  creditable  manner 
the  office  of  the  civil  engineer,  of  the  scientific 
miner  and  geologist,  of  the  scientific  agricultu- 
rist, and  the  like ;  thus  furnishing  society  with  a 
body  of  highly  educated  men  in  its  various  de- 
partments, and  introducing,  in  fact,  new  liberal 
professions  among  the  learned  pursuits.  In  this 
new  department  are  included  the  professorships 
of  chemistry  applied  to  agriculture,  chemistry 
applied  to  the  arts,  and  of  civil  engineering. 
The  first  professor  of  agricultural  chemistry  was 
John  Pitkin  Norton,  a  young  man  of  high  pro- 
mise, and  thoroughly  qualified  for  the  place.  He 
discharged  the  duties  of  his  office  with  great  zeal 
and  success,  and  by  lectures  at  home  and  abroad, 
and  by  his  essays  and  treatises,  accomplished  much 
good  during  his  brief  life.  In  the  midst  of  his 
usefulness  he  was  arrested  by  fatal  illness,  and 
died  Sept.  5th,  1852,  at  the  age  of  thirty.  His 
successor  is  Prof.  John  A.  Porter.  Prof.  B.  Sil- 
liman,  Jr.,  was  appointed  to  the  chair  of  che- 
mistry applied  to  the  arts,  and  still  continues  in 
office.  Prof.  Win.  A.  Norton  is  the  professor  of 
civil  engineering. 

In  1850  the  Silliman  professorship  of  natural 
history  was  established,  and  James  D.  Dana  was 
appointed  to  the  office.  He  is  the  author  of  a 
comprehensive  treatise  on  Mineralogy,  which  has 
passed  through  four  editions,  and  also  of  a  work 
on  the  Geology  and  Mineralogy  of  the  U.  S.  Ex- 
ploring Expedition,  and  of  a  work  on  the 
Zoophytes  and  Crustacea  collected  during  that 
cruise.  His  contributions  to  the  American  Jour- 
nal of  Science,  of  which  lie  is  one  of  the  editors, 
are  numerous  and  valuable.* 

Yale  College  is  connected  with  the  history  of 
religion  in  the  country,  as  having  educated  more 
than  1500  clergymen,  and  as  having  been  the 
scene  of  numerous  revivals  of  religion.  "In  the 
space  of  ninety-six  years  from  the  great  revival 
of  1741,  the  college,"  says  Prof.  Goodrich,  "has 
been  favored  with  twenty  distinct  effusions  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  of  which  three  were  in  the 
last  century  and  seventeen  in  the  present."t 

The  benefactors  to  the  college  deserve  a  pass- 
ing mention.  D  wight  in  his  letters  remarks  that 
they  have  been  men  of  moderate  fortunes.! 
Among  these,  the  Hon.  Oliver  Wolcott  gave  two 
thousand  dollars  to  the  library.  Eli  Whitney, 
the  inventor  of  the  cotton  gin,  a  graduate  of  the 
college,  founded  a  fund  of  five  hundred  dollars, 


*  During  the  last  ten  years  do  one  in  America  has  made  so 
many  important  contributions  to  natural  history.    His  reports  J 
ofthe  Exploring  Expedition  are, 

1.  Report  on  Zoophytes.    1846.    pp.  4704to.    Atlas  of  61  plates 

folio.    23J  new  species  of  Zoophytes  figured. 

2.  Report  on  Geology.     1849.     pp.  756  4to.     Atlas  of  21  folio 

plates  of  fossils. 
S.  Report  on  Crustacea.  1854.   2  vols,  of  1620  pages  in  all.    At- 
las of  96  plates  folio:  680  species  figured;  658  of  them  new. 
Of  those  and  the  other  reporls,  the  government  have,  in  their 
folly,  published  only  a  hundred  copies  each. 

t  Narrative  of  Revivals  of  Religion  in  Tale  College.    Am. 
Quar.  Keg.  x.  239. 
$  Travels  in  New  England  and  New  York,  i.  207. 


the  interest  of  which  is  to  be  expended  in  the  pur- 
chase of  books  on  mechanical  and  physical  science. 
Dr.  Alfred  E.  Perkins,  also  a  graduate,  bequeathed 
ten  thousand  dollars  as  a  permanent  fund  to  the 
library  in  1834.  Dr.  Jedediah  Morse  and  Mr. 
S.  F.  B.  Morse  were  contributors  of  a  valuable  col- 
lection of  books  to  the  library  in  1823.  Among 
the  donors  to  the  philosophical  apparatus,  the  name 
of  Dr.  Isaac  Watts  occurs  for  a  pair  of  globes. 


lilRf 

an 


Tale  Library. 

The  college  library,  with  the  collections  of  the 
societies,  deposited  in  different  departments,  in  the 
costly  and  ornamental  library  building  of  Port- 
land sandstone,  numbered  in  1854  some  54,000 
volumes.  The  library  is  rich  in  old  New  Eng- 
land theology,  and  in  general  history  and  meta- 
physics. Its  American  antiquarian  treasures  include 
a  unique  newspaper  collection  of  contemporary 
papers  relating  to  the  Stamp  Act,  made  by  Pre- 
sident Stiles,  and  the  extensive  series  of  his  MS. 
Journals  and  commonplace  books,  of  an  historical 
as  well  as  personal  interest.  The  library  lias  the 
collection  of  papers  made  by  Trumbull  for  his 
History  of  Connecticut.  An  addition  of  much 
value  was  made  in  1854,  being  the  entire  library 
of  the  late  Prof.  Thilo,  of  Halle,  consisting  of 
above  4000  volumes,  chiefly  in  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory and  kindred  departments. 

the  library  possesses  four  of  the  original  sculp- 
tures of  Nineveh,  sent  to  America  by  the  Eev.  W. 
F.  Williams,  American  missionary  at  Mosul. 

There  have  been  but  three  specially  appointed 
librarians,  the  duty  before  1805  having  been  dis- 
charged by  tutors — Professor  Kingsley,  Josiah 
Willard  Gibbs,  and  the  present  incumbent,  Ed- 
ward C.  Herrick.  In  the  Trumbull  Gallery, 
the  College  possesses  a  constant  means  of  at- 
traction to  visitors.  There  are  collected  a  valu- 
able series  of  Revolutionary  paintings  by  the 
artist  from  whom  the  building  has  been  named, 
and  beneath  which  he  lies  buried,  with  many 
other  works  of  interest,  portraits  of  the  college 
presidents,  and  illustrious  men  of  the  state,  in- 
cluding the  celebrated  family  group  of  Dean 
Berkeley  and  his  friends,  painted  by  Smibert. 

The  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  of  Yale  was  or- 
ganized in  1780.  Its  catalogue  shows  a  list  of 
honored  names,  from  the  poets  Trumbull  and 
Barlow  to  the  present  day.     Its  orators  and  poets 


92 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN"  LITERATURE 


have  included,  among  others,  Edward  Everett, 
T.  S.  Grirake,  Gardiner  Spring,  James  Kent, 
Albert  Barnes,  Horace  Bushncll,  Edward  Robin- 
son, Daniel  Lord,  J.  G.  Percival,  Elizur  Wright, 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  Wm.  H.  Seward. 

The  college  societies,  the  Linonian  and  the 
Brothers  in  Unity,  are  supported  with  spirit.  To 
the  last,  literary  men  are  indebted  for  the  first 
edition  of  the  Alphabetical  Index  to  subjects 
treated  in  Reviews,  prepared  by  William  Fre- 
derick Poole,  its  librarian. 

The  Yale  Literary  Magazine,  contributed  to 
by  undergraduates,  was  commenced  in  1836,* 
and  has  been  well  sustained  since,  being  by  far 
the  longest-lived  publication  of  its  kind.  Its 
series  of  portraits  and  lives  of  the  Presidents  and 
Professors  are  valuable;  while  it  has  published 
original  articles  of  merit  from  the  pens  of  Colton, 
Bristed,  Thompson,  Mitchell,  Finch,  and  others. 

Comparing  the,  catalogues  of  the  two  oldest 
colleges,  Harvard  and  Yale,  we  find,  that  up  to 
the  close  of  1854,  in  the  former  institution  there 
had  been,  from  the  year  1642,  6,612  alumni,  of 
whom  2,273  were  then  survivors;  and  of  Yale, 
from  1702  to  the  close  of  1853,  there  had  been 
6,212  graduates,  of  whom  3,065  were  living — so 
that  in  point  of  number  of  living  alumni  the 
latter  institution  stands  at  the  head  of  the  col- 
leges of  the  country. 

JONATHAN  EDWARDS. 

Jonathan  Edwards,  one  of  the  first  metaphysi- 
cians of  his  age,  and  the  last  and  finest  product 
of  the  old  Puritanism  of  America,  was  born 
in  East  Windsor,  Connecticut,  October  5,  1703. 
His  family  and  culture  were  strictly  evangelical. 
Four  generations  back,  on  his  father's  side,  his 
ancestor  was  a  clergyman  of  the  Established 
Church  in  London,  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth.  His 
son  emigrated  to  Hartford,  in  Connecticut,  in  the 
middle  of  the  seventeenth  century.  He  was  a 
merchant,  as  was  also  his  son  Richard,  who  super- 
added to  that  worldly  calling  a  life  of  eminent 
piety.  The  next  in  descent  was  the  Rev.  Timothy 
Edwards,  the  father  of  our  author.  He  was  a 
graduate  of  Harvard,  and  the  first  minister  of 
East  Windsor.  In  the  old  French  war,  he  accom- 
panied an  expedition  as  chaplain  on  its  way  to 
Canada.  He  married  the  daughter  of  the  Rev. 
Solomon  Stoddard,  of  Northampton,  with  whom 
he  lived  more  than  sixty-three  years — his  widow 
surviving  him  twelve  years,  when  she  died  in  her 
ninety-ninth  year.  This  lady,  the  mother  of 
Jonathan  Edwards,  is  spoken  of  as  possessed  of 
superior  force  of  understanding  and  refinement  of 
character.  The  father  was  a  man  of  learning  and 
devotion  to  his  ministry. 

It  is  impossible  to  study  the  portrait  of  Jona- 
than Edwards  without  noticing  an  air  of  purity, 
a  tinge  perhaps  of  feminine  character,  a  look  of 
thorough  earnestness,  and  an  expression  of  native 
delicacy.  Energy  and  reserve  seem  to  be  happily 
blended  in  his  countenance.!      On  reading  the 


*  Three  or  four  college  magazines  had  previously  been  pub- 
lished here,  as  the  Literary  Cabinet  in  1807,  the  AVtenanm  in 
1S14,  &c.  In  1831  appeared  Tlie  Student's  Companion,  by  the 
Knights  of  the  Round  Table,  the  two  hundred  pages  of  which 
were  written  almost  exclusively  by  David  Francis  Bacon. 
.  t  "In  his  youth  he  appeared  healthy,  and  with  a  good  decree 
of  vivacity,  but  was  never  robust.    Ig  middle  life,  he  appeared 


narrative  of  his  youthful  studies  and  early  deve- 
lopements  of  intellect  and  piety,  we  see  an  exube- 


ranee  in  both  which  indicate  a  richly  endowed 
nature.  Education,  whatever  it  may  be  with 
such  a  man,  is  simply  the  mould  to  be  filled  by 
his  genius.  In  other  places,  in  other  relations, 
he  would  always  be  a  man  of  mark.  In  the  field 
of  the  belles  lettres,  if  he  had  cultivated  them,  he 
would  have  shone  as  an  acute  critic  and  poet; 
among  men  of  science,  as  a  profound  and  original 
observer;  among  wits,  as  a  subtle  philosopher. 
As  it  was,  born  in  New  England,  of  the  ghostly 
line  of  Puritanism,  all  his  powers  were  confined 
to  Christian  morals  and  metaphysics. 

The  religious  element  was  developed  in  him 
very  early.  At  the  age  of  seven  or  eight,  in  a 
period  of  religious  excitement  in  his  father's  con- 
gregation, he  attained  a  height  of  devotional 
fervor,  and  built  a  booth  in  a  retired  swamp  for 
secret  prayer,  with  some  of  his  school  companions. 
His  account  of  his  "  early  religious  life  is  pure  and 
fervent,  recalling  the  sublime  imagination  of  Sir 
Thomas  Browne  of  those  who  have  understood 
Christian  annihilation,  gustation  of  God,  and 
ingression  into  the  divine  shadow,  and  have  had 
already  an  handsome  anticipation  of  heaven." 
Nature  at  that  time  was  transfigured  before  him. 
It  was  the  thorough  consecration  of  a  mind  of 
the  strongest  powers  and  finest  temper.  His  love 
of  nature  was  a  trait  of  his  boyhood.  Before  the 
age  of  twelve  he  had  written  a  minute  account  of 
the  habits  of  a  forest  spider.  When  the  world 
gained  a  great  metaphysician  it  perhaps  lost  an 
admirable  natural  historian. 

Edwards  entered  Yale  College  in  his  thirteenth 
year,  when  he  fell  in  with  Locke's  Essay  on  the 


very  much  emaciated,  by  severe  study,  and  intense  mental 
application.  In  his  person  he  was  tall  of  stature — about  six 
feet  one  inch — and  of  a  slender  form.  He  had  a  high,  broad, 
bold  forehead,  and  an  eye  unusually  piercing  and  luminous; 
and  on  his  whole  countenance,  the  features  of  his  mind — per- 
spicacity, sincerity,  and  benevolence — were  so  strongly  im- 
pressed, that  no  one  could  behold  it,  without  at  once  discover- 
ing the  clearest  indications  of  great  intei'^c*"  tf  and  moral 
elevation.1' — Life  by  Sereno  E.  Dwiglit, 


JONATHAN  EDWARD3. 


93 


Understanding,  ■which  ha  read  ■with  great  zest. 
It  was  always  his  habit  to  think  and  write  as  he 
read,  so  that  his  pen,  as  his  biographer  remarks, 
was  always  in  his  hand.  This  course  adds  to 
the  exactness  and  labor  of  study,  and  begets  a 
habit  which,  amidst  the  infinite  riches  of  human 
learning,  is  not  readily  expended.  It  is  not  sur- 
prising, therefore,  that  Edwards  afterwards  came 
to  devote  nearly  two  thirds  of  the  day  to  study. 
He  was  graduated  at  the  college  with  the  highest 
honor,  and  continued  to  reside  in  the  institution 
two  years,  for  the  study  of  the  ministry.  His 
first  clerical  occupation  was  in  New  York,  where 
he  preached  to  a  congregation  of  Presbyterians  in 

1722,  in  his  nineteenth  year.  His  meditations  at 
this  time  were  full  of  ardor  and  humility.  "  The 
soul  of  a  true  Christian,  as  I  then  wrote  my  medi- 
tations," says  he,  "appeared  like  such  a  little 
white  flower  as  we  see  in  the  spring  of  the  year ; 
low  and  humble  on  the  ground,  opening  its  bosom 
to  receive  the  pleasant  beams  of  the  sun's  glory ; 
rejoicing,  as  it  were,  in  a  calm  rapture,  diffusing 
around  a  sweet  fragrancy ;  standing  peacefully 
and  lovingly,  in  the  midst  of  other  flowers  round 
about ;  all  in  like  manner  opening  their  bosoms, 
to  drink  in  the  light  of  the  sun."  He  records  his 
frequent  retirement  "  into  a  solitary  place  on  the 
banks  of  Hudson's  river,  at  some  distance  from 
the  city,  for  contemplation  on  divine  things  and 
secret  converse  with  God;  and  had  many  sweet 
hours  there."  Before  he  had  completed  his 
twentieth  year,  he  had  solemnly  arranged  a 
series  of  seventy  resolutions,  which  were  to  be 
the  guiding  principles  of  his  life.  These  relate  to 
the  absolute  performance  of  duty  without  regard 
to  immediate  motive  or  difficulty  ;  to  the  intensity 
of  occupation, — '"to  live  with  all  my  might  while 
I  do  live  " — to  regard  the  various  moral  duties, 
to  practise  the  minor  moralities,  "  in  narrations 
never  to  speak  anything  but  the  pure  and  simple 
verity."      The  fifty-first  resolution,  dated  July  8, 

1723,  is  a  singular  expression  at  once  of  submis- 
sion and  of  strength  of  will: — "that  I  will  act  so, 
in  every  respect,  as  I  think  I  shall  wish  I  had 
done,  if  I  should  at  last  be  damned."  A  private 
religious  Diary  which  he  wrote,  commences  Dec. 
18,  1722,  and  closes  June  11,  1726.  One  entry 
marks  the  student,  and  the  comparative  isolation 
of  the  man  from  the  world : — "  I  am  sometimes 
in  a  frame  so  listless,  that  there  is  no  other  way 
of  profitably  improving  time  but  conversation, 
visiting,  or  recreation,  or  some  bodily  exercise. 
However,  it  may  be  best,  in  the  first  place,  before 
resorting  to  either  of  these,  to  try  the  whole 
circle  of  my  mental  employments."  This  was 
dangerous  theory  and  practice  with  his  delicate 
constitution. 

From  New  York,  where  he  resided  eight 
months,  he  returned  to  a  tutorship  in  Yale,  where 
he  remained  till  he  became  associated,  in  1726, 
on  his  ordination,  with  his  grandfather,  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Stoddard,  in  his  ministry  at  Northampton, 
In  July  of  this  year  he  married  Miss  Sarah 
Pierrepont,  the  daughter  of  a  clergyman  of  strong 
clerical  connexions,  and  a  young  lady  of  eighteen, 
of  unusual  beauty.  The  spiritual  description  of 
her  gentle  habits,  written  by  Edwards,  apparently 
on  reports  of  her  excellence  brought  to  him  when 
she  was  but  thirteen  years  of  age,  is  the  uncon- 
scious admiration  of  the  lover  in  the  saint.    "  They 


say,"  writes  on  a  blank  leaf  the  pure-minded 
young  man  of  twenty,  "  there  is  a  young  lady  in 
New  Haven  who  is  beloved  of  that  Great  Being, 
who  made  and  rules  the  world,  and  that  there  are 
certain  seasons  in  which  this  Great  Being,  in  some 
way  or  other  invisible,  comes  to  her  and  fills  her 
mind  with  exceeding  sweet  delight,  and  that  she 
hardly  cares  for  anything,  except  to  meditate  on 
him — that  she  expects,  after  a  while,  to  be 
received  up  where  he  is,  to  he  raised  up  out  of 
the  world  and  caught  up  into  heaven  ;  being 
assured  that  he  loves  her  too  well  to  let  her 
remain  at  a  distance  from  him  always.  There 
she  is  to  dwell  with  him,  and  to  be  ravished 
with  his  love  and  delight  for  ever.  Therefore,  if 
you  present  all  the  world  before  her,  with  the 
richest  of  its  treasures,  she  disregards  it  and 
cares  not  for  it,  and  is  unmindful  of  any  pain  or 
affliction.  She  has  a  strange  sweetness  in  her 
mind,  and  singular  purity  in  her  affections;  is 
most  just  and  conscientious  in  all  her  conduct; 
and  you  could  not  persuade  her  to  do  anything 
wrong  or  sinful,  if  you  would  give  her  all  the 
world,  lest  she  should  offend  this  Great  Being. 
She  is  of  a  wonderful  sweetness,  calmness,  and 
universal  benevolence  of  mind;  especially  after  this 
Great  God  has  manifested  himself  to  her  mind. 
She  will  sometimes  go  about  from  place  to  place, 
singing  sweetly,  and  seems  to  be  always  full  of 
joy  and  pleasure,  and  no  one  knows  for  what. 
She  loves  to  be  alone,  walking  in  the  fields  and 
groves,  and  seems  to  have  some  one  invisible 
always  conversing  with  her."* 

His  preaching  at  Northampton  was  devoted  to 
an  awakening  of  zeal  and  restoration  of  strict 
devotional  conduct,  which  had  somewhat  declined. 
Hiscourse  was  attended  at  the  outset  with  success ; 
a  revival,  a  class  of  religious  exercises  for  which  the 
town  had  been  celebrated,  in  1735,  adding  largely 
for  the  time  to  his  congregation.  An  account  of 
these  scenes  was  published  in  "  A  Narrative  of 
Surprising  Conversions,"  by  Edwards,  reissued  in 
London,  with  a  preface  by  Dr.  "Watts.  Other 
solemnities  of  the  kind  attended  his  ministry  at 
Northampton.  To  mark  the  distinctions  of  what 
he  considered  true  religion,  he  wrote  the  discri- 
minating Treatise  on  lieligiovs  Affections. 

Whether  the  discipline  attempted  by  Edwards 
was  overstrained  or  impolitic,  or  the  system  of 
theology  which  ho  pursued  was  more  logical  than 
practicable,  serious  differences  arose  with  the 
people,  which  eventually,  after  he  had  preached 
at  Northampton  for  twenty-three  years,  compelled 
his  retirement.  One  point  of  difficulty  was  his 
change  in  the  test  for  the  Communion.  This  rite 
had  been  regarded  as  a  means  to  conversion 
rather  than  the  end ;  and  persons  admitted  to 
membership  under  it  without  a  distinct  profession. 
In  opposing  this  view,  which  had  been  de- 
liberately established  by  his  grandfather  anil 
predecessor,  and  enforcing  his  convictions,  Ed- 
wards was  governed  by  the  logical  morality  of 
his  early  resolutions.  He  issued  his  work,  "  An 
Humble  Enquiry  into  the  Rules  of  the  Word  of 
God,  concerning  the  Qualifications  requisite  to 
a  complete  standing  and  full  communion  in  the 
Visible  Christian   Church."      The   townspeople 


'  Life  by  Dwight,  p.  114. 


91 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


instigated  controversial  replies  and  held  meetings 
of  disapproval ;  the  result,  after  a  great  deal  of 
unhappy  agitation,  was  Edwards's  dismission,  in 
1750,  by  an  Ecclesiastical  Council.  He  was  in- 
stalled the  next  year  minister  at  Stockbridge, 
Mass.,  and  missionary  to  the  Indians  then  in  that 
vicinity.  It  was  at  this  post,  where  he  con- 
tinued six  years,  that  he  wrote,  in  the  midst  of 
cares  and  anxieties,  in  the  short  time  of  four 
months  and  a  half,  his  "  Essay  on  the  Freedom  of 
the  Will."*  This  work  is  written  with  great  com- 
pactness, never  swerving  from  the  line  of  the  argu- 
ment. While  men  will  continue  to  act  as  if  they 
'  were  free,  Edwards  will  still  convince  them  that 
they  are  bound  by  the  iron  hand  of  necessity. 

With  metaphysicians  it  has  always  taken  the 
highest  reputation.  Its  worth  has  been  pronounced 
by  "mouths  of  wisest  censure." 

'  "  In  the  New  World,"  said  Dugald  Stewart, "  the 
state  of  society  and  of  manners  has  not  hitherto 
been  so  favourable  to  abstract  science  as  to  pur- 
suits which  come  home  directly  to  the  business 
of  human  life.  There  is,  however,  one  metaphy- 
sician of  whom  America  has  to  boast,  who,  in 
logical  acuteness  and  subtlety,  does  not  yield  to 
any  disputant  bred  in  the  Universities  of  Europe. 
I  need  not  say  that  I  allude  to  Jonathan  Edwards. 
But  at  the  time  when  he  wrote,  the  state  of 
America  was  more  favourable  than  it  now  is,  or 
can  for  a  long  period  be  expected  to  be,  to  such 
inquiries  as  those  which  engaged  his  attention; 
inquiries,  by  the  way,  to  which  his  thoughts  were 
evidently  turned,  less  by  the  impulse  of  specula- 
tive curiosity  than  by  his  anxiety  to  defend  the 
theological  system  in  which  he  had  been  educated, 
and  to  which  he  was  most  conscientiously  and 
zealously  attached.  The  effect  of  this  anxiety  in 
sharpening  his  faculties,  and  in  keeping  his 
polemical  vigilance  constantly  on  the  alert,  may 
be  traced  in  every  step  of  his  argument.''! 

Hazlitt,  whose  "  Principles  of  Human  Action  " 
show  him  to  have  been  a  close  and  original 
student  of  mental  phenomena,  and  whose  know- 
ledge of  metaphysical  authors  entitles  him  to  an 
authoritative  opinion  on  the  subject,  says  of  the 
"  Treatise  on  the  Will "  and  its  author :  "  Having 
produced  him,  the  Americans  need  not  despair  of 
their  metaphysicians.  We  do  not  scruple  to  say, 
that  he  is  one  of  the  acutest,  most  powerful,  and 
of  all  reasoners  the  most  conscientious  and  sincere. 
His  closeness  and  candour  are  alike  admirable. 
Instead  of  puzzling  or  imposing  on  others,  he 
tries  to  satisfy  his  own  mind.  *  *  Far  from 
taunting  his  adversaries,  he  endeavours  with  all 
his  might  to  explain  difficulties.  *  *  His 
anxiety  to  clear  up  the  scruples  of  others  is  equal 
to  his  firmness  in  maintaining  his  own  opinion."! 

A  manuscript  note,  by  Judge  Egbert  Benson,  at- 
tached to  the  copy  of  The  Freedom  of  the  Will — 
the  original  Boston  edition  of  1754,  with  the  sub- 
scribers' names  appended,  preserved  in  the  New 


*  A  Careful  and  Strict  Enquiry  into  the  modern  prevailing 
Notions  of  that  Freedom  of  Will,  which  is  supposed  to  be 
essential  to  Moral  Agency,  Virtue  and  Vice,  Reward  and  Pun- 
ishment, Praise  and  Blame.  By  Jonathan  Edwards,  A.M., 
Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Stockbridge.  Rom.  ix.  16:  It  is  not 
of  him  that  willeth.  Boston,  N.  E.  Printed  and  sold  by  8. 
Kneeland,  in  Queen-st.    1754. 

t  Dupald  Stewart's  Dissertation  on  the  Progress  of  Philoso- 
phy, 2C8.    1820.    4to. 

X  Ed.  Rev.  L.  p.  131. 


York  Society  Library — records  a  remark  of 
Hamilton  on  this  book.  '"The  conversation  led 
to  the  question  whether  he  had  ever  read  the 
work  of  Edwards  on  the  Will  ?  He  told  me  he 
had.  I  then  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  it. 
He  replied,  that  he  presumed  nothing  ever  came 
from  the  human  mind  more  in  proof  that  man 
was  a  reasoning  animal.  It  is  unrelaxed  logical 
statement  throughout — from  the  first  page  to  the 
last  a  consecutive  series  of  arguments,  the  only 
digression  from  the  main  propositions  being  quali- 
fications of  the  sense,  expressed  in  the  same  brief, 
rigid  style.  Its  chief  aim  is  to  maintain  a  point 
of  Calvinism  against  the  attacks  and  tenets  of  the 
Arminians." 

On  the  death  of  Burr,  the  President  of  Prince- 
ton College,  in  1757,  Edwards  was  chosen  to 
succeed  him.  Burr  was  the  father  of  the  cele- 
brated and  unscrupulous  Aaron  Burr,  and  the 
son-in-law  of  Edwards;  so  that  the  maternal 
grandfather  of  the  unhappy  politician  was  the 
exemplary  divine.  Burr,  with  little  of  his 
morality,  may  have  inherited  a  great  deal  of  his 
subtlety. 

Edwards's  letter  to  the  Trustees,  dated  Stock- 
bridge,  Oct.  19th,  when  he  meditated  acceptance  of 
the  post,  enters  curiously  into  the  physiology  of 
his  condition : — "  I  have  a  constitution  in  many 
respects  peculiarly  unhappy,  attended  with  flaccid 
solids,  vapid,  sizy,  and  scarce  fluids,  and  a  low 
tide  of  spirits,  often  occasioning  a  kind  of  childish 
weakness  and  contemptibleness  of  speech,  pre- 
sence, and  demeanor,  with  a  disagreeable  dulness 
and  stiffness,  much  unfitting  me  for  conversation, 
but  more  especially  for  the  government  of  a  col- 
lege." He  had,  up  to  this  time,  for  many  years 
spent  fourteen  hours  a  day  in  study.  Yet,  with  a 
feeble  frame  from  childhood,  by  temperance  and 
method,  he  could  endure  these  labors,  and  find 
himself,  at  the  age  of  fifty-four,  "  as  well  able  to 
bear  the  closest  study,"  he  says,  "  as  I  was  thirty 
years  ago."  It  is,  perhaps,  difficult  under  these 
circumstances  to  determine  whether  he  was  sus- 
tained or  worn  out  by  literature.  The  occupa- 
tion in  his  studj',  which  "swallowed  up  his  mind," 
was,  he  tells  us  in  the  same  sentence,  "the  chief 
entertainment  and  delight  of  his  life."  The 
enjoyments  of  the  scholar,  if  they  caused,  also 
compensated  the  unpleasant  dyspeptic  symptoms 
which  the  philosopher  somewhat  pedantically 
recounted. 

In  January,  1758,  Edwards  was  installed  at 
Princeton.  In  the  same  month  his  father  died, 
at  the  venerable  age  of  eighty-nine.  The  small- 
pox then  prevailing  in  the  vicinity,  Edwards  was 
inoculated,  a  course  for  which  he  took  not  only 
the  advice  of  his  physician  but  the  consent  of  his 
college  corporation.  A  fever  set  in,  in  conse- 
quence of  this  act  of  precaution,  which  caused 
his  death  in  his  fifty-fifth  year,  March  22,  1758. 
His  daughter,  Mrs.  Burr,  died  suddenly  about  a 
fortnight  after,  and  his  wife  in  October  of  the 
same  year. 

Edwards  left  a  family  of  ten  children,  one  of 
whom,  bearing  his  father's  name,  became  a  Doctor 
of  Divinity  and  President  of  Union  College. 

His  second  son,  Pierrepont,  was  Judge  of  the 
United  States  Court  for  the  District  of  Connec- 
ticut. He  died  at  Bridgeport  in  1826,  at  the  age 
of  76.     One  of  his  sons  became  Governor  of  Con- 


CHARLES  CHAITNCY- 


95 


neoticut,  another  is  the  Hon.  Ogden  Edwards  of 
New  York. 

The  tributes  to  Edwards's  powers  of  mind  and 
devout  life,  in  addition  to  those  we  have  quoted, 
by  Chalmers  Robert  Hall,  Mackintosh,  Isaac 
Taylor,  and  others,  leave  nothing  unsaid,  in  the 
way  of  eulogy,  of  his  metaphysical  ability.*  His 
practical  devotional  style  was,  while  argumenta- 
tive, warm  and  affectionate,  dwelling  on  the  elevat- 
ed poetry  of  the  scriptures.  Dr.  Alexander  has 
described  his  character  as  a  preacher.  "  He  was 
commanding  as  a  pulpit  teacher,  not  for  grace  of 
person ;  he  was  slender  and  shy ;  not  for  elocution ; 
his  voice  was  thin  and  weak;  for  any  trick  of 
style;  no  man  more  disdained  and  trampled  on  it: 
— but  from  his  immense  preparation,  long  fore- 
thought, sedulous  writing  of  every  word,  touch- 
ing earnestness  and  holy  life.  He  was  not  C  man 
of  company ;  he  seldom  visited  his  hearers.  Yet 
there  was  no  man  whose  mental  power,  was 
greater.  Common  consent  set  him  at  the  head 
of  his  profession.  Even  in  a  time  of  raptures  and 
fiery  excitement  he  lost  no  influence.  The  inci- 
dent is  familiar  of  his  being  called  on  a  sudden  to 
take  the  place  of  Whitefield,  the  darling  of  the 
people,  who  failed  to  appear  when  a  multitude 
were  gathered  to  hear  him.  Edwards,  unknown 
to  most  in  person,  with  unfeigned  reluctance,  such 
as  a  vainer  man  might  feel,  rose  before  a  disap- 
pointed assembly  and  proceeded  with  feeble  man- 
ner to  read  from  his  manuscript.  In  a  little  time 
the  audience  was  hushed ;  but  this  was  not  all. 
Before  they  were  aware,  they  were  attentive  and 
soon  enchained.  As  was  then  common,  one  and 
another  in  the  outskirts  would  arise  and  stand ; 
numbers  arose  and  stood;  they  came  forward, 
they  pressed  upon  the  centre ;  the  whole  assembly 
rose;  and  before  he  c  included  sobs  burst  from  the 
convulsed  throng.  It  was  the  power  of  fearful 
argument.  The  sermon  is  known  to  be  in  his 
wprks."t 

Edwards,  in  most  of  his  writing,  beyond  exact- 
ness, pail  little  attention  to  style;  and  judging  by 
the  anecdote  related  by  his  eldest  son,  that  his 
acquaintance  with  Richardson's  novel  of  Sir 
Charles  Grandison,  about  the  time  of  his  leaving 
Northampton,  led  him  to  think  of  its  amendment,}: 
he  must  have  been,  in  early  life,  unacquainted  with 
the  best  English  models. 

The  works  of  President  Edwards  were  collected 
in  ten  volumes  in  New  York  in  1820.  The  first 
is  occupied  by  a  Life,  written  by  Sereno  E. 
D wight,  which  includes  the  diaries;  the  Treatises 
on  the  Will  and  the  Affections  form  portions  of 
separate  volumes;  there  are  several  series  of  dis- 
courses, doctrinal  and  practical,  and  the  tenth 
volume  is  taken  up  with  Edwards's  Memoirs  of  the 
Missionary  Brainerd,  which  was  first  published 
in  1749. 


*  They  are  enumerated  by  Dr.  Samuel  Miller  in  his  life  of 
Edward!,  In  Sparks's  Biog.,  vol.  viii.  of  the  first  series,  171-1S7. 
The  reference  to  Chalmers  is  his  Christian  and  Civic  Economy 
of  Large  Towns,  i.  31S-822.  To  Robert  Hall,  his  Works,  iii.  4, 
65,  79.  To  Mackintosh,  his  Memoirs,  i.  22,  and  Progress  of 
Ethical  Philosophy,  188.  Isaac  Tavlor  prefixed  an  "Essay  on 
the  application  of  Abstract  Reasoning  to  the  Christian  Doc- 
trines,'1 to  an  edition  of  the  Treatise  on  the  Will. 

t  MS.  Centennial  Discourse  at  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  by 
the  Bev.  James  W.  Alexander.  The  text  of  Edwards's  sermon 
was  Dent,  xxxii.  82.  It  is  the  fifteenth  sermon  of  thn  fourth 
vol.  of  the  New  York  edition  of  his  works  of  1844,  p.  313. 

%  Life  by  Dwight,  601. 


CHARLES  CHATJNCT. 
Charles  Chattnct,  a  great-grandson  of  Charles 
Chauncy,  the  second  president  of  Harvard  College, 
was  born  in  Boston,  on  the  first  day  of  the  year 
1705.  At  the  age  of  seven  he  lost  his  father,  a 
merchant  of  Boston,  and  son  of  the  Rev.  Isaac 
Chauncy.  He  entered  Harvard  at  the  early  age 
of  twelve,  and  was  graduated  with  high  honor  in 
1721.  In  1727,  he  was  ordained  a  colleague  with 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Foxcroft,  in  the  pastoral  charge  of 
the  first  church  in  his  native  town — a  connexion 
which  continued  for  forty  years,  until  the  death 
of  Mr.  Foxcroft,  after  which  he  remained  in  sole 
charge  of  the  congregation  for  ten  years.  He 
was  then  assisted  by  the  Rev.  John  Clarke,  until 
his  death,  on  the  tenth  of  February,  1787.  Dr. 
Chauncy  enjoyed  a  great  reputation  as  a  scholar 
and  theological  writer. 

The  straightforward  tendency  of  his  mind,  and 
his  great  dislike  of  anything  tending  to  parade 
or  affectation,  combined  with  his  aversion  to 
Whitefield  and  the  French  school  of  preaching, 
led  him  to  adopt  a  studied  plainness  in  the  com- 
position and  delivery  of  his  sermons.*  He  was 
wont  to  say  he  besought  God  that  he  might  never 
be  an  orator,  on  which  a  wit  remarked  that  his 
prayer  had  been  fully  granted.t  His  strango 
want  of  appreciation  of  poetry,  shown  by  his  ex- 
pressed wish  that  some  one  would  translate  Para- 
dise Lost  into  prose,  that  he  might  understand  it, f 
shows  that  he  had  little  sympathy  with  imagina- 
tive or  rhetorical  effort.  His  voice  was  feeble, 
and  his  delivery  quiet.  He  was  uncompromising 
in  his  exposure  and  denunciation  of  every  depar- 
ture from  the  strict  rules  of  integrity,  either  by 
public  bodies  or  by  private  individuals,  his  own 
affairs  being  regulated  with  the  utmost  exactness. 
"During  the  period," says  Otis,  "that  some  great 
losses  were  experienced  by  the  fluctuation  of 
paper  money,  he  preached  the  election  sermon,  in 
1747,  before  the  governor  and  legislature;  on 
which  occasion,  he  spoke  in  very  plain  terms  of 
their  duty,  as  honest  men  and  legislators,  and 
said,  that  if  their  acts  were  unjust,  they  would 
one  day  be  called  upon  to  answer  for  them.  The 
discourse  gave  some  dissatisfaction,  and  a  dis- 
cussion arose  whether  it  should  be  printed.  To 
a  person  who  came  to  tell  him  of  this  difficulty, 
he  answered,  'It  shall  be  printed,  whether  the 
General  Court  print  it  or  not ;  and  do  you,  sir, 
say  from  me,  that  if  I  wanted  to  initiate  and  in- 
struct a  person  into  all  kinds  of  iniquity  and 
double-dealing,  I  would  send  him  to  our  General 
Court ! ' "  It  was  "  printed  by  Order  of  the  Ho- 
norable House  of  Representatives,"  with  a  motto 
on  the  title  from  Deuteronomy  xvi.  20 — "  That 
which  is  altogether  just  shalt  thou  follow."  He 
was  an  active  controversialist,  publishing  in  1742 
and  1743  sermons  On  the  Various  Gifts  of  Mi- 
nisters, On  Enthusiasm,  and  on  the  Outpourings 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  directed  against  Whitefield. 
These  were  followed  by  An  Account  of  the 
French  Prophets,  and  Seasonable  Thoughts  on 
the  State  of  Religion  in  New  England.  In 
the  preparation  of  the  last  named  work,  which 

*  "As  a  preacher,  he  was  plain  to  a  degree  which  has  becoma 
nnfasliionablo  in  tho  present  age."— Funeral  Sermon  by  tha 
Rev.  John  Clarke,  D.D. 

f  Sudor's  Life  of  Otis,  149. 

Jib. 


96 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


forms  an  octavo  volume,  he  travelled  several  hun- 
dred miles  to  collect  facts,*  tending  to  show  the 
dangers  of  the  appeals  to  excitement  practised  by 
Whitefield  and  the  revival  school.  In  1702  he 
published  a  sermon  on  The  Validity  of  Presby- 
tarian  Ordination ;  in  1765  Twelve  Sermons  on 
Seasonable  and  Important  Subjects,  the  chief 
of  which  was  justification  by  faith ;  in  1767, 
Remarks  on  a  Sermon  of  the  Bishop  of  Landaff, 
and  in  1771,  a  complete  view  of  Episcopacy,  as 
exhibited  from  the  Fathers  of  the  Christian 
Church,  until  the  close  of  the  second  century, 
in  which  he  endeavored  to  prove  that  that  form 
of  government  was  not  sanctioned  by  the  usage 
of  the  primitive  church.  With  these  views  he 
was,  as  might  be  expected,  a  participant  in  the 
hotly  waged  controversy  on  the  proposed  intro- 
duction of  bishops  into  the  colonies  by  the  English 
government,  publishing  in  answer  to  Dr.  Chan- 
dler's "  Appeal  to  the  Public,"  on  the  Episcopal 
side,  An  Appeal  to  the  Public,  answered  in  be- 
half of  Non-Episcopal  Churches.  Chandler  an- 
swered by  "The  Appeal  Defended,"  Chauncy 
responded,  and  Chandler  again  in  turn  replied. 

Dr.  Chauncy's  printed  sermons  are  in  all  about 
sixty  in  number.  His  last  works  were  The 
Mystery  hid  from  Ages,  or  the  Salvation  of  all 
Men,  which  he  considered  the  most  valuable  of 
his  writmgSjt  Dissertations  upon  the  Benevolence 
of  the  Deity,  both  printed  in  1784,  and  a  volume 
on  The  Fall  of  Man,  and  its  Consequences,  which 
appeared  in  1785. 

He  took  a  warm  interest  in  the  success  of  the 
American  cause  during  the  Revolution,  and  was 
wont  to  say  that  if  the  national  arms  were  in- 
sufficient, angels  would  be  sent  to  fight  for  the 
cause  of  freedom. 

THOMAS  CHAXKLEY. 
TnoMAS  Chalki.et  informs  ns  in  the  opening  line 
of  his  "  Life,  Labours,  Travels,  &c,"  that  he  was 
"  born  on  the  third  day  of  the  third  month,  1675, 
in  Southwark,"  London.  He  gives  a  touching 
picture  of  the  persecutions  to  which  his  sect  of 
Friends  were  exposed,  even  from  their  tender 
years : 

"When  between  eight  and  ten  years  of  age,  my 
father  and  mother  sent  me  near  two  miles  to  school, 
to  Richard  Scoryer,  in  the  suburbs  of  London.  I 
went  mostly  by  myself  to  the  school ;  and  many  and 
various  were  the  exercises  I  went  through,  by  beat- 
ings and  stonings  along  the  streets,  being  distin- 
guished to  the  people,  by  the  badge  of  plainness 
which  my  parents  put  upon  me,  of  what  profession 
I  was :  divers  telling  me,  "  it  was  no  more  sin  to  kill 
me  than  it  was  to  kid  a  dog." 

He  relates  his  spiritual  experiences  at  great 
length,  commencing  with  his  tenth  year.  At  the 
age  of  twenty  he  was  pressed  on  board  a  man-of- 
war.  He  passed  the  night  in  the  hold,  having 
nothing  to  lie  upon  but  casks,  and  among  wicked 
men  ;  "  and  as  we  were  shut  up  in  darkness,  so 


*  "I have been  a  circle  of  more  tban  tbree  hundred  nines,  and 
had,  by  this  means,  an  opportunity  of  going  through  a  great 
number  of  towns  in  this  and  the  neighbouring  government  of 
Connecticut,  and  of  having  personal  conversation  with  most 
of  the  ministers,  and  many  other  gentlemen  in.  the  country." 
—Preface,  xxix, 

*  Clarke's  Funeral  Sermon. 


was  their  conversation  dark  and  hellish."  On 
being  asked,  in  the  morning,  "  if  he  was  willing 
to  serve  his  Majesty,"  he  answerd,  that  he  was 
willing  to  serve  him  in  his  business,  and  according 
to  his  conscience  ;  "  but  as  for  war  and  fighting, 
Christ  had  forbid  it  in  his  excellent  Sermon  on 
the  Mount ;  and  for  that  reason  I  could  not  bear 
arms  nor  be  instrumental  to  destroy  or  kill  men." 
"  Then,"  he  continues, 

"  The  lieutenant  looked  on  me  and  on  the  people, 
and  said :  '  Gentlemen,  what  shall  we  do  with  this 
fellow  ?  Ho  swears  he  will  not  fight.'  The  com- 
mander of  the  vessel  made  answer:  'No,  he  will 
neither  swear  nor  fight.'  Upon  which  they  turned 
me  on  shore.  I  was  thankful  that  I  was  delivered 
out  of  their  hands ;  and  my  tender  parents  were 
glad  to  see  me  again." 

At  the  expiration  of  his  apprenticeship  to  his 
father,  of  seven  years,  he  "  went  to  his  calling, 
and  got  a  little  money  (a  little  being  enough) 
which  I  was  made  willing  to  spend  freely  in  the 
work  and  service  of  my  great  Master,  Christ 
Jesus."  He  was  soon  after  "  concerned  "  to  travel 
and  preach  about  England,  and  after  a  few  months 
passed  in  this  manner,  and  a  brief  return  to  his 
calling,  he  "  found  himself  engaged  in  the  love  of 
the  gospel,  to  visit  friends  in  America."  After  a 
long  passage,  he  landed  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Patuxent  river,  in  Maryland,  in  January,  1698. 
Next  followed  a  year  of  travel,  during  which  he 
visited  New  England  and  Virginia,  where  he 
found  an  aged  friend  "  who  was  ninety-two  years 
of  age,  and  had  then  a  daughter  two  years  old." 
A  note  informs  us  that  he  saw  this  vigorous  vete- 
ran, some  time  after,  "  weeding  Indian  corn  with 
a  hoe,  at  the  age  of  106.  He  died  a  year  after 
having  seen  the  child  of  his  fourscore  and  ten 
years  married."  After  "  several  good  and  open 
meetings  in  Virginia,"  friend  Chalkley  "found 
himself  clear  of  America,"  and  returned  to 
England. 

He  soon  after  married  Martha  Betterton,  he 
being  in  his  twenty-fourth  and  she  in  her  twenty- 
first  year.  As  she  "  had  an  excellent  gift  of  the 
ministry  given  her,"  the  step  confirmed  him  the 
more  in  his  vocation  of  preacher,  and  after  a 
journey  in  Ireland,  he  decided  to  remove  perma- 
nently to  America.  Settling  his  wife  in  Phila- 
delphia on  his  arrival,  he  visited  Barbadoes,  and 
on  his  return,  "  went  through  Maryland  and 
visited  friends  in  Virginia  and  North  Carolina,  to 
the  river  Pamlico,  where  no  travelling  Friends 
that  ever  I  heard  of,  were  before."  He  describes 
an  incident  of  his  journey  with  great  beauty : 

"  In  going  to  and  coming  from  this  place,  we  lay 
two  nights  in  the  woods,  and  I  think  I  never  slept 
better  in  all  my  life.  It  was  the  eighth  hour  in  the 
evening,  when  I  laid  down  on  the  ground,  one  night, 
my  saddle  being  my  pillow,  at  the  root  of  a  tree; 
and  it  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  they 
called  me.  When  I  awoke,  I  thought  of  good  Jacob's 
lodging  he  had  on  tho  way  to  Padan  Aram,  when 
he  saw  the  holy  visions  of  angels,  with  the  ladder, 
whose  top  reached  to  heaven.  Very  sweet  was  the 
love  of  God  to  my  soul  that  morning,  and  the  dew 
of  the  everlasting  hills  refreshed  me  :  and  I  went  on 
my  way  praising  the  Lord,  and  magnifying  the  God 
of  my  salvation." 

After  a  horseback  journey  of  about  a  thousand 


AQUILA  ROSE. 


97 


miles,  in  this  manner,  he  passed  a  few  months  at 
home,  "  following  my  business  in  order  to  the 
maintenance  of  my  family."  He  nest  visited 
Rhode  Island,  which  he  found  in  the  midst  of 
troubles  with  the  Indians,  where  he  exhorted 
Friends  to  maintain  their  non-resistance  princi-  ! 
pies,  and  says  that  those  who  did  so  were  unrno- 
lested  by  the  savages. 

"  After  thoroughly  visiting  friends  in  those 
parts,"  he  returned  through  Connecticut  and  Long 
Island  to  Philadelphia,  but  was  soon  off  again  to 
Maryland.  He  thus  continued  travelling  about, 
"  rising  early,  and  laying  down  late  ;  many  days 
riding  forty,  fifty,  and  sixty  miles  a  day,  which," 
he  naively  adds,  "  was  very  laborious,  and  hard 
for  my  flesh  to  endure,  being  corpulent  and  heavy 
from  the  twenty-seventh  year  of  my  age ;"  with 
occasional  intervals  of  rest  at  home,  until  the 
middle  of  the  year  1707,  when  he  again  visited 
Barbadoes,  and  sailing  thence  for  England,  was 
shipwrecked  on  the  coast  of  Ireland,  but  without 
sustaining  personal  injury.  Upon  leaving  Ireland, 
he  journeyed  through  Great  Britain,  and  after  a 
visit  to  Holland  and  Germany,  returned  to  Phila- 
delphia. 

On  a  subsequent  voyage,  from  the  Bermudas, 
in  consequence  of  a  long  continuance  of  calms, 
the  stock  of  provisions  became  scanty.  The  ves- 
sel being  consigned  to  Chalkley,  and  under  his 
care,  the  crew  began  to  upbraid  him  for  the 
scarcity,  and  "tell  dismal  stories  about  eating  one 
another." 

"  To  stop  their  murmuring,"  he  says,  "  I  told  them 
they  should  not  need  to  cast  lots,  which  was  usual 
in  such  cases,  which  of  us  should  die  first,  for  I 
would  freely  offer  up  my  life  to  do  them  good.  One 
said,  l  God  bless  you!  I  will  not  eat  any  of  you.' 
Another  said,  '  He  would  die  before  he  would  eat 
any  of  me;'  and  so  said  several.  I  can  truly  say, 
on  that  occasion,  at  that  time,  my  life  was  not  dear 
to  me,  and  that  I  was  serious  and  ingenuous  in  my 
proposition:  and  as  I  was  leaning  over  the  side  of 
the  vessel,  thoughtfully  considering  my  proposal  to 
the  company,  and  looking  in  my  mind  to  Him  that 
made  me,  a  very  large  dolphin  came  up  towards 
the  top  or  surface  of  the  water,  and  looked  me  in 
the  face;  and  I  called  the  people  to  put  a  hook  into 
the  sea,  and  take  him,  for  here  is  one  come  to  redeem 
me  (I  said  to  them).  And  they  put  a  hook  into  the 
sea,  and  the  fish  readily  took  it,  and  they  caught 
him.  He  was  longer  than  myself.  I  think  he  was 
about  six  feet  long,  and  the  largest  that  ever  I  saw. 
This  plainly  showed  us  that  we  ought  not  to  distrust 
the  providence  of  the  Almighty.  The  people  were 
quieted  by  this  act  of  Providence,  and  murmured 
no  more.  We  caught  enough  to  eat  plentifully  of 
tdl  we  got  into  the  capes  of  Delaware." 

Chalkley's  journal  was  continued  to  within  a 
few  days  of  his  death — an  event  which  found  him 
occupied  in  the  work  of 'his  itinerant  ministry  at 
Tortola,  one  of  the  Friendly  Islands.  "  Our 
ancient  worthy  friend,"  as  Israel  Pemberton  ten- 
derly calls  him,  in  the  Testimony  of  the  Monthly 
Meeting  prefixed  to  his  journal,  died  after  a  few 
days'  illness,  of  a  fever,  in  the  month  of  October, 
1749. 

The  journal,  of  which  we  have  endeavored  to 
convey  a  fair  idea  to  our  readers,  was  published 
with  a  collection  of  the  author's  writings,  in  Phi- 
ladelphia,  in   1747.      A   reprint,  in   an   octavo 

vol.  i. — 7 


volume  of  556  pages,  appeared  at  New  York,  in 
1808.  His  works  form  about  one  third  of  its  con- 
tents. They  consist  of  a  series  of  religious  tracts, 
the  chief  of  which  are  entitled :  God's  Great 
Love  unto  Mankind  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord ;  A  Loving  Invitation  to  Young  and  Old, 
in  Holland  and  elsewhere,  to  seek  and  love  Al- 
mighty God,  and  to  prepare  in  time  for  their 
Eternal  Welfare ;  Observations  on  Christ's 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  ;  Christ's  Kingdom 
Exalted ;  and  Youth  Persuaded  to  Obedience, 
Gratitude,  and  Honor  to  God  and  their  Parents. 
To  these  are  joined  a  few  productions  of  a  con- 
troversial nature ;  but  even  these,  as  their  titles 
show,  are  pervaded  by  the  usual  kindly  spirit  of 
their  writer.* 

He  introduced  the  first  named  of  these  in  a  few 
brief  but  happily  penned  sentences  : 

"In  sincerity  and  unfeigned  love,  both  to  God  and 
man,  were  these  lines  penned.  I  desire  thee  to  pe- 
ruse them  in  the  same  love,  and  then,  peradventure, 
thou  mayest  find  some  6\veetness  in  them.  Expect 
not  learned  phrases,  or  florid  expressions ;  for  many 
times  heavenly  matter  is  hid  in  mean  sentences,  or 
wrapped  up  in  mean  expressions.  It  sometimes 
pleases  God  to  reveal  the  mysteries  of  his  kingdom 
(through  the  grace  of  his  son  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,) 
to  babes  and  sucklings;  and  he  oftentimes  ordains 
praise  out  of  their  mouths;  one  of  which,  reader,  I 
desire  thou  mayest  be.  My  intent  in  writing  these 
sheets  is  that  they,  through  the  help  of  God's  graee 
and  the  good  spirit  of  Christ,  may  stir  up  true  love 
in  thee  ;  first  to  God  and  Christ,  and  then  to  man  ; 
so  thou  wilt  be  fit  to  be  espoused  to  him,  who  is 
altogether  lovely,  (that  is  Christ)  which  is  the  desire 
of  him  who  is  thy  friend,  more  in  heart  than  word, 

"  T.  Chalkley." 

By  a  bequest  in  his  will,  the  good  Quaker 
founded  the  Library  of  the  Four  Monthly  Meet- 
ings of  Friends  at  Philadelphia. 

AQUILA  EOSE. 
Benjamin  Franklin  narrates,  in  his  Autobiogra- 
phy, that  on  his  first  visit  to  Samuel  Keimer,  the 
printer,  he  found  him  "composing  an  Elegy  on 
Aquila  Rose,  an  ingenious  young  man,  of  excel- 
lent character,  much  respected  in  the  town,  se- 
cretary to  the  Assembly,  and  a  pretty  poet."  This 
brief  sentence  comprises  nearly  all  that  is  known 
of  the  person  spoken  of  beyond  the  few  facts  to 
be  gleaned  from  his  own  writings,  and  the  com- 
mendatory verses  of  a  few  friends,  both  com- 
prised in  a  pamphlet  of  56  pages,  entitled,  Poems 
on  several  occasions,  by  Aquila  Rose:  to  which 
are  prefixed,  some  other  pieces  writ  to  him,  and  to 
his  memory  after  his  decease.  Collected  and  pub- 
lished by  his  son,  Joseph  Rose,  of  Philadelphia. 
Philadelphia:  printed  at  the  New  Printing 
Office,  near  the  Market.     1740. 

Joseph  Rose  was  probably  "  the  son  of  Aquila 
Rose,"  whom  Franklin  took  as  an  apprentice,  as 
stated  in  his  Autobiography. 

The  pamphlet  contains  the  following 

ADVEETISEMENT. 

The  good  reception  the  poetical  manuscript 
writings  of  my  deceased  father,  Aquila  Rose,  have 

*  Some  Truly  Tender  Scruples  of  Conscience,  about  that 
form  of  prayer  called  the  Common  Prayer,  and  Forcing  a 
Maintenance  not  warrantable  from  the  Holy  Scripture,  for  a 
Minister  of  the  Gospel. 


98 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


met  with  in  this  province,  from  men  of  wit  and 
taste,  with  a  desire  of  some  of  these  to  see  them 
printed,  induced  me  to  collect  what  I  could.  But 
many  of  his  best  pieces  were  lent  out  after  his 
decease,  by  my  mother,  to  persons  who  have  forgot 
to  return  them :  And  perhaps  the  publishing  these 
few  will  put  them  in  mind  of  sending  them  to  me. 

Joseph  Rose. 

This  is  followed  by  an  introductory  poem  "  to 
the  Memory  of  Aquila  Rose,  Deceas'd,"  which  in- 
forms us  that, 

Albion  his  birth,  his  learning  Albion  gave; 

To  manhood  grown,  lie  cross'd  the  stormy  wave; 

More  Arts,  and  Nature's  wond'rous  ways  to  find, 

Illuminate  and  fortify  his  mind: 

And  to  divert  his  eyes  from  cross  affairs: 

For  love  disastrous  fiU'd  his  breast  with  cares. 

In  Britain,  he  would  say,  he  once  was  bless'd, 

And  all  the  jo}~s  of  love  and  life  possess'd : 

But  some  strange  power,  who  envied  his  repose, 

Chang'd  his  enjoyments  to  combining  woes; 

Forc'd  him  to  quit  his  former  peaceful  way, 

And  prove  his  fortune  o'er  a  foamy  sea. 

Dear  native  land,  he  sadly  said,  farewell, 

And  those  soft  shades  where  love  and  Silvia  dwell: 

Blow  soft,  ye  gales,  and  waft  me  from  the  shore, 

I  fly  from  love,  and  Silvia  see  no  more. 

Long,  then,  the  wand'rer  sail'd  from  land  to  land, 

To  servile  business  of  rough  seas  constraint : 

Yet  not  the  less,  where'er  their  vessel  steer'd, 

Strangers  admir'd  him,  as  his  mates  rever'd. 

Rose  well  some  post  of  eminence  could  grace, 

Who,  clad  in  tar,  supplies  a  sailor's  place. 

******** 

He  travels  till  our  western  tract  he  trode, 
Which,  as  he   found   a  home,  here  made  his  last 
abode. 

He  has  a  fit  of  sickness  on  his  arrival,  and  is, 
consequently,  somewhat  dispirited,  but  cheerful- 
ness returns  with  health. 

Then,  lively,  from  his  languid  bed  he  rose, 
Free'd  of  his  pang3  and  melancholy  woes; 
Industrious  arts  his  active  hands  could  use; 
He  would  the  bread  of  slothful  means  refuse, 
Them  to  his  proper  livelihood  he  join'd, 
Where  leaden  speech  unloads  the  lab' ring  mind, 
And  graven  words  to  distant  ages  tell 
What  various  things  in  times  foregone  befell: 
As  Mercury  cuts  through  the  yielding  sky, 
So  thro'  the  work  his  nimble  ringers  fly: 
His  novel  skill  spectators  thronging  drew, 
Who  haste  the  swift  compositor  to  view; 
Not  men  alone,  but  maids  of  softer  air 
And  nicer  fancies,  to  the  room  repair: 
Pleas'd  with  such  mild  impediments  he  frame?, 
As  they  request,  their  dear  enchanting  names, 
To  grace  a  book,  or  feast  a  lover's  eye, 
Or  tell  companions  of  their  fancied  joy. 
With  complaisance  he  still  dismiss'd  the  train, 
None  ever  sought  his  courtesy  in  vain  : 
Each  transient  fair  one  took  her  name  away, 
But  thee,  Maria — 'Twas  thy  doom  to  st;iy ; 
'Twas  soon  revers'd,  the  work  of  his  quick  hand, 
Short  did  thy  name  so  gaily  printed  6tand ; 
Both  hearts  consent  new  letters  to  compose, 
And  give  to  thine  the  pleasing  name  of  Rose. 

Now  here  the  bard  by  his  own  choice  was  ty'd,  ' 
(Renouncing  further  rambling)  to  a  bride; 
Albion  for  Pennsylvania  he  resigns, 
And  now  no  more  at  Silvia's  loss  repines ; 


Next — 

He  counsels  with  himself  what  means  to  use, 
To  live  with  credit,  and  what  baits  refuse ; 
First,  clerk  to  our  Provincial  Senate  rais'd, 
He  found,  besides  the  stipend,  he  was  praised. 

And  now  a  greater  task  he  takes  in  hand, 
Which  none  but  true  proprietors  understand. 
What  pity  'tis  they  seldom  live  to  taste 
The  fruits  of  those  pure  spirits  that  they  waste  1 
For  works  so  hard  and  tedious,  was  it  known 
A  poet  e'er  did  poetry  disown  i 
Or  for  a  distant  livelihood  give  o'er 
Those  instant  pleasures  that  he  felt  before  ? 
Yet  so  Aquila  did — the  rustic  toil, 
To  make  firm  landings  on  a  muddy  soil, 
Erect  a  ferry  over  Schuylkil's  stream, 
A  benefit  to  thousands — death  to  him  1 


Look  on  the  stream  as  it  pacific  flows, 

Which,  largely  bending,  more  the  prospect  shows, 

A  summer  sight,  none  lovelier  can  be  seen, 

And  on  the  shore  a  varied  growth  of  green  : 

The  poplars  high,  erect  their  stately  heads, 

The  tawny  water-beach  more  widely  spreads ; 

The  linden  strong  in  breadth  and  height,  is  there, 

With  mulberry-leaves — And  trees  with  golden  hair, 

These  of  a  smaller  stem,  like  filberds  seem, 

But  flatter-leaf 'd,  and  always  love  the  stream. 

Here   grows   the  jagged    birch ;    and   elm,    whose 

leaves 
With  sides  ill-pair'd  the  observing  eye  perceives ; 
Yet  nobly  tall  and  great,  it  yields  a  shade 
In  which  cool  arbours  might  be  fitly  made : 
Such  is  the  linden,  such  the  beech  above, 
Each  ik  itself  contains  a  little  grove. 
Here  hickories,  and  oaks,  and  ashes  rise, 
All  diff 'ring,  but  much  more  in  use  than  size ; 
And  walnuts,  with  their  yellow  bitter  dyes. 
The  fragrant  sassafras  enjoys  a  place  ; 
And   crabs,    whose   thorns   their  scented   blossoms 

grace : 
Parsimmons  vex  the  ground,  so  thick  the}'  shoot, 
But  pleasant  is  their  late  autumnal  fruit. 
Tedious  to  name  the  shrubby  kinds  below, 
That  mingled  for  defence,  in  clusters  grow. 
Two  plants  remain,  with  flow'rs  unlike,  both  fair. 
And  both  deserve  th'  ingenious  florist's  care; 
The  wild  althca,  red,  and  white,  and  cream, 
And  scarlet  cardinal,  with  dazzling  gleam: 
These  tempt  the  humming  bird,  whose  misty  wings 
Support  him  as  he  sucks  the  flow'r  and  sings ; 
Low  is  his  voice,  and  simple  notes  but  few ; 
And  oft  his  little  body's  lost  to  view  ; 
When  he  the  creeper's  blossom  tries  to  drain, 
The  blossom  will  his  beak  and  tail  contain ; 
But  his  gay-colored  plumage  forms  a  show 
As  mixt  and  vivid  as  the  sky's  fair  bow. 

So  great  variety  no  tract  can  boast, 
Of  like  dimensions,  as  this  narrow  coast. 
The  botanist  might  here  find  exercise  ; 
And  every  curious  man  regale  his  eyes. 
The  grass  shines  glist'ning  of  a  lively  green : 
And  northward  hence  the  Quarry-hill  is  seen, 
Whose  top  of  late  with  verd'rous  pines  is  crown'd ; 
With  forest  trees  of  various  kinds  around. 

And  often  here,  the  clearness  of  the  stream 
And  cover'd  gravel-banks,  invite  to  swim: 
But  anglers  most  their  frequent  visits  pay, 
To  toss  old-wives,  and  chubs,  and  perch  to  day ; 
And  sometimes  find  the  tasteful  trout  their  prey. 
Others  with  greater  pains  their  big  hooks  bait; 
But  for  the  nobler  bite  they  seldom  wait; 
The  time  to  know  their  good  success  adjourn, 
And  fail  not  by  next  morning  to  return ; 


SAMUEL  KEIMER. 


99 


Then,  hook'd,  the  weighty  rock-fish  dvaw  to  shore 
By  lines  to  bushes  ty'd,  or  those  they  moor. 

****** 
He  saw  his  causeways  firm  above  the  waves, 
And  nigh  the  deeps  unless  a  storm  outbraves  ; 
When  gusts  unusual,  strong  with  wind  and  rain, 
Swell'd  Schuylkil's  waters  o'er  the  humble  plain, 
Sent  hurryiDg  all  the  moveables  afloat, 
And  drove  afar,  the  needful'st  thing,  the  boat. 

'Twas  then,  that  wading  thro'  the  chilling  flood, 
A  cold  ill  humour  mingled  with  his  blood. 

****** 
Physicians  try'd  their  skill,  his  head  relieved, 
And  his  lost  appetite  to  strength  retriev'd : 
But  all  was  flatt'ry — so  the  lamp  decays, 
And  near  its  exit  gives  an  ardent  blaze. 

From  the  title  to  another  poem  to  the  memory 
of  the  author  in  the  same  collection  by  Elias 
Bockett,  we  learn  that  Rose  died  on  the  twenty- 
second  of  August,*  1723,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
eight.  The  verses  collected  by  his  son  occupy 
twenty-six  moderate-sized  pages  only.  They 
display  skill  and  ease  in  versification : — ■ 

TO  HIS  COMPANION  AT  SEA. 

Debarr'd,  my  friend,  of  all  the  joys 
The  land,  and  charming  sex  can  give, 

Nor  wind,  nor  wave,  our  peace  destroys ; 
We'll  laugh,  and  drink,  and  nobly  live. 

The  gen'rous  wine  imparts  a  heat 
To  raise  and  quicken  every  sense. 

No  thoughts  of  death  our  bliss  defeat, 
Nor  steal  away  our  innocence. 

Secure,  should  earth  in  ruins  lie, 

Should  seas  and  skies  in  rage  combine; 

Unmov'd,  all  dangers  we'll  defie, 

And  feast  our  souls  with  gen'rous  wine. 

For,  should  a  fear  each  sense  possess, 

Of  chilly  death  and  endless  fate, 
Our  sorrow  ne'er  can  make  it  less; 

But  wine  alone  can  dissipate. 

Then  fill  the  glass;  nay,  fill  a  bowl, 
And  fill  it  up  with  sparkling  wine; 

It  shall  the  strongest  grief  controul, 
And  make  soft  wit  with  pleasure  join. 

To  this  we  may  add  a  copy  of  verses,  written 
in  1720,  proving  the  antiquity  of  the  now  preva- 
lent American  custom  of  New  Year's  Carriers' 
Addresses : — 

PIECE,  WROTE  BY  HIM  FOR  TnE  BOYS  WnO  CARRIED  OUT  THE 
WEEKLY  NEWS-PAPERS  TO  THEIR  MASTEP.'b  CUSTOMERS  IN 
PHILADELPHIA;  TO  WHOM  COMMONLY,  EVERY  NEW  YEAR'S 
DAY,   THEY   PRESENT   VERSES   OF  THIS   KIND. 

Full  fifty  times  have  roul'd  their  changes  on. 

And  all  the  year's  transactions  now  are  done; 

Full  fifty  times  I've  trod,  with  eager  haste, 

To  bring  you  weekly  news  of  all  things  past. 

Some  grateful  thing  is  due  for  such  a  task, 

Tho'  modesty  itself  forbids  to  ask ; 

&  silver  thought,  express'd  in  ill-shap'd  ore, 

Is  all  I  wish ;  nor  would  I  ask  for  more. 

To  grace  our  work,  swift  Mere'ry  stands  in  view; 

I've  been  a  Living  Mere'ry  still  to  you. 

Tho'  ships  and  tiresome  posts  advices  bring, 

Till  we  impress  it,  'tis  no  current  thing. 

C n  may  write,  but  B d's  art  alone 


*  Keimer  gives  another  date.     Antiquaries  must  choose 
between  them. 


Distributes  news  to  all  th'  expecting  town. 
How  far  remov'd  is  this  our  western  shore, 
From  those  dear  lands  our  fathers  knew  before; 
Yet  our  bold  ships  the  raging  ocean  dare, 
And  bring  us  constant  news  of  actions  there. 
Quick  to  your  hands  the  fresh  advices  come, 
From  England,  Sweden,  France,  and  ancient  Rome. 
What  Spain  intends  against  the  barbarous  Moors, 
Or  Russian  armies  on  the  Swedish  shores. 
What  awful  hand  pestiferous  judgments  bears, 
And  lays  the  sad  Marseilles  in  death  and  tears. 
From  George  alone  what  peace  and  plenty  spring, 
The  greatest  statesman  and  the  greatest  king. 
Long  may  he  live,  to  us  a  blessing  giv'n, 
Till  he  shall  change  his  crown  for  that  of  heav'n. 
The  happy  day,  Dear  Sir,  appears  ag'in, 
When  human  nature  lodg'd  a  God  within. 
The  angel  now  was  heard  amongst  the  swains ; 
A  God  resounds  from  all  the  distant  plains: 
O'erjoyed  they  haste,  and  left  their  fleecy  care, 
Found   the   blest   Child,   and  knew   the   God  was 

there. 
Yet  whilst,  with  gen'rous  breath,  you  hail  the  day, 
And,  like  the  shepherds,  sacred  homage  pay, 
Let  gen'rous  thought  some  kindly  grace  infuse, 
To  him  that  brings,  with  careful  speed,  your  News. 

SAMUEL  KEIMER. 
WnEN"  Franklin  first  arrived  in  Philadelphia  he 
was  taken,  it  will  be  remembered,  by  old  Mr. 
William  Bradford,  to  the  office  of  Keimer,  then 
just  commencing  business,  and  engaged  npon  a 
performance  of  his  own,  which  he  literally  com- 
posed at  the  stand,  setting  up  the  types  as  the 
ideas  came  to  his  mind.  This  was  an  Elegy  on 
the  young  printer,  Aquila  Rose,  of  whom  we  have 
just  given  some  account;  and  which  it  was  the 
lot  of  Benjamin  Franklin  to  print  off  when  its 
author  had  finished  it.  The  Elegy  has  long  since 
become  a  great  literary  curiosity,  and  it  cost  us 
some  pains  to  find  any  reprint  of  it;  but  our 
intention  to  do  justice  to  the  literary  associates 
of  Franklin  was  at  last  assisted  by  a  reference  to 
Hazard's  Register  of  Pennsylvania,  where  we 
found  the  woful  ballad  reproduced  from  its  ori- 
ginal hand-bill  form  of  the  year  1723,  after  a 
sleep  of  more  than  a  hundred  years,  in  1828.* 
As  it  is  curious  as  a  quaint  specimen  of  printing 
in  the  Franklin  connexion,  besides  being  a  picture 
of  the  times,  it  should  be  mentioned  that  it  was 
"  ornamented  with  the  usual  symbols  of  death — 
the  head  and  bones  and  hour-glass,"  and  that  it 
was  "  printed  in  the  High-street,"  for  the  price 
of  twopence.  The  italics  and  capitals  are,  it 
strikes  us  at  this  day,  somewhat  capricious.  We 
have  preserved  them  as  they  occur. 

Keimer,  coming  from  the  old  world,  was  a  cha- 
racter. He  had  been,  Franklin  tells  us,  "  one  of 
the  French  prophets,  and  could  act  their  enthu- 
siastic agitations,"  a  stock  in  trade  upon  which 
he  was  disposed  to  set  up  in  America  as  the 
evangelist  of  a  new  religion.  Franklin  was  in 
the  habit  of  arguing  with  him  on  the  Socratic 
method,  and  was  so  successful  that  he  gained  his 
respect,  and  an  invitation  to  join  him  in  the 
partnership  of  the  new  doctrines.  What  they 
were,  the  world  has  never  fully  learned.  It  is 
only  known  from  the  Autobiography  that  "  Keimer 
wore  his  beard  at  full  length,  because  somewhere 

*  Hazard's  PennB.  Reg.,  Nov.  1828,  268. 


100 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


in  the  Mosaic  law  it  is  said,  Thou  sJialt  not  mar 
the  corners  of  thy  heard.  He  likewise  kept  the 
seventh  da)'  Sabbath ;  and  these  two  points  were 
essential  with  him."  His  Socratic  friend  from 
Massachusetts  saw  the  weakness  of  his  associate, 
and  ingeniously  proposed,  as  an  addition,  absti- 
nence from  animal  food,  a  trial  of  which,  in  a 
short  time,  broke  down  both  the  man  and  his 
system. 

Keimer,  after  awhile,  left  for  the  West  Indies, 
where  we  hear  of  him  in  1734  as  the  editor  of 
the  Barbadoes  Gazette,  in  which  capacity  he 
found  himself  in  the  society  of  a  very  gentle- 
manly company  of  people,  who  sometimes  for- 
got to  pay  the  printer,*  and,  somewhat  too 
recklessly  ventilating  his  opinions,  was  bound 
over  to  keep  the  peace  .for  sis  months  for  pub- 
lishing a  libel.  A  collection  of  papers  from  this 
journal  was,  in  1741,  printed  in  London,  with 
the  title,  C'aribbcana,  in  two  quarto  volumes, 
arranged  in  a  stiff  imitation  of  the  Tatler.  There 
is  now  and  then  a  tolerable  passage,  but  the  mass 
is  a  lamentable  series  of  stale,  unimportant  politics, 
slightly  alleviated  by  compliments  to  reigning 
toasts  and  beauties,  who  can  no  longer  by  their 
presence  give  zest  to  the  dulness  of  their  admirers. 
This  is  the  last  we  see  of  Keimer;  but  his  ghost 
still  walks  the  earth  in  vagrant  and  unsettled 
members  of  his  craft,  equally  ready  to  print  other 
people's  ideas  and  their  own,  quite  as  capable  of 
handling  the  pen  as  the  composing  stick,  and 
lucky  if  their  crude  tendencies  to  spiritualism  are 
restrained  by  as  exacting  a  corporeal  system. 


*  His  complaint  on  one  of  these  occasions  has  been  pre- 
served by  Thomas  in  the  History  of  Printing  (ii.  JJS?). 

Fro:n  the  Barbadoes  Gazelle  of  .May  4.  I7.M. 

To  those  won'  d-be-thought  Gentlemen,  icho  have  long  taken 
this  paper,  and  never  paid  for  it,  and  seem  never  to  design 
to  pay  for  it. 

The  Sorrowful  Lamentation  of  Samuel  Keimer,  Printer  of  the 

Barbadoes  Gazette. 
What  a  pity  it  is  that  some  modern  bravadoes, 
Who  dub  themselves  gentlemen  here  in  Barbadoes, 
Should  time  after  time,  run  in  debt  to  their  printer, 
And  care  not  to  pay  him  in  Summer  or  Winter! 
A  saint  by  the  hairs  of  his  beard,  had  he  got  'em. 
Might  be  tempted  to  swear  [instead  of  P — s  rot  'em.] 
He  ne'er  found  before,  such  a  parcel  of  wretches, 
With  their  flams,  and  such  shuffles,  put  offs  and  odd  fetches. 
If  this  is  their  honesty,  that  be  their  honour, 
Amendment  seize  one ;  for  the  last, — fie  upon  her. 
In  Penn's  wooden  country,  type  feels  no  disaster. 
Their  printer  is  rich  and  is  made  their  Post  Master;* 
His  father.f  a  printer,  is  paid  for  his  work, 
And  wallows  in  plenty  just  now  at  New  York, 
Tho'  quite  past  his  labour,  and  old  as  my  grannum, 
The  government  pays  him  pounds  sixty  per  annum. 
In  Maryland's  province,  as  well  as  Virginia, 
To  justice  and  honour,  I  am.  sirs,  to  win  ye, 
Their  printer}  I'm  sure  can  make  it  appear, 
Each  province  allows  two  hundred  a  year, 
By  laws  they  have  made  for  Typogrnph's  use, 
He's  paid  50  thousand  weight  country  produce. 
And  if  you  enquire  but  at  South  Carolina,§ 
[Oh,  methinks  in  that  name  there  is  something  divine,  ah!] 
Like  patriots  they've  done  what  to  honour  redounds, 
They  gave  him  (their  currency)  50  score  pounds. 
E'en  type  at  Jamaica,  our  island's  reproach, 
Is  able  to  ride  in  ber  chariot  or  coach. 
But  alas  your  poor  type  prints  no  figures  like  Nullo, 
Curs'd,  cheat'd,  abus'd  by  each  pitiful  fellow. 
Tho'  working  like  slave,  with  zeal  and  true  courage, 
He  can  scarce  get  as  yet  ev'n  salt  to  bis  porridge. 
The  reason  is  plain ; — those  act  by  just  rules — 
But  here  knaves  have  bit  him,  ail  Mac-abite  fools. 


*  Andrew  Bradford,  of  Phila. 

t  William  Bradford,  of  New  York. 

i  William  Parks,  who  printed  for  both  colonies. 

§  Lewis  Timothy  then  printed  for  the  Government  of  South  Carolina. 


AN  ELEGY, 

On  the  much  Lamented  DEATH  of  the  INGENIOUS 
and  WELL-BELOVED 

AQUILA      ROSE, 

CLERK  to  the  Honourable  Assembly  at  Philadel- 
phia, who  died  the  U4th  of  the  4th  month,  1723. 
Aged  28. 

What  Mournful  Accents  thus  accost  mine  Ear, 
What  doleful  ecchoes  hourly  thus  appear? 
What  Sighs  from  melting  Hearts  proclaim  aloud, 
The  Solemn  Mourning  of  this  numerous  Crowd? 
In  Sable  CHARACTERS  the  Kews  is  Read, 
Our  Rose  is  withered  and  our  Eagle's  fled 
In  that  our  dear  Aquila  Rose  is  dead, 
Cropt  in  the  Blooming  of  his  precious  Youth  1 
Who  can  forbear  to  weep  at  such  a  Truth! 

Assist  ye  Philadelphia!™  with  Consent, 
And  join  with  me  to  give  our  Sorrows  Vent, 
That  having  wept  till  Tears  shall  trickling  glide, 
Like  Streams  to  Delaware  from  Schuylkil  bide, 
My  painful  Muse  being  ens'd  may  then  rehearse, 
Between  each  Sob,  in  Elegiack  Verse,  • 

(And  in  soft  Numbers  warble  forth  Desire,) 
To  breath  his  Worth,  warm'd  with  Angelic  Fire. 

But  why  do  my  ambitious  Thoughts  presume 
To  span  the  glorious  Sun,  or  grasp  the  Moon ; 
The  Task  confounds ! — But  yet  1  dare  begin 
To  cast  my  Mite  an  humble  Off'ring  in, 
That  noble  Bards  in  strains  more  lofty,  nuty 
Conjoiu'd,  our  great  and  heavy  Loss  display, 
To   distant   Climes   where    his   Great    Worth   was 

known, 
That  they  to  us  may  eccho  back  a  Groan. 
For  there  are  bright  Youths,  who  when  they  hear 
The  dismal  Tydings,  so  his  Worth  revere, 
In  Lrfelting  florid  Strains  will  then  rehearse 
The  Praise  of  Him  who  constitutes  our  Verse. 

Belov'd  he  was  by  most,  his  very  Name, 
Doth  with  deep  Silence  his  great  Worth  proclaim 
As  if  Kind  Heaven  had  Secrets  to  disclose, 
By  Royal  Terms  of  Eagle  and  a  Rose, 
The  Arms  most  near  akin  to  England's  Crown 
Each  Royal  Emblem  this  sweet  Truth  does  own, 
And  lively  noble  Images  affords, 
One's  Queen  of  Flowers,  the  Other  King  of  Birds. 

His  Qualities,  wdl  next  bespeak  his  Fame, 
A  Lovely  POET,  whose  sweet  fragrant  Name, 
Will  last  till  circling  Years  shall  cease  to  be, 
And  sink  in  vast  profound  Eternity. 
His  flowing  Members  and  his  lofty  Rhime, 
Have  breath'd,  and  spoke  his  Thoughts,  thro'  every 

Line, 
So  warm'd  my  Soul  (and  oft  inspired  my  Tongae,) 
As  if  a  Cherub  or  a  Seraph  sung. 

A  gen'rous  Mind  tow'rds  all  his  Friends  he  bore, 
Scarce  one  he  lost,  but  daily  numb'red  more. 
Some  say  he'd  Foes;  his  Foes  I  never  knew; 
Who  spoke  ill  of  him,  mostly  spoke  untrue. 
Courteous,  and  humble,  pleasant,  just  and  wise, 
No  Affectation  vain  did  in  him  rise. 
Sincere  and  plain,  (I  make  not  any  Doubt) 
He  was  the  same  Within  Side  as  Without. 
He  loved  plain  Truth,  but  hated  formal  Cant 
In  those  who  Truth  and  Honesty  did  want. 
A  curious  Artist  at  his  Business,  he 
Could  Think,  and  Speak,  Compose,  Correct  so  free, 
To  make  a  Dead  man  speak,  or  Blind  to  see. 

Of  different  learned  Tongues,  he  somewhat  knew. 
The  French,  the  Latin,  Greek  and  Hebrew  too. 
Firm  to  his  Vows,  a  tender  Husband  prov'd 
And  Father-like,  his  Princely  Babe  he  Iov'd. 

Our  Wise  and  Great  Vice  Roy  did  him  respect, 
Our  learned  Mayor  (I  know)  DID  him  affect; 
Our  grave  Assembly  voted  him  most  fit, 


GEORGE  WEBB. 


101 


Their  wise  Debates  in  Writing  to  commit, 

By  which  great  Honour  they  did  clearly  shew, 

To  Write,  a;  well  as  Print,  he  fully  knew, 

And  what  was  still  more  Great,  and  worthy  Note, 

(It's  said)  they  gave  him  too  a  Casting  Vote. 

But  stop  my  Muse,  and  give  thy  Sorrows  vent, 
Such  Sorrows  which  in  Hearts  of  Friends  are  pent, 
Search   deep   for   Sighs    and   Groans    in    Nature's 

Store, 
Then  weep  so  long,  till  thou  canst  weep  no  more, 
Next  Summer  all  thy  Strength,  and  others  call, 
To  tell  his  Death,  and  solemn  Funeral. 

While  on  his  Death-Bed,  oft,  Dear  Lord,  he  cry'd, 
He  sang,  and  sweetly  like  a  Lamb  he  dy'd. 
His  Corps  attended  was  by  Friends  so  toon 
From  Seven  at  Morn,  till  One  a-clock  at  Soon, 
By  Master-Printers  carried  towards  his  Grave, 
Our  City  Printer  such  an  Honour  gave. 
A  Worthy  Merchant  did  the  Widow  lead, 
And  then  both  mounted  on  a  stately  steed,     % 
Next  Preachers,  Common  Council,  Aldermen, 
A  Judge  and  Sheriff'  grae'd  the  solemn  Train, 
Nor  fail'd  our  Treasurer,  in  respect  to  come, 
Nor  staid  the  Keeper  of  the  ROLLS  at  home, 
Our  aged  Post  Master  here  now  appears, 
Who  had  not  walked  so  far  for  twice  Twelve  Years, 
With  Merchants,  Shopkeepers,  the  Young  and  Old, 
A  numerous  Throng  not  very  easy  told, 
The  Keeper  of  the  SEAL  did  on  Him  wait, 
Thus  was  he  carry'd  like  a  King,  in  State, 
And  what  still  adds  a  further  Lustre  to't, 
Some  ro  le  well  mounted,  others  walk'd  afoot, 
Church-Folks,  Dissenters,  here  with  one  Accord, 
Their  kind  Attendance  readily  afford, 
To  shew  their  Love,  each  differing  Sect  agree 
To  grace  his  Fun'ral  with  their  Company, 
And  whab  was  yet  more  grateful.  People  cry'd 
Belo»d  h?  liv'd,  See  how  belov'd  he  dy'd. 

When  to  the  crowded  Meeting  he  was  bore, 
I  wept  so  long  till  I  could  weep  no  more, 
While   biaideoas    LIGHTFOOT    did,     like    Noah's 

Dove, 
Sweetly  display  God's  Universal  Love  ; 
His  Words  like  Balm  (or  Drops  of  Hoiey)  laid, 
To  Ileal  those  Wounds  Grief  in  my  Heart  had  made. 
Three  other  Preachers  did  their  Task  fulfil, 
The  Loving  Chalklcu  and  the  Lowly  Hill, 
The  famous  Lanqdale  did  the  Sermons  end 
For  this  our  highly  honour'd,  worthy  Friend. 
And  now  with  Joy,  with  holy  joy  we'll  leave, 
His  Body  resting  in  his  peaceful  Grave, 
His  Soul,  in  the  blest  Arms  of  ONE  above. 
Whose  brightest  Character  is  that  of  LOVE. 
A  GOD  that's  slow  to  mark,  what's  done  amiss! 
Who  mould  not  serve  so  d:ar  a  God  as  this? 
In  whose  kind,  gracious  lovely  arms  we'll  leave 
him; 
For  HE  who  bought  him,  has  most  Right  to  have 
him. 

GEOEGE  WEBB 

Is  another  of  Franklin's  early  literary  associates 
in  Philadelphia,  whose  characters  live  in  the 
pages  of  the  Autobiography.  Franklin  found  him, 
on  his  return  from  England,  a  youth  of  eighteen, 
apprenticed  to  his  former  master  Keimer,  who 
had  "bought  his  time"  for  four  years.  Webb 
was  a  runaway  adventurer  from  England,  and 
gave  this  account  of  himself,  as  Franklin  has  re- 
lated it: — ■"  That  he  was  born  in  Gloucester,  edu- 
cated at  a  grammar-school,  and  had  been  distin- 
guished among  the  scholars  for  some  apparent 
superiority  in  performing  his  part  when  they  ex- 
hibited plajs  ;  belonged  to  the  Wits'  Club  there, 


and  had  written  some  pieces  in  prose  and  verse, 
which  were  printed  in  the  Gloucester  newspapers. 
Thence  was  sent  to  Oxford ;  there  he  continued 
about  a  year,  but  not  well  satisfied ;  wishing,  of 
all  things,  to  see  London,  and  become  a  player. 
At  length,  receiving  his  quarterly  allowance  of 
fifteen  guineas,  instead  of  discharging  his  debts, 
he  went  out  of  town,  hid  his  gown  in  a  furze- 
bush,  and  walked  to  London :  where,  having  no 
friend  to  advise  him,  he  fell  into  bad  compair; 
soon  spent  his  guineas,  found  no  means  of  being 
introduced  among  the  players,  grew  necessitous, 
pawned  his  clothes,  and  wanted  bread.  Walking 
the  street  very  hungry,  and  not  knowing  what  to 
do  with  himself,  a  crimp's  bill  was  put  into  his 
hand,  offering  immediate  entertainment  and  en- 
couragement to  such  as  would  bind  themselves  to 
serve  in  America.  He  went  directly,  signed  the 
indentures,  was  put  into  the  ship  and  came  over ; 
never  writing  a  line  to  his  friends  to  acquaint 
them  what  was  become  of  him.  He  was  lively, 
witty,  good-natured,  and  a  pleasant  companion ; 
but  idle,  thoughtless,  and  imprudent  to  the  last 
degree." 

Webb  was  afterwards  enabled  to  raise  himself 
out  of  his  apprenticeship  into  a  partnership  with 
Keimer,  and  he  became  a  member  of  Franklin's 
conversation  club,  the  Junto;  and  in  1731  per- 
petrated a  copy  of  verses,  entitled  Batchelors1 
Hall,  descriptive  of  a  place  of  entertainment  in 
the  suburbs,  which  was  published  with  the  honor- 
able title  of  "  A  Poem,"  with  a  motto  from  Cicero 
on  the  title-page,  and  two  complimentary  effu- 
sions in  verse  by  J.  Brientnall  and  J.  Taylor,  who 
showed  themselves  hopeful  of  the  American  muse 
on  the  occasion. 

Taylor  at  the  time  kept  a  mathematical  school 
in  the  city,  and  published  an  almanac,*  which 
preceded  Franklin's.  He  published  in  172S  a 
poetical  piece  entitled  Pennsylvania.  He  was 
alive  in  1736,  in  an  extreme  old  age. 

What  further  became  of  Webb  we  know  not. 
We  are  content  with  this  look  at  him  through 
the  Franklin  microscope. 

BATCITELOES'  BALL:  A  POEM. 

0  spring,  thou  fairest  season  of  the  year, 

How  lovely  soft,  how  sweet  dost  thou  appear ! 

What  pleasing  landskips  meet  the  gazing  eye! 

How  beauteous  nature  does  with  nature  vie: 

Gay  scenes  around  the  fancy  does  invite, 

And  universal  beauty  prompts  to  write. 

But  chiefly  that  proud  Dome  on  Delaware's  stream, 

Of  this  my  humble  song  the  nobler  theme, 

Claims  all  the  tribute  of  these  rural  lays, 

And  tunes  e'en  my  harsh  voice  to  sing  its  praise. 

Say,  goddess,  tell  me,  for  to  thee  is  known, 
What  is,  what  was,  and  what  shall  e'er  be  done ; 


*  The  first  book  printed  in  Pennsylvania  was  "  An  Almanac 
for  the  Tear  of  the  Christian  Account  16S7.  By  Daniel  Leeds, 
Student,  in  Agriculture.  Printed  and  sold  by  William  Brad- 
ford, near  Philadelphia,  in  Pennsylvania,  pro  anno  1<>S7." 
Leeds  left  the  colony  not  Ion*;  after  in  dudgeon  with  the 
Quakers,  as  we  may  infer  from  his  pamphlet  published  by 
Bradford,  in  New  York,  in  1699 :  "  A  Trumpet  sounded  out  of 
the  Wilderness  of  America,  which  may  serve  as  a  warning  to 
the  government  and  people  of  England  to  beware  of  Quaker- 
ism ;  wherein  is  shown  how  in  Pennsylvania  and  thereaway, 
where  they  have  the  government  in  their  own  hands,  they 
hire  and  encourage  men  to  tight ;  and  bow  they  persecute, 
fine,  and  imprison,  and  take  away  goods  for  conscience'  sake." 
— Fisher's  Early  Poets,  Pa. 


102 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Why  stands  this  dome  erected  on  the  plain? 
For  pleasure  was  it  built,  or  else  for  gain  ? 
For  midnight  revels  was  it  ever  thought, 
Shall  impious  doctrines  ever  here  be  taught? 
Or  else  for  nobler  purposes  design'd, 
To  cheer  and  cultivate  the  mind, 
With  mutual  love  each  glowing  breast  inspire, 
Or  cherish  friendship's  now  degenerate  fire. 
Say,  goddess,  say,  do  thou  the  truth  reveal, 
Say,  what  was  the  design,  if  good  or  ill? 

Fired  with  the  business  of  the  noisy  town, 

The  weary  Batchelors  their  cares  disown  ; 

For  this  loved  seat  they  all  at  once  prepare, 

And  long  to  breathe  the  sweets  of  country  air ; 

On  nobler  thoughts  their  active  minds  employ, 

And  a  select  variety  enjoy. 

'Tis  not  a  revel,  or  lascivious  night, 

That  to  this  hall  the  Batchelors  invite ; 

Much  less  shall  impious  doctrines  here  be  taught, 

Blush  ye  accusers  at  the  very  thought : 

For  other,  O  far  other  ends  designed, 

To  mend  the  heart,  and  cultivate  the  mind. 

Mysterious  nature  here  unveil'd  shall  be, 

And  knotty  points  of  deep  philosophy  ; 

Whatever  wonders  undiscover'd  are, 

Deep  hid  in  earth,  or  flo:itiug  high  in  air, 

Though  in  the  darkest  womb  of  night  involv'd, 

Shall  by  the  curious  searcher  here  be  solv'd. 

Close  to  the  dome  a  garden  shall  be  join'd, 

A  fit  employment  for  a  studious  mind : 

In  our  vast  woods  whatever  samples  grow, 

Whose  virtues  none,  or  none  but  Indians  know, 

Within  the  confines  of  this  garden  brought, 

To  rise  with  added  lustre  shall  be  taught ; 

Then  cull'd  with  judgment  each  shall  yield  its  juice, 

Saliferous  balsam  to  the  sick  man's  use  : 

A  longer  date  of  life  mankind  shall  boast, 

And  death  shall  mourn  her  ancient  empire  lost. 

But  yet  sometimes  the  all-inspiring  bowl 

To  laughter  shall  provoke  and  cheer  the  soul ; 

The  jocund  tale  to  humor  shall  invite, 

And  dedicate  to  wit  a  jovial  night. 

Not  the  false  wit  the  cheated  world  admires. 

The  mirth  of  sailors,  or  of  country  squires ; 

Nor  the  gay  punster's,  whose  quick  sense  affords 

Nought  but  a  miserable  play  on  words  ; 

Nor  the  grave  quidnunc1  a,  whose  inquiring  head 

With  musty  scraps  of  journals  must  be  fed : 

But  condescending,  genuine,  apt,  and  fit, 

Good  nature  is  the  parent  of  true  wit; 

Though  gay,  not  loose;    though  learned,  yet  still 

clear ; 
Though  bold,  yet  modest;  human,  though  severe; 
Though  nobly  thirsting  after  honest  fame. 
In  spite  of  wit's  temptation,  keeping  friendship's 

name. 

O  friendship,  heavenly  flame  !  by  far  above 

The  ties  of  nature,  or  of  dearer  love  : 

How  beauteous  are  thy  paths,  how  well  designed, 

To  60othe  the  wretched  mortal's  restless  mind ! 

By  thee  inspir'd  we  wear  a  soul  sedate, 

And  cheerful  tread  the  thorny  paths  of  fate. 

Then  music  too  shall  cheer  this  fair  abode, 

Music,  the  sweetest  of  the  gifts  of  God ; 

Music,  the  language  of  propitious  love; 

Music,  that  things  inanimate  can  move. 

Ye  winds  be  hush'd,  let  no  presumptuous  breeze 

Now  dare  to  whistle  through  the  rustling  trees ; 

Thou  Delaware  a  while  forget  to  roar, 

Nor  dash  thy  foaming  surge  against  the  shore : 

Be  thy  green  nymphs  upon  thy  surface  found. 

And  let  thy  stagnant  waves  confess  the  sound  ; 


Let  thy  attentive  fishes  all  be  nigh  » 
For  fish  were  always  friends  to  harmony ; 
Witness  the  dolphin  which  Arion  bore, 
And  landed  safely  on  his  native  shore. 

Let  doting  cynics  snarl,  let  noisy  zeal 
Tax  this  design  with  act  or  thought  of  ill ; 
Let  narrow  souls  their  rigid  morals  boast, 
Till  in  the  shadowy  name  the  virtue's  lost; 
Let  envy  strive  their  character  to  blast, 
And  fools  despise  the  sweets  they  cannot  taste ; 
This  certain  truth  let  the  inquirer  know, 
It  did  from  good  and  generous  motives  flow. 

JOSEPH  BRIENTNALL 

Was!  another  member  of  the  "  Junto,"  whom 
Franklin  has  sketched  in  a  few  words : — "  A 
copier  of  deeds  for  the  scriveners, — a  good-na- 
tured, ^friendly,  middle-aged  man,  a  great  lover  of 
poetiy,  reading  all  he  could  meet  with,  and  writ- 
ing some  that  was  tolerable ;  very  ingenious  in 
making  little  knick-knackeries,  and  of  sensible 
conversation." 

AVhen  Jieimer,  through  the  treacherous  friend- 
ship of  the  Oxford  scapegrace  Webb,  became 
acquainted  with  Franklin's  plan  of  starting  a 
newspaper,  and  anticipated  the  project ;  Franklin, 
whose  plans  were  not  fully  lipe,  threw  the  weight 
of  his  talentintothe  oppositionjoumal  of  Bradford, 
The  Weekly  Mercury,  where  he  commenced  pub- 
lishing the  series  of  Essays,  in  the  manner  of  the 
Spectator,  entitled,  The  Bttsy-Body*  The  first, 
fifth,  and  eighth  numbers  were  Franklin's,  and 
they  were  afterwards  continued  for  some  months 
by  Brientnall.  A  more  practical  satisfaction  soon 
followed,  when  Keimer's  paper  fell  into  Franklin's 
hands,  and  became  known  as  the  Philadelphia 
Gazette,  of  1729.  As  a  specimen  of  Brientnall 
we  take  his  lines  prefixed  to  Webb's  "  Batchelors' 
Hall:"' 

The  generous  Muse  concern'd  to  see 
Detraction  bear  so  great  a  sway, 

Descends  sometimes,  as  now  to  thee, 
To  chase  ill  fame  and  spite  away. 

Censorious  tongues,  which  nimbly  move, 
Each  virtuous  name  to  persecute, 

Thy  muse  has  taught  the  truth  to  prove, 
And  be  to  base  conjectures  mute. 

Let  every  deed  that  merits  praise, 

Be  justly  crown'd  with  spritely  verse  ; 

And  every  tongue  shall  give  the  bays 

To  him  whose  lines  they,  pleas'd,  rehearse. 

Long  stand  the  dome,  the  garden  grow, 
And  may  thy  song  prove  always  true : 

I  wish  no  greater  good  below, 

Than  this  to  hear,  and  that  to  view. 

JAMES  RALPH. 

The  exact  birthplace  of  this  writer,  who  at- 
tained considerable  distinction  by  his  political 
pamphlets  and  histories  in  England,  and  whose 
memory  has  been  embalmed  for  posterity  in  the 
autobiography  of  Franklin  and  the  Dunciad  of 
Pope,  has  never  been  precisely  ascertained.  Wc 
first  hear  of  him  in  the  company  of  Franklin  at 
Philadelphia,  as  one  of  his  young  literary  cronies 
whom  the  sage  confesses  at  that  time  to  have  in- 


*  It  wns  evidently  considered  a  prominent  fcaturo  of  Iho 
small  sheet  in  which  it  appeared. 


JAMES  RALPH. 


103 


doctrinated  in  infidelity.  In  those  days  Ralph 
was  "  a  clerk  to  a  merchant,"  and  much  inclined 
to  "give  himself  up  entirely  to  poetry.  He 
was,"  adds  Franklin,  "  ingenious,  genteel  in  his 
manners,  and  extremely  eloquent ;  I  think  I 
never  knew  a  prettier  talker."  He  embarked 
with  Franklin,  as  is  well  known,  on  his  first  voy- 
age to  England,  leaving  a  wife  and  child  behind 
him,  as  an  illustration  of  his  opinions,  and  the  two 
cronies  spent  their  money  in  London  together, 
"  inseparable  companions"  in  Little  Britain.  Ralph 
rapidly  went  through  all  the  phases  of  the  old 
London  school  of  preparation  for  a  hack  political 
pamphleteer.  He  tried  the  playhouse,  but  Wilkes 
thought  he  had  no  qualifications  for  the  stage ; 
he  projected  a  weekly  paper  on  the  plan  of  the 
Spectator,  but  the  publisher  Roberts  did  not  ap- 
prove of  it  ;  and  even  an  attempt  at  the  drudgery 
of  a  scrivener  with  the  Temple  lawyers  was  un- 
successful. He  managed,  however,  to  associate 
with  his  fortunes  a  young  milliner  who  lodged  in 
the  house  with  the  two  adventurers ;  but  he  was 
compelled  to  leave  her,  and  go  into  the  country 
for  the  employment  of  a  schoolmaster,  and  Frank- 
lin took  advantage  of  his  absence  to  make  some 
proposals  to  the  mistress  which  were  rejected, 
and  which  Ralph  pleaded  afterwards  as  a  receipt 
in  full  for  all  his  obligations,  pecuniary  and  other- 
wise, to  his  friend.  While  in  the  provinces,  where, 
by  the  way,  he  called  himself  Mr.  Franklin,  he 
found  employment  in  writing  an  epic  poem  which 
he  sent  by  instalments  to  his  friend  at  London, 
who  dissuaded  him  from  it,  and  backed  his 
opinions  with  a  copy  of  Young's  satire  on  the 
folly  of  authorship,  which  was  then  just  pub- 
lished. He  continued  scribbling  verses,  however, 
till,  as  Franklin  says,  "Pope  cured  him."  His 
first  publication  appears  to  have  been  Night,  a 
poem,  in  1728,  which  is  commemorated  in  the 
couplet  of  the  Dunciad  : 

Silence,  ye  wolves,  while  Ralph  to  Cynthia  howls, 
And  makes  Night  hideous — answer  him  ye  owls:* 

a  compliment  which  was  paid  not  so  much  to  that 
poem,  whatever  its  demerits,  as  to  a  poetical 
squib  which  Ralph  had  published,  entitled  Saw- 
ney, reflecting  unpleasently  on  Pope,  Swift,  and 
Gay.  Night  was  followed"  in  1729  by  the  Epic 
Zeuma,  or  the  Lore  of  Liberty.  It  is  an  octavo 
volume  in  three  books,  a  story  of  love  and  war 
of  a  Peruvian  chieftain  whose  mistress  is  captured 
by  the  Spaniards,  and  recovered  again,  while  the 
hero  falls  in  a  grand  battle.  Of  this  work  the 
curious  reader  of  Franklin  may  be  pleased  with  a 
specimen,  and  we  accordingly  quote  a  passage 
from  a  copy  in  the  Harvard  College  library,  the 
only  one  we  have  met  with. 

Tis  hard  for  man,  bewilder'd  in  a  maze 
Of  doubtful  reas'nings,  to  assign  the  cause 
Why  heav'n's  all-ruling  pow'r  supremely  just 
And  good,  shou'd  give  Iberia's  cruel  sons 
Unbounded  leave  to  travel  o'er  the  globe. 
And  search  remotest  climes ;  to  stretch  their  sway 
Through  all  the  western  world  ;  to  exile  Peace  " 
And  Liberty,  with  all  their  train  of  joys 
From  the  afflicted  lands ;   and  proudly  vex 
Th'  unhappy  nations  with  oppressive  rule. 


*  Book  iii.  16Wi.    His  name   ia  also  mentioned.  Book 
216.  ^ 


In  age3  paBt,  as  time  revolv'd  the  year, 
'Twas  all  a  round  of  innocent  delights ; 
The  fearless  Natives  rarely  heard  of  war 
And  its  destructive  ills;  Famine,  Disease, 
And  all  the  various  plagues  of  other  realms, 
Were  there  unknown;  life  was  a  constant  scene 
Of  harmless  pleasures  ;  and,  when  full  of  days, 
The  woodland  hunter  and  the  toiling  swain 
Like  ripen'd  fruit  that,  in  the  midnight  shade, 
Drops  from  the  bough,  in  peace  and  silence  sank 
Into  the  grave.     But  when  the  Spanish  troops, 
In  search  of  plunder,  crowded  on  the  shore, 
And  claimed,  by  right  divi?ie,  the  sovereign  rule, 
Another  scene  began  ;   and  all  the  woes, 
Mankind  can  sutler,  took  their  turn  to  reign. 

A  Pindaric  ode  in  blank  verse,  The  Muse's  Ad- 
dress to  the  King,  was  another  of  Ralph's  poetical 
attempts.  The  year  1730  produced  a  play,  The 
Fashionable  Lady,  or  Harlequin's  Opera,  per- 
formed at  Goodman's  Fields,  followed  by  several 
others,  The  Fall  of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  Lawyer's 
Feast,  and  Astrologer.  Pope,  not  the  fairest 
witness,  says  that  he  praised  himself  in  the  jour- 
nals, and  that  upon  being  advised  to  study  the 
laws  of  dramatic  poetry  before  he  wrote  for  the 
stage,  he  replied,  "  Shakspeare  writ  without 
rules."*  His  ability  at  writing,  however,  and 
making  himself  useful,  gained  him  the  support 
of  Dodington,  and  secured  him  a  puff  in  that 
politician's  Diary.  He  wrote  in  the  newspapers 
of  the  day,  the  London  Journal,  the  Weekly 
Medley,  and  published  The  Remembrancer  in  the 
use  of  his  patron.  His  History  of  England 
during  the  reigns  of  King  William,  Queen  Anne, 
and  George  L. ;  with  an  Introductory  Renew  of  the 
reigns  of  the  Royal  Brothers  Charles  II.  and 
James  II.  ;  in  which  are  to  be  found  the  seeds  of 
the  Revolution,  was  published  in  two  huge  folios, 
1744-6,  and  he  is  said  to  have  had  in  it  Doding- 
ton's  assistance.  He  was  also  the  author  of  two 
octavo  volumes  on  The  Use  and  Abuse  of  Parlia- 
ments from  1660  to  1744,  and  a  Review  of  the 
Public  Buildings  of  London,  in  1731,  has  been 
attributed  to  him.  Charles  James  Fox  has  spoken 
well  of  his  historical  "  acuteness"  and  "  diligence," 
and  noticed  his  "  sometimes  falling  into  the  com- 
mon error  of  judging  bj'  the  event."t  His  last 
production  in  1758,  for  which  his  active  experi- 
ences had  fully  supplied  him  with  material,  was 
entitled  The  Case  of  Authors  by  Profession  or 
Trade  Stated,  with  regard  to  Booksellers,  the 
Stage  and  the  Public.  "  It  is,"  says  Drake, 
"  composed  with  spirit  and  feeling  ;  enumerating 
all  the  bitter  evils  incident  to  an  employment  so 
precarious,  and  so  inadequately  rewarded ;  and 
abounds  in  anecdote  and  entertainment."!  Hav- 
ing thus  recorded  what  he  had  learnt  of  this 
profession,  and  obtained  a  pension  too  late  to 
enjoy  it  long,  he  died  of  a  fit  of  the  gout  at 
Chiswick,  Jan.  24,  1762.} 

*  Note  tn  the  Dunciad,  Bk.  iii.  v.  165.  This  is  Pope'3  own 
note,  not  Warbnrton's,  as  Chalmers  alleges. 

t  History  of  James  II.  4to.  179. 

X  One  of  tlie  anecdotes  of  Ralph  is  particularly  amusing.  We 
once  read  it  among  some  manuscript  notes  by  Mrs.  Pinzzi,  to 
a  copy  of  Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets.  Garrick  wishing  to 
invite  Ralph  to  a  dinner  party  at  his  house,  told  his  servant  to 
carry  him  a  card.  The  Milesian  mistaking  the  order,  went 
after  him  witli  Mr.  Garrick's  respects,  who  had  sent  a  cart  to 
bring  him  to  dinner.  It  is  needless  to  add  he  was  missing  at 
the  table.  Upon  the  host  making  inquiry  it  was  found  that 
Mr.  Ralph  had  expressed  his  disapproval  of  the  conveyance. 

§  Franklin's  Autobiography.  Chalmers's  Biog.  Diet."  Drako's 


104 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


BENJAMIN  FEANKLIN. 

Benjamin  Franklin,  whose  very  name,  since  it 
was  consecrated  by  the  poet  Chaucer,  is  freshly 
suggestive  of  freedom,  was  born  in  Boston,  Janu- 
ary 17,  1706.  He  was  the  youngest  son  of  the 
youngest  son  for  five  generations,  the  fifteenth  child 
of  his  father  out  of  a  family  of  seventeen,  fourteen 
of  whom  were  born  in  America,  and  of  these  ten 
were  the  children  of  his  mother,  the  second  wife, 
and  all  grew  up  to  years  of  maturity  and  were 
married.  His  father  was  a  non-conformist  emi- 
grant from  England,  who  came  to  Boston  about 


Birthplace  of  Franklin. 

1685,  a  man  of  strength  and  prudence  of  cha- 
racter; descended  from  a  family  which,  though  it 
could  claim  no  other  nobility  than  in  nature's  he- 
raldry of  honest  labor,  had  shown  considerable 
persistency  in  that;  holding  on  to  a  small  freehold 
estate  of  thirty  acres  in  Northamptonshire  for  a 
period  of  three  hundred  years,  the  eldest  son  stea- 
dily pursuing  the  business  of  a  smith.  Franklin 
was  not  averse  to  these  claims  of  antiquity.  In 
his  Autobiography  he  mentions  having  examined 
the  registers  at  Ecton,  and  "  found  an  account  of 
the  family  marriages  and  burials  from  the  year 
1555  only"  An  uncle  who  died  four  years  before 
his  illustrious  nephew  was  born,  heralded  the 
rising  instincts  of  the  race  by  his  struggles  out  of 
the  smithery  into  a  legal  education,  and  a  position 
of  considerable  influence  in  the  county.  There 
was  also  some  taste  for  literature  making  its  ap- 
pearance from  another  uncle,  Benjamin,  our 
Franklin's  godfather,  who  lived  to  an  old  age  in 
Boston,  and  left  behind  him,  in  1728,  two  quarto 
volumes  of  manuscript  poems,  occasional  family 
verses,  acrostics,  and  the  like.  One  of  these  com- 
positions, sent  to  the  young  Benjamin  at  the.  age 
of  seven,  on  some  demonstration  of  precocity, 
turned  out  to  be  prophetic. 

BENT  TO    BENJAMIN  FEANKLIN,   1718. 

'Tis  time  for  me  to  throw  aside  my  pen, 

"When  hanging  sleeves  read,  write,  and  rhyme  like 

men. 
This  forward  spring  foretells  a  plenteous  crop; 
For,  if  the  bud  bear  grain,  what  will  the  top! 


Essays,  Biog.    Grit,  &  Hist.  1Si9.  i  94    Mcbols's  Literavy 
Anccdotes,  ix.  59u. 


If  plenty  in  the  verdant  blade  appear, 
What  may  we  not  soon  hope  for  in  the  ear! 
When  flowers  are  beautiful  before  they're  blown, 
What  rarities  will  afterward  be  shown ! 
If  trees  good  fruit  un'noculated  bear, 
You  may  be  sure  't  will  afterward  be  rare. 
If  fruits  are  sweet  before  they've  time  to  yellow, 
How  luscious  will  they  be  when  they  are  mellow! 
If  first  year's  shoots  such  noble  clusters  send, 
What  laden  boughs,  Engedi-like,  may  we  expect  in 
the  end! 

In  1710  he  had  written  this  Acrostic  to  his 
nephew. 

Be  to  thy  parents  an  obedient  son ; 
Each  day  let  duty  constantly  be  done; 
Kever  give  way  to  sloth,  or  lust,  or  pride, 
If  free  you'd  be  from  thousand  ills  beside  ; 
Above  all  ills  be  sure  avoid  the  shelf 
Man's  danger  lies  in  Satan,  sin,  and  self. 
In  virtue,  learning,  wisdom,  progress  make; 
Ne'er  shrink  at  suffering  for  thy  Saviour's  sake. 

Fraud  and  all  falsehood  in  thy  dealings  flee. 
Religious  always  in  thy  station  be; 
Adore  the  maker  of  thy  inward  part, 
Now's  the  accepted  time,  give  him  thy  heart; 
Keep  a  good  conscience,  'tis  a  constant  friend, 
Like  judge  and  witness  this  thy  acts  attend. 
In  heart  with  bended  knee,  alone,  adore 
None  but  the  Three  in  One  for  evermore.* 

Franklin's  mother  represented  a  literary  nsiua 
of  the  old  province  of  Massachusetts.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  Peter  Folger,  of  whose  little  poeti- 
cal volume,  "  A  Looking  Glass  for  the  Times," 
asserting  liberty  of  conscience,  we  have  already 
given  some  account.t 

The  early  incidents  of  Franklin's  life  are  hap- 
pily familiar,  through  the  charming  pages  of  the 
Autobiography,  to  every  American  reader.  There 
is  not  an  intelligent  school-boy  who  does  not  know 
the  story  of  his  escape  from  the  noisome  soap  and 
candle  manufactory  of  his  father  into  the  printing- 
office  of  his  brother ;  his  commencement  of  the 
literary  life,  when,  like  the  young  Oliver  Gold- 
smith, he  wrote  ballads  for  the  streets,  on  the 
Light-house  tragedy  and  Black-beard  the  pirate, 
and  desisted  from  this  unprofitable  course  of  poetry 
when  his  father  told  him  that  "  verse  makers  were 
generally  beggars ;"  his  borrowing  books  and  sit- 
ting up  in  the  night  to  read  them  ;  buying  others 
for  himself,  and  finding  opportunity  to  study  them, 
by  the  savings  of  time  and  money  in  his  printing- 
office  dinner  of  a  slice  of  bread  and  a  glass  of 
water;  his  stealthily  slipping  his  articles  under 
the  door  of  his  newspaper  office,  the  New  England 
Courant,  at  night ;  his  endurance  of  various  slights 
and  humilities,  till  nature  and  intellect  grew  too 
strong  in  him  for  his  brother's  tyranny,  when  he 
broke  the  connexion  of  his  apprenticeship  and  be- 
took himself  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  ate  that 


*  Mr.  Sparks  supplies  these  passages  from  the  MS.  volumes 
still  preserved  in  Boston.  "The  handwriting1,"  says  he,  "is 
beautiful,  with  occasional  specimens  of  shorthand,  in  which 
Dr.  Franklin  says  his  uncle  was  skilled.  The  poetical  merits 
of  the  compositions  cannot  he  ranked  high,  but  frequently  the 
measure  is  smooth  and  the  rhymes  are  well  chosen.  His 
thoughts  run  chiefly  on  moral  and  religious  subjects.  Many 
of  the  Psalms  are  paraphrased  in  metre.  The  making  of  acros- 
tics on  the  names  of  his  friends  was  a  favorite  exercise.  There 
are  likewise  numerous  proofs  of  his  ingenuity  in  forming  ana- 
grams, crosses,  ladders,  and  other  devices."  Appendix,  to  LU'o 
of  Franklin,  Works,  i.  540. 

t  Aide,  p.  S3. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIK 


105 


Memorable  "  puffy"  roll  in  the  streets,  observed  as 
he  wont  along  by  Miss  Read,  his  future  wife  ;  his 
first  sleep  in  the  city  in  the  Quaker  meeting  ;  his 
printing-house  work  and  education  ;  his  singular 
association  with  Governor  Keith,  and  the  notice 
which  he  received  from  Burnet,  the  Governor  of 
New  York,  as  he  journeyed  along,  marking  thus 
earl}T  his  career  and  influence  with  titled  person- 
ages, which  carried  him  to  the  thrones  of  kings 
themselves. 

That  "  odd  volume  of  the  Spectator,"  too, 
which  directed  his  youthful  tastes,  how  often  do 
we  meet  with  its  kindly  influences  in  American 
literature.  It  turns  up  again  and  again  in  the 
pages  of  Freneau,  Dennie,  Paulding,  Irving;  and 
we  have  had  another  good  look  at  it  lately 
through  the  lorgnette  of  Master  Ik  Marvel.* 

Franklin  left  Boston  at  seventeen,  in  1723  ; 
visited  England  the  following  year,  worked  at  his 
trade,  and  wrote  a  treatise  of  infidel  metaphysics, 
and  returned  to  Philadelphia  in  1726.  The  plan 
for  the  conduct  of  life  which  he  wrote  on  this 
voyage  homewards,  lias  been  lost.  Its  scope  may 
be  readily  gathered  from  his  writings.  Industry, 
we  may  be  sure,  formed  a  prominent  feature  in 
it,  and  economy  of  happiness  the  next,  by  which 
a  man  should  live  on  as  good  terms  as  possible 
with  himself  and  his  neighbors.  In  his  early  life, 
Franklin  had  exposed  himself  to  some  danger  by 
his  habit  of  criticism.  More  than  one  passage  of 
Ids  writings  warns  the  reader  against  this  ten- 
dency. Though  he  never  appears  to  have  wanted 
firmness  on  proper  occasions,  he  settled  down  upon 
tha  resolution  to  speak  ill  of  no  one  whatever, 
and  as  much  good  as  possible  of  everybody. 

On  his  return  to  Philadelphia,  he  established 
the  club,  the  Junto,  which  lasted  many  years,  and 
was  a  means  not  only  of  improvement  but  of  po- 
litical influence,  as  his  opportunities  for  exercising 
it  increased.  The  steps  of  Franklin's  progress 
were  now  rapid.  He  established  himself  as  a 
printer,  purchased  the  Pennsylvania  Gazette,  then 
recently  started,  and  which  he  had  virtually  pro- 
jected in  1729 ;  published  the  same  year  a 
pamphlet,  A  Modest  Enquiry  into  the  Nature 
and  Necessity  of  a  Paper  Currency  ;  married  in 
1730 ;  assisted  in  founding  the  Philadelphia 
Library  in  1731  ;  the  next  year  published  his  Al- 
manac; was  chosen  in  1736  clerk  of  the  General 
Assembly ;  became  deputy  postmaster  at  Phila- 
delphia in  1737  ;  was  all  tins  while  a  printer,  and 
publishing  the  newspaper,  not  dividing  the  duties 
of  his  printing  office  with  a  partner  until  1748 ; 
in  1741  published  The  General  Magazine  and 
Historical  Chronicle  for  all  the  British  Planta- 
tions in  America;  invented  the  stove  which 
bears  his  name  in  1742  ;  proposed  the  American 
■Philosophical  Society  in  1743  ;  established  the 
Academy,  out  of  which  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania finally  grew,  in  1749  ;  in  1752  demon- 
strated his  theory  of  the  identity  of  lightning 
with  electricity  by  his  famous  kite  experiment  in 
a  field  near  Philadelphia ;  on  the  anticipation  of 
war  with  France  was  sent  as  a  delegate  to  the 
Congress  of  Commissioners  of  the  Colonies  at 
Albany  in  1754,  where  he  proposed  a  system  of 

*  Franklin  did  not  forjret  the  Spectator,  the  friend  of  his 
boyhood,  in  his  last  days.  In  his  will  he  bequeathes  to  the  son 
of  his  friend,  Mrs.  Ilewson,  "a  set  of  Spectators,  Tatlers,  and 
Guardians,  handsomely  bound.'1 


union  which  in  important  points  anticipated  the 
present  Confederation  ;  opposed  taxation  by  par- 
liament; assisted  Braddock's  Expedition  by  his 
energy  ;  was  himself  for  a  short  time  a  military 
commander  on  the  frontier  in  1756 ;  was  the 
next  year  sent  to  England  by  the  Assembly,  a 
popular  representative  against  the  pretensions  of 
the  Proprietaries,  when  Massachusetts,  Maryland, 
and  Georgia  also  appointed  him  their  agent ; 
took  part  in  the  Historical  Review  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, a  trenchant  volume  on  the  affairs  of  the 
Colony,  in  1759  ;  wrote  a  pamphlet,  The  Interest 
of  Great  Britain  Considered  in  the  retention  of 
Canada,  in  1760  ;  received  the  degree  of  Doctor 
of  Laws  from  the  Universities  of  Edinburgh  and 
Oxford,  and  returned  to  America  in  1762.  Two 
years  after  he  returned  to  England  as  Colonial 
agent ;  pursued  his  course  industriously  and 
courteously  for  the  interests  of  the  old  Govern- 
ment, but  firmly  for  the  right  claimed  at  home ; 
bore  a  full  Examination  before  Parliament  on  the 
relations  of  America  to  the  Stamp  Act,  which  was 
published  and  read  with  general  interest ;  was  con- 
fronted by  Wedderburn,  the  Solicitor-General  for 
the  crown,  as  counsel  for  Hutchinson  at  the  me- 
morable privy  council  examination  of  January, 
1774;  returned  again  to  Philadelphia  in  1775 ; 
signed  the  Declaration  of  Independence  in  Con- 
gress ;  went  ambassador  to  France  in  October  of 
the  same  year,  when  he  was  seventy,  and  dis- 
played his  talents  in  diplomacy  and  society  ; 
returning  after  signing  the  treaty  of  peace  in  1785 
to  America,  when  he  was  made  President  of  the 
Commonwealth  of  Pennsylvania  for  three  years  ; 
was  a  delegate  to  the  Federal  Convention  in  1787, 
and  retaining  his  full  powers  of  mind  and  consti- 
tutional cheerfulness  to  the  last,  died  April  17, 
1790,  in  his  eighty-fourth  year. 

The  famous  epitaph  which  he  wrote  in  his  days 
of  youth,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three,  was  not 
placed  over  his  grave  in  Philadelphia. 

The  Body 

Of 

Benjamin   Franklin, 

Printer, 

(Like  the  cover  of  an  old  book, 

Its  contents  torn  out, 

And  stript  of  its  lettering  and  gilding,) 

Lies  here,  food  for  worms. 

Yet  the  work  itself  shall  not  be  lost, 

For  it  will,  as  he  believed,  appear  once  more, 

In  a  new 

And  more  beautiful  edition, 

Corrected  and  amended 

By 

The  Author.* 


*  We  have  already  printed,  and',  p.  22,  Wood  bridge's  epitaph 
on  Cotton,  supposed  to  be  the  original  of  this.  There  is  an- 
other old  New  England  source  in  the  lines  written  in  1G81,  by 
Joseph  Capen,  Minister  of  Topsfield.on  the  death  of  John 
Foster,  who,  Mr.  Sparks  tells  us,  set  up  the  first  printing-press 
in  Boston. 

Thy  body,  which  no  activeness  did  lack, 

Now'slaid  aside  like  an  old  almanac; 

But  for  the  present  only's  out  of  date, 

'Twill  have  at  length  a  far  more  active  state. 

Tea,  though  with  dust  thy  body  soiled  be, 

Yet  at  the  resurrection  we  shall  see 

A  fair  edition,  and  of  matchless  worth. 

Free  from  Errata,  new  in  Heaven  set  forth; 

'Tis  but  a  word  frnm  G<>d.  the  srreat  Creator, 

It  shall  be  done  when  he  saith  Imprimatur. 
DavU,  i:i  his  Travels  in  Ameiica,  finds  another  sourco  for 


106 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


He  directed  a  simpler  inscription  in  his  will : — 
"  I  wish  to  be  buried  by  the  side  of  my  wife,  if  it 
may  be,  and  that  a  marble  stone,  to  be  made  by 
Chambers,  six  feet  long,  four  feet  wide,  plain, 
with  only  a  small  moulding  round  the  upper  edge, 
and  this  inscription, 

Benjamin  ) 

AND         >  FbANKLTN. 

Deborah  ) 

178—. 
be  placed  over  us  both." 

One  of  the  most  memorable  incidents  in  Frank- 
lin's life,  was  his  appearance,  in  1774,  before  the 
Committee  of  the  Privy  Council,  on  the  hearing 
of  the  Petition  of  the  Massachusetts  people,  for 
the  recall  of  Hutchinson  and  Oliver,  whose  mina- 
tory letters  he  had  been  instrumental  in  publish- 
ing, and  thereby  lighted  the  torch  of  Revolution. 
Franklin  had  there  to  meet  the  assault  of  Wed- 
derburn,  the  Solicitor-General  of  the  Crown,  who 
attacked  him  with  the  sharpest  wit  and  fiercest 
insolence.  Franklin  represented  his  agency  in  the 
matter  of  procuring  and  forwarding  the  letters  to 
America,  as  a  public  act,  dealing  with  the  public 
correspondence  of  public  men.  Wedderburn  in- 
veighed against  it  as  a  theft,  and  betrayal  of 
private  confidence.  "  Into  what  companies,"  he 
exclaimed,  "will  the  fabricator  of  this  iniquity 
hereafter  go  with  an  unembarrassed  face,  or  with 
any  semblance  of  the  honest  intrepidity  of  vir- 
tue? Men  will  watch  him  with  a  jealous  eye — 
they  will  hide  their  papers  from  him,  and  lock  up 
their  escritoires.  Having  hitherto  aspired  after 
fame  by  his  writings,  he  will  henceforth  esteem 
it  a  libel  to  be  called  a  man  of  letters — homo 
trium  literarum  ;"*  and,  in  allusion  to  Franklin's 
avowal  of  his  share  in  the  transaction — "  I  can 
compare  him  only  to  Zanga,  in  Dr.  Young's  Re- 
venge— 

Know,  then,  'twas  I, 
I  forged  the  letter — I  disposed  the  picture — 
I  hated,  I  despised — and  I  destroy. 

I  ask,  my  Lord,  whether  the  revengeful  temper 
attributed  by  poetic  fiction  only  to  the  bloody- 


this,  in  a  Latin  Epitaph  on  the  London  bookseller,  Jacob  Ton- 
son,  published  with  an  English  translation  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine  for  Feb.  1736.    This  is  its  conclusion — 
When  heaven  review' d  th1  original  text, 
Twas  with  erratas  few  perplex'd: 
Pleas'd  with  the  copy  was  collated, 
And  to  a  better  life  translated. 
But  let  to  life  this  supplement 
Be  printed  on  thy  monument, 
Lest  the.first  page  of  death  should  be,  • 

Great  editor  a  blank  to  thee ; 
And  thou  who  many  titles  gave. 
Should  want  one  title  for  this  grave. 
"  Stay  passenger  and  drop  a  tear ; 
Here  lies  a  noted  Bookseller : 
This  marble  index  here  is  plac'd 
To  tell,  that  when  he  found  drfac'd 
His  book  of  life  he  died  with  grief: 
Yet  he  by  true  and  genuine  belief, 
A  new  edition  may  expect, 
Far  more  enlarg'd  and  more  correct." 
*  The  old  Roman  joke  on  a  thief — the  word  of  three  letters, 
fur.    It  occurs  in  Plautus. 
Anthrax. — Tun'  trium  litterarum  homo  Me  vituperas? 
Congrio. — Fur,  etiam  fur  trifurcifer. 

Aulularia,  Act  ii.  sc.  iv.  v.  46-7. 
which  Eiley  thus  Englishes  : 

Anth. — You,  vou  three-lettered  fellow,  do  you  abuse  me,  you 
thief? 

Congrio. — To  be  sure  I  do,  you  .trebly-distilled  thief  of 
thieves. 

Bohn's  Plautus,  i.  391. 


minded  African,  is  not  surpassed  by  the  coolness 
and  apathy  of  the  wily  New  Englander."* 

A  distinguished  company  was  present  in  the 
Council  Chamber;  among  others,  Burke,  Priestley, 
and  Jeremy  Bentham.  The  last  has  described 
Franklin's  quiet  endurance  of  the  scene :  "  Alone 
in  the  recess,  on  the  left  hand  of  the  president, 
standing,  remaining  the  whole  time  like  a  rock, 
in  the  same  posture,  his  head  resting  on  his  left 
hand,  and  in  that  attitude  abiding  the  pelting  of 
the  pitiless  storm. "t  Priestley}  says  that  Lord 
North  was  the  only  one  of  the  council  who  be- 
haved with  decent  gravity.  To  conciliate  his 
fellow  Englishmen,  Franklin  had  dressed  himself 
carefully  for  the  occasion  in  a  costly  suit  of  Man- 
chester velvet,  and  Priestley  adds  the  story  of 
Franklin's  triumph : — "  Silas  Deane  told  me  that, 
when  they  met  at  Paris  to  sign  the  treaty  be- 
tween France  and  America,  he  purposely  put  on 
that  suit."§  Verily  Franklin  had  his  revenge  in 
the  swift  pursuing  decrees  of  fate.  An  epigram- 
matist of  the  times  declared  the  end : — 

Sarcastic  sawney,  full  of  spite  and  hate, 
On  modest  Franklin  poured  his  venal  prate; 
The  calm  philosopher  without  reply 
Withdrew — and  gave  his  country  liberty  :| 

and  the  retributive  pen  of  the  historian  has 
pointed  to  the  final  reputation  of  the  two  actors 
in  the  scene — the  usurping  tyrant  of  the  hour 
and  the  generous  benefactor  of  the  age.  "  Frank- 
lin and  Wedderburn  parted;  the  one  to  spread 
the  celestial  fire  of  freedom  among  men  ;  to  make 
his  name  a  cherished  household  word  in  every 
nation  of  Europe ;  and  in  the  beautiful  language 
of  AVashington,  '  to  be  venerated  for  benevolence, 
to  be  admired  for  talents,  to  be  esteemed  for  pa- 
triotism, to  be  beloved  for  philanthropy :'  the 
other,  childless  though  twice  wedded,  unbeloved, 
wrangling  with  the  patron  who  had  impeached 
his  veracity,  busy  only  in  '  getting  everything  he 
could'  in  the  way  of  titles  and  riches,  as  the 
wages  of  corruption.  Franklin,  when  he  died, 
had  nations  for  his  mourners,  and  the  great  and 
the  good  throughout  the  world  as  his  eulogists ; 
when  Wedderburn  died  there  was  no  man  to 
mourn;  no  senate  spoke  his  praise;  no  poet 
embalmed  his  memory;  and  his  King,  hearing 
that  he  was  certainly  dead,  said  only,  "  then  he 
has  not  left  a  greater  knave  behind  him  in  mv 
dominions.'  r1f 

The  finest  study  of  Franklin  is  in  his  Auto- 
biography. Simple  in  style,  it  is  tinged  by  the 
peculiar  habit  of  the  author's  mind,  and  shows 
his  humor  of  character  in  perfection.  Notice,  for 
instance,  the  lurking  tone  of  admiration  of  the 


*  Chief  Justice  Campbells  Lives  of  the  Lord  Chancellors, 
vi.  103-^L  He  introduces  this  '•memorable  contest' '  with  thu 
ballad  quotation, 

The  babe  that  was  unborn  might  rue 
The  speaking  of  that  day. 

t  Campbell's  Chancellors,  vi.  101. 

±  It  was  in  a  letter  dated  Nov.  10, 1SC2,  at  Northumberland, 
in  Pennsylvania,  which  appeared  in  the  London  Monthly  Maga- 
zine for  February,  1SC3.  It  is  printed  in  the  appendix  to  the 
Priestley  Memoirs,  448-454. 

§  Mr.  Sparks  notices  the  common  error  in  telling  this  story 
adopted  by  Lord  Brougham  in  his  sketch  of  Wedderburn, 
which  makes  Franklin  to  have  worn  the  dress  the  second  time 
at  the  signing  of  the  peace  of  Versailles. — Life  of  Franklin,  4£S, 

II  Notes  and  Queries,  No.  116. 

•f  Bancroft,  vi.  499. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 


107 


crafty  old  sopliister,  in  the  account  of  the  conversa- 
tion of  old  Bradford  with  Keimer,  the  printer,  on 
Franklin's  first  introduction;  or  the  adroitness 
with  which,  when  he  is  about  being  caught  in  his 
own  web,  when  he  is  recommending  modesty  in 
proposing  critical  opinions,  and  falls  himself  to 
amending  a  couplet  of  Pope — he  ventures  his 
emendation,  and  recovers  his  position  by  adding, 
"This,  however,  I  should  submit  to  better  judg- 
ments." 

There  is  a  simplicity  in  this  book  which  charms 
us  in  the  same  way  with  the  humorous  touches 
©f  nature  in  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Franklin's 
Boston  brother  in  the  printing-office, — irascible, 
jealous,  and  mortified  on  the  return  of  the  success- 
ful adventurer,  who  is  playing  off  his  prosperity 
before  the  workmen,  is  an  artist's  picture  of  life, 
drawn  in  a  few  conclusive  touches.  So,  too,  is 
Keimer  as  happily  hit  off  as  any  personage  in  Gil 
Bias,  particularly  in  that  incident  at  the  break-up 
of  Franklin's  system  of  vegetable  diet,  which  he 
had  adopted  ;  he  invites  his  journeymen  and  two 
women  frienus  to  dine  with  him,  providing  a 
roa^t  pig  for  the  occasion,  which  being  prema- 
turely served  up,  is  devoured  by  the  enthusiast, 
before  the  company  arrives  ;  in  that  effective 
sketch,  in  a  paragraph  of  the  Philadelphia  City 
Croaker,  whose  ghost  still  walks  every  city  in  the 
world,  mocking  prosperity  of  every  degree,- — "  a 
person  of  note,  an  elderly  man,  with  a  wis'e  look 
and  a  very  grave  manner  of  speaking."  The 
Autobiography  was  written  in  several  portions. 
It  was  first  commenced  at  Twyford,  the  country 
residence  of  the  good  bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  in 
1771,  and  addressed  to  his  son  the  Governor  of 
New  Jersey,  and  continued  at  intervals,  till  the 
Revolutionary  War  occupied  the  writer's  time 
exclusively.  It  was  again,  at  the  solicitation  of 
his  friends  James  and  Vaughan,  resumed  at 
Passy,  in  1784,  and  afterwards  continued  in  Ame- 
rica. The  history  of  the  several  editions  of  this 
work  is  curious.  It  was  first,  as  was  the  case 
with  Jefferson's  "  Notes  on  Virginia,"  published 
in  French,  translated  from  the  author's  manu- 
script. This  version  was  re-translated  into  Eng- 
lish, and  published-for  the  first  time  in  that  lan- 
guage, in  London,  in  1793.  Oddly  enough,  in  ano- 
ther French  edition,  which  appeared  in  Paris,  in 
1798,  the  autobiography  was  again  translated  into 
French,  from  the  English  version  of  the  foreign 
language.  The  work,  as  Franklin  wrote  it,  in  his 
native  tongue,  was  first  given  lo  the  world  in  the 
collection  of  his  writings,  by  his  grandson,  William 
Temple  Franklin,  in  1817.  The  translation  from 
the  French  is  still  in  circulation  in  this  country, 
notwithstanding  the  publication  of  Franklin's 
original;  though  the  authoritative  edition  of 
Sparks  has  of  late  set  an  example  which  will 
drive  all  other  copies  than  the  genuine  one  from 
the  market.* 


*  To  the  old  American  editions  a  continuation  was  added  by 
Dr.  Henry  Stuber.  He  was  of  German  parentage,  born  in  Phi- 
ladelphia, about  1770.  He  was  a  pupil  of  Dr.  Kunze,  in  Greek, 
Latin,  and  German,  when  that  divine,  afterwards  established  in 
New  York,  was  connected  with  the  University  of  Pennsylva- 
nia. He  studied  medicine,  which  his  health  hardly  allowed 
bim  to  practise.  Obtaining  a  situation  in  one  of  tile  public 
offices  of  the  United  States  government,  he  was  engaged  in  the 
study  of  the  law,  when  he  died  early  in  life.  He  wrote  for  the 
journals  of  the  day  ;  bot  the  only  publication  bv  which  he  will 
ba  remembered,  is  bis  continuation  of  the  Life  of  Franklin. 


The  Autobiography,  continued  from  time  to 
time — the  latter  portions  of  it  were  written  as 
late  as  the  year  1788 — concludes  with  Franklin's 
arrival  in  England  as  agent  of  the  Assembly, 
against  the  Proprietaries  in  1757.  The  thirty- 
three  years  of  his  life  then  unexpired  were  to  bo 
filled  with  momentous  interests  ;  his  participation 
in  which  as  the  manager  and  negotiator  of  the 
infant  state  throws  into  the  shade  the  literature, 
which  continued,  however,  to  employ  him  to  the 
end.     It  was  during  his   last  sojourn   at  Paris, 


amidst  the  cares  of  state,  that  he  composed  those 
literary  essays  of  such  general  fame — the  Ephe- 
mera, Petition  of  the  Cats,  the  Whistle,  and  the 
Dialogue  with  the  Gout,  written  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  brilliant  friends,  including  Madame 
Helvetius  and  Madame  Brillon,  who  enlivened  his 
age  and  cares  at  Passy  and  Auteuil. 

While  Franklin  was  a  printer  in  London,  ho  gave 
vent  to  1  lis  philosophical  views  by  printing  a  pamph- 
let entitled  A  Dissertation  on  Liberty  and  Neces- 
sity, Pleasure  and  Pain,  in  a  Letter  to  a  Friend. 
This  was  in  1725.  Though  he  expresses  a  dislike 
of  the  publication,  he  recurs  to  it  with  some 
paternal  affection  both  in  the  Autobiography  and 
in  his  Correspondence.  The  essay  belonged  to 
the  school  of  Mandeville  in  obliterating  the 
distinctions  between  virtue  and  vice,  and  readily 
introduced  the  young  printer,  who  was  not  nine- 
teen years  of  age  at  that  time,  to  that  arch-skeptic, 
the  author  of  "  The  Fable  of  the  Bee?,"  who  held 
an  entertaining  club  in  Cheapside.  The  pamphlet 
was  started  in  the  busy  brain  of  the  compositor 
by    his    setting  up    Wollaston's    "  Religion    of 


Beyond  this,  the  memory  of  the  man  had  almost  perished, 
when  the  foregoing  particulars  were  with  difficulty  collected 
by  Dr.  John  W.  Francis,  of  this  city,  who  communicated  them 
to  Mr.  Sparks,  bv  whom  they  were  published  in  the  tenth 
volume  of  Die  Li'fo  and  Writings  of  Franklin. 


108 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Nature,"  to  which  it  was  intended  as  a  reply. 
Its  argument  was  a  sublimated  optimism  arguing 
everything  in  the  world  to  be  right  from  the 
attributes  of  the  Deity  of  wisdom,  goodness,  and 
power.     The  motto  was  from  Dryden  : 

"Whatever  is,  is  right.     But  purblind  man 
Sees  but  a  part  o'  the  chain,  the  nearest  links ; 
His  eyes  not  earryii  g  to  that  equal  beam, 
That  poises  all  above. 

One  hundred  copies  only  of  the  work  were  print- 
ed ;  a  few  were  given  to  friends  ;  the  author  became 
dissatisfied  with  the  production,  and  burnt  the 
remainder,  excepting  a  copy  filled  with  manuscript 
notes,  by  his  acquaintance  at  the  time,  a  surgeon 
named  Lyons,  who  wrote  on  the  "  Infallibility  of 
Human  Judgment."  This  tract  has  not  been 
printed  in  any  edition  of  Franklin's  works. 
"When  Mr.  Sparks  published  his  edition  in  1840, 
it.  was  thought  to  be  entirely  lost.  That  editor 
expressed  his  belief  that  "  no  copy  of  this  tract  is 
now  known  to  be  in  existence."  Sir  James  Mack- 
intosh searched  for  it  in  vain.  Since  that  time  a 
copy  has  been  found  in  England.  James  Cross- 
ley  communicates  the  fact  to  the  antiquarian  pub- 
lication, Notes  and  Queries.*  It  is  a  pamphlet  of 
sixteen  closely  printed  octavo  pages.  It  is  ad- 
dressed to  Mr.  J  (ames)  R  (alph),  and  commences 
with  the  comprehensive  declaration :  "  I  have 
here,  according  to  your  request,  given  you  my 
present  thoughts  on  the  general  state  of  things  in 
the  universe  ;"  and  concludes  with  the  undeniable 
assertion,  "  Truth  will  be  truth,  though  it  some- 
times proves  mortifying  and  distasteful." 

Poor  Richard's  Almanac  was  commenced  by 
Franklin  in  1733,  and  continued  for  twenty-six 
years,  to  1758.  It  was  put  forward  as  the  pro- 
duction of  Richard  Saunders,  Philomath,  print- 
ed and  sold  by  B.  Franklin.  Its  quaint  humor 
and  homespun  moralities  made  its  successive 
issues  great  favorites  with  the  people,  who  to  their 
credit  have  always  shown  an  avidity  for  popular 
publications  of  humor  and  sagacity,  from  Cotton 
Mather's  grim  moralities  down  to  the  felicitous 
Mrs.  Partington,  who  gets  the  smallest  modicum 
of  wisdom  out  of  the  greatest  amount  of  nonsense. 
About  ten  thousand  copies  were  sold  of  it  annu- 
ally, a  great  number  for  the  times.  As  in  the 
case  of  most  very  popular  works,  the  early  edi- 
tions were  literally  consumed  by  its  ardent  ad- 
mirers. One  of  the  old  copies  is  now  considered 
a  great  rarity  ;  and  a  complete  set  was  found  by 
Mr.  Sparks  to  be  unattainable.f 

Its  greatest  popularity  was  achieved  when  a 
number  of  Poor  Richard's  aphorisms  were  col- 
lected and  prefixed  as  an  harangue  to  the  people, 
The  Way  to  Wealth,  to  the  almanac  for  1758. 
In  this  concentrated  form  Poor  Richard  passed 


*  No.  114,  Jan.  8.  1552. 

t  Most  of  the  numbers  were,  however,  got  together  after 
marly  four  years'  research  among  public  libraries  and  private 
collections,  by  John  Doggett,  Jr.,  who,  in  1S49,  commenced  the 
republication  of  the  Poor  Richard  matterin  annual  instalments 
of  three  years  to  each  number,  appended  to  new  astronomical 
calculations  for  the  current  year.  He  proceeded  with  this 
work  through  three  numbers,  when  it  was  interrupted  by  Jiis 
death.  At  the  sale  of  his  effects,  eighteen  numbers  of  Poor 
Eichard  were  purchased  at  twelve  dollars  each.  John  Don- 
gett  was  from  Dorchester,  Mass.  He  dealt  in  New  York  in  a 
virtnoso  collection  of  paintings,  engravings,  autographs  &c. 
He  commenced  a  New  York  Directory  in  1842,  and  continued 
it  till  his  death  in  the  city,  in  1862. 


into  general  circulation  as  a  popular  tract  in  news- 
papers and  broadsheets.  Franklin  himself  attri- 
butes the  growing  plenty  of  money  in  Philadel- 
phia after  its  appearance,  to  the  practice  of  its 
economical  precepts.  Three  translations  have 
been  made  of  it  in  French,  where  it  passes  as  La 
Science  du  Bonhomme  Richard.  It  was  printed  in 
modern  Greek  at  Didot's  press  in  Paris  in  1823. 

Poor  Richard's  matter  consists  of  Mr.  Saunders's 
facetious  annual  introductions ;  a  bit  of  homely 
poetry  for  the  month  ;  with  the  interspaces  of  the 
Calendar,  left  after  the  important  weather  pro- 
phecies sprinkled  down  the  page,  filled  with  sen- 
tentious maxims.  Some  of  these  are  coarse  and 
homely  for  the  digestion  of  ploughmen ;  others 
show  the  nicer  edge  of  Franklin's  wit  and  expe- 
rience. Rhyme  lends  its  aid  to  reason ;  and  prac- 
tical morality  has  work  to  do  which  renders  her 
not  very  dainty  in  the  use  of  words.  Temperance 
and  independence  have  sturdy  advocates  in  Poor 
Richard.  "It  is  hard,"  says  he,  "for  an  empty 
sack  to  stand  upright."  "  Drink  water,  put  the 
money  in  your  pocket,  and  leave  the  dry  belly- 
ache in  the  punchbowl."  "  If  you  would  be 
reveng'd  of  your  enemj-,  govern  yourself." 

"  If  you  ride  a  horse  sit  close  and  tight, 
If  you  ride  a  man,  sit  easy  and  light." 

"  If  you  would  not  be  forgotten  as  soon  as  you  are 
dead  and  rotten,  either  write  things  worth  read- 
ing, or  do  things  worth  the  writing."  "  Fish  and 
visiters  smell  in  three  days."  "As  we  must  ac- 
count for  every  idle  word,  so  we  must  for  every 
idle  silence."  The  poetry  is  in  a  few  more  lines 
than  the  maxims,  generally  with  a  home  thrust  at 
vanity  or  vice. 

That  all  from  Adam  first  begun, 

Since  none  but  Winston  doubts, 
And  that  his  son,  and  his  son's  son 

Were  ploughmen,  clowns,  and  louts; 
Here  lies  the  only  difference  now, 

Some  shot  off  late,  some  soon ; 
Your  sires  i'  th'  morning  left  the  plough 

And  ours  i'  th'  afternoon. 

And  sometimes  a  little  playful  elegance  : 

My  love  and  I  for  kisses  play'd, 

She  would  keep  stakes,  I  was  content, 
But  when  I  won,  she  would  be  paid, 
This  made  me  ask  her  what  she  meant : 

Quoth  she,  since  you  are  in  this  wrangling  vein, 
Here,  take  your  kisses,  give  me  mine  again. 

When  Paul  Jones,  in  Paris,  in  1778,  was 
making  application  to  the  French  Government 
for  a  military  vessel  to  pursue  his  career  at  sea, 
wearied  out  with  the  delay  of  the  officials,  and 
the  neglect  of  his  letters  from  the  sea-ports,  he 
happened  to  take  up  an  old  number  of  Franklin's 
Almanac,  and  alighted  on  this  sentence  of  Poor 
Richard,  "  If  you  would  have  your  business  done, 
go  ;  if  not,  send."  He  took  the  advice,  proceeded 
himself  to  the  capital,  and  pushed  his  application 
so  successfully,  that  in  gratitude  to  the  oracle  he 
obtained  permission  to  call  the  ship  granted  to 
him  the  Bon  Homme  Richard*  Its  fortunes 
soon  made  the  French  translation  of  the  name  as 
familiar  to  American  ears  as  the  original  Poor 
Richard. 


*  Mackenzie's  Life  of  Paal  Jones,  i.  134. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 


109 


Franklin's  voluminous  correspondence  would 
alone  have  given  him  high  literary  reputation  as 
a  letter  writer.  His  essential  philanthropy,  good 
humor,  wit,  and  ready  resources,  are  every- 
where apparent  in  this.  It  is  the  best  part  of  his 
conversation,  vital  for  posterity,  and  we  may 
readily  imagine  from  it  how  Franklin  talked,  as 
with  his  fine  tact  he  always  offers  something  in- 
spiring, useful,  and  entertaining  to  his  friends, 
lint  it  is  to  the  perspicuity,  method,  and  ease  of 
Franklin's  philosophical  writings  that  his  solid 
reputation  will  remain  greatly  indebted.  These 
qualities  cannot  be  better  described  than  in  the 
words  of  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  the  generous  en- 
comiast of  his  scientific  brethren,  who  himself 
practised  every  grace  which  he  attributed  to 
others  : — "  A  singular  felicity  of  induction  guided 
all  his  researches,  and  by  very  small  means  he 
established  very  grand  truths.  The  style  and 
manner  of  his  publication  on  electricity,  are  al- 
most as  worthy  of  admiration  as  the  doctrine  it 
contains.  He  has  endeavoured  to  remove  all 
mystery  and  obscurity  from  the  subject.  He  has 
written  equally  for  the  uninitiated  and  for  the  phi- 
losopher; and  he  has  rendered  his  details  amusing 
and  perspicuous,  elegant  as  well  as  simple.  Sci- 
ence appears  in  his  language,  in  a  dress  wonder- 
fully decorous,  best  adapted  to  display  her  native 
loveliness.  He  has  in  no  instance  exhibited  that 
false  dignity,  by  which  philosophy  is  kept  aloof 
from  common  applications;  and  he  has  sought 
rather  to  make  her  a  useful  inmate  and  servant 
in  the  common  habitations  of  man,  than  to  pre- 
serve her  merely  as  an  object  of  admiration  in 
temples  and  palaces.''* 

The  uniform  industry  of  Franklin  was  im- 
mense ;  and  though  writing  was  but  an  incidental 
pursuit  to  one  who  was  not  an  author  by  pro- 
fession, and  derived  no  revenue  from  his  pen,  the 
aggregate  of  his  distinct  literary  compositions  out- 
distances the  labors  of  many  who  have  worked 
directly  for  reputation  and  the  booksellers.  As 
enumerated  by  Mr.  Sparks.f  the  list  of  his  writ- 
ings, separate  books,  articles,  or  distinct  papers, 
independently  of  his  iiuge  correspondence,  amounts 
to  three  hundred  and  four  items,  thickly  sown 
along  his  busy  years — and  he  was  alway.s  busy 
— from  1726  to  1790.  They  exhaust  every 
method  of  doing  good  practically,  which  fell 
within  the  range  of  his  powers  or  experience. 
They  are  upon  topics  of  individual  and  social  im- 
provement, of  the  useful  arts,  which  adorn  and 
ameliorate  daily  life,  of  the  science  which  en- 
larges the  powers  of  the  mind  and  increases  the 
comfort  of  the  body,  of  political  wisdom,  extend- 
ing from  the  direction  of  a  village  to  the  control 
and  prosperity  of  the  state.  In  every  form  of 
purely  human  endeavor,  the  genius  of  Franklin 
is  paramount.  There  were  principles  in  philoso- 
phy anil  religion  beyond  his  ken,  fields  of  specu- 
lation which  his  telescope  never  traversed,  metu- 
physic  spaces  of  the  soul  to  the  electric  powers 
of  which  his  lightning  rods  were  no  conductors. 
In  the  parcel  allotment  of  duties  in  this  world, 
his  path  lay  in  the  region  of  the  practical.  In 
the  words  of  our  great  sire  to  the  archangel,  he 
might  have  professed  that 


*  Quoted  in  Sparks' s  Life.  467. 
t  Works  of  Franklin,  x.  449. 


To  know  that  which  before  us  lies  in  daily  life 
Is  the  prime  wisdom. 

There  he  was  seldom  at  fault;  cool,  wary, 
political,  never  betraying  himself,  never  betraying 
the  state  :  in  the  language  of  his  American  histo- 
rian, a  writer  himself  skilled  in  affairs  :  "  Franklin 
was  the  greatest  diplomatist  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  He  never  spoke  a  word  too  soon  ;  he 
never  spoke  a  word  too  late ;  he  never  spoke  a 
word  too  much ;  he  never  failed  to  speak  the 
right  word  at  the  right  season."* 

We  have  alluded  to  Franklin's  philosophy  as 
indicative  of  the  religious  powers.  Here  it  may 
be  said  that  he  rather  lived  by  them  than  in 
them.  He  appreciated  the  devout  and  transcen- 
dent labors  of  such  men  as  Jonathan  Edwards,  in 
laying  the  foundations,  and  could  empty  his 
pockets  at  the  heart-stirring  appeals  of  White- 
field.  His  friendships,  in  England  and  America, 
were  with  bishops  and  divines.  The  Bishop  of 
St.  Asaph,  of  Sodor  and  Man,  no  less  than  the 
Methodist  Whitefield,  were  his  friends ;  and  he 
could  cast  an  eye  backwards  with  affection  and 
reverence,  from  the  glittering  salons  of  Paris,  to 
the  dark  shades  of  Puritan  ancestors.  There  was 
a  sound,  vein  of  piety  in  his  composition,  which 
bore  its'  fruits ;  nor  had  French  levity,  or  com- 
panionship with  the  encyclopaedists,  blunted  his 
religious  education.  His  warning  hand,  raised  to 
Paine  on  the  eve  of  his  infidel  publication, 
deserves  to  be  remembered,  with  his  appeal  to  the 
obligations  of  that  arch-corrupter  himself  to  reli- 
gion :  "  Perhaps  you  are  indebted  to  her  originally, 
that  is  to  your  religious  education,  for  the  habits 
of  virtue  upon  which  you  now  justly  value  your- 
self. You  might  easily  display  your  excellent 
talents  of  reasoning  upon  a  less  hazardous  sub- 
ject, and  thereby  obtain  a  rank  with  our  most 
distinguished  authors:  for  among  us  it  is  not 
necessary,  as  among  the  Hottentots,  that  a  youth, 
to  be  raised  into  the  company  of  men,  should 
prove  his  manhood  by  beating  his  mother. "t  In 
the  same  letter,  he  asserts  his  belief  of  a  particu- 
lar Providence,  which  he  once  so  emphatically 
announced  in  the  Convention  of  17874  At  the 
close  of  his  life,  President  Stiles,  of  Yale,  drew§ 
from  him  an  expression  of  his  religious  opinions, 
in  which  he  simply  announces  his  belief  in  the 
unity  and  moral  government  of  the  Deity,  and 
the  paramount  "  system  of  morals  and  religion  " 
of  "  Jesus  of  Nazareth,"  as  "  the  best  the  world 
ever  saw,  or  is  likely  to  see  ;"  but  his  interpreta- 
tion of  what  the  latter  was,  would  probably  have 
differed  much  from  that  of  Dr.  Stiles.] 


*  Bancroft.    N.  T.  Hist.  Soc.  Lecture,  Dec.  9, 1S52. 

t  Letter.     Sparks,  x.  2S1. 

X  "  I  have  lived,"  said  he,  in  introducing  his  motion  for  daily 
prayers,  "a  long  time;  and  the  longer  i  live,  the  more  con- 
vincing proofs  I  see  of  this  truth,  that  God  governs  in  the 
affairs  of  men.  And,  if  a  sparrow  cannot  fall  to  the  ground 
without  his  notice,  is  it  probable  that  an  empire  can  rise  with- 
out his  aid?" — Sparks's  Life,  514. 

§  Letter  of  Franklin,  March  9,  1790.  Holmes's  Life  of  Stiles, 
809. 

1  A  single  letter  in  the  autobiography  betrays  Franklin's 
mode  of  thinking  and  feeling  in  reference  to  the  Scriptures. 
He  is  speaking  of  a  poetic  contest  between  Ralph  and  some 
others  of  his  companions,  and  says,  of  the  test  proposed:  "  Wo 
excluded  all  considerations  of  invention,  by  agreeing  that  the 
task  should  bo  a  review  of  the  eighteenth  Psalm,  which 
describes  the  descent  of  a  Deity."  To  no  habitually  reverent 
mind  could  the  use  of  the  indefinite  article  occur  on  mention 
of  that  sublime  composition.    Of  his  early  infidel  opinions,  ho 


no 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


One  of  his  very  last  acts,  on  his  death-hed,  was 
to  recite  to  his  faithful  attendant,  Mrs.  Hewson, 
the  daughter  of  his  London  landlady,  the  simple 
and  elevated  verses  of  good  Doctor  Watts.* 

The  compliments  to  Franklin,  the  sage,  philoso- 
pher, politician,  would  fill  a  volume.  Perhaps 
the  Latin  epigraph,  written  by  the  philosopher 
Turgot,  has  been  the  most  productive  ever  paid : 

Eripuit  ecelo  fulmen  Eceptrurnque  tyrarmis.+ 

His  portrait  is  frequently  graced  with  similar 
inscriptions,  of  which  the  best  is  that  from  Horace, 
placed  by  Bishop  Shipley  in  the  edition  of  the 
Miscellanies  of  1779,  Non  sordidus  auctor  Na- 
tures Yerique.% 

.  He  was  equally  admired  by  peasants  and 
kings;  Louis  XV.,  "the  grand  monarch,"  com- 
manded a  return  of  his  thanks  to  Mr.  Franklin 
"for  his  useful  discoveries  in  electricity ;"§  the 
court  of  Louis  XVI.,  its  philosophers,  wits,  and 
ladies  of  fashion,  hailed  him  with  enthusiasm; 
Chatham  was  his  eulogist  in  England,  and  Wash- 
ington in  America;  he  had  the  best  men  in  both 
hemispheres  for  his  friends  and  correspondents; 
towns  and  counties,  and  even  a  state,  have  been 
named  after  him;|  his  portrait  and  bust  are 
familiar  as  those  of  Washington ;  "Every  penny 
stamp,"  says  Robert  0.  Winthrop,  happily,  in  his 
address,  Archimedes  and  Franldin,  "is  a  monu- 
ment to  Franklin,  earned,  if  not  established  by 
himself,  as  the  fruit  of  his  early  labors  and  his 
signal  success  in  the  organization  of  our  infant 
post-office."  His  writings  are  read  with  equal 
zest,  though  with  different  emotions,  in  childhood 
and  age — as  the  old  man  goes  out  of  the  world 


Bays,  that  they  were  encouraged  by  the  statements  of  the 
defenders  of  Christianity,  the  Boyle  lecturers;  but  in  such 
cases,  it  is  less  the  argument  than  the  predisposition  which 
fails  to  convince. 

*  Epes  Sargent's  Memoir  of  Franklin,  110 ;  prefixed  to  a  well 
chosen  selection  of  the  writings,  agreeably  presented. 

+  This  inscription  by  Turgot,  which  has  been  ascribed  to 
Condorcet  and  Mirabeau,  first  appears  in  the  correspondence 
of  Grimm  and  Diderot,  April,  1778,  and  has  been  traced  to  a 
line  of  the  Anti-Lucretius  of  Cardinal  de  Polignac,  lib.  i., 
verse  37,  which  reads: 

Eripuitque  Jovi  fulmen,  Phceboque  sagittas: 
And  thence  to  Manilins,  lib.  1,  verse  104,  where  he  says  of 
Epicurus, 

Eripuitque  Jovi  fulmen,  viresque  Tonanti. 

Notes  and  Queries,  vi.  88. 
Taking  the  laurel  from  the  brow  of  Epicurus  to  place  it 
upon  the  head  of  Franklin  is  not  so  inappropriate  when  we 
recall    the   sketch    of   the   former   by  Lucretius    iUxastrans 
commoda  viiw. 
t  Ode  I.  28. 
There  is  another  from  Virgil, 

Hominum  rerumque  repcrtor. 

jEncid  xii. 
To  the  portrait  from  which  our  engraving  is  taken,  a  medal- 
lion in  the  possession  of  Dr.  Lettsom,  published  in  his  life  of 
Dr.  Fothergill,  are  added  these  lines : 
II  a  ravi  le  feu  des  Cieux 
II  fait  fleurir  les  Arts  en  des  Climats  Sauvages, 

L'Amerique  le  place  a  la  tete  des  Sages 
La  Grece  l'auroit  mis  au  nombre  dc  ses  Dieux. 
There  is  a  common  French  print  of  Diogenes  with  a  lantern, 
holding  a  medallion  of  Franklin,  with  the  inscription, 
Stupete  gentes  reperit  virum  Diogenes. 
§  Franklin's  Letter  to  Jared  Eliot,  Philadelphia,  April  12th, 
1753.    Sparks,  vi.  162. 

[  To  the  town  of  Franklin,  Massachusetts,  named  after  him, 
he  orders  from  Paris  a  gift  of  books,  in  preference  to  the  bell 
which  they  had  solicited,  "sense  being  preferable  to  sound.'' — 
Letter  to  Richard  Price,  Passy,  March  18, 1785.  Sparks,  x.  158. 
The  Rev.  Nath.  Emmons,  clergyman  of  the  town,  preached  a 
sermon,  "The  Dignity  of  Man, :'  on  the  receipt  of  the  gift.  The 
proposed  new  State  of  Franklin,  afterwards  called  Tennessee, 
was  named  after  our  philosopher. 


repeating  to  the  grandchild  at  the  fireside  the 
apologue  of  quaint  familiar  wisdom  which  he  had 
learnt  in  his  primer. 

The  genius  of  Franklin  is  omnipresent  at  Phila- 
delphia. It  points  to  his  Library,  his  Philoso- 
phical Society,  his  University,  his  Hospital,  the 
Institute.  At  Boston,  his  benevolence  still  lives 
in  the  provisions  of  his  will,  his  silver  medal  for 
the  encouragement  of  scholarship  in  the  free 
grammar  schools,  in  gratitude  for  his  own  "  first 
instructions  in  literature,"  and  in  a  fund  to  be 
loaned  to  young  mechanics.  At  one  time  it  was 
thought  the  influence  of  Poor  Richard  had  pro- 
duced a  too  general  thrift  and  parsimony:  but 
these  were  not  the  vices  of  Franklin's  instructions, 
but  the  virtues  of  a  young  state  building  up  its 
fortunes  by  economy  and  endurance.  Now  these 
maxims  are  simply  the  correctives  of  rapidly  in- 
creasing prodigality ;  the  mottoes  and  incentives 
to  honorable  toil  and  frugality  throughout  the 
land.  For  Franklin  having  been  born  in  one 
part  of  the  country,  and  found  that  development 
in  another  which  would  probably  have  been 
denied  him  in  his  birth-place,  and  having  been 
employed  abroad  in  the  service  of  several  states, 
and  afterwards  in  behalf  of  them  all,  is  properly 
the  son  of  the  Union  and  the  nation, — and  his 
life,  as  his  fame,  belongs  to  his  country. 

For  extracts  from  Franklin's  writings,  passing 
over  the  scientific  portions,  as  hardly  admitting 
of  separation  from  the  context,  and  leaving  his 
political  papers  for  the  historian,  we  may  properly 
give  several  of  those  essays  which  have  chiefly 
promoted  his  popular  literary  reputation.  Of 
these  the  Parable  on  Persecution  has  always  been 
considered  one  of  his  most  characteristic  efforts. 
It  was  his  habit  to  call  for  a  Bible  and  read  it  as 
a  passage  of  the  Old  Testament,  till  it  became 
public  property  by  its  appearance  in  Lord  Karnes's 
Sketches  of  the  History  of  Man,  in  1774,  where 
it  appears  as  "communicated  by  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin." Vaughan  then  placed  it  in  his  edition  of 
Franklin.  The  apologue  was  soon  discovered  in 
Jeremy  Taylor's  Liberty  of  Prophesying,  who 
quotes  it  from  "the  Jews'  books."  It  then 
turned  up  in  the  dedication  of  a  book  published 
at  Amsterdam,  in  1680,  a  translation  from  the 
Hebrew  into  Latin,  by.  George  Gentius,  of  a  work 
on  the  Jewish  Calamities.  Gentius  carries  it 
back  to  Sadus,  who,  it  appears,  is  Saadi,  the  Per- 
sian poet,  who,  as  Lord  Teignmouth  related  to 
Bishop  Heber,  has  the  story  in  the  second  book 
of  his  Bostan;  and  carrying  the  antiquity  still 
further,  Saadi  says  the  story  was  told  to  him.* 

A  rAEABLE  AGAIXST  PEnSECCTION. 

1.  And  it  came  to  pass  after  these  things,  that 
Abraham  6at  in  the  door  of  his  teat,  about  the  going 
down  of  the  sun. 

2.  And  behold  a  man,  bowed  with  age,  came  from 
the  way  of  the  wilderness,  leaning  on  a  staff. 

3.  And  Abraham  arose  and  met  him,  and  said  unto 
him,  "  Turn  in,  I  pray  thee,  and  wash  thy  feet,  and 
tarry  all  night,  and  thou  shalt  arise  early  on  the 
morrow,  and  go  on  thy  way." 


*  Letter  from  Franklin  to  Taughan.  Nov.  2, 17S9.  Appen- 
dix to  Priestley's  Memoirs,  where  the  Latin  of  Gentius  is  given, 
376.  Heber's  Life  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  notes.  Sparks' s  Franklin, 
ii.  11S-21. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 


Ill 


4.  But  the  man  said,  "  Nay,  for  I  will  abide  under 
this  tree." 

5.  And  Abraham  pressed  him  greatly  ;  so  he 
turned,  and  they  went  into  the  tent,  and  Abraham 
baked  unleavened  bread,  and  they  did  eat. 

6.  And  when  Abraham  saw  that  the  man  blessed 
not  God,  he  said  unto  him,  "  Wherefore  dost  thou 
not  worship  the  most  high  God,  Creator  of  heaven 
and  earth  ?" 

7.  And  the  man  answered  and  said,  "  I  do  not 
worship  the  God  thou  speakest  of,  neither  do  I  call 
upon  his  name ;  for  I  have  made  to  myself  a  god, 
which  abideth  alway  in  mine  house,  and  provideth 
me  with  all  things." 

8.  And  Abraham's  zeal  was  kindled  against  the 
man,  and  he  arose  and  fell  upon  him,  and  drove  him 
forth  with  blows  into  the  wilderness. 

9.  And  at  midnight  God  called  unto  Abraham, 
saying,  "  Abraham,  where  is  the  stranger  ?" 

10.  And  Abraham  answered  and  said,  "  Lord,  he 
would  not  worship  thee,  neither  would  he  call  upon 
thy  name;  therefore  have  I  driven  him  out  from 
before  my  face  into  the  wilderness." 

11.  And  God  said,  "  Have  I  borne  with  him  these 
hundred  ninety  and  eight  years,  and  nourished  him, 
and  clothed  him,  notwithstanding  his  rebellion 
against  me ;  and  couldst  not  thou,  that  art  thyself  a 
sinner,  bear  with  him  one  night?" 

12.  And  Abraham  said,  "  Let  not  the  anger  of  the 
Lord  wax  hot  against  his  servant;  lo,  I  have  sinned; 
lo,  I  have  sinned ;  forgive  me,  I  pray  thee." 

13.  And  Abraham  arose,  and  went  forth  into  the 
wilderness,  and  sought  diligently  for  the  man,  and 
found  him,  and  returned  with  him  to  the  tent ;  and 
when  he  had  entreated  him  kindly,  he  sent  him 
away  on  the  morrow  with  gifts. 

14.  And  God  spake  again  unto  Abraham,  saying, 
"  For  this  thy  sin  shall  thy  seed  be  afflicted  four 
hundred  years  in  a  strange  land ; 

15.  "  But  fur  thy  repentance  will  I  deliver  them  ; 
and  they  shall  come  forth  with  power,  and  with 
gladness  of  heart,  and  with  much  substance." 


the  ephemera; 
an  emblem  of  human  life. 
To  Madame  Brillon,  of  Passy. 
Written  in  1778. 
You  may  remember,  my  dear  friend,  that  when 
we  lately  spent  that  happy  day  in  the  delightful 
garden  and  sweet  society  of  the  Moulin  Joly,  I 
stopped  a  little  in  pne  of  our  walks,  and  stayed  some 
time  behind  the  company.  We  had  been  shown 
numberless  skeletons  of  a  kind  of  little  fly,  called  an 
ephemera,  whose  successive  generations,  we  were 
told,  were  bred  and  expired  within  the  day.  I 
happened  to  see  a  living  company  of  them  on  a 
leaf,  who  appeared  to  be  engaged  in  conversation. 
You  know  I  understand  all  the  inferior  animal 
tongues.  My  too  great  application  to  the  study  of 
them  is  the  best  excuse  I  can  give  for  the  little  pro- 
gress I  have  made  in  your  charming  language.  I 
listened  through  curiosity  to  the  discourse  of~these 
little  creatures  ;  but  as  they,  in  their  national 
vivacity,  spoke  three  or  four  together,  I  could  make 
but  little  of  their  conversation.  I  found,  however, 
by  some  broken  expressions  that  I  heard  now  and 
then,  they  were  disputing  warmly  on  the  merit  of 
two  foreign  musicians,  one  a  cousin,  the  other  a 
moscheto ;  in  which  dispute  they  spent  their  time, 
seemingly  as  regardless  of  the  shortness  of  life  as  if 
they  had  been  sure  of  living  a  month.  Happy 
people !  thought  I ;  you  are  certainly  under  a  wise, 
just,  and  mild  government,  since  you  have  no  public 


grievances  to  complain  of,  nor  any  subject  of  conten- 
tion but  the  perfections  and  imperfections  of  foreign 
music.  I  turned  my  head  from  them  to  an  old  grey- 
headed one,  who  was  single  on  another  leaf,  and 
talkitur  to  himself.  Being  amused  with  his  soliloquy, 
I  put  it  dow  i  in  writing,  in  hopes  it  will  likewise 
amuse  her  to  whom  I  am  so  much  indebted  for  the 
most  pleasing 'of  all  amusements,  her  delicious  com- 
pany and  heavenly  harmony. 

"  It  was,"  said  he,  "  the  opinion  of  learned  philoso- 
phers of  our  race,  who  lived  and  flourished  long 
before  my  time,  that  this  vast  world,  the  Moulin  Joly, 
could  not  itself  subsist  more  than  eighteen  hours ; 
and  I  think  there  was  some  foundation  for  that 
opinion,  since,  by  the  apparent  motion  of  the  great 
luminary  that  gives  life  to  all  nature,  and  which  in 
my  time  has  evidently  declined  considerably  towards 
the  ocean  at  the  end  of  our  earth,  it  must  then  finish 
its  course,  be  extinguished  in  the  waters  that  sur- 
round us,  and  leave  the  world  in  cold  and  darkness, 
necessarily  producing  universal  death  and  destruc- 
tion. I  have  lived  seven  of  those  hours,  a  great  age, 
being  no  less  than  four  hundred  and  twenty  minutes 
of  time.  How  very  few  of  us  continue  so  long !  I 
have  seen  generations  born,  flourish,  and  expire. 
My  present  friends  are  the  children  and  grandchil- 
dren of  the  friends  of  my  youth,  who  arc  now,  alas, 
no  more !  And  I  must  soon  follow  them ;  for,  by  the 
course  of  nature,  though  still  in  health,  I  cannot 
expect  to  live  above  seven  or  eight  minutes  longer. 
What  now  avails  all  my  toil  and  labor,  in  amassing 
honey-dew  on  this  leaf,  which  I  cannot  live  to 
enjoy!  What  the  political  struggles  I  have  been 
engaged  in,  for  the  good  of  my  compatriot  inhabit- 
ants of  this  bush,  or  my  philosophical  studies  for 
the  benefit  of  our  race  in  general !  for,  in  politics, 
what  can  laws  do  without  morals?  Our  present 
race  of  ephemera  will  in  a  course  of  minutes  become 
corrupt,  like  those  of  other  and  older  bushes,  and 
consequently  as  wretched.  And  in  philosophy  how 
small  our  progress!  Alas!  art  is  long,  and  life  is 
short!  My  friends  would  comfort  me  with  the  idea 
of  a  name,  they  say.  I  shall  leave  behind  me ;  and 
they  tell  me  I  have  lived  long  enough  to  nature  and 
to  glory.  But  what  will  fame  be  to  an  ephemera 
who  no  longer  exists?  And  what  will  become  of 
all  history  in  the  eighteenth  hour,  when  the  world 
itself,  even  the  whole  Moulin  Joly,  shall  come  to  its 
end,  and  be  buried  in  universal  ruin?" 

To  me,  after  all  my  eager  pursuits,  no  solid  plea- 
sures now  remain,  but  the  reflection  of  a  long  life 
spent  in  meaning  well,  the  sensible  conversation  of 
a  few  good  lady  ephemerae,  and  now  and  then  a 
kind  smile  and  a  tune  from  the  ever  amiable  Bril- 
lante. 

THE       WHISTLE. 

To  Madame  BMlon, 

Passy,  10  November,  1779. 

I  received  my  dear  friend's  two  letters,  one  for 
Wednesday  and  one  for  Saturday.  This  is  again 
Wednesday.  I  do  not  deserve  one  for  to-day,  be- 
cause I  have  not  answered  the  former.  But,  indo- 
lent as  I  am,  and  averse  to  writing,  the  fear  of 
having  no  more  of  your  pleasing  epistles,  if  1  do  not 
contribute  to  the  correspondence,  obliges  me  to  take 
up  my  pen  ;  and  as  Mr.  B.  has  kindly  sent  me  word, 
that  he  sets  out  to-morrow  to  see  you,  instead  of 
spending  this  Wednesday  evening  as  I  have  done  its 
namesakes,  in  your  delightful  company,  I  sit  down 
to  spend  it  in  thinking  of  you,  in  writing  to  you,  and 
in  reading  over  and  over  again  your  letters. 

I  am  charmed  with  j'our  description  of  Paradise, 
and  with  your  plan  of  living  there;  and  I  approve 
much  of  your  conclusion,  that,  in  the  mean  time,  we 


112 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


should  draw  all  the  good  we  can  from  this  world. 
In  my  opinion,  we  might  all  draw  more  good  from 
it  than  we  do,  and  suffer  less  evil,  if  we  would  take 
care  not  to  give  too  much  for  whistles.  For  to  me  it 
seems,  that  most  of  the  unhappy  people  we  meet 
with,  are  become  so  by  neglect  of  that  caution. 

You  ask  what  I  mean  ?  You  love  stories,  and  will 
excuse  my  telling  one  of  myself. 

When  I  was  a  child  of  seven  years  old,  my  friends, 
on  a  holiday,  filled  my  pocket  with  coppers.  I 
went  directly  to  a  shop  where  they  sold  toys  for 
children ;  and,  being  charmed  with  the  sound  of  a 
whistle,  that  I  met  by  the  way  in  the  hands  of 
another  boy,  I  voluntarily  offered  and  gave  all  my 
money  for  one.  I  then  came  home,  and  went 
whistling  all  over  the  house,  much  pleased  with  my 
whistle,  but  disturbing  all  the  family.  My  brothers, 
and  sisters,  and  cousins,  understanding  the  bargain 
I  had  made,  told  me  I  had  given  fjur  times  as  much 
for  it  as  it  was  worth ;  put  me  in  mind  what  good 
things  I  might  have  bought  with  the  rest  of  the 
money ;  and  laughed  at  me  so  much  for  my  folly, 
that  I  eried  with  vexation;  and  the  reflection  gave 
we  more  chagrin  than  the  whistle  gave  me  pleasure. 

This,  however,  was  afterwards  of  use  to  me,  the 
impression  continuing  on  my  mind ;  so  that  often, 
when  I  was  tempted  to  buy  some  unnecessary  thing, 
1  said  to  myself,  Don't  give  too  much  for  the  whistle; 
and  I  saved  my  money. 

As  I  grew  up,  came  into  the  world,  and  observed 
the  actions  of  men,  I  thought  I  met  with  many,  very 
many,  who  gave  too  much  for  the  whistle. 

When  I  saw  one  too  ambitious  of  court  favor, 
sacrificing  his  time  in  attendance  on  levees,  his 
repose,  his  liberty,  his  virtue,  and  perhaps  his  friends, 
to  attain  it,  I  have  said  to  myself,  This  man  gives  too 
much  for  his  whistle. 

When  I  saw  another  fond  of  popularity,  constantly 
employing  himself  in  political  bustles,  neglecting  his 
own  affairs,  and  ruining  them  by  that  neglect,  He 
pays,  indeed,  said  I,  too  much  for  his  whistle. 

If  1  knew  a  miser,  who  gave  up  every  kind  of 
comfortable  living,  all  the  pleasure  of  doing  good  to 
others,  all  the  esteem  of  his  fellow-citizens,  and  the 
joys  of  benevolent  friendship,  for  the  sake  of  accu- 
mulating wealth,  Poor  man,  said  I,  you  pay  too  much 
for  your  whistle. 

When  I  met  with  a  man  of  pleasure,  sacrificing 
every  laudable  improvement  of  the  mind,  or  of  his 
fortune,  to  mere  corporeal  sensations,  and  ruining  his 
health  in  their  pursuit,  Mistaken  man,  said  I,  you  are 
providing  pain  for  yourself  ,  instead  of  pleasure  ;  you 
give  too  much  for  your  whistle. 

If  I  see  one  fond  of  appearance,  or  fine  clothes, 
fine  houses,  fine  furniture,  fine  equipages,  all  above 
his  fortune,  for  which  he  contracts  debts,  and  ends 
his  career  in  a  prison,  Alas!  say  I,  he  has  paid  dear, 
very  dear,  for  his  whistle. 

When  I  see  a  beautiful,  sweet-tempered  girl  mar- 
ried to  an  ill-natured  brute  of  a  husband,  What 
a  pity,  say  I,  that  she  should  pay  so  much  for  her 
whistle ! 

In  short,  I  conceive  that  great  part  of  the  miseries 
of  mankind  are  brought  upon  them  by  the  false  esti- 
mates they  have  made  of  the  value  of  things,  and  by 
their  giving  too  much  for  their  whistles. 

Yet  I  ought  to  have  charity  for  these  unhappy 
people,  when  I  consider,  that,  with  all  this  wisdom  of 
which  I  am  boasting,  there  are  certain  things  in  the 
world  so  tempting,  for  example,  the  apples  of  King 
John,  which  happily  are  not  to  be  bought ;  for  if 
they  were  put  to  sale  by  auction,  I  might  very 
easily  be  led  to  ruin  myself  in  the  purchase,  and 
find  that  I  had  once  more  given  too  much  for  the 
whistle. 


Adieu,  my  dear  friend,  and  believe  me  ever  yours 
very  sincerely  and  with  unalterable  affection, 

B.  Franklin. 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  FRANKLIN  AND  THE  GOUT. 

Midnight,  22  October,  1780. 

Franklin.  Eh!  Oh  I  Eh!  What  have  I  done  to 
merit  these  cruel  sufferings? 

Gout.  Many  things ;  you  have  ate  and  drank  too 
freely,  and  too  much  indulged  those  legs  of  yours  in 
their  indolence. 

Franklin.  Who  is  it  that  accuses  me  ? 

Gout.  It  is  I,  even  I,  the  Gout. 

Franklin.  What!  my  enemy  in  person ? 

Gout.  No,  not  your  enemy. 

Franklin.  I  repeat  it ;  my  enemy ;  for  you  would 
not  only  torment  my  body  to  death,  but  ruin  my 
good  name ;  you  reproach  me  as  a  glutton  and  a 
tippler ;  now  all  the  world,  that  knows  me,  will  allow 
that  I  am  neither  the  one  nor  the  other. 

Gout.  The  world  may  think  as  it  pleases;  it  is 
always  very  complaisant  to  itself,  and  sometimes  to 
its  friends ;  but  I  very  well  know  that  the  quantity 
of  meat  and  drink  proper  for  a  man,  who  takes  a 
reasonable  degree  of  exercise,  would  be  too  much  for 
another,  who  never  takes  any. 

Franklin.  I  take — Eh!  Oh! — as  much  exercise — 
Eh ! — as  I  can,  Madam  Gout.  You  know  my  seden- 
tary state,  and  on  that  account,  it  would  seem, 
Madam  Gout,  as  if  you  might  spare  me  a  little,  seeing 
it  is  not  altogether  my  own  fault. 

Gout.  Not  a  jot ;  your  rhetoric  and  your  polite- 
ness are  thrown  away;  your  apology  avails  nothing. 
If  your  situation  in  life  is  a  sedentary  one,  your 
amusements,  your  recreations,  at  least,  should  be 
active.  You  ought  to  walk  or  ride ;  or,  if  the 
weather  prevents  that,  play  at  billiards.  But  let  us 
examine  your  course  of  life.  While  the  mornings 
are  long,  and  you  have  leisure  to  go  abroad,  what  do 
you  do?  Why,  instead  of  gaining  an  appetite  for 
breakfast,  by  salutary  exercise,  you  amuse  yourself 
with  books,  pamphlets,  or  newspapers,  which  com- 
monly are  not  worth  the  reading.  Yet  you  eat  an 
inordinate  breakfast,  four  dishes  of  tea,  with  cream, 
and  one  or  two  buttered  toasts,  with  slices  of  hung 
beef,  which  I  fancy  are  not  things  the  most  easily 
digested.  Immediately  afterward  \'ou  sit  down  to 
■write  at  your  desk,  or  converse  with  persons  who 
apply  to  you  on  business.  Thus  the  time  passes  till 
one,  without  any  kind  of  bodily  exercise.  But  all 
this  I  could  pardon,  in  regard,  as  you  say,  to  your 
sedentary  condition.  But  what  is  your  practice 
after  dinner?  Walking  in  the  beautiful  gardens  of 
those  friends,  with  whom  you  have  dined,  would  be 
the  choice  of  men  of  sense ;  yours  is  to  be  fixed  down 
to  chess,  where  you  are  found  engaged  for  two  or 
three  hours!  This  is  your  perpetual  recreation, 
which  is  the  least  eligible  of  any  for  a  sedentary  man, 
because,  instead  of  accelerating  the  motion  of  the 
fluids,  tlie  rigid  attention  it  requires  helps  to  retard 
the  circulation  and  obstruct  internal  secretions. 
Wrapt  in  the  speculation's  of  this  wretched  game, 
you  destroy  j'our  constitution.  What  can  be  ex- 
pected from  such  a  course  of  living,  but  a  body 
replete  with  stagnant  humors,  ready  to  fall  a  prey 
to  all  kinds  of  dangerous  maladies,  if  I,  the  Gout,  did 
not  occasionally  bring  you  relief  by  agitating  these 
humors,  and  so  purifying  or  dissipating  them  ?  If  it 
was  in  some  nook  or  alle}^  in  Paris,  deprived  of 
walks,  that  you  played  awhile  at  chess  after  dinner, 
this  might  be  excusable ;  but  the  same  taste  prevails 
with  you  in  Passy,  Auteuil,  Menmartre,  or  Sauoy, 
places  where  there  are  the  finest  gardens  and  walks, 
a  pure  air,  beautiful  women,  and  most  agreeable  and 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 


113 


instructive  conversation;  all  -which  you  might  enjoy- 
by  frequenting  the  walks.  But  these  are  rejected 
for  this  abominable  game  of  chess.  Fie,  then,  Mr. 
Franklin!  But  amidst  my  instructions,  I  had  almost 
forgot  to  administer  my  wholesome  corrections ;  so 
take  that  twinge, — and  that. 

Franklin.  Oh!  Ehl  Oh  I  Ohhh!  As  much  in- 
struction as  you  please,  Madam  Gout,  and  as  many 
reproaches ;  but  pray,  Madam,  a  truce  with  your 
corrections ! 

Gout.  No,  Sir,  no, — I  will  not  abate  a  particle  of 
what  is  so  much  for  your  good, — therefore — ■ 

Feanklin.  Oh !  Ehhh ! — It  is  not  fair  to  say  I  take 
no  exercise,  when  I  do  very  often,  going  out  to  dine 
and  returning  in  my  carriage. 

Gout.  That,  of  all  imaginable  exercises,  is  the  most 
slight  and  insignificant,  it' you  allude  to  the  motion 
of  a  carriage  suspended  on  springs.  By  observing 
the  degree  of  heat  obtained  by  different  kinds  of 
motion,  we  may  form  an  estimate  of  the  quantity  of 
exercise  given  by  each.  Thus,  for  example,  if  you 
turn  out  to  walk  in  winter  with  cold  feet,  in  an 
hour's  time  you  will  be  in  a  glow  all  over ;  ride  on 
horseback,  the  same  effect  will  scarcely  be  perceived 
by  four  hours'  round  trotting;  but  if  you  loll  in  a 
carriage,  such  as  you  have  mentioned,  you  may 
travel  all  day,  and  gladly  enter  the  last  inn  to  warm 
your  feet  by  a  fire.  Flatter  yourself  then  no  longer, 
that  half  an  hour's  airing  in  your  carriage  deserves 
the  name  of  exercise.  Providence  has  appointed  few 
to  roll  in  carriages,  while  he  has  given  to  all  a  pair 
of  legs,  whicli  are  machines  infinitely  more  commo- 
dious and  serviceable.  Be  grateful  then,  and  make 
a  proper  use  of  yours.  Would  you  know  how  they 
forward  the  circulation  of  your  fluids,  in  the  very 
action  of  transporting  you  from  place  to  place ;  ob- 
serve when  you  walk,  that  all  your  weight  is  alter- 
nately thrown  from  one  leg  to  the  other;  this 
occasions  a  great  pressure  on  the  vessels  of  the  foot, 
and  repels  their  contents;  when  relieved,  by  the 
weight  being  thrown  on  the  other  foot,  the  vessels 
of  the  first  are  allowed  to  replenish,  and,  by  a  return 
of  this  weight,  this  repulsion  again  succeeds;  thus 
accelerating  the  circulation  of  the  blood.  The  heat 
produced  in  any  given  time,  depends  on  the  degree 
of  this  acceleration ;  the  fluids  are  shaken,  the 
humors  attenuated,  the  secretions  facilitated,  and  all 
goes  well ;  the  cheeks  are  ruddy,  and  health  is 
established.  Behold  your  fair  friend  at  Auteuil; 
a  lady  who  received  from  bounteous  nature  more 
really  useful  science,  than  half  a  dozen  such  pre- 
tenders to  philosophy  as  you  have  been  able  to 
extract  from  all  your  books.  When  she  honors  you 
with  a  visit,  it  is  on  foot.  She  walks  all  hours  of 
the  day,  and  leaves  indolence,  and  its  concomitant 
maladies,  to  be  endured  by  her  horses.  In  this  see 
at  once  the  preservative  of  her  health  and  personal 
charms.  But  when  you  go  to  Auteuil,  you  must 
have  your  carriage,  though  it  is  no  further  from 
Passy  to  Auteuil  than  from  Auteuil  to  Passy. 

Franklin.  Your  reasonings  grow  very  tiresome. 

Gout.  I  stand  corrected.  I  will  be  silent  and  con- 
tinue my  office ;  take  that,  and  that. 

Franklin.  Oh  !  Ohh!     Talk  on,  I  pray  yon! 

Gout.  No,  no ;  I  have  a  good  number  of  twinges 
for  you  to-night,  and  you  may  be  sure  of  some  more 
to-morrow. 

Franklin.  What !  with  such  a  fever !  I  shall 
go  distracted.  Oh !  Eh !  Can  no  one  bear  it  for 
me? 

Gout.  Ask  that  of  your  horses  ;  they  have  served 
you  faithfully. 

Franklin.  How  can  you  so  cruelly  sport  with  my 
torments? 

Gout.  Sport!  I  am  very  serious.     I   have  here  a 

-?OL.  I. — 8 


list  of  offences  against  your  own  health  distinctly 
written,  and  can  justify  every  stroke  inflicted  on 
you. 

Franklin.  Read  it,  then. 

Gout.  It  is  too  long  a  detail;  but  I  will  briefly 
mention  some  particulars. 

Franklin.  Proceed.     I  am  all  attention. 

Gout.  Do  you  remember  how  often  you  have  pro- 
mised yourself,  the  following  morning,  a  walk  in  tho 
grove  of  Boulogne,  in  the  garden  de  la  Muette,  or  iu 
your  own  garden,  and  have  violated  your  promise, 
alleging,  at  one  time,  it  was  too  cold,  at  another  too 
warm,  too  windy,  too  moist,  or  what  else  you 
pleased ;  when  in  truth  it  was  too  nothing,  but  your 
insuperable  love  of  ease  ?  ^ 

Franklin.  That  I  confess  may  have  happened 
occasionally,  probably  ten  times  in  a  year. 

Gout.  Your  confession  is  very  far  short  of  the 
truth ;  the  gross  amount  is  one  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  times. 

Franklin.  Is  it  possible  ? 

Gout.  So  possible,  that  it  is  fact ;  you  may  rely  on 
the  accuracy  of  my  statement.  You  know  Mr. 
Brillon's  gardens,  and  what  fine  walks  they  contain; 
you  know  the  handsome  flight  of  an  hundred  steps, 
which  lead  from  the  terrace  above  to  the  lawn 
below.  You  have  been  in  the  practice  of  visiting 
this  amiable  family  twice  a  week,  after  dinner,  and 
it  is  a  maxim  of  your  own,  that  "  a  man  may  take 
as  much  exercise  iu  walking  a  mile,  up  and  down 
stairs,  as  in  ten  on  level  ground."  What  an  oppor- 
tunity was  here  for  you  to  have  had  exercise  in 
both  these  ways!  Did  you  embrace  it,  and  how 
often? 

Franklin.  I  cannot  immediately  answer  that 
question. 

Gout.  I  will  do  it  for  you ;  not  once. 

Franklin.  Not  once? 

Gout.  Even  so.  During  the  summer  you  went 
there  at  six  o'clock.  You  found  the  charming  lady, 
with  her  lovely  children  and  friends,  eager  to  walk 
with  you,  and  entertain  you  with  their  agreeable 
conversation  ;  and  what  has  been  your  choice  ? 
Why,  to  sit  on  the  terrace,  satisfying  yourself  with 
the  fine  prospect,  and  passing  your  eye  over  the 
beauties  of  the  garden  below,  without  taking  one 
step  to  descend  and  walk  about  in  them.  On  the 
contrary,  you  call  for  tea  and  the  chess-board  ;  and 
lo !  you  are  occupied  in  your  seat  till  nine  o'clock, 
and  that  besides  two  hours'  play  after  dinner;  and 
then,  instead  of  walking  home,  which  would  have 
bestirred  you  a  little,  you  step  into  your  carriage; 
How  absurd  to  suppose  that  all  this  carelessness 
can  be  reconcilable  with  health,  without  my  inter- 
position ! 

Franklin.  I  am  convinced  now  of  the  justness  of 
poor  Richard's  remark,  that  "  Our  debts  and  our 
sins  are  always  greater  than  we  think  for." 

Gout.  So  it  is.  You  philosophers  are  sages  in 
your  maxims,  and  fools  in  your  conduct. 

Franklin.  But  do  you  charge  among  my  crimes, 
that  I  return  in  a  carriage  from  Mr.  Brillon's? 

Gout.  Certainly  ;  for,  having  been  seated  all  the 
while,  you  cannot  object  the  fatigue  of  the  day,  and 
cannot  want  therefore  the  relief  of  a  carriage. 

Franklin.  What  then  would  you  have  me  do  with 
my  carriage? 

Gout.  Burn  it  if  you  choose;  you  would  at  least 
get  heat  out  of  it  once  in  this  way;  or,  if  you  dis- 
like that  proposal,  here's  another  for  you ;  observe 
the  poor  peasants,  who  work  iu  the  vineyards  and 
grounds  about  the  villages  of  Passy,  Auteuil,  Chail- 
lot,  (fcc.  ;  you  may  find  every  day,  among  these  de- 
serving creatures,  four  or  five  old  men  and  women, 
bent  and  perhaps  crippled  by  weight  of  years,  and 


114 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


too  long  and  too  great  labor.  After  a  most  fatiguing 
day,  these  people  have  to  trudge  a  mile  or  two'  to 
their  smoky  huts.  Order  your  coachman  to  set  them 
down.  This  is  an  act  that  will  be  good  for  your 
soul;  and,  at  the  same  time,  after  your  visit  to  the 
Brillons,  if  you  return  on  foot,  that  will  be  good  for 
your  body. 

Franklin.  Ah !  how  tiresome  you  are  I 

Gout.  Well,  then,  to  my  office;  it  should  not  be 
forgotten  that  I  am  your  physician.     There. 

Franklin.  Ohhh!  what  a  devil  of  a  physician! 

Gout.  How  ungrateful  you  are  to  say  so !  Is  it 
not  I  who,  in  the  character  of  your  physician,  have 
saved  you  from  the  palsy,  dropsy,  and  apoplexy ! 
one  or  <^her  of  which  would  have  done  for  you  long 
ago,  but  fosEme. 

Franklin.  I  submit,  and  thank  you  for  the  past, 
but  entreat  the  discontinuance  of  your  visits  for  the 
future;  for,  in  my  mind,  one  had  better  die  than  be 
cured  so  dolefully.  Permit  me  just  to  hint,  that  I 
have  also  not  been  unfriendly  to  you.  I  never  feed 
physician  or  quack  of  any  kind,  to  enter  the  list 
against  you ;  if  then  you  do  not  leave  me  to  my 
repose,  it  may  be  said  you  are  ungrateful  too. 

Gout.  I  can  scarcely  acknowledge  that  as  any 
objection.  As  to  quacks,  I  despise  them;  they  may 
kill  you  indeed,  but  cannot  injure  me.  And,  as  to 
regular  ph\'8icians,  they  are  at  last  convinced,  that 
the  gout,  in  such  a  subject  as  you  are,  is  no  disease, 
but  a  remedy ;  and  wherefore  cure  a  remedy  ? — but 
to  our  business, — there. 

Franklin.  Oh  !  Oh  ! — for  Heaven's  sake  leave 
me;  and  I  promise  faithfully  never  more  to  play  at 
chess,  but  to  take  exercise  daily,  and  live  temper- 
ately. 

Gout.  I  know  you  too  well.  You  promise  fair ; 
but,  after  a  few  months  of  good  health,  you  will 
return  to  your  old  habits;  your  fine  promises  will 
be  forgotten  like  the  forms  of  the  last  year's  clouds. 
Let  us  then  finish  the  account,  and  I  will  go.  But 
I  leave  you  with  an  assurance  of  visiting  you  again 
at  a  proper  time  and  place ;  for  my  object  is  your 
good,  and  you  are  sensible  now  that  I  am  your  real 
friend. 

Franklin  would  hardly  have  made  his  title 
good  in  the  old  literature  of  New  England,  if  he 
had  not  written  verses  of  some  kind.  The  lines 
entitled  "  Paper"  have  been  so  often  printed  as 
his,  and  are  so  appropriate  to  his  tastes,  that  we 
may  give  them  a  place  here,  though  evidence  is 
wanting  that  he  wrote  them.  In  the  Massachu- 
setts Magazine  for  August,  1794,  it  is  given  a3 
"  written  by  the  late  Dr.  Franklin,"  but  in  the 
American  Museum  of  1788,  it  is  only  "  ascribed" 
to  his  pen.  Mr.  Sparks  doubts  the  authorship, 
but  prints  the  lines.* 

paper;  a  poem. 
Some  wit  of  old, — such  wits  of  old  there  were, — 
Whose  hints  showed  meaning,  whose  allusions  care, 
By  one  brave  stroke  to  mark  all  human  kind, 
Called  clear  blank  paper  every  infant  mind ; 
Where  still,  as  opening  sense  her  dictates  wrote, 
Fair  virtue  put  a  seal,  or  vice  a  blot 

The  thought  was  happy,  pertinent,  and  true ; 
Methinks  a  genius  might  the  plan  pursue. 
I,  (can  you  pardon  my  presumption  ?)  I — 
No  wit,  no  genius, — yet  for  once  will  try. 

Various  the  papers  various  wants  produce, 
The  wants  of  fashion,  elegance,  and  use. 

*  Works,  it  1KL 


Men  are  as  various ;  and,  if  right  I  scan, 
Each  sort  of  paper  represents  some  man. 

Pray  note  the  fop, — half  powder  and  half  lace, — 
Nice  as  a  band-box  were  his  dwelling-place ; 
He's  the  gilt  paper,  which  apart  you  store, 
And  lock  from  vulgar  hands  in  the  'scrutoire. 

Mechanics,  servants,  farmers,  and  so  forth, 
Are  copy  paper  of  inferior  worth  : 
Less  prized,  more  useful,  for  your  desk  decreed, 
Free  to  all  pens,  and  prompt  at  every  need. 

The   wretch,    whom   avarice   bids   to  pinch  and 
spare, 
Starve,  cheat,  and  pilfer,  to  enrich  an  heir, 
Is  coarse  brown  paper ;  such  as  pedlers  choose 
To  wrap  up  wares,  which  better  men  will  use. 

Take  next  the  miser's  contrast,  who  destroys 
Health,  fame,  and  fortune,  in  a  round  of  joys. 
Will  any  paper  match  him  ?     Yes,  throughout, 
He's  a  true  sinking  paper,  past  all  doubt. 

The  retail  politician's  anxious  thought 
Deems    this    side    always    right,    and    that    stark 

naught ; 
He  foams  with  censure ;  with  applause  he  raves, — 
A  dupe  to  rumors,  and  a  tool  of  knaves ; 
He'll  want  no  type  his  weakness  to  proclaim, 
While  such  a  thing  as  foolscap  has  a  name. 

The  hasty  gentleman,  whose  blood  runs  high, 
Who  picks  a  quarrel,  if  you  step  awry, 
Who  can't  a  jest,  or  hint,  or  look  endure, — 
What's  he  ?     What  ?     Touch-paper  to  be  sure. 

What  are  our  poets,  take  them  as  they  fall,. 
Good,  bad,  rich,  poor,  much  read,  not  read  at  all  ? 
Them  and  their  works  in  the  same  class  you'll  find ; 
They  are  the  mere  waste-paper  of  mankind. 

Observe  the  maiden,  innocently  sweet ; 
She's  fair  white-paper,  an  unsullied  sheet; 
On  which  the  happy  man,  whom  fate  ordains, 
May  write  his  name,  and  take  her  for  his  pains. 

One  instance  more,  and  only  one  I'll  bring ; 
'Tis  the  great  man  who  scorns  a  little  thing, 
Whose  thoughts,  whose  deeds,  whose  maxims  are 

his  own, 
Formed  on  the  feelings  of  his  heart  alone ; 
True  genuine  royal  paper  is  his  breast ; 
Of  all  the  kinds  most  precious,  purest,  best. 

Of  the  song  of  Country  Joan,  we  have  the 
history  in  Prof.  McVickar's  Life  of  Bard*  At  a 
supper  of  a  convivial  club,  to  which  Franklin 
belonged,  and  of  which  Dr.  Bard,  the  physician 
of  Washington,  was  then  a  member,  objection 
was  made,  in  jest,  to  married  men  being  allowed 
to  sing  the  praises  of  poets'  mistresses.  The 
next  morning,  at  breakfast,  Bard  received  the 
following  song  from  Franklin,  with  a  request 
that  he  would  be  ready  with  it  by  the  next 
meeting. 

MT  PLAIN  COr/NTRY  JOAN. 

Of  their  Chloes  and  Phyllises  poets  may  prate, 

I  sing  my  plain  country  Joan, 
These  twelve  years  my  wife,  still  the  joy  of  my 
life, — 

Blest  day  that  I  made  her  my  own ! 

Not  a  word  of  her  face,  of  her  shape,  or  her  air, 
Or  of  flames,  or  of  darts,  you  shall  hear; 

I  beauty  admire,  but  virtue  I  prize, 
That  fades  not  in  seventy  year. 

*  Domestic  Narrative  of  the  Life  of  Samuel  Bard,  p.  18. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 


115 


Am  I  loaded  with  care,  she  takes  off  a  large  share, 
That  the  burden  ne'er  makes  me  to  reel ; 

Does  good  fortune  arrive,  the  joy  of  my  wife 
Quite  doubles  the  pleasure  I  feel. 

She   defends   nry   good   name,   even   when   I'm   to 
blame, 

Firm  friend  as  to  man  e'er  was  given ; 
Her  compassionate  breast  feels  for  all  the  distressed, 

Which  draws  down  more  blessings  from  heaven. 

In  health  a  companion  delightful  and  dear, 

Still  easy,  engaging,  and  free ; 
In  sickness  no  less  than  the  carefulest  nurse, 

As  tender  as  tender  can  be. 

In  peace  and  good  order  my  household  she  guides, 

Right  careful  to  save  what  I  gain ; 
Yet  cheerfully  spends,  and  smiles  on  the  friends 

I've  the  pleasure  to  entertain. 

Some  faults  have  we  all,  and  so  has  my  Joan, 

But  then  they're  exceedingly  small, 
And,  now  I'm  grown  used  to  them,  so  like  my  own, 

I  scarcely  can  see  them  at  all. 

"Were  the  finest  3Toung  princess,  with   millions  in 
purse, 

To  be  had  in  exchange  for  my  Joan, 
I  eould  not  get  a  better,  but  might  get  a  worse, 

So  I'll  stick  to  my  dearest  old  Joan. 

The  verses  to  the  Mother  Country  have  been 
assigned  to  Franklin's  second  visit  to  England. 

THE  MOTHER  COUNTRY. 

We  have  an  old  mother  that  peevish  is  grown  ; 
She  snubs  us  like  children  that  scarce  walk  alone; 
She  forgets  we're  grown  up,  and  have  sense  of  our 
own; 

Which  nobody  can  deny,  deny, 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

If  we  don't  obey  orders,  whatever  the  ease, 
She  frowns,  and  she  chides,  and  she  loses  all  pati- 
Ence,  and  sometimes  she  hits  us  a  slap  in  the  face ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny,  ifcc. 

Her  orders  so  odd  are,  we  often  suspect 
That  age  has  impaired  her  sound  intellect ; 
But  still  an  old  mother  should  have  due  respect; 
Which  nobody  can  deny,  <fce. 

Let's  bear  with  her  humors  as  well  as  we  can ; 
But  why  should  we  bear  the  abuse  of  her  man  ? 
When  servants  make  mischief,  they  earn  the  rattan ; 
Which  nobody  should  deny,  <fec. 

Know,  too,  ye  bad  neighbors,  who  aim  to  divide 
The  sons  from  the  mother,  that  still  she's  our  pride  ; 
And  if  ye  attack  her,  we're  all  of  her  Bide; 
Which  nobody  can  deny,  &c. 

We'll  join  in  her  law-suits,  to  baffle  all  those 
Who,  to  get  what  she  has,  will  be  often  her  foes; 
For   we  know  it  must  all  be  our  own,  when  Bhe 
goes ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny,  deny, 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

The  Mechanic's  Song  we  find  attributed  to 
Franklin,  in  an  old  collection  of  songs,  "The 
Charms  of  Melody,"  in  Harvard  Library. 

THE  MECHANIC'S  SONG. 

Ye  merry  mechanics  come  join  in  my  song, 

And  let  your  brisk  chorus  come  bounding  along; 

Tho'    some  perhaps   poor,    and    some    rich    there 

may  be, 
Yet  all  are  united,  happy  and  free. 


(Chorus) — Happy  and  free, 
Happy  and  free, 
Yet  all  are  united,  happy  and  free. 

Ye  tailors  of  ancient  and  noble  renown, 
Who  clothe  all  the  people  in  country  and  town; 
Remember  that  Adam  (your  father  and  head) 
Tho'  the  lord  of  the  world,  was  a  tailor  by  trade. 
Happy  and  free,  &c. 

Masons  who  work  in  stone,  mortar  and  brick, 
And  lay  the  foundation  deep,  solid  and  thick  ; 
Tho'  hard  be  your  labour,  yet  lasting  your  fame, 
Both  Egypt  and  China  your  wonders  proclaim. 
Happy  and  free,  <fec. 

Ye  smiths  who  forge  tools  for  all  tradea^Prebelow, 
You've  nothing  to  fear  while  you  smite  and  you 

blow ; 
All  things  you  may  conquer,  so  happy  your  lot, 
If  you  are  careful  to  strike  while  the  iron  is  hot. 

Happy  and  free,  (fee. 
Ye  shoemakers  nobly  from  ages  long  past, 
Have  defended  your  rights  with  the  awl  to  your 

last ; 
And  cobblers  all  merry  not  only  stop  holes, 
But  work  night  and  day  for  the  good  of  our  souls, 
Happy  and  free,  <fec. 

Ye  cabinet-makers  brave  workers  of  wood, 
As  you  work  for  the  ladies  your  work  must  be  good ; 
Ye  joiners  and  carpenters,  far  off  and  near, 
Stick  close  to  your  trades  and  you've  nothing  to 
fear. 

Happy  and  free,  <fec. 

Ye  coachmakers  must  not  by  tax  be  control'd, 
But  ship  off  your  coaches  and  fetch  us  some  gold ; 
The  roller  of  your  coach  made  Copernicus  reel, 
And  foresee  the  world  to  turn  round  like  a  wheel. 
Happy  and  free,  <fec. 

Ye  hatters  who  oft  with  hands  not  very  fair, 
Fix  hats  on  a  block  for  blockheads  to  wear; 
Tho'  charity  covers  a  sin  now  and  then, 
You  cover  the  heads  and  the  sins  of  all  men. 
Happy  and  free,  &a. 

Ye  carders,  and  spinners,  and  weavers  attend, 
And  take  the  advice  of  poor  Richard,  your  friend ; 
Stick  close  to  your  looms,  to  your  wheels,  and  your 

card, 
And  you  never  need  fear  of  times  going  hard. 
Happy  and  free,  &c. 

Ye  printers  who  give  us  our  learning  and  news, 
And   impartially  print  for  Turks,   Christians,  and 

Jews; 
Let  your  favorite  toast  ever  sound  thro'  the  streets, 
A  freedom  to  press,  and  a  volume  in  sheets. 
Happy  and  free,  &e. 

Ye  coopers  who  rattle  with  driver  and  adze, 
And  lather  each  day  upon  hoops  and  on  caggs  ; 
The  famous  old  ballad  of  "  Love  in  a  tub," 
You  may  sing  to  the  tune  of  rub-a-dub-dub. 
Happy  and  free,  &e. 

Ye  ship-builders,  riggers,  and  makers  of  sails, 
All  read  the  new  Constitution  prevails ; 
And  soon  you  may  see  on  the  proud  swelling  tide, 
The  ships  of  Columbia  triumphantly  ride. 
Happy  and  free,  &c. 

Each  tradesman  turns  out  with  his  tools  in  his  hand, 
To  cherish  the  arts  and  keep  peace  thro'  the  land ; 
Each  apprentice  and  journeyman  join  in  my  song, 
And  let  your  full  chorus  come  bounding  along. 
Happy  and  free,  <fcc. 


116 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE- 


DAVID  FEENCH. 
John  Paeke,  in  a  work  to  be  hereafter  noticed, 
has  "  inserted  some  poetical  translations  from  the 
Greek  and  Latin,  which  were  consigned  to  obli- 
vion, through  the  obliterating  medium  of  rats  and 
moths,  under  the  sequestered  canopy  of  an  anti- 
quated trunk;  written  between  the  years  of  1720 
and  1730,  by  the  learned  and  facetious  David 
French,  Esq.,  late  of  the  Delaware  counties  (now 
State)." 

Alas !  poor  Yorick !  All  that  we  know  of  the 
career  of  the  "learned  and  facetious"  French  is 
the  record  of  his  death,  and  for  that  we  are  in- 
debted to»the  postscript  of  a  letter,  dated  August 
25,  1742: — "David  French  was  buried  yesterday 
in  Chester  church  by  the  side  of  his  father,  and 
Mr.  Moxon  succeeds  him  as  prothonotary"  (of  the 
court  at  New  Castle).*  His  father  is  stated,  by 
Mr.  Fisher,  to  have  been  Colonel  John  French,  a 
prominent  name  in  the  local  history  of  the  lower 
counties. 

The  translations,  printed  by  Parke,  are  six  in 
number ;  four  are  from  the  first,  fourth,  eleventh, 
and  twenty-sixth  odes  of  Anacreon,  and  two  from 
the  elegies  of  Ovid.  The  smoothness  and  ele- 
gance of  their  versification  testify  to  the  accom- 
plished scholarship  of  the  writer,  and  make  us 
regret  some  evidence  of  his  "  facetiousness,"  as 
well  as  learning,  had  not  turned  up  in  the  "  anti- 
quated trunk." 

ODES  OF  ANACEEON. 
L 

Fain  would  I  Atride3  praise, 
Or  Cadmus  sing  in  tuneful  lays  ; 
The  strings  will  sound  of  love  alone, 
Nor  knows  my  heart  another  tone.- 
I  changed  the  shell  and  ev'ry  string, 
And  now  Alcides'  toils  I  sing  ; 
In  vain  to  sing  his  deeds  I  strove, 
My  lyre  would  play  of  nought  but  love. 
Ye  heroes  now  a  long  farewell ! 
A  softer  theme  best  suits  my  shell, 
Love's  passion  it  will  only  telL 


Of  Himself. 
On  a  bed  of  myrtles  made, 
Or  on  a  greeny  clover  laid, 
Willingly  I'd  pass  away 
In  carousing — all  the  day ; 
Cupid  by  my  side  should  stand, 
With  a  brimmer  in  his  hand. 
Like  a  never-standing  wheel, 
Fleeting  time  is  running  still ; 
We  ourselves  will  dust  become, 
And  shall  moulder  in  the  tomb. 
On  my  grave  why  should  you  lay 
Oil,  or  gifts  that  soon  decay  \ 
Rather  now  before  I'm  dead, 
With  rosy  garlands  crown  my  head ; 
All  the  odors  of  the  spring, 
With  a  gentle  mistress  bring, 
Ere  I  go  to  shades  of  night, 
I'll  put  all  my  cares  to  flight. 


On  His  Age. 
Oft  by  the  maidens  I  am  told, 
Poor  Anacreon,  thou  grow'st  old ! 

*  Early  Poets  and  Poeti-y  of  Pennsylvania,  by  J.  F.  Fisher. 
— Pa.  Hist.  Soc.  Mems.,  vol.  ii.  part  ii.  59. 


Take  the  glass,  and  see  how  years 
Have  despoil'd  thy  head  of  hairs; 
See,  thy  forehead  bald  appears! 

But  whether  hair  adorns  my  head, 
Or  all  my  golden  tresses  fled, 
I  do  not  know,  but  from  their  lore, 
Resounding  my  approaching  hour. 
This  truth  1  know,  infallibly, 
'Tis  time  to  live,  if  death  be  nigh. 

To  a  Swallow. 
Say  now,  thou  twit' ring  swallow,  say, 
How  shall  I  punish  thee  ?  which  way  ? 
Say,  shall  I  rather  clip  thy  wing, 
Or  tongue,  that  thou  no  more  mayst  sing  ? 
As  cruel  Tereus  once  is  said 
T  have  done,  while  yet  thou  wert  a  maid. 
Why  dost  thou,  ere  the  morn  is  nigh, 
Prattling  round  my  window  fly? 
Why  snatch  Bathytla  from  my  arms, 
Whde  I  ia  dreams  possess  her  charms  ? 


Of  Himself. 
When  Bacchus  revels  in  my  breast, 
All  my  cares  are  lull'd  to  rest ; 
Crcesus'  self  I  then  despise, 
He's  not  so  happy  in  my  eyes. 
Then  from  my  lips  flow  warbling  sounds, 
Sweetest  music  then  abounds : 
With  laurel  wreaths  I  bind  my  brow, 
I  look  disdainfully  below. 
Let  fools  impetuous  rush  to  arms, 
Me  the  gen'rous  Lyteus  charms. 
Quickly  give  me,  youth,  the  bowl, 
In  one  large  draught  I'll  drown  my  soul ; 
Here,  rather  let  me  drunken  lie, 
Than  sober,  without  wine  to  die. 

MATHEE  BTLES. 

Tnis  witty  divine  was  born  in  Boston,  1706.  He 
was  the  son  of  an  Englishman,  who  died  a  year 
after  his  son's  birth.  On  his  mother's  side  he 
was  descended  from  Richard,  the  founder  of  the 
Mather  family,  and  John  Cotton.  Leaving  Har- 
vard in  1725,  he  was  ordained  in  1733  the  first 
pastor  of  the  Hollis  Street  Church.  Here  he 
remained  until  the  outbreak  of  the  American 
Revolution,  when,  in  consequence  of  his  adherence 
to  the  English  government,  this  connexion  was 
broken  off.  In  1777  he  was  denounced  in  town 
meeting,  and  afterwards  tried  before  a  special 
court  on  the  charges  of  having  remained  in  the 
town  during  the  sege,  prayed  for  the  king,  and 
received  the  visits  of  British  officers.  He  was 
convicted,  and  sentenced  to  imprisonment  with 
his  family  in  a  guard-ship  and  to  be  sent  to  Eng- 
land. The  first  part  of  the  sentence  was  changed 
to  confinement  in  his  own  house,  and  the  second 
was  never  put  in  execution.  During  this  impri- 
sonment he  amused  the  good  people  of  Boston  by 
on  one  occasion  very  composedly  marching  to  and 
fro  before  his  own  door,  mounting  guard  over 
himself,  having  persuaded  his  sentinel  to  go  on  an 
errand  for  him  on  condition  of  supplying  his 
place  during  his  absence.  The  guard  was  soon 
removed,  again  restored,  and  not  long  after  dis- 
missed— changes  which  drew  from  the  doctor  the 
remark  that  "  he  had  been  guarded,  reguarded, 
and  disregarded."  Disregarded  he  remained,  as 
he  was  henceforth  suffered  to  live  in  retirement. 


MATHER  BYLES. 


117 


We  have  a  last  glimpse  of  Dr.  Byles  in  the  corres- 
pondence of  Franklin : 

Mather  Byles  to  B.  Franklin. 

Boston,  14th  May,  1787. 
Sir, 

It  is  long  since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  writing  to 
you  by  Mr.  Edward  Church,  to  thank  you  for  your 
friendly  mention  of  me  in  a  letter  that  I  find  was 
transmitted  to  the  University  of  Aberdeen.  I  doubt 
whether  you  ever  received  it,  but,  under  great 
weakness  by  old  age  and  a  palsy,  I  seize  this  oppor- 
tunity of  employing  my  daughter  to  repeat  the 
thanks,  which  I  aimed  to  express  in  that  letter. 
Your  Excellency  is  now  the  man,  that  I  early  ex- 
pected to  see  you.  I  congratulate  my  country  upon 
her  having  produced  a  Franklin,  and  can  only  add, 
I  wish  to  meet  you  where  complete  felicity  and  we 
shall  be  for  ever  united.  I  am,  my  dear  and  early 
friend,  your  most  affectionate  and  humble  servant, 

M.  Bvles. 

P.S.  I  refer  you  to  the  bearer,  Mr.  Pierpont,  to 
inform  you  how  my  life,  and  that  of  my  daughters, 
have  been  saved  by  your  points. 


His  death  occurred  some  months  after  in  1788. 
He  left  two  daughters,  who  remained  unflinching 
loyalists,  residing  together  in  their  father's  house, 
on  the  corner  of  Nassau  and  Tremont  streets, 
which  no  offer  would  induce  them  to  part  with, 
taking  their  tea  off  a  table  at  which  Franklin 
had  partaken  of  the  same  beverage,  blowing 
their  fire  with  a  bellows  two  hundred  years  old, 
going  to  church  on  Sundays  in  dresses  of  the  last 
century,  until  1835,  when  one  of  them,  as  the 
story  goes,  died  of  grief,  as  it  is  supposed,  at  hav- 
ing part  of  the  old  family  mansion  pulled  down 
for  the  improvement  of  the  street.  The  survivor 
lived  two  years  longer.  Both  were  unmarried, 
and  must  have  attained  a  good  old  age,  as  we  find 
Dr.  Byles's  daughters  spoken  of  as  a  couple  of 
fine  young  ladies  by  the  Rev.  Jacob  Bailey*  in 
1778. 


*  Jacob  Bailey  was  born  at  Rowley,  Mass.,  in  1731.  He  was 
educated  at  Harvard  College,  and  after  visiting  England  to  ob- 
tain deacon  and  priest's  orders,  became  a  missionary  in  Pow- 
nalborough,  Maine.  Adhering  to  the  crown  at  the  revolution, 
he  retired  to  Nova  Scotia,  where  the  remainder  of  his  life  was 


Dr.  Byles's  reputation  as  a  wit  has  over- 
shadowed his  just  claims  to  regard  as  a  pulpit 
orator.  His  published  sermons,  of  which  several 
are  extant,  some  of  them  having  reached  a 
second  and  third  edition,  show  him  to  have  pos- 
sessed a  fine  imagination,  great  skill  in  amplifica- 
tion, and  great  command  of  language  combined 
with  terseness  of  expression.  Passages  in  these 
discourses  would  not  do  discredit  to  the  best  old 
English  divines.  Several  were  preached  on  pub- 
lic occasions,  but  are,  like  all  his  other  discourses, 
entirely  free  from  the  political  allusions  in  which 
his  brother  clergymen  so  frequently  indulged. 
On  being  asked  why  he  avoided  this  topic,  he  re- 
plied, "  I  have  thrown  up  four  breast-works, 
behind  which  I  have  entrenched  myself,  neither 
of  which  can  be  forced.  In  the  first  place,  I  do 
not  understand  politics  ;  in  the  second  place,  you 
all  do,  every  man  and  mother's  son  of  you  ;  in  the 
third  place,  you  have  politics  all  the  week,  pray 
let  one  day  in  seven  be  devoted  to  religion ;  in 
the  fourth  place,  I  am  engaged  in  a  work  of  infi- 
nitely greater  importance  :  give  me  any  subject 
to  preach  on  of  more  consequence  than  the  truths 
I  bring  you,  and  I  will  preach  on  it  the  next 
sabbath." 

In  the  early  part  of  his  life,  before  and  after 
his  ordination,  Dr.  Byles  wrote  and  published  the 
following  poems: — 

To  his  Excellency  Governor  Belcher,  on  the 
Death  of  his  Lady,  an  Epistle.     1736,  pp.  4. 

On  the  Death  of  the  Queen,  a  Poem.  1738, 
pp.7. 

An  Elegy  addressed  to  his  Excellency  Governor 
Belcher,  on  the  Death  of  his  Brother-in-law,  the 
Hon.  Daniel  Oliver,  Esq. ;  pp.  6. 

The  Comet,  1744,  pp.  4. 

The  Conflagration,  the  God  of  Tempest,  and 
Earthquake,   pp.  8. 

A  portion  of  these  were  collected,  with  several 
others,  in  a  small  18mo.  volume  of  118  pages,*  in 
1736,  with  the  following  brief 

Preface.  The  Poems  collected  in  these  pages, 
were,  for  the  most  part,  written  as  the  amusements 
of  looser  hours,  while  the  author  belonged  to  the 
college,  and  was  unbending  his  mind  from  severer 
studies  in  the  entertainment  of  the  classics.  Most 
of  them  have  been  several  times  printed  here,  at 
London,  and  elsewhere,  either  separately  or  in  mis- 
cellanies :  and  the  author  has  now  drawn  them  into 
a  volume.  Thus  he  gives  up  at  once  these  lighter 
productions,  and  bids  adieu  to  the  airy  Muse. 

The  poems  are  for  the  most  part  devotional  or 
elegiac,  including  several  hymns,  verses  written 
in  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  To  the  Memory  of  a 
Young  Commander  slain  in  a  battle  with  the 
Indians  1724,  To  an  Ingenious  Young  Gentleman 
on  his  dedicating  a  poem  to  the  author,  To  Pic- 
torio  on  the  sight  of  his  pictures,  and  verses  to 
Watts  and  others. 

He  also  contributed  a  number  of  essays  and 
occasional  verses  to   the  New  England  Weekly 


passed.  His  MS.  Journal,  with  a  portion  of  his  corrospondenco, 
edited  by  the  Eev.  Wm.  J.  Bartlet  of  Chelsea,  Mass.,  was  pub- 
lished by  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Historical  Society,  in  an 
octavo  volume  in  1S53.  Mr.  Bartlet  has  incorporated  tho 
Journal  in  a  biosraphy  of  its  author,  in  which  ho  has  intro- 
duced a  large  mass  of  interesting  historical  Information. 

*  Poems  on  Several  Occasions.    By  Mr.  Byles.    Boston, 
1736. 


118 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Journal.  In  1744,  A  Collection  of  Poems  by 
Several  Hands*  appeared  in  Boston.  It  is  a 
capital  miscellany  of  verses,  which  seem  to  have 
been  floating  about  in  periodicals  or  manuscript 
at  the  period.  Byles  no  doubt  contributed  some 
of  its  fifty-five  pages,  but  none  of  his  productions 
are  pointed  out  in  a  copy  now  in  the  possession 
of  Mr.  George  Ticknor,t  which  bears  on  its  title 
the  inscription,  "Th.  Byles,  Given  her  by  her 
Father,  Feb.  14,  1763,"  and  contains  several 
annotations  in  the  handwriting  of  the  original 
donor  or  owner.  It  is,  however,  easy  to  fix  upon 
him  the  courtly  answer  to  the  following  compli- 
mentary request,  in  which  the  blanks  have  been 
carefully  filled  up  with  the  name  of  Byles. 

TO  *********  DESIRING  TO   BOEEOW  POPE'S  HOMER. 

From  a  Lady. 

The  Muse  now  waits  from  *  *  *  's  hands  to  press 
Homer's  high  page,  in  Pope's  illustrious  dress : 
How  the  pleas'd  goddess  triumphs  to  pronounce, 
The  names  of  *  *  *,  Pope,  Homer,  all  at  once  I 

The  Answer. 

Soon  as  your  beauteous  letter  I  peruse, 
Swift  as  an  echo  flies  the  answ'ring  muse; 
Joyful  and  eager  at  your  soft  commands, 
To  bring  my  Pope  submissive  to  your  hands. 

Go,  my  dear  Pope,  transport  th'  attentive  fair, 

And  soothe,  with  winning  harmony,  her  ear. 

'Twill  add  new  graces  to  thy  heav'nly  song, 

To  be  repeated  by  her  gentle  tongue; 

Thy  bright'ning  page  in  unknown  charms  shall  grow, 

Fresh  beauties  bloom,  and  fire  redoubled  glow ; 

With  sounds  improv'd,  thy  artful  numbers  roll, 

Soft  as  her  love,  and  tuneful  as  her  soul: 

Old  Homer's  shade  shall  smile  if  she  commend, 

And  Pope  be  proud  to  write,  as  *  *  *  *  to  lend. 

It  also  contains  a  long  and  pleasantly  written 
poem  on  Commencement  Day,  and  a  few  bur- 
lesque ballads  probably  written  by  Byles  or  Joseph 
Green.     One  of  these  is  as  follows. 

A  FULL  AND  TRUE  ACCOUNT  OF  HOW  THE  LAMENTABLE  WICKED 
FRENCH  AND  INDIAN  PIRATES  "WEEE  TAKEN  BT  THE  VALIANT 
ENGLISHMEN. 

Good  people  all,  pray  understand 

my  doleful  song  of  wo: 
It  tells  a  thing  done  lately,  and 

not  very  long  ago. 

How  Frenchmen,  Indians  eke,  a  troop 
(who  all  had  drunk  their  cogues) 

They  went  to  take  an  English  sloop: 
0  the  sad  pack  of  rogues! 

The  English  made  their  party  good, 

each  was  a  jolly  lad: 
The  Indians  run  away  for  blood, 

and  strove  to  hide  like  mad. 

Three  of  the  fellows  in  a  fright, 

(that  is  to  say  in  fears) 
Leaping  into  the  sea  out-right, 

sows'd  over  head  and  ears. 

They  on  the  waves  in  woful  wise, 
to  swim  did  make  a  strife, 


*  A  Collection  of  Poems.  By  Several  Hands.  Boston : 
Printed  and  Sold  by  B.  Green  and  Company,  at  their  Printing 
House  in  Newbury-street ;  and  D.  Gookin,  in  Cornhill.  1744 
4to.  pp.  56. 

T  This,  with  other  rarities  of  the  kind,  has  been  liberally 
plaeed  at  our  disposal  by  Mr.  Ticknor. 


[So  in  a  pond  a  kitten  cries, 
and  dabbles  for  his  life ; 

While  boys  about  the  border  scud, 
with  brickbats  and  with  stones; 

Still  dowse  him  deeper  in  the  mud; 
and  break  his  little  bones.] 

What  came  of  them  we  cannot  tell, 

though  many  things  are  said: 
But  this,  besure,  we  know  full  well, 

if  they  -were  drown'd  they're  dead. 

Our  men  did  neither  cry  nor  squeek; 

but  fought  like  any  sprites : 
And  this  1  to  the  honour  speak 

of  them,  the  valiant  wights  I 

O  did  I  not  the  talent  lack, 

of  'thaniel  Whittemore ; 
Up  to  the  stars — i'  th'  almanack, 

I'd  cause  their  fame  to  roar. 

Or  could  I  sing  like  father  French, 

so  clever  and  so  high; 
Their  names  should  last  like  oaken  bench, 

to  perpetuity. 

How  many  pris'ners  in  they  drew, 

say,  spirit  of  Tom  Law ! 
Two  Frenchmen,  and  papooses  two, 

three  sannops,  and  a  squaw. 

The  squaw,  and  the  papooses,  they 

are  to  be  left  alive : 
Two  French,  three  Indian  men  must  die: 

which  makes  exactly  five. 

[Thus  cypher,  Sirs,  you  see  I  can, 

and  eke  make  poetry; 
In  commonwealth,  sure  such  a  man, 

how  useful  must  he  be!] 

The  men  were  all  condemn'd,  and  try'd, 

and  one  might  almost  say, 
Theyl  or  be  hang'd,  or  be  repriev'd, 

or  else  they'l  run  away. 

Fair  maidens,  now  see-saw,  and  wail, 

and  sing  in  doleful  dumps ; 
And  eke,  ye  lusty  lubys  all, 

arise  and  stir  your  stumps. 

This  precious  po'm  shall  sure  be  read, 

In  ev'ry  town,  I  tro : 
In  every  chimney  corner  said, 

to  Portsmouth,  Boston  fro. 

And  little  children  when  they  cry, 

this  ditty  shall  beguile ; 
And  tho'  they  pout,  and  sob,  and  sigh, 

shall  hear,  and  hush,  and  smile. 

The  pretty  picture  too  likewise, 

a-top  looks  well  enough ; 
Tho'  nothing  to  the  purpose  'tis, 

'twill  serve  to  set  it  off. 

The  poet  will  be  glad,  no  doubt, 

when  all  his  verse  shall  say, 
Each  boy,  and  girl,  and  lass,  and  lout, 

for  ever,  and  for  aye. 

The  collection  also  contains  a  number  of  eulo- 
gies, which  show  that  Byles  was  in  high  favor  in 
Boston.  His  reputation  was  not,  however,  con- 
fined to  his  own  town  or  country,  as  he  corres- 
ponded with  Lansdowne,  Watts,  and  Pope,  the 
latter  of  whom  sent  him  his  Odyssey. 

The  Doctor  was  an  inveterate  punster.  The 
Rev.  Jacob  Bailey,  the  Missionary  at  Pownal- 
borough,  before  the  Revolution,  says  of  him,  after 
a  visit  to  his  house,  in  1778 :    "  The  perpetual 


MATHER  BYLES. 


119 


reach  after  puns  renders  his  conversation  rather 
distasteful  to  persons  of  ordinary  elegance  and 
refinement."  And  Mr.  Kettell*  quotes  some 
contemporary  verses  to  the  same  effect : 

There's  punning  Byles  provokeB  our  smiles, 

A  man  of  stately  parts. 
He  visits  folks  to  crack  his  jokes, 

Which  never  mend  their  hearts. 

With  strutting  gait  and  wig  so  great, 

He  walks  along  the  streets; 
And  throws  out  wit,  or  what's  like  it, 

To  every  one  he  meets. 

The  latter  part  of  his  parody  of  Joseph  Green's 
parody  on  his  psalm,  shows  that  he  was  occasion- 
ally coarse  in  his  jesting;  hut  we  have  never 
heard  any  indelicacy  or  irreverence  alleged  against 
him. 

The  anai  which  have  heen  preserved,  show 
that,  his  reputation  a>  a  wit  was  well  deserved. 
There  was  a  slough  opposite  his  house,  in  which, 
on  a  certain  wet  day,  a  chaise  containing  two  of 
the  town  council  stuck  fast.  Dr.  Byles  came  to 
his  door,  and  saluted  the  officials  with  the  remark, 
"  Gentlemen,  I  have  often  complained  to  you  of 
this  nuisance  without  any  attention  being  paid  to 
it,  and  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  stirring  in  this 
matter  now." 

In  the  year  1780,  a  very  dark-  day  occurred, 
which  was  long  remembered  as  "  the  dark  day." 
A  lady  neighbor  sent  her  son  to  the  Doctor  to 
know  if  lie  could  tell  her  the  cause  of  the 
obscurity.  "  My  dear,"  was  the  answer  to  the 
messenger,  "  give  my  compliments  to  your  mother, 
and  tell  her  that  I  am  as  much  in  the  dark  as 
she  is." 

One  day  a  ship  arrived  at  Boston  with  three 
hundred  street  lamps.  The  same  day,  the  Doctor 
happened  to  receive  a  call  from  a  lady  whose 
conversational  powers  were  not  of  the  kind  to 
render  a  long  interview  desirable.  He  availed 
himself  of  the  newly  arrived  cargo  to  despatch 
his  visitor.  "  Have  you  heard  the  news  ?"  said 
he,  with  emphasis.  "  Oh,  no  !  What  news  ?" 
"  Why  three  hundred  new  lights  have  come  over 
in  the  ship  this  morning  from  London,  and  the 
selectmen  have  wisely  ordered  them  to  be  put  in 
irons  immediately."  The  visitor  forthwith 
decamped  in  search  of  the  particulars  of  this  inva- 
sion of  religious  liberty. 

When  brought  before  his  judges  at  the  time  of 
his  trial  they  requested  him  to  sit  down  and 
warm  himself.  "Gentlemen,"  was  the  reply, 
"  when  I  came  among  you,  I  expected  persecu- 
tion; but  I  could  not  think  you  would  have 
offered  me  the  fire  so  suddenly." 

A  mot  of  Byles's  is  related  by  the  hospitable 
wits  of  Boston,  to  the  visitor,  as  he  passes  by 
King's  Chapel,  in  Tremont  street.  There  are  two 
courses  of  windows  by  which  that  building  is 
lighted  on  its  sides;  the  lower  ones  are  nearly 
square.  In  allusion  to  this  architectural  pecu- 
liarity of  the  square  embrasures  of  its  solid  walls, 
Byles  said  that  he  had  often  heard  of  ecclesiasti- 
cal canons,  but  never  saw  the  portholes  before, 
flhother,  a  revolutionary  witticism,  does  justice 


*  Specimens  of  American  Poetry,  i.  125. 
twa  are  indebted  for  a  few  capital  examples,  to  Tudor's  Life 
of  Otia. 


to  Byles's  toryism.  When  the  British  troops,  the 
lobsters,  passed  his  door,  after  entering  the  town : 
"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  now  our  grievances  will  be  red- 
dressed."  * 

His  system  of  practical  joking  is  said  to  have 
been  as  felicitous  as  his  verbal,  though  rather 
more  expensive  to  the  victims. 

The  Doctor,  however,  occasionally  met  his 
match.  A  lady  whom  he  had  long  courted 
unsuccessfully,  married  a  gentleman  by  the  name 
of  Quincy.  "  So,  madam,"  said  the  unsuccess- 
ful suitor,  on  meeting  her  afterwards,  "  it  appears 
you  prefer  a  Quincy  to  Byles."  "  Yes,  for  if  there 
had  been  anything  worse  than  Mies,  God  Would 
have  afflicted  Job  with  them." 

He  was  not,  however,  always  unsuccessful  with 
the  fair  sex,  as  he  was  twice  married.  His  first 
wife  was  a  niece  of  Governor  Belcher,  and  her 
successor,  the  dignity  apparently  diminishing 
with  the  relationship,  a  daughter  of  Lieutenant- 
Governor  Tailer. 

In  person  Dr.  Byles  was  tall  and  well  propor- 
tioned. His  voice  was  powerful  and  melodious, 
and  he  was  a  graceful  and  impressive  speaker. 

FEO.M  A  SERMON  ON  TIIE   PRESENT  V1LEXESS   OF   THE   BODY,  AND 
ITS  FUTUEE  GLOElOUS  CHANGE  HY  CHEIST. 

It  is  a  dying  body,  and  therefore  a  vile  Body. 
Here  our  Bodies  now  stand,  perhaps  nourishing  m 
all  the  Pride  and  Bloom  of  Youth :  strong  our 
jSinews ;  moist  our  Bones;  active  and  supple  our 
Joints;  our  Pulses  beating  with  Vigor,  and  our 
Hearts  leaping  with  a  Profusion  of  Life  and  Energy. 
But  oh!  vain  Appearance  and  gaudy  Dream!  Surely 
every  man  at  his  best  Estate,  is  altogether  Vanity. 
He  walks  in  a  vain  show,  he  glitters  with  delusive 
Colors;  he  spends  his  years  as  an  Idle  Tale.  What 
avails  it,  that  he  is  now  hardy  and  robust,  who  must 
quickly  pant  upon  a  Death-bed.  What  avails  it, 
that  his  limbs  are  sprightly  in  their  easy  Motions, 
which  must  quickly  stretch  in  their  dying  Agony. 
The  Lips  now  fiush'd  with  a  Rosy  Colour,  will  anon 
quiver  and  turn  pale.  The  Eyes  that  rose  with  a 
sparkling  Vivacity,  will  fix  in  a  ghastly  Horror. 
The  most  musical  Yoice  will  be  stopp'd;  and  the 
tuneful  Breath  fly  away.  The  Face  where  Beauty 
now  triumphs,  will  appear  cold,  and  wan,  and  dis- 
mal, rifled  by  the  Hand  of  Heath.  A  cold  sweat 
will  chill  the  Body ;  a  hoarse  Rattling  will  fill  the 
Throat;  the  Heart  will  heave  with  Pain  and  Labour, 
and  the  Lungs  catch  for  Breath,  but  gasp  in  vain. 
Our  Friends  stand  in  Tears  about  our  Bed.  They 
weep;  but  they  cannot  help  us.  The  very  water 
with  which  they  would  co'ol  and  moisten  our  parched 
Mouths,  we  receive  with  a  hollow  groan.  Anon  we 
give  a  Gasp,  and  they  shriek  out  in  Distress,  "  Oh! 
He's  Gone!  He's  Dead!"  The  Body  in  that  Instant 
stretches  on  the  sheets,  an  awful  Corpse. 

***** 

It  is  folded  in  a  Winding  Sheet,  it  is  nailed  in  a 
black  Coffin,  and  it  is  deposited  in  a  silent  Vault, 
amidst  Shade  and  Solitude.  The  skin  breaks  and 
moulders  away  ;  the  Flesh  drops  in  Dust  from  the 
Bones;  the  Bones  are  covered  with  black  Mould, 
and  Worms  twist  about  them.  The  Coffins  break, 
and  the  Graves  sink  in,  and  the  disjointed  Skeleton 
strews  the  lonely  Vault. 

***** 

But  oh!  what  a  blessed  Change  will  the  Resur- 


*  "On  my  return  to  Boston."  says  John  Adams,  in  his  Auto- 
biography of  the  year  1768,  "I  found  the  town  full  of  troops, 
and  as  Dr.  Byles  of  punning  memory  expressed  it,  our  griev- 
ances red-dressed."    Adams's  Works,  ii.  213. 


120 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


reetion  make  upon  our  dead  Bodie;.  Perhaps  the 
Worms  have  feasted  themselves  upon  our  Last  Dust ; 
but  they  6hall  refund  it,  and  give  back  every  Atom ; 
all  that  really  belc  ngs  to  our  numerical  Body. 
The  Fishes  perhaps  have  eaten  the  Carcase,  buried 
in  the  Waves,  and  Lost  in  the  Depths  of  the  Ocean. 
But  the  sea  also  shall  return  it  back,  and  give  up 
the  Dead  which  are  in  it.  These  Bodies  may  dis- 
solve, and  scatter  among  the  Elements.  Our  Eluids 
may  forsake  their  Vessels ;  the  bolid  contract,  and 
fold  up  in  its  primitive  Miniature.  And  even  after 
that  the  little  invisible  Bones  may  moulder  to  finer 
Dust,  the  Dust  may  refine  to  Water,  wander  in  a 
Cloud,  float  in  a  River,  or  be  lost  in  the  wide  Sea, 
and  undistinguished  Drop  among  the  Waves.  They 
may  be  again  sucked  up  by  the  Sun,  and  fall  in  a 
Shower  upon  the  Earth ;  they  may  refresh  the 
Fields  with  Dew,  flourish  in  a  Spire  of  Grass ;  look 
green  in  a  Leaf,  or  gaudy  in  a  Flower  or  a  Blossom. 

THE  EHTTEEFLY,    A    TYPE    OF    THE    EESU ERECTION  I     FROM  THE 
MEDITATION  OF  CASSI3I,   THE  SON    OF  AIIilED.      AN  ESSAY. 

What  more  entertaining  specimen  of  the  Resur- 
rection is  there,  in  the  whole  Circumference  of 
Nature  ?  Here  are  all  the  wonders  of  the  Day  in 
Miniature.  It  was  once  a  despicable  Worm,  it  is 
raised  a  kind  of  painted  little  Bird.  Formerly  it 
crawled  along  with  a  slow  and  leisurely  Motion : 
now  it  flutters  aloft  upon  its  guilded  Wings.  How 
much  improved  is  its  speckled  Covering,  when  all 
the  Gaudiuess  of  Colour  is  scattered  about  its 
Plumage.  It  is  spangled  with  Gold  and  Silver,  and 
has  every  Gem  of  the  Orient  sparkling  among  its 
Feathers.  Here  a  brilliant  spot,  like  a  clear  Dia- 
mond, twinkles  with  an  unsullied  Flame,  and  trem- 
bles with  num'rou3  Lights,  that  glitter  in  a  gay 
Confusion.  There  a  Saphire  casts  a  milder  Gleam, 
and  shew3  like  the  blue  Expanse  of  Heaven  in  a 
fair  Winter  Evening.  In  this  Place  an  Emerald,  like 
the  calm  Ocean,  displays  its  cheerful  and  vivid  Green. 
And  close  by  a  Ruby — flames  with  the  ripened 
Blush  of  the  Morning.  The  Breast  and  Legs,  like 
Ebony,  shone  with  a  glorious  Darkness  ;  while  its 
expanded  Wings  are  edged  with  the  gulden  Mag- 
nificence of  the  Topaz.  Thus  the  illustrious  little 
creature  is  furnished  with  the  diviuest  Art,  and 
looks  like  an  animated  composition  of  Jewels,  that 
blend  their  promiscuous  Beams  about  him.  Thus, 
O  C'assim,  shall  the  Bodies  of  Good  Men  be  raised; 
thus  shall  they  shine,  and  thus  fly  away. 

FEOM  THE  CONFLAGRATION. 

But  0 !  what  sounds  are  able  to  convey 
The  wild  confusions  of  the  dreadful  day! 
Eternal  mountains  totter  on  their  base, 
And  strong  convulsions  work  the  valley's  face ; 
Fierce  hurricanes  on  sounding  pinions  soar. 
Rush  o'er  the  land,  on  the  toss'd  billows  roar, 
And  dreadful  in  resistless  eddies  driven, 
Shake  all  the  crystal  battlements  of  heaven. 
See  the  wild  winds,  big  blustering  in  the  air, 
Drive  through  the  forests,  down  the  mountains  tear, 
Sweep  o'er  the  valleys  in  their  rapid  course, 
And  nature  bends  beneath  the  impetuous  force. 
Storms  rush  at  storms,  at  tempests  tempests  roar, 
Dash  waves  on  waves,  and  thunder  to  the  shore. 
Columns  of  smoke  on  heavy  wings  ascend, 
And  dancing  sparkles  fly  before  the  wind. 
Devouring  flames,  wide-waving,  roar  aloud, 
And  melted  mountains  flow  a  fiery  flood : 
Then,  all  at  once,  immense  the  fires  arise, 
A  bright  destruction  wraps  the  crackling  skies ; 
While  all  the  elements  to  melt  conspire, 
And  the  world  blazes  in  the  final  fire. 

Yet  shall  ye,  flames,  the  wasting  globe  refine, 


And  bid  the  skies  with  purer  splendour  shine, 
The  earth,  which  the  prolific  fires  consume, 
To  beauty  burns,  and  withers  into  bloom  ; 
Improving  in  the  fertile  flame  it  lies, 
Fades  into  form,  and  into  vigour  dies: 
Fresh-dawning  glories  blush  amidst  the  blaze, 
And  nature  all  renews  her  flowery  face. 
With  endless  charms  the  everlasting  year 
Rolls  round  the  seasons  in  a  full  career ; 
Spring,  ever-blooming,  bit's  the  fields  rejoice, 
And  warbling  birds  try  their  melodious  voice; 
Where'er  she  treads,  lilies  unbidden  blow, 
Quick  tulip3  rise,  and  sudden  roses  glow: 
Her  pencil  paints  a  thousand  beauteous  scenes, 
Where  blossoms  bud  amid  immortal  greens; 
Each  stream,  in  mazes,  murmurs  as  it  flows, 
And  floating  forests  gently  bend  their  boughs. 
Thou,  autumn,  too,  sitt'st  in  the  fragrant  shade, 
While  the  ripe  fruits  blush  all  around  thy  head: 
And  lavish  nature,  with  luxuriant  hands, 
All  the  soft  mouths,  in  gay  confusion  blends. 

NEW  ENGLAND  HTMN. 

To  Thee  the  tuneful  Anthem  soars, 
To  Thee,  our  Fathers'  God,  and  our's ; 

This  wilderness  we  chose  our  seat: 
To  rights  secured  by  equal  laws 
From  persecution's  iron  claws, 

We  here  have  sought  our  calm  retreat. 

See !  how  the  Flocks  of  Jesus  rise ! 
See !  how  the  face  of  Paradise 

Blooms  through  the  thickets  of  the  wild 
Here  Liberty  erects  her  throne ; 
Here  Plenty  pours  her  treasures  down ; 

Peace  smiles,  as  heavenly  cherubs  mild. 

Lord,  guard  thy  Favors  :  Lord,  extend 
Where  farther  Western  Suns  descend ; 

Nor  Southern  rieas  the  blessings  bound; 
Till  Freedom  lift  her  cheerful  head, 
Till  pure  Religion  onward  spread, 

And  beainii:g  wrap  the  world  around. 

JOSEPH  GREEK 

Joseph  Gp.eex,  who,  during  the  greater  part  of  a 
long  lifetime,  maintained  the  reputation  of  being 
the  foremost  wit  of  his  day,  was  born  in  Boston, 
in  1706,  and  took  his  degree  at  Harvard,  at  the 
age  of  twenty.  He  next  engaged  in  business  as 
a  distiller,*  and  continued  in  mercantile  pursuits 
for  many  years,  thereby  amassing  a  large  fortune. 
Without  taking  a  prominent  part  in  politics,  his 
pen  was  always  ready  when  any  occasion  for 
satire  presented,  to  improve  it  for  the  columns  of 
the  contemporary  press,  or  the  separate  venture 


p^    fijzttt 


of  a  pamphlet.  These  effusions  were  in  smoothly 
written  verse,  and  are  full  of  humor.  One  of  the 
most  prominent  is,  Entertainment  for  A  Win- 
ter's Evening :  being  a  full  and  true  Account  of  a 
very  strange  and  wonderful  Sight  seen  in  Boston, 
on  the  twenty-seventh  of  December,  1749,  at  noon 
day,  the  truth  of  which  can  be  attested  by  a  great 
number  of  people,  who  actually  saw  the  same 
with  their  own  eyes,  by  me,  the  Hon,  B.  B.  Esq. 
This  long  title  is  a  prelude  to  a  poem  of  sorw 
dozen  loosely  printed  octavo  pages  only,  in  which 
the  celebration  of  a  masonic  festival  in  a  church 

*  "Ambition  fired  the  'stiller's  pate.'' — Jfyles. 


JOSEPH  GREEN. 


121 


is  satirized :  the  procession  to  the  place  of  assem- 
blage; the  sermon  heard;  the  adjournment  to  a 
tavern,  and  the  junketing  which  followed,  being 
the  subject  matter,  the  writer  evidently  regarding 
a  place  of  public  worship  as  an  incongruous  loca- 
lity for  such  an  assemblage.  It  is  thus  summed 
up  in  the  opening  lines: — 

O  Muse  renowu'd  for  story-telling, 

Fair  Clio,  leave  thy  airy  dwelling. 

Now  while  the  streams  like  marble  stand, 

Held  fast  by  winter's  iey  hand  ; 

Now  while  the  hills  are  eloth'd  in  snow  ; 

Now  while  the  keen  north- west  winds  blow; 

From  the  bleak  fields  and  chilling  air 

Unto  the  warmer  hearth  repair: 

Where  friends  in  cheerful  circle  met 

In  social  conversation  sit. 

Come,  goddess,  and  our  ears  regale 

With  a  diverting  Christmas  talc. 

0  come,  and  in  thy  verse  declare 

Who  were  the  men,  and  what  they  were, 

And  what  their  names,  and  what  their  fame, 

And  what  the  cause  for  which  they  came 

To  house  of  God  from  house  of  ale, 

And  how  the  parson  told  his  tale : 

How  they  return'd,  in  manner  odd, 

To  house  of  ale  from  house  of  God. 

Another  of  his  poems  is,  A  Mournful  Lamen- 
tation for  the  Death  of  Mr.  Old  Tenor,  written 
after  a  change  in  the  currency.  Ho  was  also  a 
contributor  with  Byles,  and  others,  to  "A  Collec- 
tion of  Poems,  by  several  hands,"  published  at 
Boston,  in  1744.  An  Elegy  on  the  long-expected 
death  of  Old  Janus  (the  New  England  Weekly 
Courant)  is  no  doubt  from  the  pen  of  one  of  the 
two  wits,  whose  productions  it  is  not  always  easy 
to  distinguish,  and  whose  talents  were  combined 
in  a  wit  combat  which  excited  much  merriment 
at  the  time.  Itarose  from  the  desire  of  Governor 
Belcher  to  secure  the  good  company  of  Dr.  Byles 
in  a  visit  by  sea  to  some  Indian  tribes  on  the 
eastern  coast  of  the  province.  Byles  declined  his 
invitation,  and  the  Governor  set  sail  from  Boston, 
alone,  on  a  Saturday,  dropping  anchor  before  the 
castle  in  the  bay,  for  Sunday.  Here  he  per- 
suaded the  chaplain  to  exchange  pulpits  with  the 
eloquent  Doctor,  whom  he  invited  on  board  in 
the  afternoon,  to  tea.  On  leaving  the  cabin  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  repast,  he  found  himself,  to 
his  surprise,  at  sea,  with  a  fair  wind,  the  anchor 
having  been  weighed  while  he  was  talking  over 
the  cheering  cup.  Return  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  the  Doctor,  whose  good-natured  counte- 
nance seems  to  indicate  that  he  could  take  as  well 
as  give  a  joke,  no  doubt  made  himself  contented 
and  agreeable.  On  the  following  Sunday,  in  pre- 
paring for  divine  service,  it  was  found  that  there 
was  no  hymn-book  on  board,  and  to  meet  the 
emergency,  Byles  composed  a  few  verses.  On 
their  return  Green  wrote  an  account  of  this  im- 
promptu, with  a  parody  upon  it,  to  which  Byles 
responded,  by  a  poem  and  parody  in  return.  The 
whole  will  be  found  at  the  conclusion  of  this 
article. 

Green's  satire  was  universally  directed  against 
arbitrary  power,  and  in  favor  of  freedom.  He 
frequently  parodied  the  addresses  of  Governor 
Belcher,  who,  it  is  supposed,  stood  in  some  awe 
of  his  pen.  In  1774,  after  the  withdrawal  of  the 
charter  of  Massachusetts  by  the  British  Parlia- 


ment, the  councillors  of  the  province  were  ap- 
pointed by  the  crown,  instead  of  as  heretofore 
being  chosen  by  popular  election.  One  of  these 
appointments  was  tendered  to  Green,  but  imme- 
diately declined  by  him.  He  did  not,  however, 
take  any  active  part  on  the  popular  side,  the  quiet, 
retiring  habit  of  his  mind,  combining  with  the 
infirmities  of  his  advanced  years,  as  an  induce- 
ment to  repose.  In  1775  he  sailed  for  England, 
where  he  passed  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  a 
secluded  but  not  inhospitable  retirement.  He  died 
in  1780.  A  humorous  epitaph  written  on  Green 
by  one  of  his  friends,  in  1743,  indicates  the  popu- 
lar appreciation  of  his  talents : 

Siste  Viator,  here  lies  one. 
Whose  life  was  whim,  whose  soul  was  pun, 
And  if  you  go  too  near  his  hearse, 
He'll  joke  you,  both  in  prose  and  verse. 

HYMN  WRITTEN  DURING   A   VOTAGF. 

Great  God  thy  works  our  wonder  raise ; 

To  thee  our  swelling  notes  belong ; 
While  skies  and  winds,  and  rocks  and  seas, 

Around  shall  echo  to  our  song. 

Thy  power  produced  this  mighty  frame, 

Aloud  to  thee  the  tempes-s  roar, 
Or  softer  breezes  tune  thy  name 

Gently  along  the  shelly  shore. 

Round  thee  the  scaly  nation  roves, 
Thy  opening  hands  their  joys  bestow, 

Through  all  the  blushing  coral  groves, 
These  silent  gay  retreats  below. 

See  the  broad  sun  forsake  the  skies, 

Glow  on  the  waves  and  downward  glide. 

Anon  heaven  opens  all  its  eyes, 

And  star-beams  tremble  o'er  the  tide. 

Each  various  scene,  or  clay  or  night, 

Lord  !  points  to  thee  our  nourish'd  soul; 

Thy  glories  fix  our  whole  delight; 
So  the  touch'd  needle  courts  the  pole. 


In  David's  Psalms  an  oversight 

Byles  found  one  morning  at  his  tea, 

Alas !  that  lie  should  never  write 
A  proper  psalm  to  sing  at  sea. 

Thus  ruminating  on  his  seat. 

Ambitious  thoughts  at  length  prevailM. 
The  bard  determined  to  complete 

The  part  wherein  the  prophet  fail'd. 

He  sat  awhile  and  stroke  1  his  muse,* 
Then  taking  up  lib  tuneful  pen, 

Wrote  a  few  stanzas  for  the  use 
Of  his  seafaring  brethren. 

The  task  perform'd,  the  bard  content, 
Well  chosen  was  each  flowing  word; 

On  a  short  voyage  himself  he  went, 
To  hear  it  read  and  sung  on  board. 

Most  serious  Christians  do  aver, 
(Their  credit  sure  we  may  rely  on.) 

In  former  times  that  after  prayer, 
They  used  to  sing  a  song  of  Zion. 

Our  modern  parson  hnvinff  pray'd. 
Unless  loud  fame  our  faith  beguiles, 

Sat  down,  took  out  his  book  and  said, 
"Let's  sing  a  psalm  of  Mather  Byles." 

*  Byles's  favorite  cat,  so  named  by  his  friends. 


122 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


At  first,  when  he  began  to  read, 

Their  heads  the  assembly  downward  hung. 
But  he  with  boldness  did  proceed, 

And  thus  he  read,  and  thus  they  sung. 

THE  PSALM. 

"With  vast  amazement  we  survey 

The  wonders  of  the  deep, 
"Where  mackerel  swim,  and  porpoise  play, 

And  crabs  and  lobsters  creep. 

Fish  of  all  kinds  inhabit  here, 

And  throng  the  dark  abode. 
Here  haddock,  hake,  and  flounders  are, 

And  eels,  and  perch,  and  cod. 
From  raging  winds  and  tempests  free, 

So  emoothly  as  we  pass, 
The  shining  surface  seems  to  be 

A  piece  of  Bristol  glass. 
But  when  the  winds  and  tempests  rise. 

And  foaming  billows  swell, 
The  vessel  mounts  above  the  skies, 

And  lower  sinks  than  helL 

Our  heads  the  tottering  motion  feel, 

And  quickly  we  become 
Giddy  as  new-dropp'd  calves,  and  reel 

Like  Indians  drunk  with  rum. 

"What  praises  then  are  due  that  we 

Thus  far  have  safely  got, 
Amarescoggin  tribe  to  see, 

And  tribe  of  Penobscot. 

PARODY  BY  MATHER  BYLES. 

In  Byles's  works  an  oversight 

Green  spy'd,  as  once  hesmok'd  his  chunk; 
Alas!  that  Byles  should  never  write 

A  song  to  sing,  when  folks  are  drunk. 

Thus  in  the  chimney  on  his  block, 

Ambition  fir'd  the  'stiller's  pate ; 
He  summon'd  all  his  little  stock, 

The  poet's  volume  to  complete. 

Long  paus'd  the  lout,'  and  Bcratch'd  his  skull, 
Then  took  his  chalk  [he  own'd  no  pen,] 

And  scrawl'd  some  doggrel,  for  the  whole 
Of  his  flip-drinking  brethren. 

The  task  perform'd — not  to  content-— 
111  chosen  was  each  Grub-street  word ; 

Strait  to  the  tavern  club  he  went, 
To  hear  it  bellow'd  round  the  board. 

Unknown  delights  his  ears  explore, 

Inur'd  to  midnight  caterwauls, 
To  hear  his  hoarse  companions  roar, 

The  horrid  thing  his  dulness  scrawls. 

The  club,  if  fame  we  may  rely  on, 
Conven'd,  to  hear  the  drunken  catch, 

At  the  three-horse-shoes,  or  red  lion — 
Tipling  began  the  night's  debauch. 

The  little  'stiller  took  the  pint 

Full  fraught  with  flip  and  songs  obscene,    . 
And,  after  a  long  stutt'ring,  meant 

To  sing  a  song  of  Josy  Green. 

Soon  as  with  stam'ring  tongue,  to  read 

The  drunken  ballad,  he  began, 
The  club  from  clam'ring  strait  recede, 

To  hear  him  roar  the  thing  alone. 


With  vast  amazement  we  survey 

The  can  so  broad,  so  deep, 
Where  punch  succeeds  to  strong  sangree, 

Both  to  delightful  flip. 


Drink  of  all  smacks,  inhabit  here, 

And  throng  the  dark  abode ; 
Here's  rum,  and  sugar,  and  small  beer, 

In  a  continual  flood. 

From  cruel  thoughts  and  conscience  free, 

From  dram  to  dram  we  pass: 
Our  cheeks,  like  apples,  ruddy  be ; 

Our  eyeballs  look  like  glass. 

At  once,  like  furies  up  we  rise, 

Our  raging  passions,  swell ; 
We  hurl  the  bottle  to  the  skies, 

But  why,  we  cannot  tell. 

Our  brains  a  tott'ring  motion  feel, 

And  quickly  we  become 
Sick,  as  with  negro  steaks,*  and  reel 

Like  Indians  drunk  with  rum. 

Thus  lost  in  deep  tranquillity, 

We  sit,  supine  and  sot, 
Till  we  two  moons  distinctly  see — 

Come  give  us  t'other  pot. 

Dr.  Byles's  cat,  alluded  to  in  the  piece  just  quot- 
ed, received  the  compliment  of  an  elegy  at  her 
decease,  which  is  stated,  in  an  early  manuscript 
copy  in  the  Philadelphia  library,  to  be  written 
by  Joseph  Green.  The  excellence  of  the  lines 
will,  perhaps,  embalm  grimalkin  in  a  more  than 
Egyptian  perpetuity,  and  give  her  claim  to  rank, 
at  a  humble  distance,  with  the  great  ones  of  her 
race :  "  Tyb  our  cat,"  of  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle, 
the  sportive  companion  of  Montaigne  in  his  tower,t 
and  the  grimalkin  who  so  demurely  graces  the 
top  of  the  great  arm-chair  of  the  famous  Dr.  Syn- 
tax. Our  copy  is  taken  from  the  London  Maga- 
zine of  November,  1733,  where  it  is  introduced 
by  a  request  for  its  insertion  by  a  subscriber,  and 
is  accompanied  by  the  psalm  and  parodies  already 
quoted. 

THE  POET'S   LAMENTATION  FOR   THE   LOSS  OF   niS   CAT,   WHICH 
HE  USED  TO  CALL   HIS   MUSE. 

Felis  qujpdam  delirium  erat  cujnsdam  Adolescentis. 

^Esop. 

Oppress'd  with  grief  in  heavy  strains  I  mourn 
The  partner  of  my  studies  from  me  torn. 
How  shall  I  sing?  what  numbers  shall  I  chuse  ? 
For  in  my  fav'rite  cat  I've  lost  my  muse. 
No  more  I  feel  my  mind  with  raptures  fir'd, 
I  want  those  airs  that  Puss  so  oft  inspir'd; 
No  crowding  thoughts  my  ready  fancy  fill, 
Nor  words  run  fluent  from  my  easy  quill ; 
Yet  shall  my  verse  deplore  her  cruel  fate, 
And  celebrate  the  virtues  of  my  cat. 

In  acts  obscene  she  never  took  delight ; 
No  caterwauls  disturb'd  our  sleep  by  night ; 
Chaste  as  a  virgin,  free  from  every  stain, 
And  neighb'ring  cats  mew'd  for  her  love  in  vain. 

She  never  thirsted  for  the  chickens'  blood  ; 
Her  teeth  she  only  used  to  chew  her  food  ; 
Harmless  as  satires  which  her  master  writes, 
A  foe  to  scratching,  and  unused  to  bites, 
She  in  the  study  was  my  constant  mate ; 
There  we  together  many  evenings  sat. 
Whene'er  I  felt  my  tow'ring  fancy  fail, 
I  stroked  her  head,  her  ears,  her  back,  and  tail ; 

•  This,  savs  an  original  note  appended.to  the  poem,  alludes 
to  what  passed  at  a  convivial  club  to  which  Mr.  Green  be- 
longed, where  steaks  cut  from  the  rump  of  a  dead  negro  wore 
imposed  on  the  company  for  beef,  and  when  the  imposition  was 
discovered  a  violent  expectoration  ensued, 
t  As  Montaigne  playing  with  bis  cat, 
Complains  she  thought  him  but  an  ass. 

Hudibras,  pt.  t  ft  i.  v.  8S-9. 


JOHN  CALLENDER. 


123 


And  as  I  stroked  improv'd  my  dying  song 
From  the  sweet  notes  of  her  melodious  tongue : 
Her  purrs  and  mews  so  evenly  kept  time, 
She  purr'd  in  metre,  and  she  mew'd  in  rhyme. 
But  when  my  dulness  has  too  stubborn  prov'd, 
Nor  could  by  Puss's  music  be  remov'd, 
Oft  to  the  well-known  volumes  have  I  gone, 
And  stole  a  line  from  Pope  or  Addison. 

Ofttiines  when  lost  amidst  poetic  heat, 
She  leaping  on  my  knee  has  took  her  seat ; 
There  saw  the  throes  that  rock'd  my  lab' ring  brain, 
And  lick'd  and  claw'd  me  to  myself  again. 

Then,  friends,  indulge  my  grief,  and  let  me  mourn, 
My  cat  is  gone,  ah !  never  to  return. 
Now  in  my  stud}',  all  the  tedious  night, 
Alone  I  sit,  and  unassisted  write; 
Look  often  round  (0  greatest  cause  of  pain), 
And  view  the  num'rous  labors  of  my  brain  ; 
Those  quires  of  words  array'd  in  pompous  rhyme, 
Which  braved  the  jaws  of  all-devouring  time, 
Now  undefended  and  unwatch'd  by  cats, 
Are  doom'd  a  victim  to  the  teeth  of  rats. 

Green,  like  Byles,  and  almost  all  men  of  true 
humor,  could  pass  from  gay  to  grave  with  grace 
and  feeling.  The  Eclogue  Sacred  to  the  Memory 
of  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Mayhem*  which  is  attri- 
buted to  him,  amply  meets  the  requirements  of  its 
occasion.  It  is  fully  described  in  the  prefatory 
argument. 

"  Fidelio  and  Duleius,  young  men  of  a  liberal 
education,  who  maintained  a  great  esteem  and 
affectionate  regard  for  the  deceased,  were  sepa- 
rated from  each  other  for  several  years.  Fidelio, 
after  a  long  absence,  pays  an  early  visit  to  Du- 
leius, his  friend  and  former  companion,  whom  he 
finds  in  his  bower,  employed  in  study  and  con- 
templation. Their-meeting  begins  with  mutual 
tokens  of  love  and  affection ;  after  which  they 
enter  into  a  discourse  expressing  the  beautiful 
appearance  of  the  summer  season,  and  their  ad- 
miration of  the  works  of  Providence  ;  represent- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  the  beautiful  but  short- 
lived state  of  the  flowers ;  from  whence  Fidelio 
takes  occasion  to  draw  a  similitude  typical  of  the 
frailty  and  uncertainty  of  human  life  ;  he  observes 
the  stalk  of  a  vine  which  has  been  lately  struck 
by  thunder.  This  providential  event  reminds 
Fidelio  of  the  afflictive  dispensation  of  the  law  of 
God  in  the  death  of  a  late  useful  and  worthy  pas- 
tor, which  he  reveals  to  his  companion.  They, 
greatly  dejected,  bewail  the  loss  of  so  trusty,  use- 
ful, and  worthy  a  man,  but  mutually  console  each 
other,  by  representing  the  consummate  happiness 
which  saints  enjoy  upon  their  admission  to  the 
mansions  of  immortal  felicity.  They  conclude 
with  an  ode,  expressing  a  due  submission  to  the 
will  of  Heaven." 

We  quote  this  conclusion. 

ODE. 

Parent  of  all!  thou  source  of  light! 
Whose  will  seraphic  powers  obey, 
The  heavenly  Nine,  as  one  unite, 
And  thee  their  vow'd  obeisance  pay. 

*  An  Eclogue  Sacred  to  the  Memorv  of  the-  Rev.  Dr.  .Jona- 
than Mayhew,  who  departed  this  life  July  9,  auno  salutis  bu- 
inaua;  1766,  ajtatis  46. 

The  wise,  the  just,  the  pious,  and  the  brave, 
Live  in  their  deaths,  and  flourish  in  the  grave, 
Grain  hid  in  earth  repays  the  peasant's  care, 
And  evening  suns  but  rise  to  set  more  fair. 
Boston :  printed  by  Thomas  and  John  Fleet 


Permit  us,  Lord,  to  consecrate 
Our  first  ripe  fruits  of  early  days, 
To  thee,  whose  care  to  us  is  great, 
Whose  love  demands  our  constant  praise. 

Thy  sovereign  wisdom  form'd  the  plan, 
Almighty  power,  which  none  control ; 
Then  rais'd  this  noble  structure,  man, 
And  gave  him  an  immortal  souL 

All  earthly  beings  here  who  move, 
Experience  thy  paternal  care, 
And  feel  the  influence  of  thy  love, 
Which  sweetens  life  from  year  to  year. 

Thou  hast  the  keys  of  life  and  death, 
The  springs  of  future  joys  and  bliss ; 
And  when  thou  lock'st  our  door  of  breath, 
Frail  life  and  all  its  motions  cease. 

Our  morn  of  years  which  smile  in  bloom, 
And  those  arriv'd  at  eve  of  age, 
Must  bow  beneath  thy  sovereign  doom, 
And  quit  this  frail,  this  mortal  stage. 

In  all  we  see  thy  sovereign  sway, 
Thy  wisdom  guides  the  ruling  sun ; 
Submissive,  we  thy  power  obey, 
In  all  we  own  "  thy  will  is  done." 

0  may  our  thoughts  superior  rise, 
To  things  of  sense  which  here  we  crave; 
May  we  with  care  that  int'rest  prize, 
Which  lies  so  far  beyond  the  grave. 

Conduct  us  safe  through  each  event, 
And  changing  scene  of  life  below; 
Till  we  arrive  where  days  are  spent 
In  joys  which  can  no  changes  know. 

Lord,  in  thy  service  us  employ, 

And  when  we've  served  thee  here  on  earth 

Receive  us  hence  to  realms  of  joy, 

To  join  with  those  of  heavenly  birth. 

May  we  from  angels  learn  to  sing, 
The  songs  of  high  seraphic  strain  ; 
Then  mount  aloft  on  cherubs'  wings, 
And  soar  to  worlds  that  cease  from  pain. 

With  angels,  seraphs,  saints  above, 
May  we  thy  glorious  praise  display 
And  sing  of  thy  redeeming  love, 
Through  the  revolves  of  endless  day. 

JOHN  CALLENDER. 
John  Cai.len'dei;,  the  first  historian  of  Ehode 
Island,  was  born  in  Boston  in  the  year  1706.     He 
entered  Harvard  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  and  gra- 
duated in   1723.     In   1727   he  was  licensed  to 

preach  by  the  first  Baptist  Church  in  Boston,  of 
which  his  uncle,  Elisha  Callender,  was  pastor, 
having  succeeded  Ellis  Callender,  the  grandfather 
of  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  in  the  same  office. 
In  August,  1728,  he  accepted  a  call  to  the  Baptist 
church  in  Swansey,  Massachusetts,  where  he  re- 
mained until  February,  1730.  He  was  next  after 
settled  over  the  first  Baptist  church  at  Newport, 
where  he  continued  until  his  death,  after  a  lin- 
gering illness,  January  26,  1748.  Soon  after  his 
removal  to  Newport  he  became  a  member  of  a 
literary  and  philosophical  society  established  in 
the  place,  at  the  instigation,  it  is  supposed,  of 
Dean  Berkeley,  in  1730,  afterwards  incorporated 
in  1747,  with  the  title,  in  consequence  of  the  dona- 


124 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


tion  of  five  hundred  pounds  sterling  by  Abraham 
Redwood,  of  "  the  Company  of  the  Redwood 
Library." 

In  1739  Mr.  Callender  published  An  Histo- 
rical Discourse  on  the  civil  and  religious  affairs 
of  the  Colony  of  Rhode  Island  and  Providence 
Plantations,  in  New  England,  in  America,  from 
the  first  settlement,  1638,  to  the  end  of  the  first 
century.  It  was  delivered  on  the  twenty -fourth 
of  March,  1738,  the  first  centennial  anniversary 
of  the  cession  of  Aquedneck  or  Rhode  Island  by 
the  sachems  Cannonicus  and  Miantunnomu,  "unto 
Mr.  Coddington  and  his  friends  united  unto  him."* 
It  occupies  one  hundred  and  twenty  octavo  pages 
in  the  reprint  by  the  Rhode  Island  Historical 
Society,  and  contains  a  concise  and  temperate 
statement  of  the  difficulties  with  the  Massachu- 
setts colonists  which  led  to  the  formation  of  the 
settlement,  its  early  struggles,  its  part  in  King 
Philip's  war,  and  of  its  social  and  ecclesiastical 
affairs.  He  dwells  with  just  satisfaction  on  the 
liberal  principles  of  the  colony. 

I  do  not  know  there  was  ever  before,  since  the 
world  came  into  the  Church,  such  an  instance,  as 
the  settlement  of  this  Colony  and  Island.  In  other 
States,  the  civil  magistrate  had  for  ever  a  public 
driving  in  the  particular  schemes  of  faith,  and  modes 
of  worship ;  at  least,  by  negative  discouragements, 
by  annexing  the  rewards  of  honor  and  profit  to  his 
own  opinions ;  and  generally,  the  subject  was  bound 
by  penal  laws,  to  believe  that  set  of  doctrines,  and 
to  worship  God  in  that  manner,  the  magistrate 
pleased  to  prescribe.  Christian  magistrates  would 
unaccountably  assume  to  themselves  the  same  autho- 
rity in  religious  affairs,  which  any  of  the  Kings  of 
Judah,  or  Israel,  exercised,  either  by  usurpation,  or 
by  the  immediate  will  and  inspiration  of  God,  and  a 
great  deal  more  too.  As  if  the  becoming  Christian 
gave  the  magistrate  any  new  right  or  authority  over 
his  subjects,  or  over  the  Church  of  Christ;  and  as  if 
that  because  they  submitted  personally  to  the  autho- 
rity and  government  of  Christ  in  Ins  word,  that 
therefore  they  might  clothe  themselves  with  his  au- 
thority; or  rather,  take  his  sceptre  out  of  his  hand, 
and  lord  it  over  God's  heritage.  It  is  lamentable 
that  pagans  and  infidels  allow  more  liberty  to  Chris- 
tians, than  they  were  wont  to  allow  to  one  another. 
It  is  evident,  the  civil  magistrate,  as  such,  can  have 
no  authority  to  decree  articles  of  faith,  and  to  deter- 
mine modes  of  worship,  and  to  interpret  the  laws  of 
Christ  for  his  subjects,  but  what  must  belong  to  all 
magistrates ;  but  no  magistrate  can  have  more  autho- 
rity over  conscience,  than  what  is  necessary  to  pre- 
serve the  public  peace,  and  that  can  be  only  to  pre- 
vent one  sect  from  oppressing  another,  and  to  keep 
the  peace  between  them.  Nothing  can  be  more  evi- 
dently proved,  than  "  the  right  of  private  judgment 
for  every  man,  in  the  affairs  of  his  own  salvation," 
and  that  both  from  the  plainest  principles  of  reason, 
and  the  plainest  declarations  of  the  scripture.  This 
is  the  foundation  of  the  Reformation,  of  the  Christian 
religion,  of  all  religion,  which  necessarily  implies 
choice  and  judgment.  But  I  need  not  labor  a  point, 
that  has  been  so  often  demonstrated  so  many  ways. 
Indeed,  as  every  man  believes  his  own  opinions  the 
best,  because  the  truest,  and  ought  charitably  to  wish 
all  others  of  the  same  opinion,  it  must  seem  reason- 
able the  magistrate  should  have  a  public  leading  in 
religious  affairs,  but  as  he  almost  for  ever  exceeds 
the  due  bounds,  and  as  error  prevails  ten  times  more 

*  Deed  of  Conveyance. 


than  truth  in  the  world,  the  interest  of  truth  and  the 

right  of  private  judgment  seem  better  secured,  by  a 
j   universal  toleration  that  shall  suppress  all  profane- 

ness  and  immorality,  and  preserve  every  party  in  the 
I   free  and  "undisturbed  liberty  of  their  consciences, 

while  they  continue  quiet  and  dutiful  subjects  to  the 

State. 

Callender  published  a  sermon  in  the  same  year 
at  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Jeremiah  Condy,  to  the 
i  care  of  the  Baptist  Church  in  Boston,  in  1741,  on 
the  advantages  of  early  religion,  before  a  society 
of  young  men  at  Newport,  and  in  1745  on  the 
death  of  his  friend  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clap.  He  also 
formed  a  collection  of  papers  relative  to  the  his- 
tory of  the  Baptists  in  America. 

Callender  was  married  February  15,  1730,  to 
Elizabeth  Hardin  of  Swnnsey,  Massachusetts.  He 
is  described  as  of  medium  stature,  with  regular 
features,  a  fair  complexion,  and  agreeable  man- 
ners. 

The  Centennial  Discourse  was  reprinted  in 
1838,  a  century  after  its  first  publication,  by  the 
Rhode  Island  Historical  Society,  with  a  large 
number  of  valuable  notes  by  the  Vice-President 
of  the  association,  the  Rev.  Romeo  Elton,  D.D., 
of  Brown  University.  It  contains  a  memoir, 
which  has  formed  the  chief  authority  of  the 
present  article. 

JANE  TURELL. 
Jane,  the  only  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Benjamin 
Colman,  of  Boston,  was  born  in  that  city,  Febru- 
ary 25,  1708.  She  early  displayed  precocious 
mental  power,  as  before  her  second  year  she 
could  speak  distinctly,  say  her  letters,  and  tell 
stories  out  of  the  Scripturesjfto  the  satisfaction 
of  Gov.  Dudley,  and  others  around  the  table,* 
and  two  years  later  could  repeat  the  greater  part 
of  the  Assembly's  Catechism,  many  of  the  psalms, 
long  passages  of  poetry,  reading  with  fluency  and 
commenting  in  a  pertinent  manner  on  what  she 
read.  At  the  age  of  eleven  she  composed  the 
following 


I  fear  the  great  Eternal  One  above; 
The  God  of  Grace,  the  God  of  love: 
He  to  whom  Seraphims  Hallelujah  sing, 
And  Angels  do  their  Songs  and  Praises  bring 
Happy  the  Soul  that  does  in  Heaven  rest, 
Where  witli  his  Saviour  he  is  ever  blest; 
AVith  heavenly  joys  and  rapture  is  possest, 
No  thoughts  but  of  his  God  inspire  his  breast. 
Happy  are  they  that  walk  in  Wisdom's  ways, 
That  tread  her  path,  and  shine  in  all  her  rays. 

Her  poetical  attempts  were  encouraged  by  her 
father,  who  frequently  addressed  rhymed  letters 
to  her,  and  says  :  ''  I  grew  by  degrees  into  such 
an  opinion  of  her  good  taste,  that  when  she  put 
me  upon  translating  a  psalm  or  two,  I  was  ready 
to  excuse  myself,  and  if  I  had  not  fear'd  to  dis- 
please her,  should  have  denied  her  request."  He 
"  talked  into  her  all  he  could,  in  the  most  free 
and  endearing  manner,"  and  led  her  to  the  study 
of  the  best  models  of  composition,  advantages  of 
which  she  availed  herself  with  sucli  avidity  that 
she  spent  entire  nights  in  reading,  and  before  the 


*  Tin-ell's  Memoir. 


JANE  TURELL. 


125 


age  of  eighteen  had  devoured  all  the  English 
poetry  and  prose  in  her  father's  well  furnished 
library. 

She  married  the  Rev.  Ebenezer  Turell,  of  Med- 
ford,  Mass.,  August  11th,  172(5.  She  continued 
to  compose  in  verse,  and  wrote,  after  her  mar- 
riage, eulogies  on  Sir  Richard  Blackmore's  Works, 
and  on  "  the  Incomparable  Mr.  Waller ;"  An 
Invitation  into  the  Country  in  Imitation  of 
Horace,  and  some  prose  pieces.  Her  health  had 
been  from  her  infancy  extremely  delicate,  and  she 
died  March  26th,  1735,  at  the  early  age  of  twenty- 
seven  years.  Her  poems  were  in  the  same  year 
collected,  and  published  by  her  husband.* 

AN  INVITATION  INTO  THE  COTTNTEY,  IN  IMITATION  OF  TIOHACE. 

From  the  soft  shades,  and  from  the  balmy  sweets 
Of  Medford's  flowery  vales  and  green  retreats, 
Your  absent  Delia  to  her  father  sends, 
And  prays  to  see  him  ere  the  Summer  ends. 

Now  while  the  earth  's  with  beauteous  verdure 
dyed, 
And  Flora  paints  the  meads  in  all  her  pride  ; 
While  laden  trees  Pomona's  bounty  own, 
And  Ceres'  treasures  do  the  fields  adorn, 
From  the  thick  smokes,  and  noisy  town,  O  come, 
And  in  these  plains  awhile  forget  your  home. 

Though  my  small  incomes  never  can  afford, 
Like  wealthy  Celsus  to  regale  a  lord ; 
No  ivory  tables  groan  beneath  the  weight 
Of  sumptuous  dishes,  served  in  massy  plate: 
The  forest  ne'er  was  seareh'd  for  food  for  me, 
Nor  from  my  hounds  the  timorous  hare  does  flee: 
No  leaden  thunder  strikes  the  fowl  in  air, 
Nor  from  my  shaft  the  winged  death  do  fear: 
With  silken  nets  I  ne'er  the  lakes  despoil, 
Nor  with  my  bait  the  larger  fish  beguile. 
No  luscious  sweetmeats,  by  my  servants  plae'd 
In  curious  order,  e'er  my  table  grac'd; 
To  please  the  taste,  no  rich  Burgundian  wine, 
In  chrystal  glasses  on  my  sideboard  shine; 
The  luscious  sweets  of  fair  Canary's  isle 
Ne'er  filled  my  casks,  nor  in  my  flagons  smile: 
No  wine,  but  what  does  from  my  apples  flow, 
My  frugal  house  on  any  can  bestow : 
Except  when  Caesar's  birthday  does  return, 
And  joyful  fires  throughout  the  village  burn ; 
Then  moderate  each  takes  his  cheerful  glass, 
And  our  good  wishes  to  Augustus  pass. 

But  though  rich  dainties  never  spread  my  board, 
Nor  my  cool  vaults  Calabrian  wines  afford ; 
Yet  what  is  neat  and  wholesome  I  can  spread, 
My  good  fat  bacon  and  our  homely  bread, 
With  which  my  healthful  family  is  fed. 
Milk  from  the  cow,  and  butter  newly  churn'd, 
And  new  fresh  cheese,  with  curds  aud  cream  just 

turn'd. 
For  a  dessert  upon  my  table  's  seen 
The  golden  apple,  and  the  melon  green; 
The  blushing  peach  and  glo3sy  plum  there  lies. 
And  with  the  mandrake  tempt  your  hands  and  eyes. 

These  I  can  give,  and  if  you  '11  here  repair, 
To  slake  your  thirst  a  cask  of  Autumn  beer, 
Reserv'd  on  purpose  for  your  drinking  here. 

Under  the  spreading  elms  our  limbs  we'll  lay, 
While  fragrant  Zephyrs  round  our  temples  play. 
Retir'd  from  courts  and  crowds,  secure  we  '11  set, 


*  Memoir*  of  the  Life  find  Death  of  the  Pious  and  Ingenious 
Mrs.  Jane  Turell,  who  expired  at  Medford,  March  26,  1735, 
-Stat.  27,  chiefly  collected  from  her  own  manuscripts.  Boston, 
N.E..  1735. 


And  freely  feed  upon  our  country  treat. 
No  noisy  faction  here  shall  dare  intrude, 
Or  once  disturb  our  peaceful  solitude. 

No  stately  beds  my  humble  roofs  adorn 
Of  costly  purple,  by  carved  panthers  borne ; 
Nor  can  I  boast  Arabia's  rich  perfumes, 
Diffusing  odors  through  our  stately  rooms. 
i   For  me  no  fair  Egyptian  plies  the  loom, 
But  my  fine  linen  all  is  made  at  home. 
Though  I  no  down  or  tapestry  can  spread, 
A  clean  soft  pillow  shall  support  your  head, 
Fill'd  with  the  wool  from  off  my  tender  sheep, 
On  which  with  ease  and  safety  you  may  sleep, 
The  nightingale  shall  lull  you  to  your  rest, 
Aud  all  be  calm  aud  still  as  is  your  breast. 

TO  MY  MTTSE,      DEC.  29,  1725.      AGED  17  YEAES. 

Come,  Gentle  Muse,  and  once  more  lend  thine  Aid; 

O  bring  thy  Succour  to  a  humble  Maid ! 

How  often  dost  thou  liberally  dispense 

To  our  dull  Breast  thy  quickming  Influence ! 

By  thee  inspir'd,  I'll  cheerful  tune  my  Voice, 

And  Love  and  sacred  Friendship  make  my  Choice. 

In  my  pleas'd  Bosom  you  can  freely  pour, 

A  greater  Treasure  than  Jove's  Golden  Shower. 

Come  now,  fair  Muse,  and  fill  my  empty  mind, 

With  rich  Ideas,  gre:it  and  unconfin'd; 

Instruct  me  in  those  secret  Arts  that  lie 

Unseen  to  all  but  to  a  Poet's  Eye. 

0  let  me  burn  with  Sappho's  noble  Fire, 

But  not  like  her  for  faithless  man  expire ; 

And  let  me  rival  great  Orinda's  Fame, 

Or  like  sweet  Philomela's  be  my  name. 

Go  lead  the  way,  my  Muse,  nor  must  you  stop, 

'Till  we  have  gain'd  Parnassus'  shady  Top; 

'Till  I  have  viewed  those  fragrant  soft  Retreats, 

Those  fields  of  Bliss,  the  Muse's  saered  Seats. 

I'll  then  devote  thee  to  fair  Virtue's  Fame, 

And  so  be  worthy  of  a  Poet's  name. 

The  Rev.  Ebenezer  Turell,  a  member  of  the 
class  of  1721,  of  Harvard,  was  ordained  in  1724, 
and  continued  minister  of  Medford  until  his  death, 
December  5,  1778,  at  the  age  of  seventy-six.  Ho 
published  the  life  of  Dr.  Colman  in  1749,  and 
left,  in  manuscript,  an  account  of  a  supposed  case 
of  witchcraft,  which  he  exposes  in  an  ingenious 
and  sensible  manner.  This  he  accompanies  with 
some  advice  touching  superstitious  practices  in 
vogue,  in  which  he  says : 

Young  people  would  do  wisely  now  to  lay  aside 
their  foolish  books,  their  trifling  ballads,  and  all 
romantic  accounts  of  dreams  and  trances,  senseless 
palmistry  and  groundless  astrology.  Don't  so  much 
as  look  into  these  tilings.  Read  those  that  are  use- 
ful to  increase  you  in  knowledge,  human  and  divine, 
and  which  are  more  entertaining  to  an  ingenious 
mind.  Truth  is  the  food  of  an  immortal  souL  Feed 
not  any  longer  on  the  fabulous  husks  of  falsehood. 
Never  use  any  of  the  devil's  playthings;  there  aro 
much  better  recreations  than  legerdemain  tricks. 
Turn  not  the  sieve,  &c,  to  know  futurities ;  'tis  one 
of  the  greatest  mercies  of  heaven  that  we  are  igno- 
rant of  them.  You  only  gratify  Satan,  and  invite 
him  into  your  company  to  deceive  you.  Nothing 
that  appears  by  this  means  is  to  be  depended  on. 

The  horse-shoe  is  a  vain  thing,  and  has  no  natural 
tendency  to  keep  off  witches  or  evil  spirits  from  tho 
houses  or  vessels  they  are  nailed  to.  If  Satan  should 
by  such  means  defend  you  from  lesser  dangers,  'tis 
to  make  way  for  greater  ones,  and  get  fuller  pos- 
session of  your  hearts.  'Tis  an  evil  thing  to  hang 
witch  papers  on  the  neck  for  the  cure  of  the  agues, 
to  biud  up  the  weapon  instead  of  the  wound,  and 


126 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


many  things  of  the  like  nature,  whi^h  some  in  the 
world  are  fond  of. 

JOHN  SECCOMB. 
John  Seccomb,  a  descendant  of  Richard  Sec- 
comb,  who  settled  in  the  town  of  Lynn,  was  a  son 
of  Peter  Seccomb,  of  Medford,  Mass.,  where  he 
was  born  in  April,  1708.  He  was  graduated  at 
Harvard  College,  in  1728.  In  1733  he  was 
ordained  minister  of  the  town  of  Harvard.  He 
appears  to  have  discharged  the  duties  of  his 
office  acceptably  up  to  the  period  of  his  resigna- 
tion in  1757.  He  became,  about  six  years  after, 
the  minister  of  a  dissenting  congregation  in  Ches- 
ter, Nova  Scotia,  where  he  remained  until  his 
death  in  1792. 

He  published  an  Ordination  Sermon  in  Nova 
Scotia,  and  a  Discourse  on  the  Funeral  of  the 
Consort  of  Jonathan  Belcher.*  Father  Abbey's 
Will  was  sent  out  to  England  by  Governor  Bel- 
cher, and  published  both  in  the  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine and  European  Magazines  in  May,  1732.  It 
was  reprinted  in  the  Massachusetts  Magazine  for 
November,  1794,  with  a  notice  attributing  the 
authorship  to  John  Seccomb.  A  correspondent 
having  disputed  the  statement,  and  asserted  that 
the  production  belonged  to  the  Rev.  Joseph  Sec- 
comb, of  Kingston,  N.  H.,  the  editor  of  the  Maga- 
zine wrote  as  follows. 

From  Thaddeus  Mason,  Esq.,  of  Cambridge,  the 
only  surviving  classmate  and  very  intimate  friend  of 
the  Rev.  John  Seccombe,  the  public  may  be  assured 
the  he,  the  long  reputed,  was  the  real  author.  His 
brother  Joseph,  though  a  lively  genius,  never  pre- 
tended to  write  poetry ;  but  Mr.  Mason  was  fur- 
nished with  several  poetical  effusions  of  his  class- 
mate's. They  commenced  an  early  correspondence. 
And  through  this  channel  flowed  many  a  tuneful 
ditty.  One  of  these  letters,  dated  "  Cambridge, 
Sep.  27,  1728,"  the  editor  has  before  him.  It  is  a 
most  humorous  narrative  of  the  fate  of  a  goose 
roasted  at  "  Yankee  Hastings,"  and  it  concludes  with 
a  poem  on  the  occasion,  in  the  mock  heroic.  #  *  si- 
Mr.  Mason  wonders  there  have  been  any  doubts  re- 
specting the  real  author  of  this  witty  production. 
He  is  able  and  ready,  were  it  necessary,  to  give 
more  circumstantial,  explicit,  and  positive  evidence 
than  the  present  writing. 

The  editor  of  a  recent  reprint  of  Father 
Abbey's  Will,  though  unable  to  trace  the  "  mock 
heroic,"  gives  us  a  pleasant  account  of  the  pos- 
sible previous  history  of  its  savory  subject. 

We  know  not  what  has  become  of  the  letter  or  of 
the  "  mock  heroic,"  and  we  cannot  speak  with  cer- 
tainty of  the  circumstances  to  which  they  owed 
their  origin.  But  the  following  facts  may  shed 
some  light  thereon.  The  author  resided  in  Cam- 
bridge after  he  graduated.  In  common  with  all 
who  had  received  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts, 
and  not  that  of  Master  of  Arts,  he  was  called  "  Sir," 
and  known  as  "  Sir  Seccomb."     In  the  autumn  after 


*  A  Sermon  preached  at  Halifax,  July  8, 17T0,  at  the  Ovdina- 
tioD  of  the  Rev.  Bruin  Romcas  Comingoe,  to  the  Dutch  Cal- 
vinistic  Presbyterian  Congregation,  at  Lunenburg,  by  John 
Seccomb,  of  Chester,  A.M.,  being  the  first  preached  in  the 
province  of  Nova  Scotia,  on  6uch  an  occasion,  to  which  is 
added  an  Appendix.  Halifax :  A.  Henry.  1770.  A  Sermon 
occasioned  by  the  Death  of  the  Honorable  Abigail  Belcher, 
late  consort  of  Jonathan  Belcher,  Esq.,  late  Lt.  Gov.  and 
Com.  in  Chief,  and  His  Majesty's  present  Ch.  J.  of  his  pro- 
vince of  Nova  Scotia,  del.  at  Halifax,  in  thosaid  province,  Oct. 
20, 1771,  by  John  Seccomb,  of  Chester,  A.M.,  with  an  Epistle 
by  Mather"  Byles,  D.D.    Boston  :  T.  &  J.  Fleet 


his  graduation,  several  geese  disappeared  at  different, 
times  from  Cambridge  Common.  The  loss  occasioned 
great  discomfort  to  the  owner.  Some  of  the  "  Sirs," 
as  well  as  undergraduates  were  arraigned  before 
the  college  government.  At  length  several  of  them 
were  fined  seven  shillings  apiece  for  being  privy  to 
and  taking  the  "  third"  goose,  and  one  of  them  was 
fined  three  shillings  more  for  "  lying"  about  it.  On 
the  morning  of  Nov.  28,  1728,  the  sentence  was  an- 
nounced. This  was  done  in  the  college  hall,  after 
the  reading  and  before  the  prayer,  and  a  suitable 
amount  of  admonition  was  given  against  the  im- 
moralities condemned.  The  rogues  were  required  to 
indemnify  the  owner,  and  the  one  who  first  proposed 
to  steal  the  first  goose,  and  being  concerned  in  steal- 
ing and  eating  the  "three .geese  taken  on  the  Com- 
mon," was  sent  from  college.  How  much  this  had  to 
do  with  the  inspiration  of  the  letter  and  the  "  mock 
heroic"  is  not  known ;  but  the  writer  was  a  "  Sir,"  and 
without  doubt  was  well  acquainted  with  the  facts 
in  the  case. 

Father  Abbey  was  Matthew  Abdy.  He  was 
born  about  1650,  the  son  of  a  fisherman  who 
lived  about  Boston  harbor,  and,  according  to  the 
record  in  President  Leverett's  Diary,  was  "ap- 
pointed sweeper  and  bed-maker  upon  probation," 
Feb.  19,  1718.  By  another  College  authority 
we  find  that  he  also  held  the  responsible  office  of 
bottle-washer,  as  Tutor  Flint  in  his  private  Diary 
and  Account-book,  writes : 

May  25,  1725,  Paid  Abdy  3sh.,  for  washing  a 
groce  of  Bottles. 

A  second  entry  on  the  subject  suggests  some 
doubts  of  his  faithfulness : 

April  10th,  1727.  Abdy  washed  10  doz.  and  5 
bottles  as  he  says,  tho'  w'n  he  brought  them  up 
he  reckoned  but  9  doz.  and  1,  at  4d.  pd  down. 
Total,  3sh.  8d. 

In  the  third  and  last,  there  is  no  question 
raised : 

April  27,  1730.  Paid  Abdy  4sh.,  for  washing 
a  groce  of  bottles. 

Abdy,  and  his  wife  Ruth,  were  baptized  and 
admitted  to  church  membership  in  Cambridge, 
February  25,  1727-8.  Ruth,  after  the  death  of 
Matthew,  remained  a  widow,  unmoved  by  the 
passionate  strains  of  Seccomb's  second  poem. 
The  Boston  Evening  Post  of  Monday,  December 
13,  1762,  contains  her  obituary. 

Cambridge,  Dec.  10.  Yesterday  died  here  in  a 
very  advanced  age  Mrs.  Abdy,  Sweeper  for  very 
many  years  at  Harvard  College,  and  well  known  to 
all  that  have  had  an  education  here  within  the 
present  century.  She  was  relict  of  Matthew  Abdy, 
Sweeper,  well  known  to  the  learned  world  by  his 
last  Will  and  Testament. 

The  Cambridge  City  Records  give  her  age  as  93. 
Father  Abbey's  Will  and  the  Letter  to  his 
Widow  have  been  published  in  a  single  sheet 
broadside,  and  have  been  recently  reprinted  with 
notice  of  all  the  persons  and  places  concerned  in 
the  matters  which  partake  largely  of  the  wit 
of  their  subject,  by  John  Langdon  Sibley,  of 
Harvard,  in  the  Cambridge  Chronicle  of  1854. 

FATHEB  ABBEY'S  WTLL' 

To  which  is  now  added,  a  letter  of  Courtship  to  his  virtuous 
and  amiable  Widow. 

Cambridge,  December,  1730. 
Some  time  since  died  here,  Mr.   Matthew  Abbey, 
in  a  very  advanced  age  :  He  had  for  a  great  number 


JOHN  SECCOMB. 


127 


of  years  served  the  College  in  quality  of  Bedmaker 
and  Sweeper :  Having  no  child,  his  wife  inherits  his 
whole  estate,  which  he  bequeathed  to  her  by  his  last 
will  and  testament,  as  follows,  viz. : 

rrO  my  dear  wife 

J.   My  joy  and  life, 

I  freely  now  do  give  her, 

My  whole  estate, 

With  all  my  plate, 
Being  just  about  to  leave  her. 

My  tub  of  soap, 

A  long  cart  rope, 
A  frying  pan  and  kettle, 

An  ashes  pale, 

A  threshing  flail, 
An  iron  wedge  and  beetle. 

Two  painted  chairs, 

Nine  warden  pears, 
A  large  old  dripping  platter, 

This  bed  of  hay, 

On  which  I  lay, 
An  old  saucepan  for  butter. 

A  little  mug, 

A  two  quart  jug, 
A  bottle  full  of  brandy, 

A  lpoking  glass 

To  see  your  face, 
You'll  find  it  very  handy. 

A  musket  true, 

As  ever  flew, 
A  pound  of  shot  and  wallet, 

A  leather  sash, 

My  calabash, 
My  powder  horn  and  bullet. 

An  old  sword  blade, 

A  garden  spade, 
A  hoe,  a  rake,  a  ladder, 

A  wooden  can, 

A  close-stool  pan, 
A  clyster-pipe  and  bladder. 

A  greasy  hat, 

My  old  ram  cat, 
A  yard  and  half  of  linen, 

A  woollen  fleece, 

A  pot  of  grease, 
In  order  for  your  spinning. 

A  small  tooth  comb, 

An  ashen  broom, 
A  candlestick  and  hatchet, 

A  coverlid, 

Strip'd  down  with  red, 
A  bag  of  rags  to  patch  it. 

A  ragged  mat, 

A  tub  of  fat, 
A  book  put  out  by  Bunyan, 

Another  book 

By  Robin  Cook, 
A  skein  or  two  of  spunyarn. 

An  old  black  muff, 

Some  garden  stuff, 
A  quantity  of  borage, 

Some  devil's  weed, 

And  burdock  seed, 
To  season  well  your  porridge. 

A  chafing  dish, 
"With  one  salt  fish, 
If  I  am  not  mistaken, 


A  leg  of  pork, 
A  broken  fork, 
And  half  a  flitch  of  bacon. 

A  spinning  wheel, 

One  peck  of  meal, 
A  knife  without  a  handle, 

A  rusty  lamp, 

Two  quarts  of  samp, 
And  half  a  tallow  candle. 

My  pouch  and  pipes, 

Two  oxen  tripes, 
An  oaken  dish  well  carved, 

My  little  dog, 

And  spotted  hog, 
With  two  young  pigs  just  starved. 

This  is  my  store, 

I  have  no  more, 
I  heartily  do  give  it, 

My  years  are  spun, 

My  days  are  done, 
And  so  I  think  to  leave  it. 

Thus  father  Abbey  left  his  Bpouse, 
As  rich  as  church  or  college  mouse, 
Which  is  sufficient  invitation, 
To  serve  the  college  in  his  station. 

Newhaven,  January  2,  1731. 
Our  sweeper  having  lately  buried  his  spouse, 
and  accidentally  hearing  of  the  death  and  will  of  his 
deceased  Cambridge  brother,  has  conceived  a  violent 
passion  for  the  relict.  As  love  softens  the  mind  and 
disposes  to  poetry,  he  has  eas'd  himself  in  the 
following  strains,  which  he  transmits  to  the  charm- 
ing widow,  as  the  first  essay  of  his  love  and  court- 
ship. 

MISTRESS  Abbey 
To  you  I  fly, 
You  only  can  relieve  me, 
To  you  I  turn, 
For  you  I  burn, 
If  you  will  but  believe  me. 

Then  gentle  dame, 

Admit  my  flame, 
And  grant  me  my  petition, 

If  you  deny, 

Alas !   I  die, 
In  pitiful  condition. 

Before  the  news 

Of  your  dear  spouse 
Had  reach'd  us  at  Newhaven, 

My  dear  wife  dy'd, 

Who  was  my  bride, 
In  anno  eighty-seven. 

Thus  being  free, 

Let's  both  agree 
To  join  our  hands,  for  I  do 

Boldly  aver 

A  widower 
Is  fittest  for  a  widow. 

You  may  be  sure 

Tis  not  your  dow'r 
I  make  this  flowing  verse  on ; 

In  these  smooth  lays 

I  only  praise 
The  glories  of  your  person. 

For  the  whole  that 

Was  left  by  Mat. 

Fortune  to  me  has  granted 


128 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


In  equal  store, 
I've  one  thing  more 
Which  Matthew  long  had  wanted. 

No  teeth,  'tis  true 

You  have  to  shew, 
The  young  think  teeth  inviting. 

But,  silly  youths ! 

I  love  those  mouths 
"Where  there's  no  fear  of  bitirg. 

A  leaky  eye, 

That's  never  dry, 
These  woful  times  is  fitting. 

A  wrinkled  face 

Adds  solemn  grace 
To  folks  devout  at  meeting. 

[A  furrowed  brow, 

Where  corn  might  grow, 
Such  fertile  soil  is  seen  in't, 

A  long  hook  nose, 

Tho'  scorn'd  by  foes, 
For  spectacles  convenient,]* 

Thus  to  go  on 

I  would  put  down 
Your  chai  ms  from  head  to  foot, 

Set  all  your  glory 

In  verse  before  ye, 
But  I've  no  mind  to  do't. 

Then  haste  away, 

And  make  no  stay ; 
For  soon  as  you  come  hither, 

We'll  eat  and  sleep, 

Make  beds  and  sweep 
And  talk  and  smoke  together. 

But  if,  my  dear, 

I  must  move  there, 
Tov/rds  Cambridge  straight  I'll  eet  mo 

To  touse  the  hay 

On  which  you  lay, 
If  age  aud  you  will  let  me. 

A  clever  imitation  of  Father  Abbey's  Will, 
entitled  "  Ned  Wealthy's  Last  Will  and  Testa- 
ment," appears  in  the  London  Magazine  fpr 
August,  1734.  It  copies  the  incongruous  asso- 
ciations with  some  coarse  additions,  but  must 
yield  in  humor  to  the  original. 

Since  all  men  must 

Return  to  dust, 
From  which  they  first  did  spring  : 

I  give  my  gear, 

From  debts  quite  clear 
In  mariner  following. 

But  lest  hot  broils, 

And  endless  toils, 
'Bout  my  effects  arise  ; 

Half  to  my  Sue, 

Half  to  my  Prue, 
I  frankly  here  devise. 

Mv  thrice  sol'd  shoes, 

My  Sunday  hose, 
A  jacket  made  of  leather ; 

An  old  straw  bed , 

That  serv'd  poor  Ned. 
In  boisterous  stormy  weather,  &c. 


*  "W*e  think  this  stanza  may  be  an  interpolation.  It  is 
fmnd  in  the  London  Magazine;  but  not  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine  or  on  tho  Broadside." 


JOHN  BETEEIDGE. 

John  Beveeidge,  the  author  of  a  volume  of  Latin 
verses,  was  a  native  of  Scotland,  where  he  com- 
menced las  career  as  a  schoolmaster  in  Edinburgh. 
One  of  his  pupils  was  the  blind  poet  Blacklock,  to 
whom  he  afterwards  addressed  some  English 
lines,  in  which  he  gives  the  motives  which  in- 
duced him  to  attempt  poetry,  with  a  Latin  trans- 
lation of  his  friend's  version  of  the  101th  Psalm. 

In  1752  he  removed  to  New  England,  where  he 
remained  five  years,  and  became  intimate  with 
Dr.  Mayhew  and  other  leading  men  of  that  city. 
In  1758  he  was  appointed  Professor  of  Languages 
in  the  college  and  academy  of  Philadelphia. 
Alexander  Graydon,*  who  was  one  of  his  pupils, 
says  "he  retained  the  smack  of  his  vernacular 
tongue  in  its  primitive  purity,"  and  has  preserved 
the  memory,  in  his  Memoirs,  of  some  schoolboy 
anecdotes  which  show  that  he  was  a  poor  disci- 
plinarian. One  of  the  larger  boys  once  pulled  off 
his  wig  under  pretence  of  brushing  off  a  fly  from 
it,  and  a  still  greater  liberty  was  indulged  in  one 
afternoon,  by  suddenly  closing  the  door  and  win- 
dows and  pelting  the  master  with  dictionaries. 
"This  most  intolerable  outrage,"  says  Graydon, 
"  had  a  run  of  several  days,  and  was  only  put  a 
stop  to  by  the  vigorous  interference  of  the  faculty." 
Beveridge,  "  diminutive  in  his  stature,  and  neither 
young  nor  vigorous,"  being  unable  to  'administer 
corporal  punishment  efficient^',  "  after  exhausting 
himself  in  the  vain  attempt  to  denude  the  delin- 
quent, was  generally  glad  to  compound  for  a 
few  strokes  over  his  clothes,  on  any  part  that  was 
accessible." 

Beveridge  pnbli>hed,  in  1765,  a  collection  of 
Latin  poems,  Epistoloa  Familiares et  alia  qvcedam 
miscellanea.^  The  book  is  dedicated  in  Latin  to 
the  provincial  dignitaries,  Penn,  Allan,  Hamilton, 
Smith,  and  Alison.  Next  follow  lines  by  A. 
Alexander,!  "  On  Mr.  Beveridge's  Poetical  Per- 
formances"— a  few  of  which  we  quote. 


*  Graydon's  Memoiis,  35.  Graydon  also  went  to  school  to 
another  writer  of  some  note  in  his  day,  David  James  Dove. 
Dove  sadly  belied  his  name,  his  chief  reputation  being  that  of 
a  savage  satirist.  Hewashornin  England,  and  it  is  said  figures 
in  a  book  mentioned  in  Eoswell's  Johnson,  "The  Life  and  Ad- 
ventures of  the  Chevalier  Taylor.1'  Dove  was  English  teacher 
in  the  Philadelphia  Academy,  but;  quarrelling  with  the  trustees, 
took  charge  of  the  Germantown  Academy  on  its  organization 
in  1762.  He  soon  got  into  a  quarrel  here  also,  and  started  an 
opposition  school  in  a  house  which  he  built  on  an  adjoining 
lot.    The  enterprise  shortly  fell  through. 

Dove  applied  his  humor  to  the  management  of  his  school  as 
well  as  to  the  composition  of  his  satires.  "His  birch,"  says 
Graydon,  "  was  rarely  used  in  canonical  method,  but  was  gene- 
rally stuck  into  the  back  part  of  the  collar  of  the  unfortunate 
culprit,  who,  with  this  badge  of  disgrace  towering  from  his  nape 
like  a  broom  at  the  mast-head  of  a  vessel  for  sale,  was  com- 
pelled to  take  his  stand  upon  the  top  of  the  form,  for  such  a 
period  of  time  as  his  offence  was  thought  to  deserve."  Boys 
who  were  late  in  appearing  in  the  morning  were  waited  upon 
by  a  deputation  of  scholars  and  escorted  with  bell  and  lighted 
lantern  through  the  streets  to  school.  He  was  once  late  himself, 
and  submitted  with  a  good  grace  to  the  same  attentions,  which 
his  pupils  did  not  lose  an  opportunity  of  bestowing. 

Dove's  satires  have  passed  away  with  the  incidents  and  per- 
sonages which  gave  them  birth.  They  appeared  in  the  peri- 
odicals of  the  day. 

+  Epistolae  Familiares  et  Alia  qujednm  miscellanea.  Familiar 
Epistles,  and  other  Miscellaneous  Pieces — wrote  originally  in 
Latin  verse.  By  John  Beveridge,  A.M.,  Professor  of  Langua- 
ges in  the  Academy  of  Philadelphia.  To  which  are  added 
several  translations  into  English  verse,  by  different  Hands,  &c. 
Philadelphia,  printed  for  the  Author  by  William  Bradford, 
1765,  88  8vo.  pages,  16  of  which  are  closely  printed. 

t  Alexander,  a  fine  classical  scholar,  was  appointed  a  tutor  in 
the  college  after  he  was  graduated,  but,  becoming  involved  in 
pecuniary  embarrassments,  quitted  the  city  soon  after  entering 
upon  his  duties.— Fisher's  Early  Poets  of  Pa. 


JOHN  BEViiRIDGK 


129 


If  music  sweet  -delight  your  ravish'd  ear, 

No  music's  sweeter  than  the  numbers  here. 

In  former  times  fam'd  Maro  smoothly  sung, 

But  still  he  warbled  in  his  native  tongue ; 

His  tow'ring  thoughts  and  soft  enchanting  lays 

Long  since  have  crown'd  him  with  immortal  bays; 

But  ne'er  did  Maro  such  high  glory  seek 

As  to  excel  Mseonides  in  Greek. 

Here  you  may  view  a  bard  of  modern  time, 

Who  claims  fair  Scotland  as  his  native  clime, 

Contend  with  Flaccus  on  the  Eoman  Lyre, 

His  humour  catch  and  glow  with  kindred  fire. 

When  some  gay  rural  landscape  proves  his  theme, 

Some  sweet  retirement  or  some  silver  stream; 

Nature's  unfolded  in  his  melting  song, 

The  brooks  in  softer  murmurs  glide  along, 

The  gales  blow  gentler  thro'  the  nestling  trees, 

More  aromatic  fragrance  fills  the  breeze: 

Tiber,  the  theme  of  many  a  bard's  essay, 

Is  sweetly  rival'd  here  in  Casco  Bay. 

The  epistlea  are  forty-six  in  number,  two  of 
■which  are  in  English.  The  forty-third  is  ad- 
dressed, "  Ad  praicellentiss.  Tho.  Penn.  Pennsyl- 
vania Proprietarium,  seu  (Latine)  Dominum."  Of 
the  two  in  English  the  second  is  addressed  to 
Thomas  Blacklock,  "  the  celebrated  blind  poet, 
who  was  taught  his  Latin  by  the  author,"  as  he 
informs  us  in  a  note.  The  first  is  so  pleasantly 
written  that  it  will  bear  quotation  in  part. 

TO       ********. 

Dear  Sir,  methinks  I  see  you  smile, 
To  find  the  muse  does  you  beguile, 
Stealing  upon  you  by  a  wile. 

And  in  a  dress  unusual ; 
Know  then  she's  fond,  in  her  new  cloth, 
To  visit  you  and  madam  both  : 
Then  treat  her  kindly,  she  is  loath 

To  meet  with  a  refusal. 

In  the  enjoyment  of  your  wife, 
She  wishes  long  and  happy  life, 
Secure  from  trouble,  care,  and  strife, 

And  then  a  generation 
Of  boys  and  girls ;  a  hopeful  race, 
Their  aged  parents'  crown  and  grace; 
Skilful  in  war,  and  when  'tis  peace 

The  glory  of  their  n^ion. 

May  never  want  your  steps  pursue, 
Nor  watchful  care  contract  your  brow : 
The  horn  of  plenty  be  your  due. 

With  health  and  skill  to  use  it. 
No  narrow  views  debase  your  soul ; 
May  you  ne'er  want  a  cheerful  bowl, 
To  treat  a  friend,  and  cares  controul; 

But  yet  do  not  abuse  it. 

Improve  the  days  that  are  serene  ; 
Make  hay  while  yet  the  sun  doth  shine, 
Twill  not  avail  you  to  repine  ; 

Take  care  lest  here  you  blunder. 
You  can't  recall  the  by-past  hours, 
The  present  time  is  only  yours; 
The  warmest  day  brings  quickest  show'rs, 

And  often,  too,  with  thunder. 

And  storms  will  happen  ;  when  'tis  so, 
Low'r  down  the  sails  and  let  'em  blow : 
Or  guard  yourself  at  least  from  woe, 

By  yielding  to  the  billows. 
Tempests  will  rend  the  stubborn  oak, 
The  tallest  pines  are  soonest  broke, 
And  yield  beneath  the  furious  stroke 

Which  never  hurts  the  willows. 
vol.  r. — 9 


Tho'  sometimes  they  may  make  you  smart, 
Take  curtain  lectures  in  good  part ; 
I  think  philosopher  thou  art, 

And  know'st  how  to  improve  them. 
The  doctor's  pills,  altho'  they're  bitter, 
And  maj7  at  present  raise  a  spl — r, 
Yet  as  they  tend  the  health  to  better, 

We  take,  but  do  not  love  them. 

Now  to  your  fair  I  this  would  say : 
As  's  heart  you  stole  away, — 

"  Stole!     No,  dear  Sir,  he  gave  it." 
— Weil,  giv'n  or  stol'n  I'll  not  contend, 
And  here  will  let  that  matter  end; 

But  next  contrive  to  save  it. 

I  mean  to  save  it  for  yourself, 
Or  else  the  cunning,  wayward  elf, 

Perchance  may  sometimes  wander. 
Unjustly  all  our  nymphs  complain 
Their  empire  holds  too  short  a  reign, 

Yet  do  not  at  this  wonder. 

If  you  your  empire  would  maintain, 
Use  the  same  arts  that  did  it  gain, 

Success  will  never  fail  you. 
At  ev'ry  trifle  scorn  offence, 
Which  shows  great  pride  or  little  sense,    * 

And  never  will  avail  you. 

Shun  av'rice,  vanity,  and  pride ; 
High  titles,  empty  toys  deride, 

Tho'  glitt'ring  in  the  fashions. 
You're  wealthy  if  you  are  content, 
For  pow'r,  its  amplest  best  extent, 

Is  empire  o'er  the  passions, 

'Tis  not  on  madam's  heavenly  face, 
His  ever  constant  love  he'll  place  ; 

Oidy  consult  your  glasses  : 
For  beauty,  like  the  new  blown  flow'r, 
Lives  but  the  glory  of  an  hour, 

And  then  forever  passes. 

The  graces  of  your  mind  display, 
When  transient  beauties  fly  away, 

Than  empty  phantoms  fleeter* 
Then  as  the  hours  of  life  decline, 
You  like  the  setting  sun  shall  shine, 

With  milder  raj's  and  sweeter. 

The  translations  are  thus  apologetically  intro- 
duced :  "  The  Editor  begs  a  little  indulgence  for 
them,  as  they  are  all  (except  Dr.  Mayhew's  and 
Mr.  Morton's,)  done  by  students  under  age ;  and 
if  the  Critic  will  only  bear  with  them,  till  their 
understandings  are  mature,  I  apprehend  they  are 
in  a  fair  way  of  doing  better."      Several  are  by 

Thomas  Coombe,  A.  Alexander,  A.  B.,  and  T 

II ,  student  in  philosophy;  W J ■,  N/. 

Evans,  A.  M.,  and  Stephen  Watts,*  contribute  one 
or  two  each.  Maybe  w  furnishes  two,  the  first  of 
which  trips  oft'  pleasantly : 

Dear  Thomas,  of  congenial  soul, 
My  first  acquaintance  in  the  school ; 
With  whom  I  oft  have  worn  away, 
In  mirthful  jests  the  loit'riug  day. 
Treading  the  dialectic  road 
Of  major,  minor,  figure,  mood. 


*  Watts  published,  at  an  early  age,  an  "  Essay  on  the  Advan- 
tages of  a  Perpetual  Union  between  Great  Britain  and  her 
Colonies,"  which  was  received  with  great  favor.  He  after- 
wards removed  to  Louisiana,  where  he  married  a  daughter  of 
the  Spanish  Governor. — Fither's  Early  Poets  of  Pa, 


130 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


THOMAS  COOMBK. 
Thomas  Coombe,  who  first  appears  in  our  litera- 
ture as  a  translator  of  some  of  his  teacher  Beve- 
ridge's  Latin  poems,  was  a  native  of  Philadelphia, 
and  after  concluding  his  course  at  the  College, 
studied  theology,  and  visiting  England  to  take 
orders,  was  on  his  return  appointed  an  assistant 
minister  of  Christ  Church.  He  sided  with  the 
liberal  part}-  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution, 
but  disapproving  of  the  separation  from  England, 
joined  after  that  event  the  tory  party.  He  was, 
in  1777,  banished  with  others,  by  the  legislature, 
to  Staunton,  Virginia,  but  was  allowed  on  the 
score  of  sickness  to  remain.  He  soon  after  went 
to  England.  The  Earl  of  Carlisle  made  him  his 
chaplain,  and  he  finally  became  a  Prebendary  of 
Canterbury,  and  one  of  the  royal  chaplains.* 
In  1775,  he  published  in  London  a  short  narrative 
poem.  The  Peasant  of  Auburn,  or  the  Emigrant.^ 
accompanied  by  a  few  smaller  pieces.  The  tract 
is  dedicated  to  Goldsmith,  and  seems  designed  as 
a  continuation  of  the  Deserted  Village.  It  pre- 
sents a  lugubrious  picture  of  the  fortunes  of  an 
emigrant.  We  quote  a  few  of  its  closing  pages. 
Edwin,  a  wanderer  on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio, 
relates  his  mournful  experiences. 

Much  had  I  heard  from  men  uiras'd  to  feign, 
Of  this  New  World,  and  freedom's  gentle  reign. 
'Twas  fam'd  that  here,  by  no  proud  master  spurn'd  ; 
The  poor  man  ate  secure  the  bread  he  earned  ; 
That  verdant  vales  were  fed  by  brighter  streams 
Than  my  own  Medway,  or  the  silver  Thames: 
Fields  without  bounds,  spontaneous  fruitage  bore, 
And  peace  and  virtue  bless'd  the  favord  shore. 
Such  were  the  hopes  which  once  beguil'd  my  care 
Hopes  form'd  in  dreams,  and  baseless  as  the  air. 

Is  this,  0  dire  reverse,  is  this  the  land, 
Where  nature  sway'd,  and  peaceful  worthies  plann'd? 
Where  injured  freedom,  through  the  world  impell'd, 
Her  hallow'd  seat,  her  last  asylum  held  ! 
Ye  glittering  towns  that  crown  th'  Atlantic  deep, 
Witness  the  change,  and  as  ye  witness  weep. 
Mourn  all  ye  streams,  and  all  ye  fields  deplore, 
Your  slaughter' d  sons,  your   verdure   stain'd   with 

gore. 
Time  was,  blest  time,  to  weeping  thousands  dear, 
When  all  that  poets  picture  flourished  here. 
Then  War  was  not,  Religion  smil'd  and  spread, 
Arts,  Manners,  Learning,  rear'd  their  polish'd  head  ; 
Commerce,  her  sails  to  every  breeze  unfurl'd, 
Pour'd  on  these  coasts  the  treasures  of  the  world. 
Past  are  those  halcyon  days.     The  very  land 
Droops  a  weak  mourner,  wither'd  and  unmann'd. 
Brothers  'gainst  brothers  rise  in  vengeful  strife ;  . 
The  parent's  weapon  drinks  the  children's  life, 
Sons,  leagued   witB   foes,   unsheath   their   impious 

sword, 
And  gore  the  nurturing  breast  they  had  ador'd. 

How  vain  my  search  to  find  some  lowlv  bower, 
Far  from  those  scenes  of  death,  this  rage  for  power ; 
Some  quiet  spot,  conceal'd  from  every  eye, 
In  which  to  pause  from  woe,  and  calmly  die. 
No  such  retreat  the  boundless  shades  embrace, 
But  man  with  beast  divides  the  bloody  chase. 
What  tho'  some  cottage  rise  amid  the  gloom, 
In  vain  its  pastures  spring,  its  orchards  bloom ; 

*  Fisher's  Early  Poets  of  Pa.  98. 

t  The  Peasant  of  Auburn,  or  the  Emigrant.  A  Poem.  By 
T.  Coombe,  D-D.  "  The  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  Poor," 
Gray.  PhiL  Enoch  Story.  Jnn.  (no  date.)  Coombe  was 
evidently,  from  some  lines  in  his  poem,  a  reader  of  Collins's 
Eclogues  as  well  as  of  Goldsmith. 


Far,  far  away  the  wretched  owners  roam. 
Exiles  like  me,  the  world  their  only  home. 

Here  as  I  trace  my  melancholy  way, 

The  prowling  Indian  snuffs  his  wonted  prey, 

Ha!  should  I  meet  him  in  his  dusky  round — 

Late  in  these  woods  I  heard  his  murderous  sound — 

Still  the  deep  war  hoop  vibrates  on  mine  ear, 

And  still  I  hear  his  tread,  or  seem  to  hear — 

Hark!  the  leaves  rustle !  what  a  shriek  was  there! 

"Tishe!  tishe!  his,  triumphs  rend  the  air. 

Hold,  coward  heart,  I'll  answer  to  the  yell, 

And  chase  the  murderer  to  his  gory  celL 

Savage ! — but  oh  !  I  rave — o'er  yonder  wild, 

E'en  at  this  hour  he  drives  my  only  child ; 

She,  the  dear  source  and  soother  of  my  pain, 

My  tender  daughter,  drags  the  captive  chain. 

Ah  my  poor  Lucy  !  in  whose  face,  whose  breast, 
My  long-lost  limma  liv'd  again  contest, 
Thus  robb'd  of  thee,  and  every  comfort  fled, 
Soon  shall  the  turf  infold  this  weary  head  ;  • 

Soon  shall  my  spirit  reach  that  peaceful  shore, 
Where  bleeding  friends  unite,  to  part  no  more. 
When  shall  I  cease  to  rue  the  fatal  morn 
When  first  from  Auburn's  vale  I  roam'd  forlorn. 

He  spake — and  frantic  with  the  sad  review 
Prone  on  the  shore  his  tottering  limbs  he  threw. 
Life's  crimson  strings  were  bursting  round  his  heart, 
And  his  torn  soul  was  throbbing  to  depart ; 
No  pitying  friend,  no  meek-ey'd  stranger  near, 
To  tend  his  throes,  or  calm  them  with  a  tear. 
Angels  of  grace,  your  golden  pinions  spread, 
Temper  the  winds,  and  shield  his  houseless  head. 
Let  no  rude  sounds  disturb  life's  awful  close, 
And  guard  his  relics  from  inhuman  foes. 
O  haste  and  waft  liim  to  those  radiant  plains, 
Where  fiends  torment   no  more,  and   love  eternal 
reigns. 

THOMAS  HUTCHINSON. 

Thomas  HuTcncreox,  the  celebrated  Governor 
of  Massachusetts  at  the  outset  of  the  revolution, 
was  a  descendant  of  Ann  Hutchinson,  and  a  son 
of  Colonel  Thomas  Hutchinson,  a  leading  mer- 
chant and  member  of  the  council  of  the  colony. 
He  was  born  in  1711,  and  was  graduated  at  Har- 
vard in  17*27.  He  commenced  his  career  as  a 
merchant,  but  failing  in  that  pursuit  studied  law. 


tf?^ 


Ho  was  chosen  a  selectman  of  Boston  in  1738, 
and  appointed  the  agent  of  the  town  to  visit  Lon- 
don in  the  discharge  of  important  business,  a  duty 
which  he  performed  with  great  success.  After 
bis  return,  he  was  for  ten  years  a  member,  and  for 
three  the  speaker  of  the  colonial  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives, where  he  obtained  a  great  reputation 
as  a  debater  and  efficient  presiding  officer.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  council  from  1749  to  1766, 
and  lieutenant-governor  from  1758  to  1771.  He 
was  also  appointed  a  judge  of  probate  in  1752,. 
and  chief-justice  in  1760.  During  the  agitation 
which  followed  the  passage  of  the  Stamp-Act,  in 
consequence  of  a  report  that  he  had  expressed  an 
opinion  in  favor  of  that  unpopular  measure,  his 
house  was  twice  attacked  by  a  mob.  On  the 
first  occasion  the  windows  were  broken,  and  a 
few  evenings  after,  on  the  26th  of  August,  the 


EARLY  CAROLINA  LITERATURE. 


131 


doors  forced  open,  the  furniture  and  -woodwork 
destroyed,  and  the  house  remained  in  possession 
of  the  rioters  until  morning.  A  great  number  of 
public  and  private  documents  were  also  destroyed. 
The  town  passed  resolutions  condemnatory  of  the 
act,  and  some  six  or  eight  persons  were  impri- 
soned, who  were  speedily  set  at  liberty  by  a  com- 
pany, who,  by  threatening  the.juilor,  obtained  the 
keys.  Hutchinson  was  indemnified  for  his  losses 
by  a  public  grant. 

A  new  subject  of  controversy  arose  in  1767  in 
consequence  of  his  taking  a  seat  in  the  council  in 
virtue  of  his  office  as  lieutenant-governor.  He 
abandoned  his  claim  to  a  seat,  and  was  a  few 
days  after  appointed  one  of  the  commissioners  for 
settling  the  boundary  line  with  New  York,  a  duty 
which  he  discharged  greatly  to  the  advantage  of 
the  colony. 

On  the  departure  of  Governor  Bernard,  in  1760, 
the  whole  duties  of  the  office  fell  upon  his  lieu- 
tenant. Fresh  difficulties  arose,  and  he  had  for- 
warded a  request  to  England  to  be  discharged 
from  office,  when  he  received  the  announcement 
of  his  appointment  as  governor.  He  accepted  the 
office.  He  continued  to  increase  in  unpopularity 
with  the  council  and  people  in  consequence  of  the 
publication  of  the  letters  written  by  him  to  Eng- 
land, which  were  discovered  and  sent  back  by 
Franklin.  The  council  and  house  voted  an  ad- 
dress for  his  removal,  but  his  conduct  was  ap- 
proved by  the  king. 

He  was,  however,  removed  after  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  tea  in  Boston  harbor,  and  General 
Gage  appointed  in  his  place.  Although  notified 
by  Gage  on  his  arrival,  May  13,  that  the  king  in- 
tended to  reinstate  him  as  soon  as  Gage's  military 
duties  called  him  elsewhere,  he  sailed  for  England 
on  the  first  of  June  following.  He  received  a 
pension  from  the  English  government,  which  was 
inadequate  to  the  liberal  support  of  his  family,  and 
after,  according  to  the  account  of  John  Adams, 
"  being  laughed  at  by  the  courtiers  for  his  man- 
ners at  the  levee,  searching  his  pockets  for  letters 
to  read  to  the  king,  and  the  king's  turning  away 
from  him  with  his  nose  up,"  lived  in  retirement 
at  Brompton,  where  he  died,  June  3,  1780. 

Hutchinson  was  the  author  of  a  History  of  the 
Colon  ij  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  from  its  First  Set- 
tlement in  1628  to  the  year  1750,  in  two  volumes, 
the  first  of  which  was  published  in  1760,  and  the 
second  in  1767.  A  third,  bringing  the  narrative 
down  to  1774,  was  published  from  a  manuscript 
left  behind  him  after  his  decease,  by  his  grandson 
the  Rev.  John  Hutchinson,  of  Trentham,  England, 
in  1828.  He  also  published  various  pamphlets, 
and  a  volume  of  documents  relative  to  the  history 
of  the  colonv  in  1769. 


EARLY  CAROLINA  LITERATURE. 
There  were  comparatively  few  early  produc- 
tions of  the  historic  class  in  the  Carolina-^.  The 
population  was  scant;  the  wonder  of  the  early 
settlements  had  abated,  and  the  settlers  were  not 
a  writing  people.  Several  historic  tracts  may  be 
mentioned. 

T.  A.,  Gent.  (Thomas  Ashe),  clerk  on  board  his 
Majesty's  ship  the  Richmond,  sent  out  in  1680, 
published  on  his  return  in  1682,  Carolina;  or  a 
Description  of  the  Present  state  of  that  country, 


and  the  natural  excellencies  therof ;  namely,  the 
Healthfullness  of  the  Air,  Pleasantness  of  the 
Place,  Advantages  and  Usefulness  of  those  rich 
Commodities  there  plentifully  abounding,  which 
much  encrease  and  flourish  by  the  industry  of  the 
planters  that  daily  enlarge  that  colony.  It  forms 
twenty-six  octavo  pages  in  the  reprint  in  Carroll's 
Collections.* 

John  Archdale,  late  Governor  of  the  province, 
printed  at  London  in  1707,  A  new  descriptionof 
that  fertile  and  pleasant  Province  of  Carolina; 
with  a  brief  account  of  its  discovery  and  settling, 
and  the  government  thereof  to  this  time.  With 
several  remarkable  passages  of  Divine  Providence 
during  my  time.  It  forms  thirty-six  pages  of 
Carroll's  Collection,  and  is  chiefly  occupied  with 
the  discussions  arising  under  his  administration.t 
In  1708,  John  Stevens  published  in  his  new  col- 
lection of  voyages  and  travels,  a  New  Voyage  to 
Carolina,  with  a  journal  of  a  Thousand  Miles 
Travelled  through  several  nations  of  Indians,  by 
John  Lawson,  Surveyor  General  of  North  Caro- 
lina. It  was  published  in  a  separate  form  in 
1709.J  Lawson  was  captured  while  exploring 
lands  in  North  Carolina,  and  sacrificed  by  the  In- 
dians in  the  war  of  1712.§ 

The  earliest  literature  in  South  Carolina  was 
scientific,  medical,  and  theological,  and  came  from 
intelligent  foreigners  who  took  up  their  residence 
in  the  country.  The  education  of  the  sons  of  the 
wealthy  classes  was  carried  on  in  Europe,  and 
continued  to  be  through  the  Colonial  era.  Dr. 
John  Lining,  a  native  of  Scotland,  in  1753,  pub- 
lished at  Charleston  a  history  of  the  Yellow 
Fever,  the  first  which  had  appeared  on  this  con- 
tinent. He  was  a  correspondent  of  Franklin,  and 
pursued  scientific  studies.  He  died  in  1760,  in 
his  fifty-second  year,  having  practised  medicine 
in  Charleston  for  nearly  thirty  years.  Dr.  Lio- 
nel Chalmers,  also  a  Scotchman,  was  long  esta- 
blished in  the  state,  and  published  an  Essay  on 
Fevers  at  Charleston  in  1767.  He  was  the  author, 
too,  of  a  work  on  the  Weather  and  Diseases  of 
South  Carolina,  which  was  issued  in  London  in 
1776,  the  year  before  his  death. 

Dr.  Alexander  Garden  was  born  in  Scotland 
about  the  year  1728,  and  was  the  son  of  the  Rev. 
Alex.  Garden,  of  the  parish  of  Birse,  who,  during 
the  Rebellion  in  the  years  1745  and  1746,  was 
distinguished  by  his  exertions  in  favor  of  the 
family  of  Hanover,  and  by  his  interposition  in 
behalf  of  the  followers  of  the  house  of  Stuart  after 
their  defeat  at  Culloden. 

Dr.  Garden  studied  philosophy  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Aberdeen,  and  received  his  first  medical 
education  under  the  celebrated  Dr.  John  Gregory. 
He  arrived  in  South  Carolina  about  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  commenced  the 
practice  of  physic  in  Prince  William's  parish,  in 
connexion  with  Dr.  Rose.  Here  he  began  his 
botanic  studies,  but  was  obliged  to  take  a  voyage 
northward  for  his  health. 

In  1754  he  went  to  New  York,  where  a  pro- 
fessorship in  the  college,  recently  formed  in  that 


*  Historical  Collections  of  South  Carolina.  By  B.  R.  Carroll. 
Harpers,  New  York.    2  vols.  Svo.  1886. 

t  It  was  separately  reprinted  by  A.  E.  Miller.  Charleston, 
1822. 

±  Rich's  Bib.  Americana. 

§  Holmes1  Annals,  i.  5u7. 


132 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


city,  was  offered  him.  On  his  return,  he  settled 
in  Charleston,  acquired  a  fortune  by  his  practice, 
and  a  high  reputation  for  literature.  During  that 
period  he  gave  to  the  public  An  Account  of  the 
Pink  Root  (Spigelia  marilandica),  with  its  Uses 
as  a  Vermifuge  ;  A  Description  of  the  ffelesia, 
read  before  the  Koyal  Society ;  An  Account  of  the 
Male  and  Female  Cochineal  Insects;  An  Account 
of  the  Amphibious  Biped  (the  Mud,  Inguana  or 
Syren  of  South  Carolina)  :  An  Account  of  two 
new  Species  of  Tortoises,  and  another  of  the 
Gymnotus  Electricus,  to  different  correspondents, 
and  published. 

In  compliment  to  him,  Linnsaus  gave  the  name 
of  Gardenia  to  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
fragrant  flowering  shrubs  in  the  world.  He  was 
elected  a  Fellow  of  the  Koyal  Society  of  London, 
and  on  his  arrival  there,  in  1783,  was  appointed 
one  of  its  council,  and  subsequently  one  of  its 
vice-presidents. 

Dr.  Garden's  pulmonic  disease,  which  had  been 
suspended  during  his  long  residence  in  South 
Carolina,  now  returned  upon  him.  He  went  for 
health  to  the  continent,  and  received  great  kind- 
ness and  distinguished  compliments  from  the  lite- 
rati everywhere,  but  did  not  improve  in  health. 
He  died  in  London  in  the  year  1792,  aged  sixty- 
four  years.* 

The  Rev.  Alexander  Garden,  who  was  also 
from  Scotland,  came  to  Charleston  about  1720, 
and  died  there  in  1756,  at  an  advanced  age.  He 
was  a  clergyman  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  learned 
and  charitable.  He  published  several  theological 
writings,  including  Letters  to  Whitefield,  and  the 
Doctrine  of  Justification  Vindicated.  The  Rev. 
Richard  Clarke,  from  England,  was  Rector  of  St. 
Philip's,  in  Charleston,  a  good  classical  scholar. 
He  published  on  the  prophecies  and  universal 
redemption.  The  Rev.  Isaac  Chanler,  and  the 
Rev.  Henry  Haywood,  two  Baptist  clergymen  of 
the  State,"  also  published  several  theological 
writings. 

The  distinguished  naturalist,  Mark  Catesby, 
passed  several  years  in  South  Carolina,  engaged 
in  the  researches  for  his  Natural  History.  He 
was  born  in  England  in  1679.  He  first  visited 
Virginia,  where  some  of  his  relations  resided, 
in  1712,  remaining  there  seven  years  collect- 
ing plants,  and  studying  the  productions  of 
the  country.  Returning  to  England,  he  was  led 
by  his  scientific  friends,  Sir  Hans  Sloane  and 
others,  to  revisit  America,  and  took  up  his  resi- 
dence in  South  Carolina  in  1722.  He  traversed 
the  coast,  and  made  distant  excursions  into  the 
interior,  and  visited  the  Bahamas,  collccti  ng  the 
materials  for  his  work,  the  first  volume  of  which 
was  completed  in  1732,  and  the  second  in  1743. 
The  plates,  then  the  most  costly  which  had  been 
devoted  to  the  Natural  History  of  America,  were 
completed  in  1718.  A  second  edition  was  pub- 
lished in  1754,t  and  a  third  in  1771.  Catesby 
died  in  London  in  1749, 


*  Ramsay's  Biojr.  Sketches,  appended  to  the  second  volume 
of  his  History  of  South  Carolina. 

t  The  Natural  History  of  Carolina,  Florida,  and  the  Bahama 
Islands,  containing  the  figures  of  Birds,  Beasts,  Fishes,  Ser- 

Eents,  Insects,  and  Plants :  particularly  the  Forest  Trees, 
brubs,  and  other  plants  not  hitherto  described,  or  very  incor- 
rectly figured  by  authors,  together  with  their  Descriptions  in 
English  an/1  French,  to  which  are  added  Observations  on  the 


JOHN  OSBOEN. 

John  Osboen  was  born  in  1713  at  Sandwick,  a 
village  on  Cape  Cod  Bay.     His  father  was  a 
schoolmaster,  and  subsequently  a  clergyman,  but 
varied  his  scholastic  by  agricultural  labors.     The 
son  received  a  similarly  practical  education,  en- 
tered Harvard  college  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  and 
after  being  graduated  studied  theology.     At  the 
expiration  of  two  years  he  read  a  sermon  before 
the  assembled  clergy  of  the  neighborhood  with  a 
view  of  soliciting  ordination,  but  the  decision  of 
his  auditors  being  adverse  to  the  doctrines,  though 
laudatory  of  the  literary  merits  of  the  discourse, 
he  was  refused  their  recommendation.     He  then 
studied  medicine  and  was  admitted  to  practice. 
He  was  offered  a  tutorship  in  Harvard  college, 
1  but  declined  the  appointment  as  a  bachelorship 
was  one  of  the  conditions  of  its  tenure,  and  he 
!  was  about  to  become  a  married  man.     He  soon 
I   after  married  Miss  Doane,  of  Chatham,  and  re- 
'   moved  to  Middletown,  Conn.     In  a  letter  to  his 
j   sister  in  March,  1753,  he  complains  of  being  con- 
|  fined  to  the  house,  "weak,  lame,  and  uneasy," 
!  and  of  having  "  lingered  almost  two  years,  a  life 
j  not  worth   having."     He   died  May  31  of  the 
same  year,  leaving  six  children.     Two  of  these, 
John  and  John  C,  became  eminent  physicians 
and  cultivated  men.    John  published  before  the 
revolution  a  translation  of  Condamine's  Treatise 
on  Inoculation,  with  an  Appendix ;  and  Joel  Bar- 
low submitted  his  manuscript  of  the  Vision  of 
Columbus  to  his  brother  and  Richard  Alsop  for 
review  before  its  publication. 

Two  brief  poems,  The  Whaling  Song  and  An 
Elegiac  Epistle  on  the  Death  of  a  Sister,  are  sup- 
posed to  comprise  all  that  Osborn  has  written. 
One  of  these  has  enjoyed  a  very  wide  popularity 
among  the  class  to  whom  it  was  addressed.* 

A  WHALING  SONG. 

When  spring  returns  with  western  gales, 

And  gentle  breezes  sweep 
The  ruffling  seas,  we  spread  our  sails 

To  plough  the  wat'ry  deep. 

For  killing  northern  whales  prepared, 

Our  nimble  boats  on  board, 
With  craft  and  rum  (our  chief  regard) 

And  good  provisions  stored, 

Cape  Cod,  our  dearest  native  land, 

We  leave  astern,  and  lose 
Its  sinking  cliffs  and  lessening  sands. 

While  Zephyr  gently  blows. 

Bold,  hardy  men,  with  blooming  age, 

Our  sandy  shores  produce ; 
With  monstrous  fish  they  dare  engage, 

And  dangerous  callings  choose. 

Now  towards  the  early  dawning  east 

We  speed  our  course  away, 
With  eager  minds,  and  joyful  hearts, 

To  meet  the  rising  day. 

Then  as  we  turn  our  wondering  eyes, 

We  view  one  constant  show  ; 
Above,  around,  the  circling  skies, 

The  rolling  seas  below. 


Air,  Soil,  and  Waters:  with  Remarks  upon  Agriculture,  Grain, 
Pulse,  Boots,  &c,  by  the  late  Mark  Catesby,  F.R.S.    Revised 
by  Mr.  Edwards,  of  the  Royal  College  of  Physicians,  London, 
2  vols,  folio,  Lond.  1754. 
*  Kettell's  Specimens ;  Thacher's  Med.  Biog.  \  Allen ;  Eliot. 


JOHN  ADAMS. 


133 


When  eastward,  clear  of  Newfoundland, 

We  stem  the  frozen  pole, 
We  see  the  icy  islands  stand, 

The  northern  billows  roll. 

As  to  the  north  we  make  our  way, 

Surprising  scenes  we  find  ; 
We  lengthen  out  the  tedious  day, 

And  leave  the  night  behind. 

Now  see  the  northern  regions,  where 

Eternal  winter  reigns: 
One  day  and  night  fills  up  the  year, 

And  endless  cold  maintains. 

We  view  the  monstej's  of  the  deep, 
Great  whales  in  numerous  swarms  ; 

And  creatures  there,  that  play  and  leap, 
Of  strange,  unusual  forms. 

When  in  our  station  we  are  placed, 

And  whales  around  us  play, 
We  launch  our  boats  into  the  main, 

And  swiftly  chase  our  prey. 

In  haste  we  ply  our  nimble  oars, 

For  an  assault  design'd  ; 
The  sea  beneath  us  foams  and  roars, 

And  leaves  a  wake  behind. 

A  mighty  whale  we  rush  upon, 

And  in  our  irons  throw  : 
She  sinks  her  monstrous  body  down 

Among  the  waves  below. 

And  when  she  rises  out  again, 

We  soon  renew  the  fight ; 
Thrust  our  sharp  lances  in  amain, 

And  all  her  rage  excite. 

Enraged,  she  makes  a  mighty  bound ; 

Thick  foams  the  whiten'd  sea ; 
The  waves  in  circles  rise  around, 

And  widening  roll  away. 

She  thrashes  with  her  tail  around, 
And  blows  her  redd'niug  breath ; 

She  breaks  the  air,  a  deaf'ning  sound, 
While  ocean  groans  beneath. 

From  numerous  wounds,  with  crimson  flood, 

She  stains  the  frothy  seas, 
Ami  gasps,  and  blows  her  latest  blood, 

While  quivering  life  decays. 

With  joyful  hearts  we  see  her  die, 

And  on  the  surface  lay  ; 
While  all  with  eager  haste  apply, 

To  save  our  deathful  pre}'. 

THE  EET.  JOHN  ADAMS. 
The  publisher  of  the  Poems  on  several  occa- 
sion*, Original  and  Translated,  by  the  late  Reve- 
rend and  Learned  John  Adams,  M.  A.,*  says  in 
his  prefatory  address  to  the  candid  reader  of  his 
author,  "  His  own  works  are  the  best  encomium 
that  can  be  given  him,  and  as  long  as  learning  and 
politeness  shall  prevail,  his  sermom  will  be  his 
monument,  and  his  poetry  bis  epitaph" 

The  epitaph  has  proved  more  enduring  than  the 
monument,  though  even  that  has  hardly  escaped 
being  thrust   irrecoverably  in  "Time's  Wallet." 

*  Poems  on  Several  Occasions.  Orim'nal  and  Translated,  by 
the  late  Reverend  and  Learned  John  Adams,  M.  A.  Hoc 
placuti  semel,  hoc  dtcies  reprtita  placehit.  Hor.  de  Art.  Poet 
Boston.  Printed  for  D.  Gookin.  in  Marlboroagh  street,  over 
against  the  Old  South  Meeting  House.    1745. 


The  Rev.  John  Adams's  little  volume  is  seldom 


JJ. 


Ce^r*^^ 


thought  of  or  seen,  save  by  the  literary  student. 
It  does  not  deserve  the  neglect  into  which  it  has 
fallen. 

His  life,  so  far  as  known,  may  be  narrated  in  a 
sentence.  He  was  the  only  son  of  the  Hon.  John 
Adams,  of  Nova  Scotia,  was  born  in  1704,  gradu- 
ated from  Harvard  in  1721,  was  ordained  and  set- 
tled at  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  contrary,  it  is  said, 
to  the  wishes  of  Mr.  Clap,  the  pastor,  whose  con- 
gregation formed  a  new  society,  leaving  Mr. 
Adams,  who  appears  to  have  been  an  assistant,  to 
officiate  for  two  years,  and  then  be  dismissed. 

He  was  in  great  repute  as  an  eloquent  preacher, 
and  is  described  by  his  uncle,  Matthew  Adams,  as 
"  master  of  nine  languages."  He  died  in  1740,  at 
the  early  age  of  thirty-six  years,  at  Cambridge, 
the  fellows  of  the  College  appearing  as  pall-bear- 
ers, and  the  most  distinguished  persons  of  the 
state  as  mourners  at  bis  funeral. 

His  volume  contains  a  poetical  paraphrase, 
chapter  by  chapter,  of  the  Book  of  Revelation, 
and  of  some  detached  passages  from  other  parts 
of  the  Bible.  Like  most  well  educated  writers 
of  verse,  he  has  tried  his  hand  on  a  few  of  the 
Odes  of  Horace,  and  with  success. 

The  original  poems  consist  of  tributes  to  de- 
ceased friends,  penned  with  ingenuity  and  elo- 
quence, a  poem  in  three  parts  on  Society,  and  a 
few  verses  on  devotional. topics. 

He  was  also  the  author  of  some  verses  addressed 
"  To  a  gentleman  on  the  sight  of  some  of  his 
Poems,"  published  in  "  A  Collection  of  Poems  by 
Several  Hands,"  Boston,  1744.  They  were  ad- 
dressed to  the  Rev.  Mather  Byles,  and  are  stated 
in  a  MS.  note  in  a  copy  of  the  collection,  now  in 
the  possession  of  Mr.  George  Ticknor,  to  be  by 
Adams.  He  was  also  the  author  of  a  poem  on 
the  Love  of  Money. 

His  sermon  delivered  at  his  ordination  in  172S 
was  published.  The  collection  of  his  poems  con- 
tains an  advertisement  that  "  a  number  of  select 
and  excellent  sermons  from  his  pen  are  ready  for 
the  press,  and  upon  suitable  encouragement  will 
be  shortly  published."  But  the  suitable  encou- 
ragement seems  to  have  never  been  received. 

FROM  A  POEM  ON  SOCIETY. 

By  inclination,  and  by  judgment  led, 

A  constant  friend  we  choose,  for  friendship  made. 

His  breast  the  faithful  cabinet  to  hold 

More  precious  secrets,  than  are  gerns  or  gold. 

His  temper  sweetly  suited  to  our  own, 

Where  wit  and  honesty  conspire  in  one, 

And  perfect  breeding,  like  a  beauteous  dress, 

Give  all  his  actions  a  peculiar  grace: 

Whose  lofty  mind  with  high  productions  teems, 

And  fame  unmortal  dazzles  with  its  beams. 

Not  avarice,  nor  odious  flattery 

Lodge  in  his  breast,  nor  can  ascend  so  high ; 

Or  if  they  dare  to  tempt,  he  hurls  them  down, 

Like  Jove  the  rebels,  from  his  reason's  throne. 

Nor  is  his  face  in  anger's  scarlet  drest, 

Nor  black  revenge  eats  up  his  cankcr'd  breast. 

Nor  envy's  furies  in  his  bosom  roll, 

To  lash  with  steely  whips,  his  hideous  soul: 

Not  sour  contempt  sits  on  his  scornful  brow, 


134 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Nor  looks  on  human  nature  sunk  below ; 
But  heavenly  candor,  like  unsullied  day, 
Flames    in    his    thoughts,   and   drives   the    clouds 

away. 
And  all  his  soul  is  peaceful,  like  the  deep, 
When  all  the  warring  winds  are  hush'd  asleep. 
Whose  learning's  pure,  without  the  base  alloy 
Of  rough  ill  manners,  or  worse  pedantry. 
Refin'd  in  taste,  in  judgment  cool  and  clear, 
To  others  gentle,  to  himself  severe. 
But,    most    of   all,   whose   smooth    and    heavenly 

breast, 
Is  with  a  calm  of  conscience  ever  blest : 
Whose  piercing  eyes  disperse  the  flying  gloom, 
Which  hides  the  native  light  of  things  to  come  ; 
And  can  disclose  the  dark  mysterious  maze, 
Thro'  which  we  wind,  in  airy  pleasure's  chace. 
While  after  God  his  panting  bosom  heaves, 
For  whom  the  glittering  goods  of  life  he  leaves. 
With  this  blest  man,  how  longs  my  soul  to  dwell! 
And  all  the  nobler  flights  of  friendship  feel, 
Forever  chain'd  to  his  enchanting  tongue, 
And  with  his  charming  strains  in  consort  strung. 

It  some  retirement,  spread  with  shaded  greens, 
Our  feet  would  wander  thro'  surrounding  scenes ; 
Or  sitting  near  the  murmur  of  the  rills, 
The  grass  our  bed,  our  curtains  echoing  hills ; 
In  mazy  thought  and  contemplation  join, 
Or  speak  of  human  things,  or  themes  divine: 
On  nature's  work  by  gentle  steps  to  rise, 
And  by  this  ladder  gain  th'  impending  skies; 
Follow  the  planets  thro'  their  rolling  spheres, 
Shine  with  the  sun,  or  glow  among  the  stars: 
From  world  to  world,  as  bees  from  flowY  to  flow'r, 
Thro'  nature's  ample  garden  take  our  lour. 
Oh!  could  I  with  a  seraph's  vigor  move! 
Guided  thro'  nature's  trackless  path  to  rove, 
I'd  gaze,  and  ask  the  laws  of  every  Ball, 
Which  rolls  unseen  within  this  mighty  All, 
'Till,  reaching  to  the  verge  of  Nature's  height 
In  God  would  lose  th'  unwearied  length  of  flight. 

But  oh !  what  joys  thro'  various  bosoms  rove, 

As  silver  riv'lets  warble  through  a  grove, 

When  fix'd  on  Zion's  ever-wid'ning  plains, 

The  force  of  friendship  but  increas'd  remains: 

When  friend  to  friend,  in  robes  immortal  drest, 

With  heighten'd  graces  shall  be  seen  contest; 

And  with  a  triumph,  all  divine,  relate 

The  finish'd  labours  of  this  gloomy  state : 

How  heavenly  glory  dries  their  former  grief, 

All  op'ning  from  the  puzzled  maze  of  life  ; 

How  scenes  on  scenes,  and  J03's  on  joys  arise, 

And  fairer  visions  charm  on  keener  eyes. 

Here  each  will  find  his  friend  a  bubbling  source, 

Forever  fruitful  in  divine  discourse: 

No  common  themes  will  grace  their  flowing  tongues, 

No  common  subjects  will  inspire  their  songs : 

United,  ne'er  to  part,  but  still  to  spend 

A  jubilee  of  rapture  without  end — 

But  oh!  my  Muse,  from  this  amazing  height 

Descend,  and  downward  trace  thy  dangerous  flight; 

Some  angel  best  becomes  such  lofty  things, 

With   skill   to   guide,   and   strength    to    urge    his 

wings : 
To  lower  strains,  confine  thy  humble  lays, 
'Till,  by  experience  taught,  thou  learn  to  praise. 

In  handling  the  following  pathetic  theme  he 
touches  the  lyre  with  no  trembling  hand. 

TO  MY  HONOURED  FATHER  ON  THE  LOSS  OF  niS  BIGHT. 

Now  Heav'n  has  quench'd  the  vivid  orbs  of  light, 
By  which  all  nature  glitter'd  to  your  sight, 


And  universal  darkness  has  o'er-spread 

The  splendid  honours  of  your  aged  head  ; 

Let  faith  light  up  its  strong  and  piercing  eye, 

And  in  remoter  realms  new  worlds  descry: 

Faith,  which  the  mind  with  fairer  glories  fills. 

Than  human  sight  to  human  sense  reveals. 

See  Jrsus,  sitting  on  a  flamy  throne, 

Whose  piercing  beams  the  vailing  angels  own  ; 

While  bowing  seraphs,  blissful,  clap  their  wings, 

Ting'd  with  the  light  that  from  his  presence  springs, 

You,  who  car;  touch  the  strings  to  melting  ails, 

And  with  melodious  trills  enchant  our  ears, 

May,  wing'd  by  faith,  to  heavenly  vocal  plains, 

In  fancy's  organ,  drink  subbmer  strains: 

The  sounds,  which  love  and  sacred  joys  inspire, 

Which  pour  the  music  from  the  raptur'd  choir. 

Tho',  now  the  net  is  wove  before  your  sight, 

The  web,  unfolding  soon,  will  give  the  light: 

The  visual  rays  will  thro'  the  pupil  spring, 

And  nature  in  a  fairer  landskip  bring. 

But  first  your  frame  must  moulder  in  the  ground, 

Before  the  light  will  kindle  worlds  around: 

Your  precious  ashes,  sow'd  within  the  glebe, 

Will  teem  with  light,  and  purer  beams  imbibe  : 

Shut  now  from  all  the  scenes  of  cheerful  day, 

You  ne'er  will  see,  'till  Jesus  pours  the  ray, 

And  all  the  pom])  of  Heav'n  around  display. 

So  when  a  stream  has  waibled  thro'  the  wood, 

Its  limpid  bosom  smooths  and  clears  its  flood ; 

The  rolling  mirrour  deep  imbibes  the  stains 

Of  heav'nly  saphyr,  and  impending  greens; 

'Till  thro'  the  ground,  in  secret  channels  led, 

It  hides  its  glories  in  the  gloomy  bed : 

'Till,  op'ning  thro'  a  wide  and  flow'ry  vale, 

Far  fairer  scenes  the  purer  streams  reveal. 

Of  his  Horatian  exercises  we  may  take  the  first 
ode : — 

HORACE,  BOOK  I.,  ODE  I. 

Maecenas,  whose  ennobled  veins 

The  blood  of  ancient  monarchs  stains; 

My  safeguard,  beauty  and  delight. 

Some  love  the  chariot's  rapid  flight, 

To  whirl  along  the  dusty  ground, 

Till  with  Olympic  honors  crown'd : 

And  if  their  fiery  coursers  tend 

Beyond  the  goal,  they  shall  ascend  4 

In  merit,  equal  to  the  gods, 

Who  people  the  sublime  abodes. 

Others,  if  mingled  shouts  proclaim 

Of  jarring  citizens,  their  name, 

Exalted  to  some  higher  post, 

Are  in  the  clouds  of  rapture  lost. 

This,  if  his  granary  contain 

In  crowded  heaps  the  ripen'd  grain, 

Rejoicing  his  paternal  field 

To  plough,  a  future  crop  to  yield ; 

In  vain  his  timorous  soul  you'd  move 

Though  endless  sums  his  choice  should  prove, 

To  leave  the  safety  of  the  land, 

And  trust  him  to  the  wind's  command. 

The  trembling  sailor,  when  the  blue 

And  boisterous  deep  his  thoughts  pursue, 

Fearful  of  tempests,  dreads  his  gam 

To  venture  o'er  the  threat'ning  main : 

But  loves  the  shades  and  peaceful  town 

Where  joy  and  quiet  dwell  alone. 

But  when,  impatient  to  be  poor, 

His  flying  vessels  leave  the  shore. 

Others  the  present  hour  will  seize, 

And  less  for  business  are  than  ease; 

But  flowing  cups  of  wine  desire, 

Which  scatter  grief,  and  joy  inspire; 

Joyful  they  quaff,  and  spread  their  limbs 

Along  the  banks  of  murm'ring  streams, 


JOHN  WINTHROP. 


13£ 


While  trees,  which  shoot  their  tow'ring  heads, 

Protect  them  with  their  cooling  shades. 

Some  love  the  camp  and  furious  war, 

Where  nations,  met  with  nations,  jar; 

The  noise  of  victors,  and  the  cries 

Of  Vanquished,  winch  assault  the  skies, 

Wliile  at  the  trumpet's  piercing  ring 

Their  mounting  spirits  vigorous  spring; 

When  fainting  matrons,  in  a  swound. 

Receive  the  martial  music's  sound. 

The  morning  hunter  seeks  his  prey, 

Though  chill'd  by  heaven's  inclemency. 

Forgets  his  house :  with  dogs  pursues 

The  flying  stag  in  her  purlieus. 

Or  his  entangling  net  contains 

The  foamy  boar,  in  ropy  chains. 

But  me,  the  ivy  wreaths,  which  spread 

Their  blooming  honors  round  the  head 

Of  learned  bards,  in  raptures  raise, 

And  with  the  gods  unite  in  praise. 

The  coolness  of  the  rural  scenes, 

The  smiling  flowers  and  ever-greens. 

And  sportful  'lances,  all  inspire 

My  soul,  with  more  than  vulgar  fire. 

If  sweet  Euterpe  give  her  flute, 

And  Polyhymnia  lend  her  lute. 

If  you  the  deathless  bays  bestow, 

And  by  applauses  make  them  grow, 

Toward  the  stars,  my  winged  fame 

Shall  fly,  and  strike  the  heavenly  frame. 

JOIIN  WTNTHEOP. 
The  accomplished  natural,  philosopher,   Profes- 
sor Winthrop,  of  Harvard,  was  a  man  of  eminent 
scientific  reputation  in  his  day,  and  was  universally 


mrf-L^ 


spoken  of  with  respect.  He  was  a  representative 
of  old  Governor  Winthrop  in  the  fourth  genera- 
tion in  descent  from  the  fifth  son.  He  was  born 
in  Boston  in  1714,  studied  at  Cambridge,  and  six 
years  after  his  first  degree,  was  appointed,  in 
1733,  Hollis  Professor  of  Mathematics  and  Natu- 
ral Philosophy,  to  succeed  Greenwood.  His 
Observations  of  the  Transit  of  Mercury,  in  1740, 
were  communicated  to  the  Royal  Society,  of 
which  he  subsequently  became  a  Fellow,  and 
were  published  in  the  forty-second  volume  of 
their  Transactions.  In  1755  he  published  a  Lec- 
ture on  Earthquakes,  on  occasion  of  the  celebrat- 
ed phenomenon  of  that  year,  and  parried  in  a 
philosophical  manner  an  attack  which  followed 
from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Prince,  of  Boston,  who  thought 
the  theology  of  the  day  might  be  impaired  in 
consequence.  Though  his  religious  opinions  were 
firmly  held,  his  election  to  his  Professorship  had 
occasioned  some  opposition,  as  has  since  been  the 
case  with  Priestley,  Playfair,  and  an  instance  of 
the  present  day,  in  New  York.  A  special  doc- 
trinal examination  was  waived  in  his  favor*  In 
1759  he  published  two  Lectures  on  Comets,  which 
he  read  in  the  college  chapel  in  April  of  that 
year,  on  occasion  of  the  comet  which  appeared 
in   that   month.     His  style  in   these  essays,  in 

*  Peircc,  History  of  Harvard  Univ.  188.  We  may  refer  to 
tile  remarks  of  Lord  Brougham,  in  the  case  of  Priestley,  in  that 
great  writer's  memoir,  in  »  The  Lives  of  Men  of  Letters." 


which  he  reviews  the  speculations  on  the  subject, 
and  unfolds  the  theory  of  Newton,  is  marked  by 
its  ease  and  felicity.  As  an  instance  of  his  man- 
ner, we  may  quote  some  of  his  more  general 
remarks  at  the  conclusion. 

"  It  is  not  to  be  doubted,  that  the  allwise  Author 
of  nature  designed  so  remarkable  a  sort  of  bodies  for 
important  purposes,  both  natural  and  moral,  in  His 
creation.  The  moral  purposes  seem  not  very  diffi- 
cult to  be  found.  Such  grand  and  unusual  appear- 
ances tend  to  rouse  mankind,  who  are  apt  to  fall 
asleep,  while  all  things  continue  as  they  were ;  to 
awaken  their  attention  and  to  direct  it  to  the  su- 
preme Governor  of  the  universe,  whom  they  would 
be  in  danger  of  totally  forgetting,  were  nature  always 
to  glide  along  with  an  uniform  tenor.  These  exotic 
stars  serve  to  raise  in  our  minds  most  sublime  con- 
ceptions of  God,  and  particularly  display  his  exquisite 
skill.  The  motions  of  many  comets  being  contrary 
to  those  of  the  planets,  shew  that  neither  of  them 
proceed  from  necessity  or  fate,  but  from  choice  and 
design.  The  same  thing  is  to  be  seen  in  the  figure 
and  situation  of  their  orbits ;  which,  indeed,  have 
not  the  appearance  of  regularity,  as  those  of  the 
planets,  and  yet  are  the  result  of  admirable  contri- 
vance. By  means  of  their  great  eccentricity,  they 
run  so  swiftly  through  the  planetary  regions,  as  to 
have  but  very  little  time  to  disturb  their  own  mo- 
tions or  those  of  the  planets.  And  this  end  is  still 
more  effectually  answered  in  those  comets  whose 
motion  is  retrograde  or  contrary  to  that  of  the  pla- 
nets. 

***** 

"  But  instead  of  entering  here  into  a  detail,  which 
would  probably  answer  no  valuable  end,  I  choose 
rather  to  turn  your  thoughts  to  that  consummate 
wisdom  which  presides  over  this  vast  machine  of 
nature,  and  has  so  regulated  the  several  movements 
in  it  as  to  obviate  the  damage  that  might  arise  from 
this  quarter.  None  but  an  eye  able  to  pierce  into  the 
remotest  futurity,  and  to  foresee,  throughout  all  ages, 
all  the  situations  which  this  numerous  class  of  bodies 
would  have  towards  the  planets,  in  consequence  of 
the  laws  of  their  respective  motions,  could  have  given 
so  just  an  arrangement  to  their  several  orbits,  and 
assigned  them  their  places  at  first  in  their  orbits, 
with  such  perfect  accuracy,  that  their  motions  have 
ever  since  continued  without  interfering,  and  no  dis- 
asters of  this  sort  have  taken  place,  unless  we  except 
the  case  of  the  deluge.  For  though  so  many  comets 
have  traversed  this  planetary  system,  and  some  of 
their  orbits  run  near  to  those  of  the  planets ;  yet  the 
planets  have  never  been  in  the  way,  but  always  at 
a  distance  from  the  nearest  point,  when  the  comets 
have  passed  by  it.  The  foresight  of  that  great  Be- 
ing, which  has  hitherto  prevented  such  disorders, 
will  continue  to  prevent  them,  so  long  as  He  sees  fit 
the  present  frame  of  nature  should  subsist.  Longer 
than  that  it  is  not  fit  that  it  should  subsist. 

"  It  ma}7  not  be  unseasonable  to  remark,  for  a 
conclusion,  that  as,  on  the  one  hand,  it  argues  a 
temerity  unworthy  a  philosophic  mind,  to  explode 
every  apprehension  of  danger  from  comets,  as  if  it 
were  impossible  that  any  damage  could  ever  be  oc- 
casioned by  any  of  them,  because  some  idle  and 
superstitious  fancies  have  in  times  of  ignorance  pre- 
vailed concerning  them ;  so  on  the  other,  to  be 
thrown  into  a  panic  whenever  a  comet  appears,  on 
account  of  the  ill  effects  which  some  few  of  these 
bodies  might  possibly  produce,  if  they  were  not  un- 
der a  proper  direction,  betrays  a  weakness  equally 
unbecoming  a  reasonable  being.  The  wisest  course 
is  to  aim  at  such  a  rectitude  of  intention  and  firm- 
ness of  resolution,  that,  as  Horace  says: 


336 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


" '  Si  fractus  illabatnr  orbJs, 
Impaviduia  lerient  ruina?.' " 

On  the  sixth  of  June,  1761,  Winthrop  observed 
the  celebrated  Transit  of  Venus,  at  St.  John's, 
Newfoundland,  making  the  voyage  thither  in  a 
government  vessel,  at  the  charge  of  the  Province, 
at  the  especial  instance  of  Governor  Bernard. 
This  incident  furnished  the  topic  of  the  two 
poems  in  the  Pietas  et  Oratulatio  of  the  same 
year,  which  have  been  attributed  to  his  pen. 

Winthrop  was  followed,  after  an  interval,  in  this 
subject,  by  one  of  his  college  pupils,  Andrew  Oli- 
ver, the  eldest  son  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Pro- 
vince, and  a  gentleman  of  leisure  and  of  scientific 
and  literary  cultivation,  who,  in  1772,  published 
his  Essay  on  Comets,  in  which  he  maintained 
the  theory  that  these  bodies  might  be  inhabited 
worlds,  "  and  even  comfortable  habitations."*  Oli- 
ver also  wrote  papers  on  Thunder  Storms  and 
Water  Spouts,  which  were  published  in  the  Trans- 
actions of  the  American  Philosophical  Society, 
of  which  he  was  a  member,  as  he  was  also  one 
of  the  founders  of  the  American  Academy  of  Arts 
and  Sciences. 

In  1705  Professor  "Winthrop  published  an  ac- 
count of  several  fiery  meteors  visible  in  North 
America ;  and  in  1766  his  paper  Cogitata  de  Co- 
metis,  which  was  communicated  to  the  Royal  So- 
ciety by  Dr.  Franklin,  and  was  separately  printed 
in  London. 

When  the  struggle  of  the  colonies  for  freedom 
commenced  he  took  part  in  it,  and  was  one  of  the 
Council,  with  Bowdoin  and  Dexter,  negatived  by 
the  home  government.  He  was  re-chosen ;  and 
was  also  made  Judge  of  Probate  for  the  County 
of  Middlesex,  an  office  which  he  held  till  his 
death,  in  1779,  at  the  age  of  sixty.  His  eulogy 
was  pronounced  by  Professor  Wigglesworth  and 
others  ;  and  his  pupil  and  friend,  Andrew  Oliver, 
composed  an  elegy,  the  only  specimen  preserved 
of  tins  writer's  poetic  talents. 

Ye  sons  of  Harvard !  who,  by  Winthrop  taught, 
Can  travel  round  each  planetary  sphere ; 

And  winged  with  his  rapidity  of  thought, 
Trace  all  the  movements  of  the  rolling  year, 
Drop  on  his  urn  the  tribute' of  a  tear. 

Ye,  whom  the  love  of  Geometry  inspired. 

To  chase  coy  science  through  each  winding  maze ; 
Whose  breasts  were  with  Newtonian  ardor  tired, 

Catched  by  Ins  sparks,  and  kindled  at  his  blaze. 

In  grateful  sighs,  ejaculate  his  praise. 

Ye  philosophic  souls!  whose  thoughts  can  trace 
The  wonders  of  the  architect  divine, 

Through  depths  beneath,  o'er  nature's  verdant  face, 
Where  meteors  play,  where  constellations  shine, 
Heave  the  deep  groan,  and  mix  your  tears  with 
mine. 

Ye  tenants  of  the  happy  seats  above! 
Welcome  this  late  inhabitant  of  cla}', 

From  hostile  factions,  to  the  realms  of  love, 
Where  he  may  bask  in  everlasting  day, 
Ye  kindred  spirits  waft  him  in  his  way. 

When  in  their  sockets  suns  shall  blaze  their  last. 
Their  fuel  wasted,  and  extinct  their  light, 


*  Both  these  compositions  of  Winthrop  and  Oliver  were  re- 
published, with  biographical  notices,  in  Boston,  in  1811,  when 
the  re-appearance  of  one  of  these  heavenly  bodies  had  created 
a  new  interest  in  the  6ubject. 


And  worlds  torn  piecemeal  by  the  final  blast, 
Subside  in  chaos  and  eternal  night, 

He  still  shall  shine 
In  youth  divine, 
And  soaring  on  cherubic  wing, 
Shall  like  an  ardent  seraph  blaze, 
And  in  unceasing  raptures,  to  his  Maker's  praise, 
Eternal  hallelujahs  sing. 

Professor  Winthrop  left  a  son,  James  Winthrop, 
who  fought  and  was  wounded  at  Bunker  Hill, 
and  became  Judge  of  the  Common  Pleas.  He 
was  also  a  man  of  much  literature  and  science,  a 
good  linguist,  publishing,  in  1794,  An  Attempt  to 
translate  part  of  the  Apjocalypse  of  St.  John  into 
familiar  language,  by  divesting  it  of  the  meta- 
phors in  which  it  is  involved,  a  second  edition  of 
which  was  printed  in  1809.  He  wrote  for  a  peri- 
odical, The  Literary  Miscellany,  Dissertations 
on  Primitive  History  and  the  Geography  of  the 
Old  World,  and  several  scientific  papers.  He 
was  librarian  at  Harvard  for  fifteen  years,  dying 
at  the  age  of  70,  at  Cambridge,  in  1821.  He 
bequeathed  his  valuable  library  to  the  college  at 
Meadville,  Pennsylvania.* 

SAMUEL  CTJEWEN. 
Samuel  Cukwen,  a  descendant  from  George  Cur- 
wen,  who  settled  in  the  town  of  Salem,  Massa- 
chusetts, in  1638,  was  born  in  that  place  in  1715. 
Completing  his  course  at  Harvard  in  1735,  he 
commenced  a  preparation  for  the  ministry,  but 
was  obliged  to  abandon  his  determination  in  con- 
sequence of  ill  health.  Disappointment  in  a  love 
affair  led  him  to  seek  relief  in  a  change  of  scene 
by  a  visit  to  England.  On  his  return  he  engaged 
in  business,  and  became  a  leading  merchant. 
In  17-14-5  he  served  as  a  captain  in  the  attack 
upon  Louisburg.  In  1759  he  was  appointed  Im- 
post Officer  for  the  county  of  Essex,  and  held  the 
office  for  fifteen  years.  In  June,  1774,  on  the 
departure  of  Governor  Hutchinson  for  Europe, 
Mr.  Curwen,  who  was  then  a  Judge  of  Admiralty, 
joined  with  one  hundred  and  nineteen  citizens  of 
the  colon}',  in  signing  an  address  to  that  officer 
of  a  commendatory  character.  Many  of  these 
signers  were  afterwards  stigmatized  as  "  Address- 
ers," and  compelled  to  make  a  public  recantation 
of  the  act.  Mr.  Curwen  declined  doing  this,  and 
having  from  the  outset  sided  with  Great  Britain, 
resolved  to  withdraw  from  the  country  until 
public  affairs  resumed  their  former  tranquillity. 
A  few  months  would,  he  supposed,  effect  this, 
and  he  sailed  from  Philadelphia  in  May,  1775, 
with  the  expectation  of  making  a  correspondingly 
brief  stay  abroad.  Mr.  Curwen  arrived  at  Dover, 
Jul}'  3,  1775.  He  immediately  departed  for  Lon- 
don, where  he  passed  several  months,  principally 
occupied  in  sight-seeing.  In  June,  1776,  he 
writes,  "  I  find  my  finances  so  visibly  lessening, 
that  I  wish  I  could  remove  from  this  expensive 
country  (being  heartily  tired  of  it).  To  beg  is  a 
meanness  I  wish  never  to  be  reduced  to,  and  to 
starve  is  stupid."  With  a  view  to  economy,  and 
probably  to  gratify  his  taste  for  sight-seeing  as 
well,  we  find  him  soon  after  leaving  London  to 
visit  the  great  towns  in  search  of  a  less  costly 
place  of  residence.     After  a  ramble  about  Eng- 


*  Knapp,  Am.  Biog.  3S1. 


SAMUEL  CURWEN. 


137 


land,  which  gives  us  some  curious  pictures  of 
inns  and  churches,  show-places  and  antiquities, 
fairs  and  hustings,  he  settles  down  in  Bristol,  but 
in  1780  returns  to  London,  where  he  remained 
until  his  departure  for  America  after  the  close 
of  the  war  in.  1784.  He  returned  to  his  native 
town,  was  entirely  unmolested  on  account  of  his 
political  course,  and  died  in  April,  1802,  at  the 
"  age  of  eighty-six. 

During  his  sojourn  in  England,  he  kept  a  i 
familiar  journal  of  his  movements,  occupations, 
and  amusements,  which  was  sent  in  detached 
pieces  to  his  niece,  and  some  sixty  years  after- 
wards, in  1842,  published*  under  the  editorial 
care  of  her  grandson.  It  is  of  great  value  in  an 
historical  point  of  view,  displaying  the  condition 
of  the  refugees  in  England,  their  opinion  of 
American  affairs,  and  the  action  of  Parliament 
during  the  war.  It  is  also  interesting  for  its  pic- 
tures of  London  society  and  localities  three 
quarters  of  a  century  ago.  He  falls  in  with  Hutch- 
inson almost  as  soon  as  he  arrives,  goes  to  hear 
Dr.  Aptliorpe  preach,  walks  out  with  Parson  : 
Peters,  takes  tea  with  facetious  Joseph  Green, 
and  afterwards  pays  a  visit  of  condolence  to  his 
widow.  He  is  an  indefatigable  sight-seer,  keeps 
the  run  of  the  theatres,  and  does  not  despise 
the  rope-dancers,  follows  the  debates  at  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  looks  in  now  and  then 
at  "the  Ladies'  Disputing  Club,  Cornhill."  To 
the  last,  he  takes  a  discouraging  view  of  Ameri- 
can independence,  writing  May  11,  1782,  to 
Richard  Ward  at  Salem,  as  follows : — 

To  RicnAitD  Ward,  Esq..  Salem. 

London,  May  11,  1T82. 
Dear  Sir., 

Should  your  great  and  good  ally  obtain  the  two 
only  very  probable  objects  of  her  American  alliance, 
the  impoverishment  of  Great  Britain  and  the  conse- 
quent seizure  of  the  late  English  colonies, -which  she 
seems  at  present  in  a  fair  way  for,  no  man  on  this  I 
side  the  Atlantic  in  his  wits  would,  I  think,  what- 
ever regard  he  may  feel  for  his  native  country,  will- 
ingly  forego  a  bare  subsistence  here  for  French 
domination  and  wooden  shoes  there.  I  would  just 
suggest  to  you,  should  America  in  this  hour  refuse  I 
the  offers  Great  Britain  may  make  of  a  separate 
peace ;  or  France  refuse  to  suffer  her.  (for  we  well 
know  here  the  power  she  has  acquired  over  her,) 
and  no  partition  treaty  take  place,  (being  in  the  pre- 
sent situation  the  best  to  be  expected, )  depend  upon 
it,  you  fathers  of  the  present  age  will  have  it  in  their 
power,  ere  many  revolutions  of  the  sun,  to  tell  their 
children  the  inestimable  civil,  religious  and  political 
privileges  you  of  this  generation  have  wantoned 
away,  and  with  sad  regret  recount  the  happy  con- 
dition of  former  days;  nor  will  the  comparison  with 
those  you  will  then  mournfully  experience  between 
English  protection  and  French  oppression,  fail  to 
enhance  your  misery.  You  will  then  find  the  little 
finger  of  French  power  heavier  than  the  loin  of  the 
English  government,  with  all  its  apprehended  train 
of  evils.      As  a  proof  of  my  needless  fears  or  right 


*  Journal  and  Letters  of  the  late  Samuel  Curwen,  Judge  of 
Admiralty,  etc.,  an  American  Refugee  in  England,  from  1775 
to  1784.  comprising  remarks  on  the  prominent  Men  and 
Measures  of  the  Period,  to  which  are  added  Biographical 
Notices  of  many  American  Loyalists  and  other  Eminent 
Persons.  By  George  Atkinson  Ward.  New  York:  C.  S. 
Francis  &  Co. 


judgment,  convey  my  kind  love  to  your  wife  and 
children. 

Your  friend, 

S.  CurtwEX. 

.    September  7  and  14,  1777,  we  find  him  attend- 
ing 

joun  Wesley's  preachment. 

In  the  afternoon,  walked  to  a  street  adjoining 
King's  square  to  attend  John  Wesley's  preachment; 
he  being  seated  on  a  decent  scaffold,  addressed  about 
two  thousand  people,  consisting  of  the  middle  and 
lower  ranks.  The  preacher's  language  was  plain 
and  intelligible,  without  descending  to  vulgarisms. 

Sept.  14.  In  the  afternoon  I  attended  once  more 
John  Wesley,  having  the  heavens  for  his  canopy  ;  he 
began  with  an  extempore  prayer,  followed  by  a 
hymn  of  his  own  composing,  and  adapted  to  the  sub- 
ject of  his  discourse.  He  wears  his  own  gray  hair, 
or  a  wig  so  very  like  that  my  eye  could  not  distin- 
guish. He  is  not  a  graceful  speaker,  his  voice  being 
weak  and  harsh ;  he  is  attended  by  great  numbers 
of  the  middling  and  lower  classes ;  is  said  to  have 
humanized  the  almost  savage  colliers  of  Kingswood, 
who,  before  his  time,  were  almost  as  fierce  and  un- 
manageable as  the  wild  beasts  of  the  wilderness. 
He  wears  an  Oxford  master's  gown ;  his  attention 
seemingly  not  directed  to  manner  and  behavior, — 
not  rude,  but  negligent,  dress  cleanly,  not  neat.  He 
is  always  visiting  the  numerous  societies  of  his  own 
forming  in  England,  Scotland,  Wales,  and  Ireland; 
though  near  eighty  years  old,  he  reads  without  spec- 
tacles the  smallest  print.  He  rises  at  four,  preaches 
every  day  at  five,  and  once  besides;  an  uncommon 
instance  of  physical  ability. 

September  17,  1780,  he  heard  Samuel  Peters 
preach  at  Lincoln's  Inn  Chapel.  "  He  is  an  in- 
different speaker  and  composer — how  he  got 
there  is  as  difficult  to  conceive  as  straws  in 
amber." 

We  group  together  a  few  of  Mr.  Curwen's  nu- 
merous street  notes  and  observations. 

******** 

S''pt.  23.  Walking  through  Old  Bailey,  and  see- 
ing a  great  crowd,  learnt  that  two  pickpockets  were 
to  be  whipped.  Jack  Ketch,  a  short  sturdy  man, 
soon  appeared  with  the  culprits,  one  after  the  other; 
the  first  seemed  like  an  old  offender,  and  was  mode- 
rately lashed ;  the  mob  said  lie  had  bought  off  the 
minister  of  justice  ;  he  writhed  but  little.  The  other 
was  young,  distress  painted  strongly  on  his  coun- 
tenance ;  he  cried  loudly;  his  back  seemed  unused 
to  stripes ;  from  this  time  it  will  carry  tiie  marks  of 
legal  vengeance,  and  proofs  of  his  folly  and  wicked- 
ness. Going  forward,  passed  through  the  Strand  ; 
and  returned  by  way  of  Covent  Garden  to  see  elec- 
tion, which  had  been  ended  and  poll  closed  for  two 
hours;  and  the  elected  members, returning  from  the 
procession,  were  just  entering  James'-street,  mounted 
on  two  arm  chairs,  placed  on  a  board  that  was  car- 
ried on  eight  men's  shoulders,  accompanied  by  thou- 
sands with  tokens  of  victory:  red  and  blue  ribbons 
in  their  hats. 

******** 

Sept.  29.  As  I  was  walking  in  Holborn.  observed 
a  throng  of  ordinary  people  crowding  round  a  chaise 
filled  with  young  children  of  about  seven  years  of 
age  ;  inquiring  the  reason,  was  informed  they  were 
young  sinners  who  were  accustomed  to  go  about  in 
the  evening,  purloining  whatever  they  could  lay 
their  hands  on,  and  were  going  to  be  consigned  into 
the  hands  of  justice.  Great  pity  that  so  many  chil- 
dren, capable  of  being  trained  to  useful  employments 


138 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


and  become  blessiugsto  society,  should  be  thus  early 
initiated,  by  the  wicked  unthinking  parents  of  the 
lower  classes  in  this  huge  overgrown  metropolis,  in 
those  pernicious  practices  of  every  species  of  vice 
the  human  heart  can  be  tainted  with,  which  renders 
them  common  pests,  and  most  commonly  briugsthem 
to  the  halter. 

******** 

Sept.  5.  In  walking  through  Parliament-street 
and  seeing  crowds  running  through  Scotland-yard, 
joined  them,  and  on  inquiry  found  they  were  ac- 
companying Parson  Lloyd,  a  clergyman,  returned 
from  Bow-street  Justices'  examination  to  Westmin- 
ster Bridewell,  from  whence  he  was  taken  this 
morning  on  a  complaint  of  highway  robbery  ;  and 
it  is  said  lie  is  identified.  He  seemed  hardened,  and 
of  a  rough,  bold  cast,  and  begged  with  a  careless 
boldness  money  of  every  well  dressed  person  that 

Eassed  as  he  was  being  conducted  to  prison  in  irons; 
is  right  hand  being  also  chained  to  an  officer's,  or 
one  of  the  justice's  men. 

******** 

April  7.  Passed  a  crowd  attending  procession  in 
Parliament-street,  going  to  take  the  Westminster 
candidate,  Charles  J.  Fox,  from  his  lodgings  to  the 
hustings  under  St.  Paul's,  Covent  Garden,  portico. 
First  marched  musicians  two  and  two,  then  four  men 
supporting  two  red  painted  poles  having  on  top  the 
cap  of  liberty  of  a  dark  blue  color;  to  each  was  fas- 
tened a  light  blue  silk  standard  about  nine  feet  long 
and  five  wide,  having  inscribed  thereon  in  golden 
letters  these  words,  "  The  Man  of  the  People  ;"  fol- 
lowed by  the  butchers  with  marrow-bones  and  cleav- 
ers; then  the  committee  two  and  two,  holding  in 
their  hands  white  wands ;  in  the  rear  the  carriages. 
They  stopped  at  his  house  in  St.  James's-street,  where 
taking  him  up,  he  accompanied  them  in  Mr.  Byng's 
carriage  through  Pall  Mall  and  the  Strand  to  the 
hustings,  when  the  election  proceeded  ;  made  with- 
out opposition,  no  competitor  appearing  against 
him. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  KING  PHILIP'S  WAR. 

Captain  Benjamin  Church,  the  leader  in  the 
war  against  King  Philip,  dictated,  in  the  latter 
part  of  his  life,  an  account  of  his  Indian  expe- 
riences to  his  son  Thomas,  by  whom,  probably 
with  little  or  no  change,  it  was  published  in  a 
volume.  It  is  a  valuable  historical  authority,  and 
in  itself,  as  a  straightforward  and  spirited  narra- 
tive of  brave  and  romantic  adventure,  well  worthy 
of  attention. 


£h 


-t-t^-AtK-rl 


iSHtM,y-rVi 


Benjamin  Church  was  born  at  Duxbury,  Mas- 
sachusetts, in  1639,  and  was  the  first  settler  of 
Seconet  or  Little  Compton.  "  Being  providentially 
at  Plymouth,"  he  informs  us,  "in  1674,  in  the 
lime  of  the  court,  he  fell  into  acquaintance  witli 
Captain  John  Alnry  of  Rhode  Island,"  by  whom 
he  was  invited  to  visit  "  that  part  of  Plymouth 
Colony  that  lay  next  to  Rhode  Island,  known 
then  by  their  Indian  names  of  Pocasset  and  Sog- 
konate."  He  did  so,  and  purchased  land,  on 
which  he  settled. 

The  next  spring,  while  "  Mr.  Church  was  dili- 
gently settling  his  new  farm,  stocking,  leasing, 
and  disposing  of  his  affairs,  and  had  a  fine  pros- 
pect of  doing  no  small  things;  and  hoping  that 


his  good  success  would  he  inviting  unto  other 
good  men  to  become  his  neighbours  :  Behold !  the 
rumour  of  a  war  between  the  English  and  the 
natives,  gave  check  to  his  projects."  Hostilities 
soon  commenced.  A  force  was  raised,  and  Church 
placed  in  command  of  an  advanced  guard.  He 
was  at  the  head  of  the  party  which  killed  King 
Philip,  in  August,  1676.  He  was  afterwards,  in 
September,  1680,  made  commander-in-chief  of  an 
expedition  against  the  French  and  Indians  at 
Casco,  and  again  employed  in  a  similar  service  in 
1690,  and  with  Governor  Phipps,  in  1692.  After 
the  burning  of  Deerfield,  in  1704,  he  rode  seventy 
miles  to  offer  his  services  against  the  Indians, 
whom  he  harassed  greatly  at  Penobscot  and 
Passamaquoddy. 

After  Philip's  war,  Colonel  Church  resided  at 
Bristol,  then  at  Fall  River,  and  lastly  at  Seconet, 
"  at  each  of  which  places  he  acquired  and  left  a 
large  estate."  He  maintained  throughout  his  life 
the  reputation  of  an  upright  and  devout,  as  well 
as  brave  man.  He  married  Mrs.  Alice  South- 
worth,  by  whom  he  had  a  daughter  and  five  sons, 
and  died  on  the  seventeenth  of  January,  1718,  in 

!  consequence  of  a  fall  from  his  horse,  by  which  a 
blood-vessel  was  broken.  The  first  edition  of, 
The  Entertaining  History  of  King  Philip's 
War,  which  began  in  the  month  of  Jam,  1675,  as 
aho  of  Expeditions  more  lately  made  against  the 
Common  Enemy,  and  Indian  Rebels,  in  the  East- 
ern parts  of  New  England  :  with  some  account 
of  the  Divine  Providence  towards  Col.  Benjamin 
Church :  by  Thomas.  Church,  Esq.,  his  son,  was 
published  in  Boston  in  1716.  A  second  edition 
appeared  at  Newport  in  1772,  and  a  third  and 
fourth,  with  notes  by  Samuel  G.  Drake,  in  1825 

I  and  1829* 

A  SCrTFLE. 

Mr.  Church  was  moved  with  other  wounded  men, 
over  to  Rhodeisland,  where  in  about  three  months' 
time,  he  wras  in  some  good  measure  recovered  of  his 
wounds,  and  the  fever  that  attended  them;  and 
then  went  over  to  the  General  to  take  his  leave  of 
him,  with  a  design  to  return  home.  But  the  Gene- 
ral's great  importunity  again  persuaded  him  to 
accompany  him  in  a  long  march  into  the  Kipmuck 
country,  though  he  had  tiien  tents  in  his  wounds, 
and  so  lame  as  not  to  be  able  to  mount  his  horse 
without  two  men's  assistance. 

In  this  march,  the  first  tiling  remarkable  was,  they 
came  to  an  Indian  town,  where  there  were  many 
wigwams  in  sight,  but  an  icy  swamp,  lying  between 
them  and  the  wigwams,  prevented  their  running  at 
once  upon  it  as  they  intended.      There  was  much 


*  Mr.  Drake  reprinted,  in  an  ISmn.  volume,  in  1S83  : 

The  Present  State  of  New  England,  with  respect  to  the 
Indian  War.  Wherein  is  an  account  of  the  true  Reason  there- 
of, (as  far  as  can  be  judged  by  Men,)  together  with  most  of  the 
Remarkable  Passages  that  have  happened  from  the  20th  of 
June  till  the  10th  of  November,  1675.  Faithfully  composed  by 
a  merchant  of  Boston,  and  communicated  to  his  friends  in 
London.    London,  1675. 

A  continuation  of  the  foregoing,  from  the  10th  of  November, 
1675,  to  the  8th  of  February,  1675-6.     London,  1676. 

A  new  and  further  narrative,  from  March  till  August,  1676. 
London,  1676.  The  Warr  in  New  England  visibly  ended. 
London,  1677. 

A  true  account  of  the  most  considerable  occurrences  that 
have  happened  in  the  war  between  the  English  and  the  Indians, 
in  New  England,  from  the  fifth  of  May,  1676,  to  the  fourth  of 
August  last.    London,  1676. 

He  considers  it  highly  probable  that  these  five  tracts,  with 
Church's  Narrative,  comprise  all  that  can  be  recovered  In  rela- 
tion to  King  Philip's  war. 


BENJAMIN  CHUECH. 


139 


firing  upon  each  side  before  they  passed  the  swamp. 
But  at  length  the  enemy  all  fled,  and  a  certain  Mo- 
hegan,  that  was  a  friend  Indian,  pursued  and  seized 
one  of  the  enemy  that  had  a  small  wound  in  his  leg, 
and  brought  him  before  the  General,  where  he  was 
examined.     Some  were  for  torturing  him  to  bring 
him  to  a  more  ample  confession  of  what  he  knew 
concerning   his  countrymen.      Mr.   Church,   verily 
believing  that  he  had  been  ingenuous  in  his  confes- 
sion,  interceded,   and   prevailed   for    his   escaping 
torture.    But  the  army  being  bound  forward  in  their 
march,   and  the    Indian's   wound  somewhat  disen- 
abling him  for  travelling,  it  was  concluded  that  he 
should  be  knocked  on  the  head.      Accordingly  he 
was  brought  before  a  great  fire,  and  the  Mohegan 
that  took  him  was  allowed,  as  he  desired,  to  be  his 
executioner.     Mr.  Church  taking  no  delight  in  the 
sport,  framed  an  errand  at  some  distance  among  the 
baggage  horses,  and  when  he  had  got  ten  rods,  or 
thereabouts,  from  the  fire,  the  executioner  fetching  a 
blow  with  a  hatchet  at  the  head  of  the  prisoner,  he 
being  aware  of  the  blow,  dodged  his   head  aside, 
and  the  executioner  missing  his  stroke,  the  hatchet 
flew  out  of  his  hand,  and  had  like  to  have  done 
execution  where  it  was  not  designed.     The  prisoner 
upon  his  narrow  escape,  broke  from  them  that  held 
him,  and  notwithstanding  his  wound,  made  use  of 
bis  legs,  and  happened  to  run  right  upon  Mr.  Church, 
who  laid  hold  on  him,  and  a  close  scuffle  they  had; 
bat  the  Indian  having  no  clothes  on,  slipped  from 
him  and  ran   again,  and  Mr.  Church  pursued  him, 
although  being  lame  there  was  no  great  odds  in  the 
race,  until  the  Indian  stumbled  and   fell,  and  then 
they    closed    again — scuffled    and    fought    pretty 
smartly,  until  tiie  Indian,  by  the   advantage  of  his 
nakedness,  slipped  from  his  hold  again,  and  set  out 
on  his  third  race,  with  Mr.  Church  close  at  his  heels, 
endeavouring  to  lay  hold  on  the  hair  of  his  head, 
which  was  all  the  hold  could  be  taken  of  him.  And 
running  through   a  swamp  that  was  covered  with 
hollow  ice,  it  made  so  loud  a  noise  that  Mr.  Church 
expected   (but   in   vain)  that   some  of   his   English 
friends  would   follow  the   noise  and  come  to   his 
assistance.    But  the  Indian  happened  to  run  athwart 
a  large  tree  that  lay  fallen  near  breast  high,  where 
he  stopped  and  cried  out  aloud  for  help.     But  Mr. 
Church    being  soon    upon    him   again,  the    Indian 
seized  him  fast  by  the   hair  of  his  head,  and  endea- 
voured by  twisting  to  break  his  neck.     But  though 
Mr.  Church's  wounds  had  somewhat  weakened  him, 
and  the  Indian  a  stout  fellow,  yet  he  held  him  in 
play  and  twisted  the  Indian's  neck  as  well,  and  took 
the   advantage  of  many   opportunities,  while  they 
hung  by  each  other's  hair,  gave  him  notorious  bunts 
in  tiie  face  with  his  head.     But  in  the   heat  of  the 
scuffle  they  heard  the  ice  break,  with  somebody's 
coming  apace   to  them,   which   when   they   heard, 
Church  concluded  there  was  help  for  one  or  other 
of  them,  but  was  doubtful  which  of  them  must  now 
receive  the  fatal  stroke — anon  somebody  comes  up 
to  them,  who  proved  to  be  the  Indian  that  had  first 
taken  the  prisoner ;    and  without  speaking  a  word, 
he  felt  them  out,  (for  it  was  so  dark  he  could  not 
distinguish  them  by  Bight,  the   one  being  clothed 
and  the  other   naked)  he  felt  where  Mr.  Church's 
hands  were  fastened  in  the  Netop's  hair  and  with 
one  blow  settled  his  hatchet  in  between  them,  and 
thus  ended  the  strife.    He  then  spoke  to  Mr.  Church 
ami  hugged  him  in  Ids  arms,  and  thanked  him  abun- 
dantly lor  catching  his  prisoner.     He   then   cut  off 
the  head  of  his  victim  and  carried  it  to  the  camp, 
and  after  giving  an  account  to  the  rest  of  the  friend 
Indians  in  the  camp  how  Mr.  Church  had  seized 
his   prisoner,    &c,   they   all    joined   in    a   mighty 
shout. 


DEATn  OF  KING   PHILIP. 

Captain  Church  being  now  at  Plymouth  again, 
weary  and  worn,  would  have  gone  home  to  his  wife 
and  family,  but  the  government  being  solicitous  to 
engage  him  in  the  service  until  Philip  was  slain ;  and 
promising  him  satisfaction  and  redress  for  some  mis- 
treatment that  he  had  met  with,  he  fixes  for  another 
expedition. 

He  had  soon  volunteers  enough  to  make  up  the 
!  company  he  desired,  and  marched  through  the 
woods  until  he  came  to  Pocasset.  And  not  seeing 
or  hearing  of  any  of  the  enemy,  they  went  over 
the  ferry  to  Rhodeisland,  to  refresh  themselves.  The 
Captain,  with  about  half  a  dozen  in  his  company, 
took  horses  and  rode  about  eight  miles  down  the 
island,  to  Mr.  Stanford's,  where  he  had  left  his  wife. 
She  no  sooner  saw  him,  but  fainted  with  surprise  ; 
and  by  that  time  she  was  a  little  revived,  they  spied 
two  horsemen  coming  a  great  pace.  Captain  Church 
told  his  company,  that  "  Those  men  (by  their  riding) 
come  with  tidings."  When  they  came  up,  they 
proved  to  be  Major  Sanford,  and  Captain  Golding. 
They  immediately  asked  Captain  Church,  what  he 
would  give  to  hear  some  news  of  Philip  ?  He  replied, 
that  that  was  what  he  wanted.  They  told  him,  that 
they  had  rode  hard  with  some  hopes  of  overtaking 
him,  and  were  now  come  on  purpose  to  inform 
him,  that  there  were  just  now  tidings  from  Mount- 
hope.  An  Indian  came  down  from  thence  (where 
Philip's  camp  now  was)  to  Sandy  point,  over 
against  Trip's,  and  hallooed,  and  made  signs  to  be 
I  fetched  over.  And  being  fetched  over,  he  reported, 
':  that  he  was  fled  from  Philip,  "  who  (said  he)  has 
killed  my  brother  just  before  I  came  away,  for  giv- 
ing some  advice  that  displeased  him."  And  said, 
that  he  was  fled  for  fear  of  meeting  with  the  same 
his  brother  had  met  with.  _  Told  them  also,  that 
Philip  was  now  in  Mounthope' neck.  Captain  Church 
thanked  them  for  their  good  news,  and  said,  that 
he  hoped  by  to-morrow  morning  to  have  the  rogue's 
head.  The  horses  that  he  and  his  company  came 
on  standing  at  the  door,  (for  they  had  not  been  un- 
saddled) his  wife  must  content  herself  with  a  short 
visit,  when  such  game  was  ahead.  They  immediately 
mounted,  set  spurs  to  their  horses,  and  away.^ 

The  two  gentlemen  that  brought  him  the  tidings, 
told  him,  tlTat  they  would  gladly  wait  upon  him  to 
see  the  event  of  the  expedition.  He  thanked  them, 
and  told  them,  that  he  should  be  as  fond  of  their 
company  as  any  men's;  and  (in  short)  they  went 
■  with  him.  And  they  were  soon  at  Trip's  ferry,  (with 
Captain  Church's  company)  where  the  deserter  was. 
He  was  a  fellow  of  good  sense,  and  told  his  story 
handsomely.  He  offered  Captain  Church,  to  pilot 
him  to  Philip,  and  to  help  to  kill  him,  that  he  might 
revenge  his  brother's  death.  Told  him,  that  Philip 
was  now  upon  a  little  spot  of  upland,  that  was  in 
;  the  south  end  of  the  miry  swamp,  just  at  the  foot 
of  the  mount,  which  was  a  spot  of  ground  that 
Captain  Church  was  well  acquainted  with. 

By  that  time  they  were  over  the  ferry,  and  came 

j    near  the  ground,  half  the   night  was  spent.       The 

Captain  commands  a  halt,  and  bringing  the  company 

together,  he   asked    Major   Sanford's   and  Captain 

Gohling's  advice,  what  method  it  was  best  to  take  in 

making  the  onset ;  but  they  declined  giving  him  any 

advice  ;    telling  him,  that  his  great  experience  and 

success  forbid  their  taking  upon  them  to  give  advice. 

Then  Captain  Church  offered  Captain  Golding  the 

honour  (if  he  would  please  accept  of  it)  to  beat  up 

Philip's  headquarters.     He  accepted  the  offer  and 

had  his  allotted  number  drawn  out  to  him,  and  the 

pilot.      Captain  Church's  instructions  to  him  were, 

,   to  be  very  careful  in  his  approach  to  the  enemy,  and 

i   be  sure  not  to  show  himself,  until  by  daylight  they 


140 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


might  see  and  discern  their  own  men  from  the  ene- 
my ;  told  him  also,  that  his  custom  in  like  cases, 
was,  to  creep  with  his  company,  on  their  bellies, 
until  they  came  as  near  as  they  could  ;  and  that  as 
soon  as  the  enemy  discovered  them,  they  would  cry 
out,  and  that  was  the  word  for  his  men  to  fire  and 
fall  on.  He  directed  him,  that  when  the  enemy 
should  start  and  take  into  the  swamp,  that  they 
should  pursue  with  speed  ;  every  man  shouting  arid 
making  what  noise  he  could ;  for  he  would  give 
orders  to  his  ambuscade  to  fire  on  any  that  should 
come  silently. 

Captain  Church  knowing  that  it  was  Philip's  cus- 
tom to  be  foremost  in  the  flight,  went  down  to  the 
swamp,  and  gave  Captain  Williams  of  Scituate  the 
command  of  the  right  wing  of  the  ambush,  and 
placed  an  Englishman  and  an  Indian  together  behind 
such  shelters  of  trees,  &c,  as  he  could  find,  and  took 
care  to  place  them  at  such  distance,  that  none  might 

Eass  undiscovered  between  them ;  charged  them  to 
e  careful  of  themselves,  and  of  hurting  their 
friends,  and  to  fire  at  any  that  should  come  silently 
through  the  swamp.  But  it  being  somewhat  farther 
through  the  swamp  than  he  was  aware  of,  he  want- 
ed men  to  make  up  his  ambuscade. 

Having  placed  what  men  he  had,  he  took  Major 
Sanford  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "Sir,  I  have  so 
placed  them  that  it  is  scarce  possible  Philip  should 
escape  them."  The  same  moment  a  shot  whistled 
over  their  heads,  and  then  the  noise  of  a  gun  towards 
Philip's  camp.  Captain  Church,  at  first,  thought 
that  it  might  be  some  gun  fired  by  accident;  but 
before  he  could  speak,  a  whole  volley  followed, 
which  was  earlier  than  he  expected.  One  of  Philip's 
gang  going  forth  to  ease  himself,  when  he  had  done, 
looked  round  him,  and  Captain  Golding  thought  that 
the  Indian  looked  right  at  him,  (though  probabl}'  it 
was  but  his  conceit)  so  fired  at  him;  and  upon  his 
firing,  the  whole  company  that  were  with  him  fired 
upon  the  enemy's  shelter,  before  the  Indians  had 
time  to  rise  from  their  sleep,  and  so  over  shot  them. 
But  their  shelter  was  open  on  that  side  next  the 
swamp,  built  so  on  purpose  for  the  convenience  of 
flight  on  occasion.  They  were  soon  in  the  swamp, 
and  Philip  the  foremost,  who  starting  at  the  first 
gun,  threw  his  pelunk  and  powderhorn  over  his 
head,  catched  up  his  gun,  and  ran  as  fast  as  he  could 
scamper,  without  any  more  clothes  than  his  small 
breeches  and  stockings ;  and  ran  directly  on  two  of 
Captain  Church's  ambush.  They  let  him  come  fair 
within  shot,  and  the  Englishman's  gun  missing  fire, 
he  bid  the  Indian  fire  away,  and  he  did  so  to  the 
purpose;  sent  one  musket  bullet  through  his  heart, 
and  another  not  above  two  inches  from  it.  He  fell 
upon  his  face  in  the  mud  and  water,  with  his  gun 
under  him. 

By  this  time  the  enemy  perceived  that  they  were 
waylaid  on  the  east  side  of  the  swamp,  and  tacked 
short  about.  One  of  the  enemy,  who  seemed  to  be 
a  great,  surly  old  fellow,  hallooed  with  a  loud  voice, 
and  often  called  out,  "  lootaxh,  Tootash."  Captain 
Church  called  to  his  Indian,  Peter,  and  asked  him, 
who  that  was  that  called  so?  He  answered,  that  it 
was  old  Annawon,  Philip's  great  Captain;  calling 
on  his  soldiers  to  stand  to  it,  and  fight  stoutly.  Now 
the  enemy  finding  that  place  of  the  swamp  which 
was  not  ambushed,  many  of  them  made  their  escape 
in  the  English  tracks. 

The  man  that  had  shot  down  Philip,  ran  with  all 
speed  to  Captain  Church,  and  informed  him  of  his 
exploit,  who  commanded  him  to  be  silent  about  it 
and  let  no  man  more  know  it,  until  they  had  driven 
the  swamp  clean.  But  when  they  had  driven  the 
swamp  through,  and  found  that  the  enemy  had 
escaped,  or  at  least,  the  most  of  them,  and  the  sun 


now  up,  and  so  the  dew  gone,  that  they  could  not 
easily  track  them,  the  whole  company  met  together 
at  the  place  where  the  enemy's  night  shelter  was, 
and  then  Captain  Church  gave  them  the  news  of 
Philip's  death.  Upon  which  the  whole  army  gave 
three  loud  huzzas. 

Captain  Church  ordered  his  body  to  be  pulled  out 
of  the  mire  to  the  upland.  So  some  of  Captain 
Church's  Indians  took  hold  of  him  by  his  stockings, 
and  some  by  his  small  breeches  (being  otherwise 
naked)  and  drew  him  through  the  mud  to  the  up- 
land ;  and  a  doleful,  great,  naked,  dirty  beast  he 
looked  like.  Captain  Church  then  said,  that  foras- 
much as  he  had  caused  many  an  Englishman's  body 
to  be  unburied,  and  to  rot  above  ground,  that  not 
one  of  his  bones  should  be  buried.  And  calling  his 
old  Indian  executioner,  bid  him  behead  and  quarter 
him. 

DAVID  BEAINERD. 

David  Braixf.rd,  the  missionary  to  the  Indians, 
was  born  at  Iladdam,  Conn.,  April  20,  1718.  He 
lost  his  father,  a  member  of  the  council  of  the 
colony,  when  he  was  but  nine  years  old,  and  his 
mother  five  years  after.  He  early  displayed  a 
deep  sense  of  religious  obligation,  combined  with 

great  dread  of  future  punishment.  He  dates  his 
partial  relief  from  the  terrible-  fears  which  tor- 
mented his  existence,  from  the  night  of  July  12, 
1739;  but  he  was  throughout  life  subject  to  fits 
of  deep  despondency. 

In  September  of  the  same  year,  he  entered 
Yale  College,  where  he  devoted  himself  so  ear- 
nestly to  his  studies  that  his  feeble  frame  broke 
down  under  his  labor.  His  life  was  for  some 
weeks  despaired  of,  but  after  a  long  interval  of 

I  rest,  he  was  enabled  to  resume  his  studies  in  the 
autumn.  Not  content  with  his  bodily  sufferings, 
his  journal  shows  that  he  reproached  himself 
severely  for  a  sinful  ambition  to  stand  high  as 
a  scholar. 
About  this  time^Vhitefield  visited  New  England. 

J  An  excitable  temperament  like  Brainerd's  was 
one  likely  to  be  affected  by  the  system  which  he 
introduced.  A  powerful  religious  excitement 
spread  through  the  college,  which  was  discoun- 
tenanced by  its  heads.  Brainerd  was  overheard 
to  say  that  one  of  the  tutors  "  had  no  more  grace 
than  a  chair ;"  and  was,  for  this  slight  offence, 
expelled  from  the  college,  lie  afterwards  acknow- 
ledged his  fault  of  hasty  speech,  but  always  felt 
the  unjust  severity  with  which  he  had  been 
treated. 

He  immediately  commenced  the  study  of  divin- 
ity, and  in  the  summer  of  the  same  year  received 
a  license  to  preach  from  the  association  of  minis- 
ters at  Danbury.  His  ardent  desire  was  to 
become  a  missionary  among  the  Indians,  and  he 
commenced  his  labors  among  a  small  and 
wretched  community  of  that  race  at  Kent,  on 
the  borders  of  Connecticut.  In  November  he 
received  an  invitation  from  the  Correspondents, 
at  New  York,  of  the  Society  for  Promoting 
Christian  Knowledge — an  association  formed  in 
Scotland — to  become  their  missionary  to  the 
Indians,     He  accepted  the  apuointment,  after 


DAVID  BRAINERD. 


141 


some  hesitation,  arising  from  his  usual  over 
modest  distrust  of  his  own  ability,  and  com- 
menced his  labors  at  Kanaumeek,  an  Indian  village 
about  half  way  between  Stbckbridge  and  Albany. 
His  first  act  was  to  devote  his  small  patrimony  to 
the  support  of  a*  young  friend  in  the  ministry, 
relying  himself  entirely  upon  his  missionary 
allowance  to  supply  his  simple  wants. 

He  arrived  among  the  Indians  April  1,  1743, 
weak  ill  body  from  the  consumption,  which, 
aggravated  by  exposure,  soon  after  ended  his  life. 
He  found  shelter  in  the  log  hut  of  a  poor  Scotch- 
man, where  he  lived  on  hasty  pudding,  boiled 
corn,  and  bread  baked  in  the  ashes.  Finding  this 
residence  too  far  from  the  Indians,  he  built,  with 
his  own  hands,  a  log  hut  among  their  wigwams. 
He  not  long  afterwards  made  a  journey  to  New 
Haven,  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  humble  apo- 
logy to  the  college  authorities  for  his  old  offence. 
He  craved  pardon  in  these  humble  and  self-accus- 
ing terms : — 

Whereas,  I  have  said  before  several  persons  con- 
cerning ilr.  Whittlesey,  one  of  the  tutors  of  Yale 
College,  that  I  did  not  believe  he  had  any  more 
grace  than  the  chair  I  then  leaned  upon;  I  humbly 
confess,  that  herein  I  have  sinned  against  God,  and 
acted  contrary  to  the  rules  of  his  word,  and  have 
injured  Mr.  Whittlesey.  I  had  no  right  to  make 
thus  free  with  his  character,  and  had  no  just  reason 
to  say  as  I  did  concerning  him.  My  fault  herein 
was  the  more  aggravated,  in  that  I  said  this  concern- 
ing one  who  was  so  much  my  superior,  and  one  that 
I  was  obliged  to  treat  with  special  respect  and  honor, 
by  reason  of  the  relation  I  then  stood  in  to  the  col- 
lege. Such  a  behavior,  I  confess,  did  not  become  a 
Christian;  it  was  taking  too  much  upon  me, and  did 
not  savor  of  that  humble  respect  that  I  ought  to 
have  expressed  towards  Mr.  Whittlesey.  ...  I  have 
often  reflected  on  this  act  with  grief;  I  hope,  on 
account  of  the  sin  of  it ;  and  am  willing  to  lie  low 
and  to  be  abased  before  God  and  man  for  it.  I 
humbly  ask  the  forgiveness  of  the  governors  of  the 
college,  and  of  the  whole  society;  but  of  Mr.  Whit- 
tlesey in  particular.  .  .  And  whether  the  governors 
of  the  college  shall  see  fit  to  remove  the  censure  I 
lie  under  or  not,  or  to  admit  me  to  the  privileges  I 
desire ;  yet  I  am  willing  to  appear,  if  they  think  fit, 
openly  to  own,  and  to  humble  mj'self  for  those 
things  I  have  herein  confessed. 

But  the  only  conditions  which  the  college 
authorities  would  offer,  were,  that  if  he  would 
return  and  remain  a  year  under  their  jurisdiction, 
they  might  allow  him  a  degree.  These  terms  he 
could  not  accept  without  relinquishing  his  duties, 
and  he  consequently  did  not  receive  the  honors 
of  the  institution. 

After  some  months  passed  at  his  station,  he 
became,  convinced  that  it  was  his  duty  to  remove 
to  Indians  who  were  not  in  constant  proximity  to 
the  whites,  a  circumstance  which  impeded  and 
almost  neutralized  his  efforts.  Their  position  near 
the  French  frontier  was  also  a  source  of  distrac- 
tion. If  his  present  charge  could  bo  induced  to 
remove  to  Stockbridge,  they  would  be  under  the 
care  of  a  pastor  who  knew  their  wants  and  would 
do  all  that  could  be  done  for  them.  This  removal 
Brainerd  proposed,  and  it  is  a  significant  proof 
of  the  influence  he  had  acquired  over  them  that 
they  gave  a  ready  assent. 

This  being  arranged,  the  missionary  was  urgently 


pressed  to  become  the  pastor  of  the  pleasant 
and  flourishing  village  of  East  Hampton,  Long 
Island.  The  people  of  that  place  represented  to 
him  "  that  he  might  be  useful  to  them  for  many 
years,  while  he  would  soon  sink  under  the  hard- 
ships of  his  mission,  as  the  winter  he  had  passed 
at  Kanaumeek  abundantly  proved."* 

His  purpose  was  not  to  be  changed  by  promise 
of  ease  or  prospect  of  death,  and  he  was  soon 
after  a  wearisome  journey  at  his  new  post,  Cross- 
waksung,  at  the  Forks  of  the  Delaware.  After 
months  of  diligent  and  patient  labor,  he  succeeded 
in  converting  some  of  the  red  men  to  Christi- 
anity. He  persuaded  them  to  remove  from  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  the  whites  to  a  place 
called  Cranberry,  fifteen  miles  distant,  and  form 
an  independent  settlement.  He  then,  believing  it 
his  duty  to  seek  a  new  audience,  penetrated  still 
further  into  the  wilderness,  to  the  Susquehanna. 
The  journey  proved  too  much  for  his  enfeebled 
constitution.  He  returned  to  Cranberry  ex- 
hausted, and  after  instructing  from  his  chair,  and 
being  carried  to  the  place  of  meeting  to  adminis- 
ter the  sacrament,  felt  it  his  duty  to  seek  rest,  or, 
in  his  own  words,  "consume  some  time  in  diver- 
sions.'"t  He  was  compelled  to  halt  at  Elizabeth- 
town,  where  he  was  for  some  time  confined  to 
his  bed.  He  was  gratified  while  here  by  the 
arrival  of  his  brother,  on  his  way  to  join  or  suc- 
ceed him  in  his  missionary  enterprise. 

In  April,  1747,  he  at  length  reached  North- 
ampton, Massachusetts,  where  he  was  received 
into  the  family  of  the  Eev.  Jonathan  Edwards, 
afterwards  President  of  Yale  College.  He  visited 
this  place  for  the  purpose  of  consulting  the  phy- 
sician, Mather,  who  decided  his  case  to  be  hope- 
less, but  advised  the  exercise  of  riding  as  the 
best  means  of  alleviating  his  disorder. 

His  friends  recommended  him  to  go  to  Boston, 
and  Jerusha,  the  daughter  of  Edwards,  a  young 
lady  of  eighteen,  accompanying  him,  as  her 
father  simply  expresses  it,  "  to  be  helpful  to  him 
in  his  weak  and  low  state. "J: 

He  received  much  attention  in  Boston,  where 
he  was  for  some  time  at  the  point  of  death.  He 
was  visited  by  those  who  sympathized  with  his 
mission,  and  was  instrumental  in  the  collection 
of  funds  for  the  promotion  of  its  objects. 

He  returned  to  Northampton  in  July,  and  after 
great  suffering  in  the  final  stages  of  his  disease, 
died  on  the  ninth  of  October,  1747.  To  the  last, 
his  attached  and  faithful  nurse  "  chiefly  attended 
him."§ 


*  Life  of  Brainerd,  by  W".  B.  O.  Peabody,  in  Sparks's  Am 
Biog.  viii.  30U. 

t  Peabody's  Life,  p.  356. 

1  Memoirs  of  Brainerd.  by  Edwards,  p.  400. 

§  Tbe  brief  and  beautiful  career  of  this  young  lady  is  con- 
cisely and  leeliugly  given  in  tbe  following  note  by  her  father. 

"Since  this,  it  has  pleased  a  holy  and  sovereign  God  to  take 
away  this  my  dear  child  by  death,  on  the  14th  of  February, 
next  following,  after  a  short  illness  of  five  days,  in  the  eight- 
eenth year  of  her  age.  She  was  a  person  of  much  the  same 
spirit  with  Brainerd.  She  had  constantly  taken  care  of,  and 
attended  him  in  his  sickness,  for  nineteen  weeks  before  his 
death ;  devoting  herself  to  it  with  great  delight,  because  sho 
looked  on  him  as  an  eminent  servant  of  Jesus  Christ.  In  this 
time,  he  had  much  conversation  with  her  on  the  things  of 
religion ;  and  in  his  dying  state,  often  expressed  to  us,  her 
parents,  his  great  satisfaction  concerning  her  true  piety,  and  his 
confidence  that  he  should  meet  her  in  heaven,  and  his  high 
opinion  of  her,  not  only  as  a  true  Christian,  but  a  very  eminent 
saint:  one  whose  soul  was  uncommonly  fed  and  entertained 
with  things  which  appertain  to  the  most  spiritual,  experimen- 


142 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  society  by  whom  Brainerd  was  employed 
published,  in  1746,  Mirabilia  Dei  inter  Indicos;* 
or  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  a  remarkable  Work 
of  Grace  among  a  number  of  the  Indians  of  New 
Jersey  and  Pennsylvania. 

The  volume  contains  extracts  from  the  journal 
of  his  labors,  forwarded  by  him,  commencing 
with  his  residence  at  Crossweeksung,  June  19th, 
and  extending  to  November  4th,  1749.  A  second 
part,  entitled  Ditine  Grace  Displayed,\  cover- 
ing the  period  from  November  24th,  1745,  to 
June  19th,  1746,  was  published  a  few  months 
after. 

His  friend  Edwards  preached  his  funeral  ser- 
mon, and,  in  1749,  published  his  life,  chiefly 
composed  of  extracts  from  the  minute  private 
diary  kept  by  Brainerd,  in  addition  to  his  pub- 
lished journals,  throughout  his  career,  the  last 
entry  in  it  being  dated  only  seven  days  before  his 
death.  It  is  a  curious  record  of  spiritual  expe- 
rience, tinged  by  a  melancholy  temperament, 
increased  by  a  life  which,  although  an  active  one, 
was  passed  in  a  great  measure  in  a  virtual  soli- 
tude. 

That  his  biographer  was  aware  of  the  dangers 
with  which  a  constant  study  of  self  is  attended, 
is  evident  from  his  citation  of  the  following 
passage  by  Thomas  Shepard :  — 

I  have  known  one  very  able,  wise,  and  godly,  put 
upon  the  rack  by  him,  who,  envying  God's  people's 
peace,  knows  how  to  change  himself  into  an  angel 
of  light ,  for  it  being  his  usual  course,  in  the  time 
of  his  health,  to  make  a  diary  of  his  hourly  life, 
and  fimling  much  benefit  by  it,  he  was  in  conscience 
pressed  by  the  power  and  delusion  of  Satan,  to  make 
and  take  the  same  daily  survey  of  his  life  in  the 
time  of  his  sickness ;  by  means  of  which,  he  spent 
his  enfeebled  spirits,  and  cast  on  fuel  to  fire  his 
sickness.  Had  not  a  friend  of  his  convinced  him  of 
his  erroneous  conscience  misleading  him  at  that 
time,  he  had  murdered  his  body,  out  of  conscience 
to  save  his  soul,  and  to  preserve  his  grace. 

The  diary,  however,  forms  a  beautiful  memo- 
rial of  a  life  of  self-sacrifice  and  devotion,  of  the 
pursuit  of  missionary  enterprise  among  an  unim- 
pressible  and  savage  people,  whose  minds  he 
could  only  approach  through  the  medium  of  an 


tal,  and  distinguishing  parts  of  religion  :  and  one  who.  by  the 
temper  of  her  mind,  was  fitted  to  deny  herself  for  God.  and  to 
do  good,  beyond  any  young  woman  whatsoever,  whom  he 
knew.  She  had  manifested  a  heart  uncommonly  devoted  to 
God,  in  the  course  of  her  life,  many  years  before  her  death  ; 
and  said  on  her  death-bed,  that  tlshe  had  not  seen  one  minute 
for  several  years,  wherein  she  desired  to  live  one  minute 
longer,  for  the  sake  of  any  other  good  in  life,  but  doing  good, 
living  to  God.  and  doing  what  might  be  for  his  glory.'1 

*  Mirabilia  Dei  iuter  Indicos:  or  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  a 
remarkable  Work  of  Grace,  among  a  number  of  the  Indians,  in 
the  Province  of  New  Jersey  and  Pennsylvania;  justly  repre- 
sented in  a  Journal,  kept  by  order  of  the  Honourable  Society 
in  Scotland  for  propagating  Christian  Knowledge ;  with  some 
General  Remarks;  by  David  Braineed,  Minister  of  the  Gos- 
pel, and  Missionary  from  the  said  Society :  published  by  the 
Reverend  and  Worthy  Correspondents  of  the  said  Society; 
with  a  Preface  by  them. 

+  Divine  Grace  Displayed ;  or  the  Continuance  and  Progress 
of  a  remarkable  Work  of  Grace  among  some  of  the  Indians 
belonging  to  the  Provinces  of  New  Jersey  anfWPennsylvania; 
justly  represented  in  a  Journal  kept  by  order  of  the  Hon- 
ourable Society  in  Scotland  for  propagating  Christian  Know- 
ledge: with  some  General  Remarks;  to  which  is  subjoined  an 
Appendix,  containing  some  account  of  sundry  things,  and 
especially  of  the  Difficulties  attending  the  Work  of  "a  Mis- 
sionary among  the  Indians;  by  David  Brainerd,  Minister  of 
the  Gospel,  and  Missionary  from  the  said  Society :  published 
by  the  Reverend  and  Worthy  Correspondents  ot  the  said 
Society. 


interpreter,  as,  although  he  bestowed  much  labor 
on  the  effort,  he  never  thoroughly  mastered  their 
language.  His  journal  bears  no  record  of  his 
bodily  sufferings,  but  we  know  that  he  went  to 
his  task  with  a  frame  wasted  by  consumption,  and 
pursued  his  painful  journeys  in  all  weathers, 
undisturbed  by  the  unmistakable  premonitions  of 
death  which  accompanied  his  disease.  He  rode 
through  the  woods,  raising  blood  and  parched 
with  fever,  and  his  rest  in  the  rude  hut  or  wigwam 
was  accompanied  by  wasting  night-sweats,  and 
yet,  with  all  this,  he  was  constantly  reproaching 
himself  for  want  of  exertion. 

The  diary  is  not  as  full  as  could  be  desired  in 
relation  to  his  intercourse  with  the  Indians,  but 
is  sufficiently  so  to  show  that  he  pursued  a  wise 
and  judicious  course  in  his  ministry. 

The  pervading  spirit  of  Brainerd's  Journal  is 
eloquently  described  by  Edwards : — 

I  have  had  occasion  to  read  his  diary  over  and 
over,  and  very  particularly  and  critically  to  review 
every  passage  in  it;  and  I  find  no  one  instance  of  a 
strong  impression  on  his  imagination,  through  his 
whole  life ;  no  instance  of  a  strongly  impressed  idea 
of  any  external  glory  and  brightness,  of  any  bodily 
form  or  shape,  any  beautiful  majestic  countenance. 
There  is  no  imaginary  sight  of  Christ  hanging  on 
the  cross  with  his  blood  streaming  from  his  wounds; 
or  seated  in  heaven  on  a  bright  throne,  with  angels 
and  saints  bowing  before  him ;  or  with  a  counte- 
nance smiling  on  him ;  or  arms  open  to  embrace 
him :  no  sight  of  heaven,  in  his  imagination,  with 
gates  of  pearl,  and  golden  streets,  and  vast  multi- 
tudes of  glorious  inhabitants,  with  shining  garments. 
There  is  no  sight  of  the  book  of  life  opened,  with 
his  name  written  in  it ;  no  hearing  of  the  sweet 
music  made  by  the  songs  of  heavenly  hosts;  no 
hearing  God  or  Christ  immediately  speaking  to  him; 
nor  any  sudden  suggestions  of  words  or  sentences, 
either  oi  scripture  or  any  other,  as  then  immediately 
spoken  or  sent  to  him ;  no  new  objective  revela- 
tions ;  no  sudden  strong  suggestions  of  secret  facts. 
Nor  do  I  find  any  one  instance  in  all  the  records 
which  he  has  left  of  his  own  life,  from  beginning  to 
end,  of  joy  excited  from  a  supposed  immediate  wit- 
ness of  the  Spirit ;  or  inward  immediate  suggestion, 
that  his  state  was  surely  good,  that  God  loved  him 
with  an  everlasting  love,  that  Christ  died  for  him 
in  particular,  and  that  heaven  was  his ;  either  with 
or  without  a  text  of  scripture.  There  is  no  instance 
of  comfort  from  any  sudden  suggestion  to  liis  mind, 
as  though  at  that  very  time  directed  by  God  to  him 
in  particular,  of  any  such  texts  as  these ;  "  Fear 
not;  I  am  with  thee;" — "It  is  your  Father's  gpod 
pleasure  to  give  you  the  kingdom ;" — "  You  have 
not  chosen  me,  but  I  have  chosen  you ;" — "  I  have 
called  thee  by  thy  name,  thou  art  mine;" — "  Before 
thou  wast  formed  in  the  belly,  I  knew  thee,"  <fce. 
There  is  no  supposed  communion  and  conversation 
with  God  carried  on  in  this  way ;  nor  any  such  sup- 
posed tasting  of  the  love  of  Christ.  But  the  way  in 
which  he  was  satisfied  of  his  own  good  estate,  even  to 
the  entire  abolishing  of  fear,  was  by  feeling  within 
himself  the  lively  actings  of  a  holy  temper  and 
heavenly  disposition,  the  vigorous  exercises  of  that 
divine  love  which  casteth  out  fear. 

Edwards's  Life  was  abridged  by  John  Wesley, 
and  published  in  England. .  A  second  and  smaller 
abridgment  was  made  by  John  Styles.  In  1822, 
the  original  work  was  printed  at  New  Haven, 
with  the  addition  of  the  Journals  published 
during    Brainerd's    lifetime,     and    which    were 


JAMES  McSPARRAN. 


143 


omitted  by  Edwards  as  being  already  accessible 
to  the  public,  under  the  editorship  of  Sereuo 
Edwards  Dwight* 

INDIAN  SUPERSTITION.    ' 

"When  I  was  in  this  regiouf  in  May  last,  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  learning  many  of  the  notions  and 
customs  of  the  Indians,  as  well  as  observing  many 
of  their  practices.  I  then  travelled  more  than  au 
hundred  and  thirty  miles  upon,  the  river,  above  the 
English  settlements  ;  and,  in  that  journey,  met  with 
individuals  of  seven  or  eight  distinct  tribes,  speak- 
ing as  many  different  languages.  But  of  all  the 
sights  I  ever  saw  among  them,  or  indeed  any  where 
else,  none  appeared  so  frightful,  or  so  near  a  kin  to 
what  is  usually  imagined  of  infernal  powers,  none 
ever  excited  such  images  of  terror  in  my  mind,  as 
the  appearance  of  one  who  was  a  devout  and  zealous 
Reformer,  or  rather,  restorer  of  what  he  supposed 
was  the  ancient  religion  of  the  Indians.  He  made 
his  appearance  in  his  pontifical  aarb,  which  was  a 
coat  of  boar  skins,  dressed  with  the  hair  on,  and 
hanging  down  to  his  toes ;  a  pair  of  bear  skin  stock- 
ings ;  and  a  great  wooden  face  painted,  the  one  half 
black,  the  other  half  tawny,  about  the  colour  of  an 
Indian's  skin,  with  au  extravagant  mouth,  cut  very 
much  awry;  the  face  fastened  to  a  bear  skin  cap, 
which  was  drawn  over  his  head.  He  advanced 
towards  me  with  the  instrument  in  his  hand,  which 
he  used  for  music  in  his  idolatrous  worship  ;  which 
was  a  dry  tortoise  shell  with  some  corn  in  it,  and  the 
neck  of  it  drawn  on  to  a  piece  of  wood,  which  made 
a  very  convenient  handle.  As  he  came  forward,  he 
beat  his  tune  with  the  rattle,  ami  danced  with  all 
his  might,  but  did  not  suffer  any  part  of  his  body, 
not  so  much  as  his  fingers,  to  be  seen.  No  one 
would  have  imagined  from  his  appearance  or  actions, 
that  he  could  have  been  a  human  creature,  if  they 
had  not  had  some  intimation  of  it  otherwise. 
When  he  came  near  me,  I  could  not  but  shrink  away 
from  him,  although  it  was  then  noon  day,  and  I 
knew  who  it  was ;  his  appearance  and  gestures 
were  so  prodigiously  frightful.  He  had  a  house 
consecrated  to  religious  uses,  with  divers  images  cut 
upon  the  several  parts  of  it.  I  went  in,  and  found 
the  ground  beat  almost  as  hard  as  a  rock,  with  their 
frequent  dancing  upon  it.  I  discoursed  with  him 
about  Christianity.  Some  of  my  discourse  he 
seemed  to  like,  but  some  of  it  he  disliked  extremely. 
He  told  me  that  God  had  taught  him  his  religion, 
and  that  he  never  would  turn  from  it ;  but  wanted 
to  find  some  who  would  join  heartily  with  him  in 
it ;  for  the  Indians,  he  said,  were  grown  very  dege- 
nerate and  corrupt.  He  had  thoughts,  he  said,  of 
leaving  all  his  friends,  and  travelling  abroad,  in 
order  to  find  some  who  would  join  with  him ;  for 
lie  believed  that  God  had  some  good  people  some 
where,  who  felt  as  he  did.  He  had  not  always,  he 
said,  felt  as  he  now  did  ;  but  had  formerly  been  like 
the  rest  of  the  Indians,  until  about  four  or  five  years 
before  that  time.  Then,  he  said,  his  heart  was  very 
much  distressed,  so  that  he  could  not  live  among  the 
Indians,  but  got  away  into  the  woods,  and  lived 
alone  for  some  months.  At  length,  he  says,  God 
comforted  his  heart,  and  showed  him  what  lie  should 
do ;  and  since  that  time  he  had  known  God,  and 


*  Memoirs  of  tho  Eev.  David  Brainerd :  Missionary  to  the 
Indiaus  on  the  borders  of  New  York,  New  Jersey,  and  Penn- 
sylvania: chiefly  taken  from  his  own  Diary.  By  Iiev.  Jona- 
than Edwards,  of  Northampton.  Including  his  Journal,  now 
for  the  first  time  incorporated  with  the  rest  of  his  Diary,  in  a 
regular  Chronological  series.  By  Sereno  Edwards  Dwight. 
New-Haven:  Printed  and  published  by  3.  Converse.    1822. 

t  Sbaumokung,  on  the  Susquehanna. 


tried  to  serve  him ;  and  loved  all  men,  be  they  who 
they  would,  so  as  he  never  did  before.  He  treated 
me  with  uncommon  courtesy,  and  seemed  to  be 
hearty  in  it.  I  was  told  by  the  Indians,  that  he 
opposed  their  drinking  strong  liquor  with  all  his 
power ;  and  that,  if  at  any  time  he  could  not  dis- 
suade them  from  it  by  all  he  could  say,  he  would 
leave  them,  and  go  crying  into  the  woods.  It  was 
manifest  that  he  had  a  set  of  religious  notions  which 
he  had  examined  for  himself,  and  not  taken  for 
granted,  upon  bare  tradition  ;  and  he  relished  or 
disrelished  whatever  was  spoken  of  a  religious 
nature,  as  it  either  agreed  or  disagreed  with  Ms 
standard.  While  1  was  discoursing,  he  would  some- 
times say,  "  Now  that  I  like ;  so  God  has  taught 
me ;"  tfec,  and  some  of  his  sentiments  seemed  very 
just.  Yet  he  utterly  denied  the  existence  of  a 
devil,  and  declared  there  was  no  such  creature 
known  among  the  Indians  of  old  times,  whose  reli- 
gion he  supposed  he  was  attempting  to  revive.  He 
likewise  told  me,  that  departed  souls  all  went  south- 
ward, and  that  the  difference  between  the  good  and 
the  bad,  was  this :  that  the  former  were  admitted 
into  a  beautiful  town  with  spiritual  walls ;  and  that 
the  latter  would  for  ever  hover  around  these  walls, 
in  vain  attempts  to  get  in.  He  seemed  to  be  sin- 
cere, honest,  and  conscientious  in  his  own  way,  and 
according  to  his  own  religious  notions  ;  which  was 
more  than  I  ever  saw  in  any  other  Pagan.  I  per- 
ceived that  he  was  looked  upon  and  derided  among 
most  of  the  Indians,  as  a  precise  zealot,  who  made  a 
needless  noise  about  religious  matters;  but  I  must 
say  that  there  was  something  in  his  temper  and  dis- 
position, which  looked  more  like  true  religion,  than 
any  thing  I  ever  observed  amongst  other  heathens. 

But  alas !  how  deplorable  is  the  state  of  the  In- 
dians upon  this  river  I  The  brief  representation 
which  I  have  here  given  of  their  notions  and  man- 
ners, is  sufficient  to  show  that  they  are  "  led  captive 
by  Satan  at  his  will,"  in  tlie  most  eminent  manner ; 
and  methiuks  might  likewise  be  sufficient  to  excite 
the  compassion,  and  engage  the  prayers,  of  pious 
souls  for  these  their  fellow-men,  who  sit  "  in  the 
regions  of  the  shadow  of  death." 

JAMES  McSPAPvEAN. 
The  Rev.  James  McSpaeran,  of  the  church  of 
Narraghansett,  was  one  of  the  pioneer  band  of 
English  clergymen  whose  influence  is  often  to  be 
noticed  in  cementing  the  foundations  of  Ameri- 
can progress.  His  family  was  from  the  north  of 
Ireland,  having  emigrated  from  Scotland.  He 
had  a  good  classical  education,  and  came  a  mis- 
sionary to  Narraghansett,  in  Rhode  Island,  from 
the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in 
Foreign  Parts,  in  1721 .  The  next  year  lie  married 
Miss  Harriet  Gardiner,  a  lady  of  the  place.  Ho 
was  intimate  with  Berkeley  during  the  residence 
of  the  Dean  at  Newport.  In  1736,  he  visited 
England,  and  returned  with  the  title  of  Doctor  of 
Divinity,  from  Glasgow.  His  pulpit  exercises  in 
the  church  of  St.  Paul's  were  of  an  eloquent  cha- 
racter, if  we  may  judge  from  the  sermon  which 
he  delivered  on  the  loth  March,  1740,  when  war, 
pestilence,  and  an  unusually  protracted  and  severe 
winter  oppressed  the  country.*  In  1747,  he 
preached  tin  eloquent  sermon  before  the  conven- 
tion of  the  Episcopal  clergy,  in  Trinity  Church, 
Newport,  which  was  printed.     He  asserted  the 


*  Large  portions  of  the  sermon  are  printed  in  Updike's  Hist 
Narr.    Ch.  191-201. 


Hi 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


claims  of  his  Episcopal  order  in  another  dis- 
course which  was  printed  at  Newport,  in  1751, 
The  Sacred  Dignity  of  the  Christian  Priesthood 
Vindicated.  In  1752,  he  wrote  an  historical 
tract  of  merit,  America  Dissected,  which  was 
published  at  Dublin,  in  1753.  It  is  in  three  letters 
giving  an  account  of  the  "English  American 
Dominions,"  beginning  with  the  Bermudas  and 
Georgia,  and  proceeding  northerly  to  Newfound- 
land.* It  was  his  intention  to  publish  an  extended 
history  of  the  colonies,  especially  of  New  Eng- 
land ;  and  it  was  supposed  he  had  completed  a 
history  of  the  Narraghansett  country,  but  no 
such  work  has  been  found  among  his  papers. 
He  died  at  his  house,  in  South  Ejngstown,  Dec.  1, 
1757,  having  sustained  manfully  a  career  of  many 
difficulties. 

TEE  COLD  wrNTKR,  1740-1. 

The  elements  have  been  armed  with  such  piercing 
cold  and  suffocating  snows,  as  if  God  intended  the 
air  that  he  gave  us  to  live  and  breathe  in  should 
become  the  instrument  to  execute  his  vengeance  on 
us,  for  our  ingratitude  to  his  goodness,  and  our 
transgression  of  his  law.  We  may  contemplate  to 
our  comfort  the  wisdom  and  power  of  God  in  the 
beautiful  structure  of  the  heavens,  and  his  wise 
sorting  of  the  seasons,  for  the  benefit  and  delight  of 
man.  But  as  no  human  skill  can  count  the  number 
of  the  stars,  nor  call  them  by  their  names,  so  exceeds 
the  utmost  art  of  astronomy,  for  either  extreme  heat 
or  extreme  cold,  otherwise  than  by  the  distance  of 
the  sun  ;  yet  what  we  see  have  variations  and  vicis- 
situdes that  do  not  always  correspond  to  that  cause. 
It  is  no  small  comfort  to  consider  God's  care  to  pro- 
vide food  for  the  beasts  of  the  field  and  the  fowls  of 
the  air,  and  to  supply  their  starving  importunity. 
And  our  gratitude  grows,  as  we  are  assured  all  this 
is  ultimately  intended  as  a  kindness  and  bounty  for 
the  souls  of  men.  But  how,  of  late,  has  the  grazier 
groaned  to  see  the  severity  of  the  season,  to  hear 
his  herds  and  his  flocks  making  moan  for  their  meat; 
and  after  a  few  fruitless  complaints  uttered  in 
accents  peculiar  to  their  kind,  drop  down  and  die, 
and  disappoint  the  increase  and  expectation  of  the 
spring. 

With  what  amazement  do  we  behold  and  can  ill 
endure  God's  sudden  and  intolerable  cold,  that  pro- 
ceeds from  the  breath  of  his  nostrils !  The  snow 
that  looks  so  white,  innocent,  and  light,  as  if  it 
would  bear  down  and  oppress  nothing,  yet  we  see 
it  hides  and  covers  the  earth  from  the  warmth  and 
light  of  the  sun  ;  and  thus  does  also  the  ice  turn 
rivers  into  rocks,  and  the  6ea  (as  it  were)  into  dry 
land.  We  see  the  fluid  element,  which  yielded  to 
the  smallest  force,  become  so  hard  and  rigid,  that  it 
resists  the  impression  of  the  traveller's  foot,  and  the 
weight  of  beasts  and  burthens  with  a  firmness 
superior  to  the  driest  land. 

Boreas  has  so  far  entered  into  the  chambers  of  the 
south,  that  he  hath  sealed  up  the  sun  and  inter- 
cepted his  dissolving  influence  ;  and  southern  snowTs 
are  signs  of  that  planet's  impotent  efforts  to  regain 
his  usurped  dominions.  The  great  luminary  that 
rules  the  day,  has  now  advanced  and  displayed  his 
banner  on  this  side  of  the  Line,  yet  so  faint  are  his 
armies,  though  innumerable,  and  each  atom  har- 
nessed in  fire,  that  they  cannot  force  the  frost  to 
give  ground,  nor  dissolve  the  intrenchrnent  of  snow. 
No  arm  that  is  not  almighty  can  melt  or  open  what 


*  It  is  printed  at  the  close  of  Updike's  Hist.  Nan.    Ch.  483- 
588. 


Orion  has  shut  up,  bound  in  bands,  and  hardened; 
or  freeze  and  make  fast  what  the  Pleiades  have 
loosed  and  softened;  the  first  being  the  eonstella^ 
tion,  which  in  the  Omnipotent's  hands  beget  and 
begin  the  winter ;  as  the  other  are  the  orbs  that 
attend  the  advancing  Spring. 

How  many  sad  remembrances  do  remain,  to 
remind  us  of  the  past,  winter-?  The  husbandman 
and  the  mariner,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  have  already 
sensibly  felt  its  bad  effects,  and  though  the  dissolved 
rivers  have  opened  their  mouths,  returned  to  their 
channels,  and  offer  their  usual  administrations  to 
navigation,  fishing  and  commerce;  yet  alas!  are  not 
the  cattle  now  corrupting  in  the  fields,  and  that 
after  they  have  consumed  most  of  the  corn  that 
might  have  maintained  us  to  that  time  ? 

Famine  of  food,  which  though  (blessed  be  God,) 
we  do  not  yet  feel,  we  have,  notwithstanding,  some 
reason  to  fear.  Whatever  second  causes  concur  to 
occasion  a  scarcity  of  food,  nature  becomes  the 
hungry  man's  executioner  and  tormenter,  racking 
him  with  an  impatient  and  importunate  appetite, 
when  there  is  nothing  to  allay  or  relieve  it. 

JONATHAN  MATTHEW. 

Jonathan  Matiiew,  a  great-grandson  of  Thomas 
Mayhew,  the  first  minister  at  Martha's  Vineyard, 
was  born  on  that  island,  where  his  father  main- 
tained the  ministry  which  had  been  held  in  his 
family  since  the  time  of  the  progenitor  of  whom  we 
have  spoken,  October  8, 1720.  He  was  graduated 
with  distinction  at  Harvard,  in  1744,  and  in  1747 
was  ordained  pastor  of  the  west  church,  in  Bos- 
ton, where  he  remained  until  his  death,  on  the 
ninth  of  July,  1766. 

On  the  30th  January,  1750,  he  preached  a  ser- 
mon bearing  on  the  execution  of  Charles  I.,  which 
was  remarkable  for  its  independent  views  on  the 
duties  of  rulers  ana  the  limits  of  allegiance. 

In  1763,  the  Rev.  East  Apthorpe,*  one  of  the 
Missionaries  of  the  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts,  published  "  Con- 
siderations on  the  Institution  and  Conduct "  of 
that  society,  in  reply  to  an  attack  upon  it  which 
had  appeared  in  a  local  journal,  after  the  death 
of  the  society's  missionary  at  Braintree,  charging 
the  association  with  a  departure  from  its  duties 
in  supporting  a  clergyman  of  the  English  Church 
in  a  settlement  where  other  provision  for  religious 
instruction  had  been  made.  His  pamphlet  was 
taken  up  by  Dr.  Mayhew,  who  published  Ob- 
servations on  the  Charter  and  Conduct  of  the 
society.  A  controversy  ensued  in  which  many 
of  the  New  England  clergy  took  part,  the  anti- 
cipated introduction  of  bishops  naturally  height- 
ening the  warmth  of  the  discussion  on  both  sides 
of  the  question. 

Dr.  Mayhew  early  embraced  the  popular  side 
in  the  revolutionary  struggle,  and  took  an  active 
part  in  the  movements  which  preceded  the  con- 


*  East  Apthorpe,  the  son  of  Charles  Apthorpe,  a  merchant 
of  Boston,  was  born  in  1733,  and  educated  at  Jesus  College, 
Cambridge,  England.  He  was  appointed,  in  1761,  missionary 
at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  by  the  Society  for  Propagating  the  Gospel 
in  Foreign  Parts.  He  returned  not  long  after  to  England ;  was 
made  vicar  of  Croydon,  in  1765 ;  rector  of  Eowchurch,  London, 
in  1778;  and  in  179D,  having  become  blind,  exchanged  these 
livings  for  a  prebendary's  stall.  He  passed  the  last  years  of  his 
life  at  Cambridge.  England,  where  he  died,  April  10, 1S1G.  In 
addition  to  his  "productions  on  the  Episcopal  controversy,  he 
was  the  author  of  Discourses  on  Prophecy,  at  the  Warburton 
lecture,  Lincoln's  Inn,  2  vols.,  London,  and  an  answer  to  Gib- 
bon's account  of  the  causes  of  the  spread  of  early  Christianity. 


JONATHAN  MAYHEW. 


145 


test,  by  his  discourses  and  personal  influence.  His 
sermon  on  the  Repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act,  in  1766, 


shows  that  he  brought  all  his  energy  to  the  service 
of  his  country,  and  in  common  with  his  numerous 
other  printed  discourses,  displays  vigor  of  mind 
and  eloquence. 

A  "  Memoir  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Rev. 
Jonathan  Mayhew,  D.D.,  by  Alden  Bradford," 
appeared  at  Boston,  in  1838. 

In  his  theological  views  he  differed  from  the 
majority  of  his  Congregational  brethren,  inclining 
to  those  of  the  Unitarians. 

PROM  "THE  6NAP.E  BROKEN,'1  A  TIIANKSOIVTNG  DISCOURSE 
PREACHED  AT  THE  DESIRE  OF  THE  WEST  CHURCH  IN  BOSTON, 
N.  E.,  FRIDAY,  MAY  23,  17G6;  OCCASIONED  BY  THE  REPEAL 
OF  THE  STAMP   ACT. 

Brethren,  ye  have  been  called  unto  Liberty;  only  use  not 
Liberty  for  an  occasion  to  the  Jlesh,  but  by  love  serve  one- 
another. — Ap.  Paul. 

We  have  never  known  so  quick  and  general  a 
transition  from  the  depth  of  sorrow  to  the  height  of 
joy,  as  on  this  occasion  ;  nor,  indeed,  so  great  and 
universal  a  flow  of  either,  on  any  other  occasion 
whatever.  It  is  very  true,  we  have  heretofore  seen 
times  of  great  adversity.  We  have  known  seasons 
of  drought,  dearth  and  spreading  mortal  diseases; 
the  pestilence  walking  in  darkness,  and  the  destruc- 
tion wasting  at  noonday.  We  have  seen  wide  de- 
vastations made  by  fire;  and  amazing  tempests,  the 
heavens  on  flame,  the  winds  and  the  waves  roaring. 
We  have  known  repeated  earthquakes,  threatening 
us  witli  speedy  destruction.  We  have  been  under 
great  apprehensions  by  reason  of  formidable  fleets 
of  an  enemy  on  our  coasts,  menacing  fire  and  sword 
to  all  our  maritime  towns.  We  have  known  times 
when  the  French  and  Savage  armies  made  terrible 
havoek  on  our  frontiers,  carrying  all  before  them  for 
a  while ;  when  we  were  not  without  fear,  that  some 
capital  towns  in  the  colonies  would  fall  into  their 
merciless  hands.  Such  times  as  these  we  have 
known  ;  at  some  of  which  almost  every  "  face  ga- 
thered paleness,"  and  the  knees  of  all  but  the  good 
and  brave,  waxed  feeble.     But  never  have  we  known 

VOL.  I. — 10 


a  season  of  such  universal  consternation  and  anxiety 
among  people  of  all  ranks  and  ages,  in  these  colonies, 
as  was  occasioned  by  that  parliamentary  procedure, 
which  threatened  us  and  our  posterity  with  perpe- 
tual bondage  and  slavery.  For  they,  as  we  gene- 
rally suppose,  are  really  slaves  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  who  are  obliged  to  labor  and  toil  only  for 
the  benefit  of  others;  or,  which  comes  to  the  same 
thing,  the  fruit  of  whose  labor  and  industry  may  be 
lawfully  taken  from  them  without  their  consent,  and 
they  justly  punished  if  they  refuse  to  surrender  it  on 
demand,  or  apply  it  to  other  purposes  than  those, 
which  their  masters,  of  their  mere  grace  and  plea- 
sure, see  fit  to  allow.  Nor  are  there  many  American. 
understandings  acute  enough  to  distinguish  any  ma- 
terial difference  between  this  being  done  by  a  single 
person,  under  the  title  of  an  absolute  monarch,  and 
done  by  a  far-distant  legislature  consisting  of  many 
persons,  in  which  they  are  not  represented;  and  the 
members  whereof,  instead  of  feeling,  and  sharing 
equally  with  them  in  the  burden  thus  imposed,  are 
eased  of  their  own  in  proportion  to  the  greatness  and 
weight  of  it.  It  may  be  questioned,  whether  the 
ancient  Greeks  or  Romans,  or  any  other  nation  in 
which  slavery  was  allowed,  carried  their  idea  of  it 
much  farther  than  this.  So  that  our  late  apprehen- 
sions, and  universal  consternation,  on  account  of 
!"  ourselves  and  posterity,  were  far,  very  far  indeed, 
from  being  groundless.  For  what  is  there  in  this 
world  more  wretched,  than  for  those  who  were  born 
free,  and  have  a  right  to  continue  so,  to  be  made 
slaves  themselves,  and  to  think  of  leaving  a  race  of 
slaves  behind  them ;  even  though  it  be  to  masters, 
confessedly  the  most  humane  and  generous  in  the 
world!  Or  what  wonder  is  it,  if  after  groaning 
with  a  low  voice  for  a  while  to  no  purpose,  we  at 
length  groaned  so  loudly,  as  to  be  heard  more  than 
three  thousand  miles ;  and  to  be  pitied  throughout 
Europe,  wherever  it  is  not.  hazardous  to  mention 
even  the  name  of  liberty,  unless  it  be  to  reproach  it, 
as  only  another  name  for  sedition,  faction  or  rebel- 
lion? 

****** 

The  repeal,  the  repeal,  has  at  once,  in  a  good 
measure,  restored  things  to  order,  and  composed  our 
minds  by  removing  the  chief  ground  of  our  fears. 
The  course  of  justice  between  man  and  man  is  no 
longer  obstructed ;  commerce  lifts  up  her  head, 
adorned  with  golden  tresses,  pearls,  and  precious 
stones.  All  things  that  went  on  right  before  are  re- 
turning gradually  to  their  former  course  ;  those  that 
did  not  we  have  reason  to  hope  will  go  on  better 
now ;  almost  every  person  you  meet  wears  the  smiles 
of  contentment  and  joy  ;  and  even  our  slaves  rejoice 
as  though  they  had  received  their  manumission.  In- 
deed, all  the  lovers  of  liberty  in  Europe,  in  the 
world,  have  reason  to  rejoice;  the  cause  is,  in  some 
measure,  common  to  them  and  us.  Blessed  revolu- 
tion !  glorious  change!  How  great  are  our  obliga- 
tions for  it  to  the  Supreme  Governor  of  the  world ! 
He  hath  given  us  beauty  for  ashes,  and  the  oil  of 
gladness  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness.  He  hath  turned 
our  groans  into  songs,  our  mourning  into  dancing. 
He  hath  put  off  our  sackcloth,  and  girded  us  with 
gladness,  to  the  end  that  our  tongues,  our  glory  may 
sing  praises  to  him.  Let  us  all,  then,  rejoice  in  the 
Lord,  and  give  honor  to  him  ;  not  forgetting  to  add 
the  obedience  of  our  lives,  as  the  best  sacrifice  that 
we  can  offer  to  Heaven  ;  and  which,  if  neglected, 
will  prove  all  our  other  sacrifices  have  been  but 
ostentation  and  hypocrisy,  which  are  an  abomina- 
tion to  the  Lord. 


If  I  may  be  indidged  here  in  saying  a  few  words 


UG 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE.' 


more,  respecting  my  notions  of  liberty  in  general, 
Bueh  as  they  are,  it  shall  be  as  fellows : 

Having  been  initiated  in  youth  in  the  doctrines 
of  civil  liberty,  as  they  were  taught  by  such  men  as 
Plato,  Demosthenes,  Cicero,  and  other  renowned 
persons  among  the  ancients;  and  such  as  Sidney  and 
Milton,  Locke  and  Hoadley,  among  the  moderns;  I 
liked  them;  they  seemed  rational.  Having  earlier 
still  learned  from  the  Holy  Scriptures,  that  wise, 
brave,  and  virtuous  men  were  always  friends  to 
liberty;  that  God  gave  the  Israelites  a  king  [or  ab- 
solute monarch]  in  his  anger,  because  they  had  not 
sense  and  virtue  enough  to  like  a  free  common- 
wealth, and  to  have  himself  for  their  king ;  that  the 
Son  of  God  came  down  from  heaven  to  make  us 
"  free  indeed  ;"  and  that  "  where  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  is,  there  is  liberty ;"  this  made  me  conclude 
that  freedom  was  a  great  blessing.  Having,  also, 
from  my  childhood  up,  by  the  kind  providence  of 
my  God,  and  the  tender  care  of  a  good  parent  now 
at  rest  with  Him,  been  educated  to  the  love  of 
liberty,  though  not  of  licentiousness;  which  chaste 
and  virtuous  passion  was  still  increased  in  me,  as  I 
advanced  towards  and  into  manhood  ;  I  would  not, 
I  cannot  now,  though  past  middle  age,  relinquish 
the  fair  object  of  my  youthful  affection,  Liberty, 
whose  charms,  instead  of  decaying  with  time  in  my 
eyes,  have  daily  captivated  me  more  and  more.  I 
was  accordingly  penetrated  with  the  most  sensible 
grief,  when,  about  the  first  of  November  last,  that 
day  of  darkness,  a  day  hardly  to  be  numbered  with 
the  other  days  of  the  year,  she  seemed  about  to  take 
her  final  departure  from  America,  and  to  leave  that 
ugly  hag,  Slavery,  the  deformed  child  of  Satan,  in 
her  room.  I  am  now  filled  with  a  proportionable 
degree  of  joy  in  God,  on  occasion  of  her  speedy  re- 
turn, with  new  smiles  on  her  face,  with  augmented 
beauty  and  splendor. — Once  more,  then,  Hail!  ce- 
lestial maid,  the  daughter  of  God,  and,  excepting 
his  iron,  the  firstborn  of  heaven  !  Welcome  to  these 
shores  again;  welcome  to  every  expanding  heart! 
Long  mayest  thou  reside  among  us,  the  delight  of 
the  wise,  good,  and  brave ;  the  protectress  of  inno- 
cence from  wrongs  and  opprcs  ion  ;  the  patroness  of 
learning,  arts,  eloquence,  virtue,  rational  loyalty, 
religion  !  And  if  any  miserable  people  on  the  con- 
tinent or  isles  of  Europe,  after  being  weakened  by 
luxury,  debauchery,  venality,  intestine  quarrels,  or 
other  vices,  should,  in  the  rude  collisions,  or  now- 
uncertain  revolutions  of  kingdoms,  be  driven,  in 
their  extremity,  to  seek  a  safe  retreat  from  slavery 
in  some  far  distant  climale;  let  them  find,  O  let 
them  find  one  in  America  under  thy  brooding  sacred 
wii  gs,  where  our  oppressed  fathers  once  found  it, 
and  we  now  enjoy  it,  by  the  favor  of  Him,  whose 
service  is  the  most  glorious  freedom!  Never,  0 
never  may  He  permit  them  to  forsake  us,  for  our 
unworthiness  to  enjoy  thy  enlivening  presence !  By 
His  high  permission  attend  us  through  life  and  death 
to  the  regions  of  the  blessed,  thy  original  abode, 
there  to  enjoy  forever  the  "  glorious  liberty  of  the 
sons  of  God!" — But  I  forget  myself;  whither  have 
I  been  hurried  by  this  enthusiasm,  or  whatever  else 
you  will  please  to  call  it  ?  I  hope  your  candor  will 
forgive  this  odd  excursion,  for  which  I  hardly  know 
how  to  account  myself. 

JOHN  WOOLMAN. 
"  Get,"  says  Charles  Lamb,  in  one  of  the  Essays 
of  Elia,  "  the  writings  of  John  Woolraan  by  heart, 
and  love  the  early  Quakers." 

The  result  is  not  unlikely  to  follow,  even  if  the 
reader  stop  short  of  the  thoroughness  of  study 
recommended.     John    Woohnan's  writings   are 


not,  however,  of  formidable  bulk,  being  comprised 
in  a  duodecimo  of  about  five  hundred  pages. 
They  are  principally  occupied  with  The  Journal 
of  his  life  and  travels  in  the  service  of  the  Gos- 
pel, and  as  the  best  introduction  of  the  man,  we 
proceed  to  some  consideration  of  this  which  may 
emphatically  be  called  a  portion  of  his  works. 

"  Having  often  felt  a  motion  of  love  to  leave 
some  hints  in  writing  of  my  experience  of  the 
goodness  of  God,"  he  in  the  thirty-sixth  year  of 
his  age  addressed  himself  to  the  task. 


7-Uiy??-.     . 


Tic  was  born  i  n  Northampton,  Burlington  county, 
AY  est  Jersey,  in  1720,  and  before  the  age  of  seven 
"  began  to  be  acquainted  with  the  operations  of 
Divine  love.  "  He  remembered  sitting  down  once 
on  his  way  from  school,  and  reading  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  new  heavens  and  new  earth  in  the 
Book  of  Revelation,  and  by  this  and  like  exercises 
he  was  preserved  from  acquiring  the  habit  of  using 
ill  language  and  other  evils. 

He  records  an  early  case  of  conscience. 

A  thing  remarkable  in  my  childhood  was,  that 
once  going  to  a  neighbour's  house,  I  saw,  on  the 
way,  a  robin  sitting  on  her  nest,  and  as  I  came 
near  she  went  off,  but  having  young  ones  flew 
about,  and  with  many  cries  expressed  her  concern 
for  them;  I  stood  and  threw  stones  at  her,  till  one 
striking  her,  she  fell  down  dead :  at  first  I  was 
pleased  with  the  exploit,  but  after  a  few  minutes 
was  seized  with  horror,  as  having,  in  a  sportive  way, 
killed  an  innocent  creature  while  she  was  careful 
tor  her  young :  I  beheld  her  lying  dead,  and 
thought  these  young  ones  for  which  she  was  so 
careful,  must  now  perish  for  want  of  their  dam  to 
nourish  them ;  and  after  some  painful  considera- 
tions on  the  subject  I  climbed  up  the  tree,  took  all 
the  young  birds,  and  killed  them  ;  supposing  that 
better  than  to  leave  them  to  pine  away  and  die  mi- 
serably :  and  believed,  in  this  case,  that  scripture 
proverb  was  fulfilled,  "  The  tender  mercies  of  the 
wicked  are  cruel."  I  then  went  on  my  errand,  but, 
for  some  hours  could  think  of  little  else  but  the 
cruelties  I  had  committed,  and  was  much  troubled. 
Thus  He  whose  tender  mercies  are  over  all  his 
works,  hath  placed  a  principle  in  the  human  mind 
which  incites  -to  exercise  goodness  towards  every 
living  creature ;  and  this  being  singly  attended  to, 
people  become  tender-hecrted  and  sympathizing; 
but  being  frequently  and  totally  rejected,  the  mind 
becomes  shut  up  in  a  contrary  disposition. 

As  he  advanced  to  the  age  of  sixteen,  he  found 
himself  losing  his  childish  purity.  In  his  own 
words,  "  I  perceived  a  plant  in  me  which  pro- 
duced much  wild  grapes."  A  fit  of  sickness, 
"from  which  I  doubted  of  recovering,"  brought 
serious  thoughts  to  his  mind,  and  with  advancing 
years  he  became  more  and  more  weaned  from  the 
world. 

He  remained  with  his  parents,  "  and  wrought 
on  the  plantation"  until  his  twenty-first  year, 
when  "  a  man  in  much  business  at  shop-keeping 
and  baking  asked  me,  if  I  would  hire  with  him  to 
tend  shop  and  keep  books."  Accepting  this  pro- 
posal, his  employer  furnished  a  shop  in  Mount 
Holly,  a  few  miles  distant,  where  Woolman  lived 
alone.    He  was  troubled  at  first  by  the  visits  of 


JOHN  WOOXMArf. 


147 


"  Several  young  people,  my  former  acquaintance, 
who  knew  not  but  varieties  would  be  as  agreeable 
to  me  now  as  ever ;"  but  these  gay  companions 
soon  "  gave  over  expecting  him  as  one  of  their 
company." 

He  not  long  after  made  his  first  essay  as  a 
speaker. 

I  went  to  meetings  in  an  awful  frame  of  mind,  and 
endeavoured  to  be  inwardly  acquainted  with  the 
language  of  the  true  Shepherd  ;  and  one  day,  being 
under  a  strong  exercise  of  spirit,  I  stood  up,  and 
said  some  words  in  a  meeting;  but  not  keeping 
close  to  the  divine  opening,  I  said  more  than  was 
required  of  me  ;  and  being  soon  sensible  of  my  error, 
I  was  afflicted  in  mind  some  weeks,  without  any 
light  or  comfort,  even  to  that  degree  that  I  could 
not  take  satisfaction  in  any  thing :  I  remembered 
God,  and  was  troubled ;  and,  in  the  depth  of  my 
distress,  he  had  pity  upon  me,  and  sent  the  Com- 
forter :  I  then  felt  forgiveness  for  my  offence,  and 
my  mind  became  calm  and  quiet,  being  truly  thank- 
ful to  my  gracious  Redeemer  for  his  mercies ;  and 
after  this,  feeling  the  spring  of  divine  love  opened, 
and  a  concern  to  speak,  I  said  a  few  words  in  a 
meeting,  in  which  I  found  peace ;  this,  I  believe, 
was  about  six  weeks  from  the  first  time :  and,  I  was 
thus  humbled  -and  disciplined  under  the  cross,  my 
understanding  became  more  strengthened  to  distin- 
guish the  pure  spirit  which  inwardly  moves  upon 
the  heart  and  taught  me  to  wait  in  silence  some- 
times many  weeks  together,  until  I  felt  that  rise 
which  prepares  the  creature  to  stand  like  a  trum- 
pet, through  which  the  Lord  speaks  to  his  flock. 

We  next  find  him  a  protester  against  holiday 
junketing. 

About  the  time  called  Christmas,  I  observed  many 
people  from  the  country,  and  dwellers  in  town, 
who,  resorting  to  public-houses,  spent  their  time  in 
drinking  and  vain  sports,  tending  to  corrupt  one 
another ;  on  which  account  I  was  much  troubled. 
At  one  house  in  particular  there  was  mueh  disorder; 
and  I  believed  it  was  a  duty  incumbent  on  me  to  go 
ami  speak  to  the  master  of  that  house.  I  considered 
I  was  young,  and  that  several  elderly  Friends  in 
town  had  opportunity  to  see  these  things;  but 
though  I  would  gladly  have  been  excused,  yet  I 
could  not  f-   my  mind  clear. 

The  exercise  was  heavy  ;  and  as  I  was  reading 
what  the  Almighty  said  to  Ezekiel,  respecting  his 
duty  as  a  watchman,  the  matter  was  set  home 
more  clearly  ;  and  then,  with  prayers  and  tears,- 1  be- 
Bought  the  Lord  for  his  assistance,  who,  in  loving 
kindness,  gave  me  a  resigned  heart:  then,  at  a  suit- 
able opportunity,  I  went  to  the  public-house;  and 
seeing  the  man  amongst  much  company,  I  went  to 
him,  and  told  him,  I  wanted  to  speak  with  him  ; 
so  we  went  aside,  and  there,  in  the  fear  and  dread 
of  the  Almighty,  I  exprest  to  him  what  rested  on  my 
mind,  which  he  took  kindly,  and  afterwards  showed 
more  regard  to  me  than  before.  In  a  few  years 
afterwards  he  died,  middle-aged;  and  I  often 
thought,  that  had  I  neglected  my  duty  in  that  case, 
it  would  have  given  me  great  trouble ;  and  I  was 
humbly  thankful  to  my  gracious  Father,  who  had 
supported  me  herein. 

On  the  fifth  day  of  the  ninth  month  he  set  out 
on  his  first  journey,  in  company  with  an  ancient 
friend,  Abraham  Farrington,  and  was  absent 
above  two  weeks.  On  his  return,  "  perceiving 
merchandise  to  be  attended  with  much  cumber, 
in  the  way  of  trading  in  these  parts,"  he  looked 


about  for  a  quieter  occupation,  and  settled  upon 
the  sedentary  calling  of  a  tailor, 

I  believed  the  hand  of  Providence  pointed  out 
this  business  for  me;  and  was  taught  to  be  content 
with  it,  though  I  felt  at  times  a  disposition  that 
would  have  sought  for  something  greater ;  but 
through  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ,  I  had  seen 
the  happiness  of  humility,  and  there  was  an  earnest 
desire  in  me  to  enter  deep  into  it;  and,  at  times, 
this  desire  arose  to  a  degree  of  fervent  supplication, 
wherein  my  soul  was  so  environed  with  heavenly 
light  and  consolation,  that  things  were  made  easy 
to  me  which  had  been  otherwise. 

After  "  carefully  attending  meetings  for  worship 
and  discipline,"  he  "  found  an  enlargement  of  gos- 
pel love  in  his  mind,"  and  "  therein  a  concern  to 
visit  Friends  in  some  of  the  back  settlements  of 
Virginia,"  and  finding  that  Isaac  Andrews  had 
"  drawings"  of  a  similar  character,  the  pair  started 
1  on  a  tour  on  the  twelfth  day  of  the  third  month, 
in  the  year  17-16.  He  found  this  journey  so  satis- 
factory, that  he  seems  to  have  henceforward 
adopted  itineracy  as  a  regular  pursuit. 

In  1749,  he  married  "  a  well-inclined  damsel," 
Sarah  Ellis.  In  1753,  he  submitted  a  tract 
against  slavery,  which  he  had  prepared  some 
years  before,  "  to  the  revisal  of  Friends,  who 
having  examined  and  made  some  small  alterations 
in  it,  directed  a  number  of  copies  thereof  to  be 
published  and  dispersed  amongst  Friends."  This 
was  a  subject  on  which  he  spoke  and  wrote  fre- 
quently. Anticipating  the  removal  of  the  sys- 
tem from  his  own  neighborhood,  he  was  equally 
desirous  of  its  extinction  in  all  parts  of  the 
country. 

At  a  drafting  of  militia  in  1757,  during  the 
French  War,  he,  with  others  whom  he  influenced, 
declined  to  bear  arms  or  hire  substitutes.  They 
were  told  they  might  return  home  for  the  pre- 
sent, and  to  be  in  readiness  when  called  upon. 
The  emergency  never  occurred.  Woolman  car- 
ried his  scruples  still  further. 

On  the  fourth  day  of  the  fourth  month,  in  the 
year  1758,  orders  came  to  some  oliicers  in  Mount- 
Holly,  to  prepare  quarters,  a  short  time,  for  about 
one  hundred  soldiers  :  and  an  officer  and  two  other 
men,  all  inhabitants  of  our  town,  came  to  my  house; 
and  the  officer  told  me,  that  he  came  to  speak  with 
me,  to  provide  lodging  and  entertainment  for  two 
soldiers,  there  being  six  shillings  a  week  per  man 
allowed  as  pay  for  it.  The  case  being  new  and  un- 
expected, I  made  no  answer  suddenly,  but  sat  a  time 
silent,  my  mind  being  inward ;  I  was  fully  convinced, 
that  the  proceedings  in  wars  are  inconsistent  with 
the  purity  of  the  Christian  religion:  and  to  be  hired 
to  entertain  men  who  were  then  under  pay  as  sol- 
diers, was  a  difficulty  with  me.  I  expected  they 
had  legal  authority  for  what  they  did ;  and  after  a 
short  time,  I  said  to  the  officer,  if  the  men  are  sent 
here  for  entertainment,  I  believe  I  shall  not  refuse 
to  admit  them  into  my  house  ;  but  the  nature  of  the 
J  case  is  such,  that  I  expect  I  cannot  keep  them  on 
I  hire:  one  of  the  men  intimated  that  he  thought  I 
might  do  it  consistent  with  my  religious  principles ; 
to  which  I  made  no  reply,  as  believing  silence,  at 
that  time,  best  for  me.  Though  they  spake  of  two, 
there  came  only  one,  who  tarried  at  my  house  about 
two  weeks,  and  behaved  himself  civilly ;  and  when 
the  officer  came  to  pay  me,  I  told  him  I  could  not 
take  pay  for  it,  having  admitted  him  into  my  house 


148 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


in  a  passive  obedience  to  authority.  I  was  on  horse- 
back when  he  spake  to  me ;  and  as  I  turned  from 
him,  he  said  he  was  obliged  to  me:  to  which  I  said 
nothing;  but  thinking  on  the  expression,  I  grew 
uneasy ;  and  afterwards  being  near  where  he  lived, 
I  went  and  told  him  on  what  grounds  I  refused 
taking  pay  for  keeping  the  soldier. 

In  1763  he  determined  to  visit  the  Indians  on 
the  east  branch  of  the  Susquehannah,  some  of 
whom  he  had  met  at  Philadelphia.  Some  Friends 
who  had  heard  of  his  intention  came  from  that 
city  to  him,  "  so  late,  that  friends  were  generally 
gone  to  bed,"  to  warn  him  that  the  Indians  "  had 
taken  a  fort  from  the  English  westward,  and  slain 
and  scalped  English  people  in  divers  places,  some 
near  Pittsburg,"  and  of  the  consetpient  dangers 
of  the  journey;  but  he  was  not  to  be  deterred,' 
and  on  the  following'  morning  set  out  with  two 
companions  and  a  guide.  The  journey  occupied 
the  greater  portion  of  the  month  of  June ;  and  its 
record  forms  some  of  the  pleasantest  portions  of 
our  Friend's  Journal.  We  extract  some  pas- 
sages : — 

We  reached  the  Indian  settlement  at  Wioming : 
and  here  we  were  told  that  an  Indian  runner  had 
been  at  that  place  a  day  or  two  before  us,  and 
brought  news  of  the  Indians  taking  an  English  fort, 
westward,  and  destroying  the  people,  and  that  they 
were  endeavouring  to  take  another ;  and  also,  that 
another  Indian  runner  came  there  about  the  middle 
of  the  night  before  we  got  there,  who  came  from  a 
town  about  ten  miles  above  Wehaloosing,  and 
brought  news,  that  some  Indian  warriors,  from  dis- 
tant parts,  came  to  that  town  with  two  English 
scalps ;  and  told  the  people  that  it  was  war  with 
the  English. 

Our  guides  took  us  to  the  house  of  a  very  ancient 
man ;  and  soon  after  we  had  put  in  our  baggage 
there  came  a  man  from  another  Indian  house  some 
distance  off;  and  I,  perceiving  there  was  a  man 
near  the  door,  went  out ;  and  he  having  a  tomahawk, 
wrapped  under  his  matchcoat  out  of  sight,  as  I  ap- 
proached him,  he  took  it  in  his  hand ;  I,  however, 
went  forward,  and,  speaking  to  him  in  a  friendly 
way,  perceived  he  understood  some  English:  my 
companion  then  coming  out  we  had  some  talk  with 
him  concerning  the  nature  of  our  visit  in  these 
part* ;  and  then  he,  going  into  the  house  with  us, 
and  talking  with  our  guides,  soon  appeared  friendly, 
and  sat  down  and  smoaked  his  pipe.  Though  his 
taking  the  hatchet  in  his  hand  at  the  instant  1  drew 
near  to  him,  hail  a  disitgreeable  appearance,  I  be- 
lieve he  had  no  other  intent  than  to  be  in  readiness 
in  case  any  violence  was  offered  to  him. 

Hearing  the  news  brought  by  these  Indian  run-  | 
ners,  and  being  told  by  the  Indians  where  we 
lodged,  that  what  Indians  were  about  Wioming  ex- 
pected, in  a  few  days,  to  move  to  some  larger  towns, 
I  thought  that,  to  all  outward  appearance,  it  was 
dangerous  travelling  at  this  time;  and  was,  after  a 
hard  day's  journey,  brought  into  a  painful  exercise 
at  night,  in  which  I  had  to  trace  back,  and  view 
over  the  steps  I  had  taken  from  my  first  moving  in 
the  visit ;  and  though  I  had  to  bewail  some  weak- 
ness, which,  at  times,  had  attended  me,  yet  I  could 
not  find  that  I  had  ever  given  way  to  a  wilful  dis- 
obedience: and  then,  as  I  believed  I  had,  under  a 
Bense  of  duty,  come  thus  far,  I  was  now  earnest  in 
spirit,  beseeching  the  Lord  to  show  me  what  I  ought 
to  do.  In  this  great  distress  I  grew  jealous  of  my- 
self, lest  the  desire  of  reputation,  as  a  man  firmly 
settled  to  persevere  through  dangers,  or  the  fear  of 


disgrace  arising  on  my  returning  without  perform- 
ing the  visit,  might  have  some  place  in  me:  thus  I 
lay,  full  of  thoughts,  great  part  of  the  night,  while 
my  beloved  companion  lay  and  slept  by  me ;  till  the 
Lord,  my  gracious  Father,  who  saw  the  conflicts  of 
my  soul,  was  pleased  to  give  quietness:  then  I  was 
again  strengthened  to  commit  my  life,  and  all  things 
relating  thereto,  into  his  heavenly  hands;  and  get- 
ting a  little  sleep  toward  day,  when  morning  came 
we  arose. 

On  the  fourteenth  day  of  the  sixth  month,  we 
sought  out  and  visited  all  the  Indians  hereabouts 
that  we  could  meet  with  ;  they  being  chiefly  in  one 
place,  about  a  mile  from  where  we  lodged,  in  all 
perhaps  twenty.  Here  I  expressed  the  care  I  had  on 
my  mind  for  their  good ;  I  told  them,  that  true  love 
had  made  me  willing  thus  to  leave  my  family  to 
come  and  see  the  Indians,  and  speak  with  them  in 
their  houses.  Some  of  them  appeared  kind  and 
friendly.  So  we  took  our  leave  of  these  Indians, 
and  went  up  the  river  Susquehannah,  about  three 
miles,  to  the  house  of  an  Indian  called  Jacob  Janu- 
ary, who  had  killed  his  hog ;  and  the  women  were 
making  store  of  bread,  and  preparing  to  move  up 
the  river.  Here  our  pilots  left  their  canoe  when 
they  came  down  in  the  Spring,  which,  lying  dry, 
was  leaky ;  so  that  we,  being  detained  some  hours, 
had  a  good  deal  of  friendly  conversation  with  the 
family;  and,  eating  dinner  with  them,  we  made 
them  some  small  presents.  Then,  putting  our  bag- 
gage in  the  canoe,  some  of  them  pushed  slowly  up 
the  stream,  and  the  rest  of  us  rode  our  horses :  and 
swimming  them  over  a  creek  called  Lahawahamunk, 
we  pitched  our  tent  a  little  above  it,  being  a  shower 
in  the  evening;  and  in  a  sense  of  God's  goodness  in 
helping  nre  in  my  distress,  sustaining  me  under  tri- 
als, and  inclining  my  heart  to  trust  in  him,  I  lay 
down  in  an  humble  bowed  frame  of  mind,  and  had 
a  comfortable  night's  lodging. 

In  1772,  after  a  long  and  debilitating  sickness, 
"  having  been  some  time  under  a  religious  con- 
cern to  prepare  for  crossing  the  seas,"  he  made 
preparations  to  visit  England.  In  consequence  of 
singular  religious  scruples  he  took  passage  in  the 
steerage. 

I  told  the  owner,  that  on  the  outside  of  that  part 
of  the  ship  where  the  cabbin  was,  I  observed  sundry 
sorts  of  carved  work  and  imagery :  and  that  in  the 
cabbin  I  observed  some  superfluity  of  workmanship 
of  several  sorts ;  and  that  according  to  the  ways  of 
men's  reckoning,  the  sum  of  money  to  be  paid  for  a 
passage  in  that  apartment,  hath  some  relation  to  the 
expence  of  furnishing  it  to  please  the  minds  of  such 
who  give  way  to  a  conformity  to  this  world ;  and 
that  in  this  case,  as  in  other  cases,  the  money  re- 
ceived from  the  passengers,  are  calculated  to  answer 
every  expence  relating  to  their  passage,  and  amongst 
the  rest,  of  these  superfluities :  and  that  in  this  case, 
I  felt  a  scruple  with  regard  to  paying  my  money  to 
defray  such  expenees. 

As  my  mind  was  now  opened,  I  told  the  owner, 
that  I  had,  at  several  times  in  my  travels,  seen  great 
oppressions  on  this  continent,  at  which  my  heart 
had  been  much  affected,  and  brought  into  a  feeling 
of  the  state  of  the  sufferers.  And  having  many 
times  been  engaged,  in  the  fear  and  love  of  God,  to 
labour  with  those  under  whom  the  oppressed  have 
been  borne  down  and  afflicted,  I  have  often  per- 
ceived, that  a  view  to  get  riches,  and  provide 
estates  for  children  to  live  conformable  to  customs, 
which  stand  in  that  spirit  wherein  men  have  regard 
to  the  honours  of  this  world — that  in  the  pursuit  of 
these  things,  I  had  seen  many  entangled  in  the  spi- 


JOHN  WOOLMAN. 


149 


rit  of  oppression ;  and  the  exercise  of  my  soul  had 
been  such,  that  I  could  not  find  peace  in  joining  in 
any  such  thing  which  I  saw  was  against  that  wis- 
dom which  is  pure. 

His  account  of  the  voyage  contains  many 
humane  and  sensible  suggestions  for  the  better 
care  of  sailors,  and  abounds  in  devout  and  well 
penned  reflections.  On  bis  arrival  in  England  he 
visited  a  few  meetings  of  his  sect.  He  refused  to 
travel  by  stage-coach  or  receive  letters  by  post, 
on  humanitarian  grounds. 

As  my  journey  hath  been  without  a  horse,  I  have 
had  several  offers  of  being  assisted  on  my  way  in 
the  stage  coaches;  but  have  not  been  in  them:  nor 
have  I  hud  freedom  to  send  letters  by  the  posts,  in 
the  present  way  of  their  riding ;  the  stages  being 
so  fixed,  and  one  boy  dependent  on  another  as  to 
time,  that  they  commonly  go  upwards  of  one  hun- 
dred miles  in  twenty-four  hours ;  and  in  the  cold 
long  winter  nights,  the  poor  boys  suffer  much. 

I  heard  in  America  of  the  way  of  these  posts ; 
and  cautioned  friends  in  the  general  meeting  of  mi- 
nisters and  elders  at  Philadelphia,  and  in  the  yearly- 
meeting  of  ministers  and  elders  at  Loudon,  not  to 
send  letters  to  me  on  any  common  occasion  by  post. 
And  though,  on  this  account,  I  may  be  likely  to 
hear  seldomer  from  my  family  left  behind :  yet,  for 
righteousness'  sake,  I  am,  through  Divine  favour, 
made  content. 

He  was  also  troubled  about  dye-stuffs. 

Having  of  late  travelled  often  in  wet  weather, 
through  narrow  streets  in  towns  and  villages,  where 
dirtiness  under  foot,  and  the  scent  arising  from  that 
filth,  which  more  or  less  infects  the  air  of  all  thick 
settled  towns;  and  I,  being  but  weakly,  have  felt 
distress  both  in  body  and  mind  with  that  which  is 
impure. 

In  these  journies  I  have  been  where  much  cloth 
hath  been  dyed ;  and  sundry  times  walked  over 
ground,  where  much  of  their  dye  stuffs  have  drained 
away. 

Here  I  have  felt  a  longing  in  my  mind,  that  peo- 
ple might  come  into  cleanness  of  spirit,  cleanness 
of  person,  cleanness  about  their  houses  and  gar- 
ments. 

Some,  who  are  great,  carry  delicacy  to  a  great 
height  themselves,  and  yet  the  real  cleanliness  is 
not  generally  promoted.  Dyes  being  invented 
partly  to  please  the  eye,  and  partly  to  hide  dirt,  I 
have  felt  in  this  weak  state,  travelling  in  dirtiness 
and  affected  with  unwholesome  scents,  a  strong  de- 
sire that  the  nature  of  dying  cloth,  to  hide  dirt,  may 
be  more  fully  considered. 

To  hide  dirt  in  our  garments,  appears  opposite  to 
the  real  cleanliness. 

To  wasli  garments,  and  keep  them  sweet,  this  ap- 
pears cleanly. 

Through  giving  way  to  hiding  dirt  in  our  gar- 
ments, a  spirit  which  would  cover  that  which  is  dis- 
agreeable, is  strengthened. 

Real  cleanness  becometh  a  holy  people :  but  hid- 
ing that  which  is  not  clean  by  colouring  our  gar- 
ments appears  contrary  to  the  sweetness  of  sincerity. 

Through  some  sorts  of  dyes,  cloth  is  less  useful ; 
and  if  the  value  of  dye-stuffs,  the  expence  of  dying, 
and  the  damage  done  to  cloth,  were  all  added  to- 
gether, and  that  expence  applied  to  keep  all  sweet 
and  clean,  how  mucli  more  cleanly  would  people  be. 

The  journal  closes  abruptly,  a  few  pages  after, 
with  some  remarks  on  eloquence,  which  have 
much  of  the  quality  of  which  they  treat. 


The  natural  man  loveth  eloquence,  and  many  love 
to  hear  eloquent  orations ;  and  if  there  is  not  a  care- 
ful attention  to  the  gift,  men  wdio  have  once  la- 
boured in  the  pure  gospel  ministry,  growing  weary 
of  suffering,  and  ashamed  of  appearing  weak,  may 
kindle  a  fire,  compass  themselves  about  with  sparks, 
and  walk  in  the  light,  not  of  Christ  who  is  under 
suffering;  but  of  that  fire,  which  they,  going  from 
the  gift,  have  kindled:  And  that  in  hearers,  which 
are  gone  from  the  meek,  suffering  state,  into  the 
worldly  wisdom,  may  be  warmed  with  this  fire,  and 
speak  highly  of  these  labours.  That  which  i3  of 
God  gathers  to  God ;  and  that  which  is  of  the  world 
is  owned  by  the  world. 

In  this  journey  a  labour  hath  attended  my  mind, 
that  the  ministers  amongst  us  may  be  preserved  in 
the  meek  feeling  life  of  Truth,  where  we  may  have 
no  desire,  but  to  follow  Christ  and  be  with  him ; 
that  when  he  is  under  suffering  we  may  suffer  with 
him;  and  never  desire  to  raise  up  in  dominion, 
but  as  he  by  the  virtue  of  his  own  spirit  may  raise 
us. 

A  few  days  after  writing  these  considerations, 
"  our  dear  friend,"  says  the  kind  hand  who  con- 
tinues the  record,  "  came  to  the  city  of  York," 
where  before  the  sittings  of  the  quarterly  meeting 
were  over,  he  was  taken  ill  of  the  small-pox.  An 
account  of  his  sickness  from  day  to  day  follows. 

His  disorder  appeared  to  be  the  small-pox:  being 
asked  to  have  a  doctor's  advice,  he  signified  he  had 
not  freedom  or  liberty  in  his  mind  so  to  do,  standing 
wholly  resigned  to  his  will,  who  gave  him  life,  and 
whose  power  he  had  witnessed  to  raise  and  heal 
him  in  sickness  before,  when  he  seemed  nigh  unto 
death;  and  if  he  was  to  wind  up  now,  he  was  per- 
fectly resigned,  having  no  will  either  to  live  or  die, 
and  did  not  choose  any  should  be  sent  for  to  him : 
but  a  young  man,  an  apothecary,  coining  of  his  own 
accord  the  next  day,  and  desiring  to  do  something 
for  him,  he  said  he  found  a  freedom  to  confer  with 
him  and  the  other  friends  about  him,  and  if  any 
thing  should  be  propose'!,  as  to  medicine,  that  did 
not  come  through  defiled  channels  or  oppressive 
hands,  he  should  be  willing  to  consider  and  take,  so 
far  as  he  found  freedom. 

The  disease  made  rapid  and  fatal  progress. 
His  last  act,  "about  the  second  hour  on  fourth-day 
morning,"  was  to  call  for  pen  and  ink,  and,  being 
unable  to  speak,  write,  "  I  believe  my  being  here 
is  in  the  wisdom  of  Christ,  I  know  not  as  to  life 
or  death." 

Four  hours  after,  he  expired  "  without  sigh, 
groan,  or  struggle." 

Woolman's  chief  productions,  in  addition  to  his 
Journal,  are — Some  Considerations  on  the  Keep- 
ing of  Negroes,  the  tract  already  referred  to ; 
Considerations  on  Pure  Wisdom  and  Human 
Policy,  on  Labour,  on  Schools,  and  on  the  Right 
Use  of  the  Lord's  Outward  Gifts,  1768;  Conside- 
rations on  the  True  Harmony  of  Mankind,  and 
how  it  is  to  be  Maintained,  1770;  Memories  on 
Sundry  Subjects,  1773 ;  An  E2'istle  to  the  Quar- 
terly and  Monthly  Meetings  of  Friends,  1772; 
and  A  Word  of  Remembrance  and  Caution  to  the 
Rich.  Our  extract  is  taken  from  the  Remarks  on 
Sundry  Subjects. 

Worship  in  silence  hath  often  been  refreshing  to 
my  mind,  and  a  care  attends  me  that  a  young  gene- 
ration may  feel  the  nature  of  this  worship. 


150 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Great  expence  ariseth  in  relation  to  that  which  is 
called  Divine  worship. 

A  considerable  part  of  this  expence  is  applied 
toward  outward  greatness,  and  many  poor  people, 
in  raising  of  tithes,  labour  in  supporting  customs 
contrary  to  the  simplicity  that  there  is  in  Christ, 
toward  whom  my  mind  hath  often  been  moved 
with  pity. 

In  pure,  silent  worship,  we  dwell  under  the  holy 
anointing,  and  feel  Christ  to  be  our  shepherd. 

Here  the  best  of  teachers  ministers  to  the  several 
conditions  of  his  flock,  and  the  soul  receives  imme- 
diately from  the  Divine  fountain  that  with  which  it 
is  nourished. 

As  I  have  travelled,  at  times,  where  those  of 
other  societies  have  attended  our  meetings,  and  have 
perceived  how  little  some  of  them  knew  of  the  na- 
ture of  silent  worship,  I  have  felt  tender  desires,  in 
my  heart,  that  we,  who  often  sit  silent  in  our  meet- 
ings, may  live  answerable  to  the  nature  of  an  inward 
fellowship  with  God,  that  no  stumbling-block, 
through  us,  may  be  laid  in  their  way. 

Such  is  the  load  of  unnecessary  expence  which 
lieth  on  that  which  is  called  Divine  service,  in  many 
places,  and  so  much  are  the  minds  of  many  people 
employed  in  outward  forms  and  ceremonies,  that 
the  opening  of  an  inward  silent  worship  in  this  na- 
tion, to  me,  hath  appeared  to  be  a  precious  opening. 

Within  the  last  four  hundred  years  many  pious 
people  have  been  deeply  exercised  in  soul  on  account 
of  the  superstition  which  prevailed  amongst  the 
professed  followers  of  Christ,  and,  in  support  of 
their  testimony  against  oppressive  idolatry,  some, 
in  several  ages,  have  finished  their  course  in  the 
flames. 

It  appears  by  the  history  of  the  Reformation, 
that,  through  the  faithfulness  of  the  mart3Trs,  the 
understandings  of  many  have  been  opened,  and  the 
minds  of  people  from  age  to  age,  been  more  and 
more  prepared  for  a  real,  spiritual  worship. 

My  mind  is  often  affected  with  a  sense  of  the  con- 
dition of  those  people  who,  in  different  ages,  have 
been  meek  and  patient,  following  Christ  through 
great  afflictions;  and  while  I  behold  the  several 
steps  of  reformation,  and  that  clearness  to  which, 
through  Divine  goodness,  it  hath  been  brought  bj' 
our  ancestors,  I  feel  tender  desires  that  we,  who 
sometimes  meet  in  silence,  may  never,  by  our  con- 
duct, lay  stumbling-blocks  in  the  way  of  others, 
and  hinder  the  progress  of  the  reformation  in  the 
world. 

It  was  a  complaint  against  some  who  were  called 
the  Lord's  people,  that  they  brought  polluted  bread 
to  his  altar,  and  said,  the  table  of  the  Lord  was  con- 
tern;  tible. 

In  real,  silent  worship  the  soul  feeds  on  that 
which  is  Divine  ;  but  we  cannot  partake  of  the  ta- 
ble of  the  Lord,  and  that  table  which  is  prepared 
by  the  god  of  this  world. 

If  Christ  is  our  shepherd,  and  feedeth  us,  and  we 
are  faithful  in  following  him,  our  lives  will  have  an 
inviting  language,  and  the  table  of  the  Lord  will 
not  be  polluted. 

SAMUEL  HOPKINS, 
The  author  of  a  System  of  Divinity,  -was  born 
September  17,  1721,  in  Waterbury,  Connecticut. 
He  was  educated  at  Yale  College.     While  at  New 

Haven,  he  took  part  in  the  religious  excitement 
caused  by  the  preaching  of  Whitefield,  Gilbert 


Tennent,  and  Jonathan  Edwards.  The  mission- 
ary Brainerd  was  then  in  the  college,  and  influ- 
enced Hopkins.  On  leaving  Yale,  he  bent  his 
way  to  Edwards,  at  Northampton,  with  whom 
he  continued  his  studies  for  some  time.  He  then, 
in  1743,  was  ordained  at  Sheffield  (now  Great 
Barrington),  where  he  remained  for  twenty-five 
years — being  soon  joined  by  Edwards,  in  his 
neighborhood,  at  Stockbridge.  In  1770,  lie  was 
ordained  minister  of  a  congregation  at  Newport, 
which  he  was  compelled  to  leave  when  the  Bri- 
tish took  possession  of  the  island.  In  1780  he 
returned,  and  remained  there  till  his  death, 
December  20,  1803.  "He  died  calmly,"  says 
Whittier,  in  a  tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  man, 
"  in  the  steady  faith  of  one  who  had  long  trusted 
all  things  in  the  hand  of  God.  '  The  language  of 
my  heart  is,'  said  he,  '  let  God  be  glorified  by  all 
things,  and  the  best  interest  of  His  kingdom  pro- 
moted, whatever  becomes  of  me  or  my  interest.' 
To  a  young  friend,  who  visited  him  three  days 
before  his  death,  he  said,  '  I  am  feeble,  and  can- 
not say  much.  I  have  said  all  I  can  say.  With 
my  last  words,  I  tell  you,  religion  is  the  one 
thing  needful.  And  now  I  am  going  to  die,  and 
I  am  glad  of  it.  Many  years  before,  an  agreement 
had  been  made  between  Dr.  Hopkins  and  his  old 
and  tried  friend,  Dr.  Hart,  of  Connecticut,  that 
when  either  was  called  home,  the  survivor  should 
preach  the  funeral  sermon  of  the  deceased.  The 
venerable  Dr.  Hart  accordingly  came,  true  to  his 
promise,  preaching  at  the  funeral  from  the  words 
of  Elisha,  '  My  father,  my  father ;  the  chariots  of 
Israel,  and  the  horsemen  thereof.'  In  the  burial- 
ground  adjoining  his  meeting-house,  lies  all  that 
was  mortal  of  Samuel  Hopkins.'"* 

Dr.  Channing,  though  widely  differing  from 
Hopkins  in  theology,  has  celebrated  the  moral 
grandeur  of  the  man.  Their  points  of  sympathy 
were  a  common  ardor  of  independence,  shown 
by  Hopkins  in  his  modification  of  Calvinism  and 
theory  of  benevolence.  "  His  system,"  says 
Channing,  "however  fearful,  was  yet  built  on  a 
generous  foundation.  (He  maintained  that  all 
holiness,  all  moral  excellence,  consists  in  benevo- 
lence, or  disinterested  davntion  to  the  greatest 
good.N  He  taught  that  sin  was  introduceTTTnto 
the  creation,  and  is  to  be  everlastingly  punished, 
because  evil  is  necessary  to  the  highest  good. 
True  virtue,  as  he  taught,  was  an  entire  surrender 
of  personal  interest  to  the  benevolent  purposes  of 
God.  Self-love  he  spared  in  none  of  its  move- 
ments. The  system  of  Dr.  Hopkins  was  an  effort 
of  reason  to  reconcile  Calvinism  with  its  essential 
truths.''t  Allen,  who  has  pointed  out  his  modi- 
fications of  the  Calvinistic  theology,  with  less 
sympathy  for  his  free  spirit  of  inquiry,  pro- 
nounces him  "  a  very  humble,  pious,  and  benevo- 
lent man.  Humility  pervaded  his  whole  conduct. 
It  preserved  him  from  that  overbearing  zeal, 
which  is  the  offspring  of  self-confidence  and 
pride.''! 

Hopkins  early  took  part  in  the  abolition  of  the 
slave  trade,  announcing  his  views  on  the  subject 
to  his  congregation  at  Newport,  who  were  inte- 
rested in  the  traffic,  and  giving  to  the  cause,  not 


*  Whittier's  Old  Portraits  and  Modern  Sketches,  p.  1G1. 
t  Discourse  at  Newport,  1S36.    Works,  iv.  M2. 
%  Dr.  Allen's  Biog.  Diet.,  Ait.  Ilopkias. 


WILLIAM  LIVINGSTON. 


151 


merely  his  arguments,  but  a  liberal  contribution 
from  bis  limited  resources.  His  Dialogue  Con- 
cerning the  Slavery  of  the  Africans;  showing  it 
to  be  the  Duty  and  Interest  of  the  American 
States  to  Emancipate  all  their  Slaves,  was  pub- 
lished in  1776,  with  a  dedication  to  the  Conti- 
nental Congress. 

In  literary  industry  he  was  of  the  school  of 
Edwards,  having  been  engaged  at  times  eighteen 
hours  a  day  in  his  studies.  His  publications  are 
three  sermons — Sin  through  Dkine  Interposition 
an  Advantage  to  the  Universe,  and  yet  this  no 
Excuse  for  Sin  or  Encouragement  to  it,  1759 ; 
An  Inquiry  concerning  the  Promises  of  the  Gos- 
pel, whether  any  of  them  are  made  to  the  Exer- 
cises and  Doings  of  Persons  in  an  Unregenerate 
State,  containing  remarks  on  two  sermons  by 
Dr.  Mayhew,  1765  ;  on  the  Divinity  of  Christ, 
1768,  and  several  other  discourses,  embracing 
points  of  his  peculiar  views,  which  he  set  forth 
systematically  in  the  System  of  Doctrines,  con- 
tained in  Divine  Revelation,  in  1793.  He  wrote 
also  the  Life  of  Susannah  Anthony,  1796,  and 
of  Mrs.  Osborn,  1798,  and  left  sketches  of  his 
life,  written  by  himself,  and  several  theological 
tracts,  published  by  Dr.  West,  of  Stockbridge,  in 
1805. 


SAMSON  OCCOM. 

Samson  Occom,  a  Mohegan  Indian,  was  born  at 
Mohegan,  on  the  Thames  river,  Connecticut, 
about  the  year  17"23.  He  wandered  through  the 
vicinity  with  his  parents,  who  lived  after  the 
vagrant  manner  of  their  tribe,  until  during  a 
visit  to  his  neighborhood  by  several  clergymen  of 
the  adjoining  settlements,  he  became  subject  to 
religious  impressions,  and  was  induced  to  devote 
bis  future  career  to  the  spiritual  education  of  his 
people.  He  was  at  the  age  of  nineteen  an  inmate 
of  Mr.  Wheelock's  school  at  Lebanon,  for  the  edu- 
cation of  Indians,  an  institution  which  led  to  the 
foundation  of  Dartmouth  College,  where  he  re- 
mained four  years.  In  1748,  be  taught  a  school 
for  a  short  time  in  New  London,  and  then  re- 
moving to  Long  Island,  again  taught  a  school,  and 
preached  among  the  Montauk  Indians,  residing  at 
East,  Hampton,  where  he  eked  out  a  living  by 
hunting  and  fishing,  binding  books,  making 
wooden  spoons,  stocking  gnns,  and -working  as  a 
cooper.  He  was  regularly  ordained,  Aug.  29, 
1759.  In  1766  he  was  sent  by  Wheelock  with 
Mr.  Whittaker,  the  minister  of  Norwich,  to  Eng- 
land, in  behalf  of  the  Indian  Charity  School,  en- 
dowed by  Moor.  From  February  16,  1766,  to 
July  22, 1767,  he  preached  in  various  parts  of  the 
country,  from  three  to  four  hundred  sermons,  to 
crowded  audiences,  and  received  much  attention. 
On  his  return  he  remained  for  some  time  at 
Mohegan,  and  in  1786  removed  with  a  number 
of  Indians  of  that  neighborhood  to  Brotherton, 
near  Utica,  New  York,  where  a  tract  of  land  had 
been  granted  by  the  Oneidas.  He  afterwards 
resided  among  the  Stockbridge  Indians,  who  had 
been  previously  instructed  in  Christianity  by 
Edwards,  and  received  a  tract  near  the  lands  of 
the  Mohegans,  where  he  died  in  July,  1792.  His 
funeral  was  attended  by  over  six  hundred  Indians. 
Occom  published  a  sermon  on  the  execution 
of  Moses  Paul,  at  New  Haven,  Sept.  2, 1772,  and 


wrote  an  account  of  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  Montauk  Indians,  which  has  been  pubhshed 


y^f  O^C 


0/>Wc/2r^    0/-C^CC^7^j 


5- 


in  the  Collections  of  the  Massachusetts  Historic:! 
Society.*  "  His  discourses,"  says  Dr.  Dwight, 
"  though  not  proofs  of  superior  talents,  were 
decent,  and  his  utterance  in  some  degree  elo- 
quent." He  now  and  then  succumbed  to  strong 
drink,  but  maintained  in  other  respects  a  good 
character. 

WILLIAM   LIVINGSTON. 

The  Livingston  family  was  founded  in  America 
by  Robert  Livingston,  the  son  of  a  clergyman  of 
Teviot,  in  Roxburghshire,  Scotland.  He  emi- 
grated about  the  year  1672,  and  appears  to  have 
soon  after  filled  the  office  of  Secretary  to  the  Com- 
missioners of  Albany  and  parts  adjacent.  Ho 
purchased  an  extensive  tract  of  land  from  the 
Indians,  which  was  incorporated  into  the  Manor 


£/'  J^  c^lA^ 


of  Livingston,  by  patent  dated  July  22,  1686.  He 
took  an  active  part  in  colonial  affairs,  and  died 
about  1726.  His  son  Philip  succeeded  to  the 
estate  and  married  Catherine,  daughter  of  Peter 
Van  Brugh  of  Albany,  in  which  city  their  fifth 
child,  William,  was  born  in  November,  1723.  A 
year  of  his  boyhood  was  passed  with  a  missionary 
among  the  Mohock  Indians,  during  which  he  ac- 
quired a  knowledge  of  the  language  and  manners 
of  the  tribe  which  was  of  much  service  to  him 
subsequently.  In  1737  he  entered  Yale  College, 
and  was  graduated  at  the  head  of  his  class  in  1741. 
He  studied  law  in  the  City  of  New  York  with  Mr. 
James  Alexander.  Two  essays,  which  he  pub- 
lished  under  the   signature   Tyro  Philolegis,  in 

*  Wheelock's  Brief  Narrative  of  the  Indian  Charity  School 
A  letter  from  the  Rev.  John  Devotion,  of  Saybrook,  to  Rev. 
Dr.  Styles,  in  closing  Mr.  Occom's  account  of  the  Montauk 
Indians.  A.D.  1701.  Mass.  Hist.  Soc.  Coll.,  First  Series,  x. 
106. 


152 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


Parker's  New  York  Weekly  Post  Boy,  August 
19,  1745,  probably  his  first  published  composi- 
tions, on  the  mode  of  studying  law,  which  then 
and  now  prevails,  offended  his  instructor,  and  led 
to  his  withdrawal  to  the  office  of  Mr.  William 
Smith,  with  whom  he  completed  his  course. 
While  a  student  he  married  Susannah,  daughter 
of  Philip  French.  In  1747  he  issued  his  Poem 
entitled  Philosophic  Solitude.  In  1752,  in  pur- 
suance of  an  act  of  the  legislature,  he  published, 
with  William  Smith,  Jr.,  the  first  digest  of  the 
Colony  Laws  ;  and  in  the  same  year  commenced 
a  weekly  political  and  miscellaneous  journal  of 
four  pages  folio,  containing  essays  and  corres- 
pondence on  the  model  of  the  Spectator,  The  Inde- 
pendent Reflector.  It  was  conducted  with  spirit, 
and  made  astir,  being  on  one  occasion  denounced 
from  the  pulpit.  It  entered  warmly  into  the  dis- 
cussion relative  to  the  religious  formation  of  the 
Board  of  Trustees  of  King's,  afterwards  Columbia 
College,  seven  of  whom  were,  by  the  act  of  No- 
vember, 1751,  vesting  the  funds  raised  by  lotte- 
ries for  the  future  institution,  to  be  of  the  Epis- 
copal, two  of  the  Dutch,  and  one  (Livingston 
himself)  of  the  Presbyterian  denominations.  The 
publication  closed  in  consequence  of  the  outcry 
made  against  it,  with  the  fifty-second  number. 
In  1754  he  published  several  of  a  series  of 
communications  entitled  The  Watch  Tower,  in 
Hugh  Gaine's  Mercury,  on  the  still  agitated 
topic  of  King's  College.  In  1757  he  issued  a  work, 
first  published  in  London,  entitled,  A  Review  of 
the  Military  Operations  in  North  America,  from 
the  commencement  of  French  hostilities  on  the 
frontiers  of  Virginia  in  1753,  to  the  surrender  of 
Oswego  on  the  I'ith  April,  1756,  in  a  Letter  to  a 
Nobleman.  It  was  written  in  defence  of  Go- 
vernor Shirley.  In  the  same  year  he  published  a 
funeral  eulogium  on  the  Rev.  Aaron  Burr,  Pre- 
sident of  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  In  1758, 
Livingston  was  elected  from  his  brother's  manor 
a  member  of  the  Assembly,  as  a  representative  of 
the  opposition  to  the  De  Lancey  or  church  party, 
which  the  King's  College  controversy  had  con- 
tributed to  form.  In  1765  he  published  a  series 
of  Essays  entitled  The  Sentinel,  in  Holt's  New 
York  Weekly  Post  Boy.  One  of  the  most  striking 
of  these  is  entitled,  A  New  Sermon  to  an  Old 
Text.  Touch  not  mine  anointed;  in  which  his 
design  is  to  show  that  the  "  anointed"  are  not  the 
monarchs  but  the  people.  These  extended  to 
twenty-eight  numbers.  His  next  publication  was 
a  pamphlet  on  the  proposed  American  Episcopate, 
in  answer  to  some  strictures  on  the  colonies  by 
the  Bishop  of  Llandaff.  He  also  wrote  some  of 
the  articles  on  the  same  subject  which  appeared 
under  the  title  of  The  American.  Whig,  in  the 
New  York  Gazette.  This  subject  was  one  fiercely 
contested  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia,  as  well 
as  New  England.  The  opposition  to  the  measure 
was  based  on  political  jealousy  of  a  union  of 
church  and  state,  which  it  was  feared  would  follow 
the  introduction  of  bishops,  more  than  on  secta- 
rian grounds,  a  fact  proved  by  the  unopposed 
establishment  of  the  American  Episcopate  after 
the  revolution.  In  1770,  Mr.  Livingston  pub- 
lished A  Soliloquy,  a  pamphlet  reflecting  se- 
verely on  Governor  Colden.  In  1772  he  retired 
to  a  country-seat,  to  which  he  gave  the  genial 
name  of  Liberty  Hall,  at  Elizabethtown,  New  Jer- 


Liberty  Hall.  ' 

sey.  The  progress  of  the  Revolution  did  not,  how- 
ever, permit  the  fulfilment  of  his  long  cherished  de- 
sire for  rural  retirement.  In  1 774  he  was  elected  a 
delegate  to  the  continental  congress.  He  was  re- 
elected the  following  year,  but  recalled  on  the  5th 
of  June  to  take  command  as  brigadier-general  of 
the  militia  of  his  native  state,  at  Elizabethtown 
Point.  In  1776  he  was  elected  governor  of  the 
state.  During  his  administration  he  published 
several  essays  under  the  signature  of  Hortensius, 
in  the  New  Jersey  Gazette,  a  paper  established  to 
oppose  Rivington's  Royai  Gazette,  which  was 
especially  virulent  against  the  "  Don  Quixote  of 
the  Jerseys,"  as  it  unceremoniously  styles  the 
Governor.  He  also  wrote  under  the  same  signa- 
ture, in  1779,  in  the  United  States  Magazine,  pub- 
lished in  Philadelphia,  but  soon  after  ascertaining 
that  several  members  of  the  Legislature  had  ex- 
pressed "  their  dissatisfaction,  that  the  chief 
magistrate  of  the  state  should  contribute  to  the 
periodicals,  he  discontinued  his  communications 
altogether." 

Governor  Livingston's  correspondence  shows  the 
high  estimation  in  which  his  services  to  the  nation 
throughout  the  war  were  appreciated  by  Wash- 
ington and  his  fellow  patriots,  and  the  repeated 
attempts  made  by  the  enemy  to  surround  his  house 
and  capture  his  person,  bear  a  like  honorable 
testimony  to  his  efficiency.  He  supported  not 
only  the  military,  but  what  was  perhaps  more 
rare,  the  financial  measures  of  Congress,  declining, 
on  one  occasion,  to  appoint  an  individual  to  the 
office  of  postmaster  on  the  ground  that  he  had 
refused  to  take  continental  money.  In  1785  he 
was  elected  Minister  to  the  Court  of  Holland,  but 
declined  the  appointment.  In  the  next  year  he 
resumed  his  contributions  to  the  press  under 
the  title  of  The  Primitive  Whig,  in  Collins's 
New  Jersey  Gazette.  In  1787  he  exerted  him- 
self in  obtaining  materials  for  Morse's  Geo- 
graphy, and  in  correcting  the  sheets  of  the  work, 
which  appeared  at  Elizabethtown,  1789,  with 
a  dedication  to  the  governor.  In  1787  lie  was 
also  appointed  a  delegate  to  the  Federal  Con- 
vention. He  was  an  active  member,  though  not 
a  prominent  debater,  of  that  body.  In  June,  1790, 
he  was  attacked  by  a  dropsy,  which  put  an  end 
to  his  life,  while  still  governor  of  the  state,  on 
Sunday,  July  25,  1790. 


WILLIAM  LIVINGSTON. 


153 


In  his  private,  Livingston  maintained  the  high 
tone  of  his  puhlic  life.  His  intercourse  with  his 
numerous  family,  and  with  those  about  him,  was 
kindly  and  simple.  He  retained  his  love  of  rural 
pursuits  throughout  his  official  career,  and  in  the 
words  of  Brissot,  who  mentions  him  in  his  travels 
in  1788,  was  "at  once  a  writer,  a  governor,  and 
a  ploughman." 

In  person  Governor  Livingston  was  tall,  and  so 
thin  as  to  have  been  called  by  "some  female 
wit,"  the  "whipping  post."  A  Memoir  by 
Theodore  Sedgwick,*  was  published  in  1833.  It 
contains  numerous  extracts  from  his  correspond- 
ence, and  is  admirably  executed. 

THE  RETREAT. 
FROM  THE  POEM,    PHILOSOPHIC  SOLITt/DE. 

Let  ardent  heroes  seek  renown  in  arms, 

Pant  after  fame,  and  rush  to  war's  alarms; 

To  shining  palaces  let  fools  resort, 

And  dunces  cringe,  to  be  esteem'd  at  court ; 

Mine  be  the  pleasure  of  a  rural  life, 

From  noise  remote,  and  ignorant  of  strife  ; 

Far  from  the  painted  belle,  and  white-glov'd  beau, 

The  lawless  masquerade,  and  midnight  show  : 

From  ladies,  lap-dugi,  courtiers,  garters,  stars, 

Fops,  fiddlers,  tyrants,  emperors,  and  czars. 

Full  in  the  centre  of  some  shady  grove, 
By  nature  form'd  for  solitude  and  love: 
On  banks  array'd  with  ever-blooming  flowers, 
Near  beauteous  landscapes,  or  by  roseate  bowers, 
My  neat,  but  simple  mansion  I  would  raise, 
Unlike  the  sumptuous  domes  of  modern  days ; 
Devoid  of  pomp,  with  rural  plainness  form'd, 
With  savage  game,  and  glossy  shells  adorn'd. 

No  costly  furniture  should  grace  my  hall ; 
But  curling  vines  ascend  against  the  wall, 
Whose  pliant  branches  should  luxuriant  twine, 
While  purple  clusters  swell'd  with  future  wine: 
To  slake  my  thirst  a  liquid  lapse  distil 
From  craggy  rocks,  and  spread  a  limpid  rill. 

Along  my  mansion,  spiry  firs  should  grow, 
And  gloomy  yews  extend  the  shady  row: 
The  cedars  flourish,  and  the  poplars  rise, 
Sublimely  tall,  and  shoot  into  the  skies: 
Among  the  leaves,  refreshing  zephyrs  play, 
And  crowding  trees  exclude  the  noon-tide  ray; 
Whereon  the  birds  their  downy  nests  should  form, 
Securely  shelter'd  from  the  battering  storm  ; 
And  to  melodious  notes  their  choir  apply, 
Soon  as  Aurora  blush'd  along  the  sky: 
While  all  around  th'  enchanting  music  rings, 
And  ev'ry  vocal  grove  responsive  sings. 

Me  to  sequester'd  scenes  ye  muses  guide, 
Where  nature  wantons  in  her  virgin  pride  ; 
To  mossy  banks,  edg'd  round  with  op'ning  flowers, 
Elysian  fields  and  amaranthine  bowers, 
To  ambrosial  founts,  and  sleep-inspiring  rills, 
To  herbag'd  vales,  gay  lawns,  and  sunny  hills. 

Welcome,  ye  shades!  all  hail,  ye  vernal  blooms! 
Ve  bow'ry  thickets,  and  prophetic  glooms ! 
Ye  forests,  hail !  ye  solitary  woods! 
Love-whispering  groves,  and  silver-streaming  floods : 


*  A  Memoir  of  the  Life  of  William  Livingston,  Member  of 
Congress  in  1774,  1775,  and  1776:  Delegate  to  the  Federal  Con- 
vention in  1787,  and  Governor  of  the  State  of  New  Jersey  from 
1776  to  1790,  with  extracts  from  his  correspondence,  and  no- 
tices of  various  members  of  his  family.  By  Theodore  Sedgwick, 
Jun.    New  York.  1S33. 


Ye  meads,  that  aromatic  sweets  exhale! 
Ye  birds,  and  all  ye  sylvan  beauties,  hail ! 
Oh  how  I  long  with  you  to  spend  rny  days, 
Invoke  the  muse,  and  try  the  rural  lays ! 

No  trumpets  there  with  martial  clangor  sound, 
No  prostrate  heroes  strew  the  crimson  ground  ; 
No  groves  of  lances  glitter  in  the  air, 
Nor  thund'ring  drums  provoke  the  sanguine  war  : 
But  white-rob'd  Peace,  and  universal  Love 
Smile  in  the  field,  and  brighten  ev'ry  grove: 
There  all  the  beauties  of  the  circling  year, 
In  native  ornamental  pride  appear. 
Gay,  rosy-bosom'd  Spring,  and  April  show'rs, 
Wake,  from  the  womb  of  earth,  the  rising  flow'rs; 
In  deeper  verdure.  Summer  clothes  the  plain, 
And  Autumn  bends  beneath  the  golden  grain  ; 
The  trees  weep  amber;  and  the  whispering  gales 
Breeze  o'er  the  lawn,  or  murmur  through  the  vales: 
The  flow'ry  tribes  in  gay  confusion  bloom, 
Profuse  with  sweets,  and  fragrant  with  perfume  ; 
On  blossoms  blossoms,  fruits  on  fruits  arise, 
And  varied  prospects  glad  the  wand'rlng  eyes. 
In  these  fair  seats,  I'd  pass  the  joyous  day, 
Where  meadows  flourish,  and  where  fields  look  gay  ; 
From  bliss  to  bliss  witli  endless  pleasure  rove, 
Seek  crystal  streams,  or  haunt  the  vernal  grove, 
AVoods,  fountains,  lakes,  the  fertile  fields,  or  shades, 
Aerial  mountains,  or  subjacent  glades. 
There  from  the  polish'd  fetters  of  the  great, 
Triumphal  piles,  and  gilded  rooms  of  state — 
Prime  ministers,  and  sycophantic  knaves, 
Illustrious  villains,  and  illustrious  slaves, 
From  all  the  vain  formality  of  fools, 
And  odious  talk  of  arbitrary  rules: 
The  ruffling  cares,  which  the  vex'd  soul  annoy, 
The  wealth  the  rich  possess,  but  not  enjoy, 
The  visionary  bliss  the  world  can  lend, 
Th'  insidious  foe,  and  false,  designing  friend, 
The  seven-fold  fury  of  Xautippe's  soul. 

And  S — 's  rage,  that  burns  without  eontroul ; 

I'd  live  retired,  contented,  and  serene, 
Forgot,  unknown,  unenvied,  and  unseen. 

FAVORITE   BOOKS. 

But  to  improve  the  intellectual  mind, 
Reading  should  be  to  contemplation  joiu'd. 
First  I'd  collect  from  the  Parnassian  spring, 
What  muses  dictate,  and  what  poets  sing. — 
Virgil,  as  prince,  shou'd  wear  the  laurel'd  crown, 
And  other  bards  pay  homage  to  his  throne ; 
The  blood  of  heroes  now  etfus'd  so  long, 
Will  run  forever  purple  thro'  his  song, 
See!  how  he  mounts  toward  the  blest  abodes, 
On  planets  rides,  and  talks  with  demigods ! 
How  do  our  ravish'd  spirits  melt  away, 
When  in  his  song  Sicilian  shepherds  play! 
But  what  a  splendor  strikes  the  dazzled  eye, 
When  Dido  shines  in  awful  majesty! 
Embroidered  purple  clad  the  Tynan  queen, 
Her  motion  graceful,  and  august  her  mien  ; 
A  golden  zone  her  royal  limbs  embrae'd, 
A  golden  quiver  rattled  by  her  waist. 
See  her  proud  steed  majestically  prance, 
Contemn  the  trumpet,  and  deride  the  launce  I 
In  crimson  trappings,  glorious  to  behold, 
Confus'dly  gay  with  interwoven  gold  ! 
He  champs  the  bit,  and  throws  the  foam  around, 
Impatient  paws,  and  tears  the  solid  ground. 
How  stern  ^Eneas  thunders  thro'  the  field  ! 
With  tow'ring  helmet,  and  refulgent  shield! 
Coursers  o'erturn'd,  and  mighty  warriors  slain, 
Deform'd  with  gore,  lie  welt'ring  on  the  plain, 
Struck  through  with  wounds,  ill-fated  chieftains  lie, 
Frown  e'en  in  death,  and  threaten  as  they  die. 


154 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Thro'  the  thick  squadrons  see  the  hero  bound ! 
(His  helmet  flashes,  and  his  arms  resound !) 
All  grim  with  rage,  he  frowns  o'er  Turnus'  head, 
(Re-kindled  ire !  for  blooming  Pnllas  dead) 
Then  in  his  bosom  plung'd  the  shining  blade — 
The  soul  indignant  sought  the  Stygian  shade! 

The  far-fam'd  bards  that  grae'd  Britannia's  isle, 
Should  next  compose  the  venerable  pile, 
Great  Milton  first,  for  tow'ring  thought  renown'd, 
Parent  of  song,  and  fam'd  the  world  around! 
His  glowing  breast  divine  Urania  fir'd, 
Or  God  himself  th'  immortal  bard  inspir'd. 
Borne  on  triumphant  wings  he  takes  his  flight, 
Explores  all  heaven,  and  treads  the  realms  of  light; 
In  martini  pomp  he  clothes  th'  angelic  train, 
"While  warring  myriads  shake  the  etherial  plain. 
First  Michael  stalks,  high  tow'ring  o'er  the  rest, 
With  heav'nly  plumage  nodding  on  his  crest: 
Impenetrable  arms  his  limbs  infold, 
Eternal  adamant,  and  burning  gold  ! 
Sparkling  in  fiery  mail,  with  dire  delight, 
Rebellious  Satan  animates  the  fight: 
Armipotent  they  sink  in  rolling  smoke, 
All  heav'n  resounding,  to  its  centre  shook. 
To  crush  his  foes,  and  quell  the  dire  alarms, 
Messiah  sparkled  in  refulgent  arms: 
In  radiant  panoply  divinely  bright, 
His  limbs  incas'd,  he  flash'd  devouring  light: 
On  burning  wheels,  o'er  heav'n's  crystalline  road 
Thunder'd  the  chariot  of  the  filial  God  ; 
The  burning  wheels  on  golden  axles  turn'd, 
With  flamii-g  gems  the  golden  axles  butu'd. 
Lo !  the  apostate  host,  with  terror  struck, 
Roll  back  by  millions!     Th'  empyrean  shook  ! 
Sceptres,  and  orbed  shields,  and  crowns  of  gold, 
Cherubs  and  seraphs  in  confusion  roll'd  ; 
Till  from  his  hand  the  triple  thunder  hurl'd, 
Compell'd  them,  head-long,  to  th'  infernal  world. 

Then  tuneful. Pope,  whom  all  the  nine  inspire, 
With  sapphic  sweetness,  and  pindaric  fire, 
Father  of  verse!  melodious  and  divine! 
Next  peerless  Milton  should  distinguished  shine. 
Smooth  flow  his  numbers,  when  he  paints  the  grove, 
Th'  enraptur'd  virgins  listening  into  love. 
But  when  the  night,  and  hoarse-resounding  storm 
Rush  on  the  deep,  and  Neptune's  face  deform, 
Rough  runs  the  verse,  the  son'rous  numbers  roar, 
Like  the  hoarse  surge  that  thunders  on  the  shore 
But  when  he  sings  th'  exhilarated  swains, 
Th'  embow'ring  groves,  and  Windsor's  blissful  plains, 
Our  eyes  are  ravish'd  with  the  sylvan  scene, 
Embroider'd  fields,  and  groves  in  living  green: 
His  lays  the  verdure  of  the  meads  prolong, 
And  wither' d  forests  blossom  in  his  song. 
Thames'  silver  streams  his  flowing  verse  admire, 
And  cease  to  murmur  while  he  tunes  his  lyre. 

Next  should  appear  great  Dryden's  lofty  muse, 
For  who  would  Dryden's  polish'd  verse  refuse? 
His  lips  were  moisten'd  in  Parnassus'  spring, 
And  Phcebus  taught  his  laureat  son  to  sing. 
How  long  did  Virgil  untranslated  moan, 
His  beauties  fading,  and  his  flights  unknown ; 
Till  Dryden  rose,  and,  in  exalted  strain, 
Re-sang  the  fortune  of  the  god-like  man  ! 
Again  the  Trojan  prince,  with  dire  delight. 
Dreadful  in  arms,  demands  the  ling'ring  fight: 
Again  Camilla  glows  with  martial  fire, 
Drives  armies  back,  and  makes  all  Troy  retire. 
With  more  than  native  lustre,  Virgil  shines, 
And  gains  sublimer  heights  in  Dryden's  lines. 

The  gentle  Watts,  who  strings  his  silver  lyre 
To  sacred  odes,  and  heav'n's  all-ruling  Sire ; 


Who  scorns  th'  applause  of  the  licentious  stage 
And   mounts  you  sparkling  worlds  with   hallow'd 

rage, 
Compels  my  thoughts  to  wing  th'  heav'nly  road. 
And  wafts  my  soul,  exulting,  to  my  God: 
No  fabled  nine,  harmonious  bard!  inspire 
Thy  raptur'd  breast  with  such  seraphic  fire; 
But  prompting  angels  warm  thy  boundless  rage, 
Direct  thy  thoughts,  and  animate  thy  page. 
Blest  man !  for  spotless  sanctity  rever'd, 
Lov'd  by  the  good,  and  by  the  guilty  fear'd; 
Blest  man !  from  gaj-,  delusive  scenes  remov'd, 
Thy  Maker  loving,  by  thy  Maker  lov'd, 
To  God  thou  tun'st  thy  consecrated  lays, 
Nor  meanly  blush  to  sing  Jehovah's  praise. 
Oh!  did,  like  thee,  each  laurel'd  bard  delight 
To  paint  Religion  in  her  native  light, 
Not  then  with  plays  the  lab'ring  press  would  groan, 
Nor  Vice  defy  the  pulpit  and  the  throne  ; 
No  impious  rhymers  charm  a  vicious  age, 
Nor  prostrate  Virtue  groan  beneath  their  rage; 
But  themes  divine  in  lofty  numbers  rise, 
Fill  the  wide  earth,  and  echo  thro'  the  skies. 

These  for  delight.     For  profit  I  would  read 
The  labour'd  volumes  of  the  learned  dead. 
Sagacious  Locke,  by  Providence  design'd, 
To  exalt,  instruct,  and  rectify  the  mind. 
The  unconquerable  sage*  whom  virtue  fir'd, 
And  from  the  tyrant's  lawless  rage  retir'd, 
When  victor  Cffisar  freed  unhappy  Rome 
From  Pompey's  chains,  to  substitute  his  own. 
Longinus,  Livy,  fam'd  Thueydides, 
Quintilian,  Plato,  and  Demosthenes, 
Persuasive  Tully,  and  Cordoba's  sfige,! 
Who  fell  by  Nero's  unrelenting  rage; 
Him|  whom  ungrateful  Athens  doom'd  to  bleed, 
Despis'd  when  living,  and  deplor'd  when  dead. 
Raleigh  I'd  read  with  ever  fresh  delight, 
While  ages  past  rise  present  to  m}*  sight : 
All  man  unblest !  he  foieign  realms  explor'd, 
Then  fell  a  victim  to  his  country's  sword! 
Nor  should  great  Derham  pass  neglected  by, 
Observant  sage!  to  whose  deep-piercing  eye, 
Nature's  stupendous  works  expanded  lie. 

j   Nor  he,  Britannia,  thy  unmatch'd  renown  1 
(Adjudg'd  to  wear  the  philosophic  crown) 

I   Who  on  the  solar  orb  uplifted  rode, 
And  scann'd  the  unfathomable  works  of  God  ! 
Who  bound  the  silver  planets  to  their  spheres, 
And  trae'd  the  elliptic  curve  of  blazing  stars! 
Immortal  Newton  ;  whose  illustrious  name 
Will  shine  on  records  of  eternal  fame. 

A   WIFE. 

By  love  directed,  I  would  choose  a  wife, 
To  improve  my  bliss,  and  ease  the  load  of  life. 
Hail,  wedlock!  hail,  inviolable  tye! 
Perpetual  fountain  -of  domestic  joy  ! 
Love,  friendship,  honour,  truth,  and  pure  delight 
Harmonious  mingle  in  the  nuptial  rite. 
In  Eden,  first  the  holy  state  began, 
When  perfect  innocence  distil. guish'd  man  ; 
The  human  pair,  the  Almighty  pontiff  led, 
Gay  as  the  morning,  to  the  bridal  bed; 
A  dread  solemnity  the  espousals  grae'd, 
Angels  the  witnesses  and  God  the  priest  1 
All  earth  exulted  on  the  nuptial  hour, 
And  voluntary  roses  deck'd  the  bow'r ; 
The  joyous  birds  on  every  blossom'd  spray, 
Sung  hymeneans  to  the  important  day, 
While  Philomela  swell'd  the  spousal  song, 
And  Paradise  with  gratulatiou  rung. 


*  Cato. 


t  Seneca. 


$  Socrates. 


JAMES  OTIS. 


155 


Relate,  inspiring  muse! 


re  shall  I  find 
A  blooming  virgin  with  an  angel  mind? 
UnbleniishM  a?  the  white-rob'd  virgin  quire 
That  fed,  O  Rome!   thy  consecrated  fire? 
By  reason  aw'd,  ambitious  to  be  good, 
Averse  to  vice,  and  zealous  for  her  God? 
Relate,  in  what  blest  region  can  I  find 
Such  bright  perfections  in  a  female  mind? 
What  phoenix-woman  breathes  the  vital  air 
So  greatly  good,  and  so  divinely  fair? 
Sure  not  the  gay  and  fashionable  train, 
Licentious,  proud,  immoral,  and  profane; 
Who  spend  their  golden  hours  in  antic  dress, 
Malicious  whispers,  and  inglorious  ease. 

Lo  !  round  the  board  a  shining  train  appears 
In  rosy  beauty,  and  m  prime  of  years! 
This  hates  a  flounce,  and  this  a  flounce  approves, 
This  shows  the  trophies  of  her  former  loves; 
Polly  avers,  that  Sylvia  drest  in  green, 
When  last  at  church  the  gaudy  nymph  was  seen; 
Chloe  condemns  her  optics;  and  will  lay 
'Twas  azure  sattin,  interstreak'd  with  grey; 
Lucy,  invested  with  judicial  power, 
Awards  'twas  neither, — and  the  strife  is  o'er. 
Then  parrots,  lap  dogs,  monkeys,  squirrels,  beaux, 
Fans,  ribands,  tuckers,  patches,  furbelocs, 
In  quick  succession,  thro'  their  fancies  run, 
And  dance  incessant,  on  the  flippant  tongue. 
And  when,  fatigu'd  with  ev'ry  other  sport. 
The  belles  prepare  to  grace  the  sacred  court, 
They  marshal  all  their  forces  in  array, 
To  kill  with  glances,  and  destroy  in  play. 
Two  skilful  maids  with  reverential  fear, 
In  wanton  wreaths  collect  their  silken  hair; 
Two  paint  their  cheeks,  and  round  their  temples 

pour 
The  fragrant  unguent,  and  the  ambrosial  shower; 
One  pulls  the  shape-creating  stays;  and  one 
Encircles  round  her  waist  the  golden  zone; 
Not  with  more  toil  to  improve  immortal  charms, 
Strove  Juno,  Venus,  and  the  queen  of  arms. 
When  Priam's  son  adjudg'd  the  golden  prize, 
To  the  resistless  beauty  of  the  skies. 
At  length,  equip'd  in  Love's  enticing  arms, 
With  all  that  glitters,  and  with  all  that  charms, 
The  ideal  goddesses  to  church  repair, 
Peep  thro'  the  fan,  and  mutter  o'er  a  pray'r, 
Or  listen  to  the  organ's  pompous  sound, 
Or  eye  the  gilded  images  around; 
Or,  deeply  studied  in  coquettish  rules, 
Aim  wily  glances  at  unthinking  fools; 
Or  show  the  lily  hand  with  graceful  air, 
Or  wound  the  fopling  with  a  lock  of  hair: 
And  when  the  hated  discipline  is  o'er. 
And  misses  tortur'd  with  repent,  no  more, 
They  mount  the  pictur'd  coach  ;  and,  to  the  play, 
The  celebrated  idols  hie  away. 

Not  so  the  lass  that  should  my  joys  improve, 
With  solid  friendship,  and  connubial  love: 
A  native  bloom,  with  intermingled  white, 
Should  set  her  features  in  a  pleasing  light ; 
Like  Helen  flushing  with  unrival'd  charms, 
When  raptur'd  Paris  darted  in  her  arms. 
But  what,  alas!  avails  a  ruby  cheek, 
A  downy  bosom,  or  a  snowy7  neck  1 
Charms  ill  supply  the  want  of  innocence, 
Nor  beauty  forms  intrinsic  excellence: 
But  in  her  breast  let  moral  beauties  shine, 
Supernal  grace  and  purity  divine: 
Sublime  her  reason,  and  her  native  wit 
Unstrain'd  with  pedantry,  and  low  conceit ; 
Her  fancy  lively,  and  her  judgment  free 
From  female  prejudice  and  bigotry  : 
Averse  to  idol  pomp,  and  outward  show, 


The  flatt'ring  coxcomb,  and  fantastic  beau. 

The  fop's  impertinence  she  should  despise, 

Tho'  sorely  wounded  by  her  radiant  eyes  ; 

But  pay  due  rev'rence  to  the  exalted  mind, 

By  learning  polish'd,.  and  by  wit  refin'd, 

Who  all  her  virtues,  without  guile,  commends, 

And  all  her  faults  as  freely  reprehends. 

Soft  Hymen's  rites  her  passion  should  approve, 

And  in  her  bosom  glow  the  flames  of  love  : 

To  me  her  soul,  by  sacred  friendship,  turn, 

And  I,  for  her,  with  equal  friendship  burn  : 

In  ev'ry  stage  of  life  afford  relief, 

Partake  my  joys,  and  sympathize  my  grief; 

Unshaken,  walk  in  Virtue's  peaceful  road, 

Nor  bribe  her  Reason  to  pursue  the  mode  ; 

Mild  as  the  saint  whose  errors  are  forgiv'n, 

Calm  as  a  vestal,  and  compos'd  as  heaven. 

This  be  the  partner,  this  the  lovely  wife, 

That  should  embellish  and  prolong  my  life, 

A  nymph!  who  might  a  second  fall  inspire, 

And  fill  a  glowing  cherub  with  desire! 

With  her  I'd  spend  the  pleasurable  day, 

While  fleeting  minutes  gayly  daue'd  away: 

With  her  I'd  walk,  delighted,  o'er  the  green, 

Thro'  ev'ry  blooming  mead,  and  rural  scene  ; 

Or  sit  in  open  fields  damask'd  with  flow'rs, 

Or  where  cool  shades  imbrown  the  noon-tide  bow'rs. 

Imparadis'd  within  1113'  eager  arms, 

I'd  reign  the  happy  monarch  of  her  charms  ; 

Oft  on  her  panting  bosom  would  I  lay, 

And  in  dissolving  raptures  melt  away; 

Then  lull'd,  by  nightingales,  to  balmy  rest, 

My  blooming  fair  should  slumber  at  my  breast. 


CONCLUSION. 


And  when  decrepit!  age  (frail  mortals'  doom) 
Should  bend  my  wither' d  body  to  the  tomb, 
No  warbling  syrens  should  retard  my  flight 
To  heavenly  mansions  of  unclouded  light. 
Tho'  Death,  with  his  imperial  horrors  crowu'd, 
Terrific  grinn'd,  and  formidably  frown'd, 
Offences  pardon'd  and  remitted  sin, 
Should  form  a  calm  serenity  within  : 
Blessing  my  natal  and  my  mortal  hour, 
(My  soul  committed  to  the  eternal  pow'r) 
Inexorable  Death  should  smile,  for  I 
Who  knew  to  live,  would  never  fear  to  die. 

JAMES  OTIS, 
The  first  writer  of  the  Revolution,  was  born  in 
Barnstable,  Feb.  5,  1724.  He  was  prepared  for 
Harvard  College  by  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Russell, 
and  graduated  in  1743.  Eighteen  months  after 
he  commenced  the  study  of  law  in  the  office  of 
Jeremiah  Gridley,  and  was  admitted  in  1748,  at 
Plymouth,  where  he  resided.  Two  years  after  he 
removed  to  Boston.  His  practice  soon  became 
extensive.  In  1755,  he  married  Miss  Ruth  Cun- 
ningham, the  daughter  of  a  merchant  of  Boston. 
In  1700,  he  was  engaged  in  the  famous  case  of 
the  Writs  of  Assistance — a  new  regulation  intro- 
duced by  the  English  government,  by  which  the 
courts  were  called  upon  to  protect  the  officers 
of  the  customs  in  forcibly  entering  and  searching 
the  premises  of  merchants  in  quest  of  dutiable 
goods.  Pending  the  application  to  the  Superior 
Court  for  these  writs,  Sewell,  the  chief  justice, 
died,  and  Lt.  Gov.  Hutchinson  was  appointed  his 
successor.  The  elder  Otis  condemned  this  multi- 
plication of  offices  in  the  hands  of  one  person,  and 
this  opposition  and  the  future  proceedings  of 
himself  and  son  have  been  charged  against  them 
as  instigated  by  revenge,  he  having  expected  tie 


156 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


office  himself.  The  charge  is  branded  as  an 
"  execrable  he"  by  John  Adams.  Otis  defended 
the  merchants  in  this  case,  and  "with  success. 
"  American  Independence  was  then  and  there 
barn."*  His  speech  was  widely  circulated,  and 
its  author  was  elected  to  the  State  Legislature  in 
May,  1761.  In  1762,  he  published  a  pamphlet, 
entitled  A  Vindication  of  the  Conduct  of  the 
House  of  Representatives.  It  was  a  defence  of 
an  address  to  the  governor  in  answer  to  his 
message  announcing  an  addition  to  the  armament 
of.  the  Massachusetts  sloop  (a  small  matter  in 
itself,  but  involving  the  principle  of  the  expendi- 
ture of  the  public  money  without  the  action  of 
the  legislature).  This  address,  drawn  up  by  Otis, 
contained  the  following  passage :  "  It  would  be  of 
little  consequence  to  the  people  whether  they 
were  subject  to  George  or  Louis,  the  king  of 
Great  Britain  or  the  French  king,  if  both  were 
arbitrary,  as  both  would  be,  if  both  could  levy 
taxes  without  Parliament."  A  member  cried  out 
"  treason"  when  it  was  read,  but  the  address 
was  passed  by  a  large  majority.  "  How  many 
volumes,"  says  John  Adams,  "are  concentrated 
in  this  little  fugitive  pamphlet!  Look  over  the 
Declarations  of  Rights  and  Wrongs,  issued  by 
Congress  in  1774.  Look  into  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  in  1776.  Look  into  the  writings 
of  Dr.  Price  and  Dr.  Priestley.  Look  into  all  the 
French  constitutions  of  government,  and,  to  cap 
the  climax,  look  into  Mr.  Thomas  Paine's  Com- 
mon Sense,  Crisis,  and  Eights  of  Man ;  what 
can  you  find  that  is  not  to  be  found  in  solid  sub- 
stance in  this  Vindication  of  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives ?" 


ji^r^i/  e^/ 


In  1764,  Otis's  Rights  of  the  British  Colonies 
Asserted  and  Proved,  a  pamphlet  of  120  pages 
8vo.,  appeared.  Its  argument  is  given  with 
admirable  concision  in  the  summary  near  its 
close. 

The  6um  of  my  argument  is,  that  civil  govern- 
ment is  of  God,  that  the  administrators  of  it  were 


*  John  Adams. 


originally  the  whole  people ;  that  they  might  have 
devolved  it  on  whom  they  pleased :  that  this  devo- 
lution is  fiduciary,  for  the  good  of  the  whole :  that 
by  the  British  constitution,  this  devolution  is  on  the 
king,  lords,  and  commons,  the  supreme,  sacred,  and 
uncontrollable  legislative  power,  not  only  in  the 
realm,  but  through  the  dominions:  that  by  the 
abdication,  the  original  compact  was  broken  to 
pieces  ;  that  by  the  revolution  it  was  renewed,  and 
more  firmly  established,  and  the  rights  and  liberties 
of  the  subject  in  all  parts  of  the  dominions  more 
fully  explained  and  confirmed:  that  inconsequence 
of  this  establishment  and  the  acts  of  succession  and 
union,  his  Majesty  George  III.  is  rightful  king  and 
sovereign,  and  with  his  parliament,  the  supreme 
legislative  of  Great  Britain,  France,  and  Ireland, 
and  the  dominions  thereunto  belonging :  that  this 
constitution  is  the  most  free  one,  and  by  far  the 
best  now  existing  on  earth :  that  by  this  constitu- 
tion, every  man  in  the  dominions  is  a  free  man:  that 
no  part  of  his  Majesty's  dominions  can  be  taxed 
without  their  consent :  that  every  part  has  a  right 
to  be  represented  in  the  supreme  or  some  subordi- 
nate legislature,  that  the  refusal  of  this  would  seem 
to  be  a  contradiction  in  practice  to  the  theory  of  the 
constitution :  that  the  colonies  are  subordinate 
dominions,  and  are  now  in  such  a  state,  as  to  make 
it  best  for  the  good  of  the  whole  that  they  should 
not  only  be  continued  in  the  enjoyment  of  subordi- 
nate legislation,  but  be  also  represented  in  some  pro- 
portion to  their  number  and  estates  in  the  grand 
legislation  of  the  nation:  that  this  would  firmly 
unite  all  parts  of  the  British  empire,  in  the  greatest 
peace  and  prosperity ;  and  render  it  invulnerable 
and  perpetual. 

Otis  was  elected  to  the  first  or  Stamp  Act  Con- 
gress, but  after  the  publication  of  his  last  work 
took  a  less  prominent  part  in  public  debate. 

Sept.  4,  1769,  he  published  an  advertisement 
in  the  Boston  Gazette,  denouncing  the  commis- 
sioners of  the  customs  who  had  sent  over  to  Eng- 
land false  and  libellous  charges  against  him.  The 
next  evening  he  met  Robinson,  one  of  these  per- 
sons, in  a  coffee-house.  An  altercation  ensued, 
Robinson  struck  him  with  a  cane,  Otis  returned 
the  blow,  was  attacked  by  a  number  of  Robin- 
son's adherents,  and  received  a  severe  wound  in 
the  head — which  is  generally  supposed  to  have, 
led  to  the  insanity  which  soon  after  made  its 
appearance,  and  incapacitated  him  for  future 
public  or  professional  exertion.  He  brought  an 
action  against  Robinson,  and  recovered  £2000 
damages,  which  he  refused  to  accept.  He  retired 
from  the  legislature  in  1770,  and  was  re-elected 
in  1771,  but  did  not  take  any  important  part  in 
the  debates.  He  withdrew  the  same  year,  and 
passed  the  remainder  of  his  life  at  Barnstable  and 
Andover,  where  he  was  struck  by  lightning,  May 
23,  1783,  and  died  instantaneously.  His  life  has 
been  written  by  William  Tudor.* 

ADVANTAGES  OF  REPRESENTATION. 

A  representation  in  Parliament  from  the  several 
colonies,  since  they  are  become  so  large  and  nume- 
rous, as  to  he  called  on  not  only  to  maintain 
provincial  government,  civil  and  military,  among 
themselves,  for  this  they  have  cheerfully  done,  but 
to  contribute  towards  the  support  of  a  national 
standing  army,  by  reason  of  the  heavy  national 
debt,  when  they  themselves  owe  a  large  one,  con- 

*  Life  of  James  Otis,  of  Massachusetts.    Boston,  1823. 


JAMES  BOWDOIN. 


157 


traeted  in  the  common  cause,  cannot  be  thought  an 
unreasonable  thing,  nor  if  asked,  could  it  be  called 
an  immodest  request.  Qm  sentit  commodum  sentire 
debet  et  onus,  has  been  thought  a  maxim  of  equity. 
But  that  a  man  should   bear  a  burthen   for  other 

fieople,  as  well  as  himself,  without  a  return,  never 
ong  found  a  place  in  any  law-book  or  decrees,  but 
those  of  the  most  despotic  princes.  Besides  the 
equity  of  an  American  representation  in  parliament, 
a  thousand  advantages  would  result  from  it.  It 
would  be  the  most  effectual  means  of  giving  those 
of  both  countries  a  thorough  knowledge  of  each 
other's  interests,  as  well  as  that  of  the  whole,  which 
are  inseparable. 

Were  this  representation  allowed,  instead  of  the 
Bcandalous  memorials  and  depositions  that  have  been 
sometimes,  in  daj's  of  old,  privately  cooked  up  in  an 
inquisitorial  manner,  by  persons  of  bad  minds  and 
wicked  views,  and  sent  from  America  to  the  several 
boards,  persons  of  the  first  reputation  among  their 
countrymen  might  be  on  the  spot,  from  the  several 
colonies,  truly  to  represent  them.  Future  ministers 
need  not,  like  some  of  their  predecessors,  have 
recourse  for  information  in  American  affairs,  to 
every  vagabond  stroller,  that  has  run  or  rid  post 
through  America,  from  his  creditors,  or  to  people  of 
no  kind  of  credit  from  the  colonies. 

JAMES  BOWDOIN 

Was  born  in  Boston,  August  7,  172G.  He  was 
of  Huguenot  descent ;  his  grandfather  Pierre  Bau- 
douin  having  been  a  refugee  from  France  on  the 
revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  who,  living  for 
a  short  time  in  Ireland,  in  1GS7  was  an  applicant 
to  Governor  Andros,  in  New  England,  for  a  grant 
of  land  in  Maine.  His  sou,  James  Bowdoin,  be- 
came a  wealthy  merchant  of  Boston  ;  and  his  son 
James,  of  whom  we  are  writing,  inherited  a  hand- 
some paternal  fortune.  He  was  educated  under 
Master  Lovell  at  the  South  Grammar  School  of 
the  city,  and  was  a  graduate  of  Harvard  of  1745. 
At  twenty-four  years  of  age  he  had  visited  Frank- 
lin in  Philadelphia,  and  disclosed  a  taste  for  scien- 
tific pursuits  which  induced  the  philosopher,  then 
twenty  years  his  senior,  to  communicate  to  him 
his  papers  on  Electricity.  This  was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  correspondence  by  which  the  friends 
have  become  united  in  reputation.  A  resume  of 
this  scientific  connexion  is  given  by  the  Hon.E.C. 
Winthrop,  a  descendant  of  Bowdoin,  in  his  ad- 
dress on  the  Life  and  Services  of  Bowdoin .* 

At  the  outset  of  this  correspondence,  Bowdoin 
appears  to  have  availed  himself  of  the  invitation  to 
make  observations  on  Franklin's  theories  and  specu- 
lations, with  somewhat  more  of  independence  of 
opinion  than  might  have  been  expected  from  the 
disparity  of  their  ages.  One  of  his  earliest  letters 
(21st  Dec.  1751")  suggested  such  forcible  objections 
to  the  hypothesis,  that  the  sea  was  the  grand  source 
of  electricity,  that  Franklin  was  led  to  say  in  his  re- 
ply, (24th  January,  1752,) — "I  grow  more  doubtful 
of  my  former  supposition,  ami  more  ready  to  allow 
weight  to  that  objection,  (drawn  from  the  activity 
of  the  electric  fluid  and  the  readiness  of  water  to 
conduct,)  which  you  have  indeed  stated  with  great 
strength  and  clearness."  In  the  following  year 
Franklin  retracted  this  hypothesis  altogether.  The 
same  letter  of  Bowdoin's  contained  an  elaborate  ex- 
plication of  the  cause  of  the  crooked  direction  of 
lightning,  which  Franklin  pronounced,  in  his  reply, 

*  Wintbrop's  Maine  Historical  Soc.  Address,  1849,  pp.  10-12. 


to  be  "  both  ingeniou?  and  Solid," — adding,  "  when 
we  can  account  as  satisfactorily  for  the  electrifica- 
tion of  clouds,  I  think  that  branch  of  natural  philo- 
sophy will  be  nearly  complete." 

In  a  subsequent  letter.Bowdoin  suggested  a  theory 
in  regard  to  the  lurninousness  of  water  under  certain 
circumstances,  ascribing  it  to  the  presence  of  minute 
phosphorescent  animals,  of  which  Franklin  said,  in 
his  reply,  (13th  Dec.  1753.) — "The  observations  you 
made  of  the  sea  water  emitting  more  or  less  light  in 
different  tracts  passed  through  by  your  boat,  is  new, 
and  your  mode  of  accounting  for  it  ingenious.  It  is, 
indeed,  very  possible,  that  an  extremely  small  ani- 
malcule, too  small  to  be  visible  even  by  our  best 
glasses,  may  yet  give  a  visible  light."  This  theory 
has  since  been  very  generally  received. 

Franklin  soon  after  paid  our  young  philosopher 
the  more  substantial  and  unequivocal  compliment  of 
sending  his  letters  to  London,  where  they  were  read 
at  the  Royal  Society,  and  published  in  a  volume  with 
his  own.  The  Royal  Society,  at  a  later  day,  made 
Bowdoin  one  of  their  fellows  ;  and  Franklin  writing 
to  Bowdoin  from  London,  Jan.  13,  1772,  says:  "It 
gives  me  great  pleasure  that  my  book  afforded  any 
to  my  friends.  I  esteem  those  letters  of  yours  among 
its  brightest  ornaments,  and  have  the  satisfaction  to 
find  that  they  add  greatly  to  the  reputation  of 
American  philosophy." 

He  bore  a  leading  part  in  the  political  agita- 
tions of  the  times,  in  opposition  to  the  parliamen- 
tary and  local  government  tyranny  ;  and  was  an 
early  advocate  of  the  union  of  the  Colonies.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  Colonial  Council,  where  his 
patriotism  rendered  him  an  object  of  dread  to 
Governor  Bernard  and  Hutchinson,  while  he  was 
specially  set  aside  by  the  English  home  govern- 
ment, He  was  elected  to  the  Old  Continental 
Congress  and  prevented  attendance  only  by  family 
illness.  His  own  health  was  weak,  and  his  life 
became  a  long  consumptive  disease ;  but  he  was 
always  vigorous  in  public  affairs.  In  1785,  he 
became  Governor  of  the  Commonwealth,  in  the 
discharge  of  the  duties  of  which  he  applied  all 
his  energies  to  the  suppression  of  Shay's  Rebel- 
lion against  law  and  order.  He  lived  to  see  his 
efforts  for  union  fully  established  in  the  formation 
of  the  Federal  Constitution  ;  received  Washing- 
ton, with  whom  he  had  conferred  on  the  perilous 
heights  of  Dorchester,  in  1776,  at  his  house  in 
Boston  in  1789  ;  and  on  the  6th  of  November, 
1790,  followed,  after  an  interval  of  a  few  months, 
his  old  friend  Franklin  to  the  grave. 

Besides  his  participation  in  Franklin's  dis- 
coveries, he  has  a  claim  upon  our  attention  here 
as  a  contributor  to  the  Pietas  et  G-ratulatio,  the 
volume  of  Cambridge  poems  on  the  accession  of 
George  III.,  to  which  he  contributed  three  articles,* 
and  the  author  of  a  volume  of  verses  published 
anonymously  in  Boston,  in  1759.  His  Para- 
phrase of  the  Economy  of  Human  Life  furnishes 
at  least  a  pleasing  study  of  the  tastes  of  the  man 
and  the  period.  He  was  a  fellow  of  the  Corpo- 
ration of  Harvard  College,  subscribed  liberally  to 
its  funds,  and  left  the  institution  a  handsome 
legacy  to  be  applied  to  the  encouragement  of 
literature  in  premiums  among  the  students.  He 
was  one  of  the  founders  and  first  Presidents  of  the 
American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences  in  Bos- 
ton, and  published  a  philosophical  discourse  on 

*  Ante,  p.  13. 


15S 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


% 


his  inclusion  in  17S0.  The  poem  of  Bowdoin,  to 
which  we  have  alluded,  is  called  a  Paraphrase 
of  Dodsley's  collection  of  aphorisms  under  that 
title  *  but,  though  it  originated  in  a  simple  ver- 
sion of  the  Economy,  it  is  rather  an  amplification 
or  extension  of  that  little  work,  with  new  illus- 
trations. It  follows  the  original  in  its  general 
classification  of  personal  duties  and  emotions,  and 
the  relation  of  the  sexes,  without  taking  up  each 
of  the  topics.  Bowdoin's  is  good  moral  sense,  in 
a  good  declamatory  tone,  without  much  origi- 
nality. As  an  example  of  its  more  pleasing  de- 
scriptions, we  may  take  a  passage  on  the  Virtu- 
ous Woman,  in  the  section  on  I>esire  and  Love. 

Now  view  the  maid,  the  love  inspiring  maid, 

With  virtue  and  with  modesty  array'd : 

Survey  her  matchless  form  ;  her  mind  survey ; 

And  all  their  beauty  in  full  light  display. 

Her  matchless  form,  display'd  in  open  light, 

Attracts  the  eye,  and  charms  the  ravish'd  sight. 

Survey'd,  and  re-survey'd  from  feet  to  head, 

A  thousand  nameless  beauties  round  her  spread: 

See  down  her  neck  the  charming  locks  descend ; 

And,  black  as  jet,  in  waving  ringlets  end : 

As  down  her  beauteous  neck  they  careless  flow, 

The  lovely  white  to  great  advantage  show: 

Her  comely  neck  with  symmetry  and  grace, 

Rises  majestic  on  its  noble  base : 

And,  like  a  column  of  superior  art, 

Does  to  the  eye  a  fine  effect  impart : 

Her  piercing  eyes  their  harmless  lightning  play  : 

And  dart  around  a  joy-diffusing  ray  : 

Her  cheeks,  adorn'd  with  lovely  white  and  red, 

May  vie  with  roses  in  their  fiow'ry  bed : 

Her  coral  lips,  whene'er  she  speaks,  disclose 

The  finest  iv'ry  in  concentric  rows: 

Her  tempting  breasts  in  whiteness  far  outgo 

The  op'ning  lily,  and  the  new  fal'n  snow : 

Her  tempting  breasts  the  eyes  of  all  command, 

And  gently  rising  court  the  ani'rous  hand  : 

Their  beauty  and  proportion  strike  the  eye, 

And  art's  best  skill  to  equal  them  defy. 

These  matchless  charms,  which  now  in  bloom  ap- 
pear, 
Are  far  exalted  by  the  dress  they  wear: 
With  virtue  rob'd,  with  modesty  attir'd, 
They're  more  and  more  b}r  all  mankind  admii'd 
With  virtue  rob'd,  with  modesty  array'd, 
They're  in  the  fairest  light  to  all  display'd  : 
True  virtue  and  true  modesty  inspire 
Witli  love  sincere,  unmix'd  with  base  desire ; 
Set  off  the  beauties  of  her  lovely  face  ; 
And  give  each  feature  a  peculiar  grace: 
Each  feature  sheds  a  joy-inspiring  ray ; 
And  all  around  are  innocently  gay: 
Each  feature  speaks  the  goodness  of  her  mind  ; 
By  pride  untainted,  gen'rous,  frank  and  kind. 
How  full  of  innocence  her  sprightly  eye ! 
Which  with  the  dove's  in  innocence  may  vie : 
From  falsehood  and  from  guile  how  free  her  heart! 
How  free  from  cunning  and  intriguing  art ! 
How  sweet  her  kiss  !  than  honey  far  more  sweet ; 
And  like  her  lips  exempt  from  ail  deceit : 
Her  lips  far  sweeter  odors  breathe  around, 
Than  e'er  exhal'd  from  India's  od'rous  ground  ; 
More  sweet  than  e'er  perfum'd  the  spicy  coast ; 
More  6weet  than  fam'd  Arabia  can  boast. 


*  A  Paraphrase  on  Part  of  the  Economy  of  Human  Life,  in- 
scribed to  his  Excellency  Thomas  Pownall,  Esq..  Governor  of 
the  Province  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay.  Boston,  New  England  : 
Printed  and  Sold  bv  Oreen  and  Eussell,  at  their  Pnnting- 
Offlce,  in  Queen  St.    1750. 


Than  roses  far  more  grateful  is  her  smile; 
And  more  than  roses  can  the  sense  beguile. 

These  are  her  charms — her  charms  as  bright  ap- 
pear 

As  yonder  stars  that  deck  heav'n's  sparkling 
sphere  ; 

And  like  to  her's,  which  bro't  down  fabled  Jove, 

Conquer  the  breast  least  capable  of  love. 

The  reader  may  like  to  compare  Bowdoin  with 
his  original  Dodsley.  We  add  a  few  sentences 
from  the  latter's  brief  parallel  chapter. 

The  madness  of  desire  shall  defeat  its  own  pur- 
suits; from  the  blindness  of  its  rage  thou  shalt 
rush  upon  destruction. 

Therefore  give  not  up  thy  heart  to  her  sweet  en- 
ticements ;  neither  suffer  thy  soul  to  be  enslaved  by 
her  enchanting  delusions. 

When  virtue  and  modesty  enlighten  her  charms, 
the  lustre  of  a  beautiful  woman  is  brighter  than  the 
stars  of  heaven  ;  and  the  influence  of  her  power  it 
is  in  vain  to  resist. 

The  innocence  of  her  eye  is  like  that  of  the 
turtle  ;  simplicity  and  truth  dwell  in  her  heart. 

The  kisses  of  her  mouth  are  sweeter  than  honey: 
the  perfumes  of  Arabia  breathe  from  her  lips. 

Dodsley's  'sentiments  have  a  strong  flavor  of 
common-place  to  readers  of  the  present  day,  but 
they  were  once  very  popular.  James  Bowdoin, 
the  son  of  the  preceding,  was  a  gentleman  of 
many  accomplishments.  He  was  born  Sept.  22, 
1752,  and  died  Oct.  11,  1811.  He  gave  much 
attention  to  literary  pursuits,  and  on  the  incorpo- 
ration of  Bowdoin  College,  at  Brunswick,  in 
Maine,  made  it  a  donation  of  one  thousand  acres 
of  land,  and  more  than  eleven  hundred  pounds. 
He  was  sent  by  Jefferson  as  minister  to  Spain  in 
1805,  and  subsequently  to  France,  and  remained 
abroad  till  1808,  passing  two  years  in  Paris, 
where  he  made  a  collection  of  books  and  minerals 
which  he  subsequently  presented  to  Bowdoin 
College.  He  lived  during  the  summer  months  on 
Naushaun  Island,  near  Martha's  Vineyard.  He 
was  interested  in  the  cultivation  of  sheep,  and 
translated  Daubenton's  Advice  to  Shepherds.  He 
published  anonymously,  Opinions  respecting  the 
Commercial  Intercourse  ietween  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain.  A  short  time  before 
his  death  he  gave  a  valuable  grant  of  land  to 
Bowdoin  College,  and  by  his  last  will  bequeathed 
a  philosophical  apparatus,  and  a  costly  collection 
of  paintings  to  that  institution. 

EZRA  STILES. 

TnE  grandfather  of  Ezra  Stiles  was  brought  an 
infant  to  New  England,  in  1634.  The  family  set- 
tled in  Windsor,  Connecticut,  in  1635.  The  Rev. 
Isaac  Stiles  was  his  son,  and  settled,  as  minister, 
at  North  Haven.  He  married  a  daughter  of  the 
Bev.  Edward  Taylor,  of  Westfield,  Mass.,  who 
died  a  few  days  after  giving  birth  to  their  only 
child,  Ezra,  December  10,  1727.  He  was  prepared 
for  Yale  College  by  his  father,  at  the  early  age 
of  twelve,  but  his  entrance  was  wisely  deferred 
until  three  years  later.  He  was  graduated  with 
distinguished  honors  in  1746,  and  remained  a 
resident  at  the  college,  where  he  was  chosen  a 
tutor,  in  May,  1749.  He  was  licensed,  and 
preached  his  first  sermon,  in  June  of  the  same 


EZRA  STILES. 


159 


year,  and  in  the  following  September  received 
the  Master's  degree,  being  regarded  as  one  of  the 
ablest  scholars  the  institution  had  produced.  In 
1752,  finding  the  exertion  of  preaching  prejudicial 
to  his  health,  and  influenced  to  some  extent  by 
religious  doubts,  by  which  his  mind  was  then  dis- 
turbed, he  commenced  the  study  of  the  law,  with 
a  view  to  a  change  in  his  career.  In  1754,  he 
made  a  tour  to  Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadel- 
phia, with  great  benefit  to  bis  health.  In  April 
of  the  following  year,  he  accepted  an  invitation  to 
preach  during  the  college  vacation,  at  Newport, 
B.  I.,  and  soon  after  received  a  call  to  retain  the 
position  permanently.  After  much  deliberation, 
he  determined  to  abandon  the  law  and  accept  the 
appointment.  He  had  previously,  by  laborious 
study  and  earnest  thought,  dispelled  the  theologi- 
cal difficulties  which  had  disturbed  his  mind,  and 
was  ready  to  devote  himself  with  earnestness  and 
zeal  to  his  sacred  calling.  His  clerical  duties  did 
not,  however,  prevent  his  attention  to  the  scien- 
tific and  philological  studies  in  which  he  also  de- 
lighted. 

In  1757,  he  married  Elizabeth,  daughter  of 
Ool.  John  Hubbard,  of  New  Haven. 

A  discourse  delivered  on  the  public  thanksgiv- 
ing for  the  capture  of  Montreal,  September  8, 
1700,  shows  him  to  have  been  among  the  first  to 
foresee  American  Independence.  He  says :  "  It  is 
probable  that,  in  time,  there  will  be  formed  a 
Provincial  Confederacy,  and  a  Common  Council, 
standing  on  free  provincial  suffrage  :  and  this  may, 
in  time,  terminate  in  an  imperial  diet,  when  the 
imperial  dominion  will  subsist,  as  it  ought,  in  elec- 
tion." In  July,  1766,  he  was  urged  to  allow  him- 
self to  be  proposed  as  a  candidate  for  the  presi- 
dency of  Yale  College,  but  declined.   The  proposal 


was  renewed  by  his  formal  election,  in  1777.  He 
was  at  this  time  resident  at  Portsmouth,  having 
removed  on  the  British  occupation  of  Newport, 
until  "  it  might  please  Divine  Providence  to  re- 
assemble his  dear  scattered  flock."  At  the  urgent 
solicitation  of  his  own  and  the  friends  of  the  col- 


lege, he  accepted  the  office,  and  commenced  its 
duties,  June  23,  1778. 

In  the  spring  vacation  of  1780,  the  British  hav- 
ing evacuated  Newport,  the  President  paid  a  visit 
to  his  old  congregation.  The  church  had  been 
desecrated  by  the  enemy,  who  "had  put  up  a 
chimney  in  the  middle  of  it,  and  demolished  all 
the  pews  and  seats  below,  and  in  the  galleries, 
but  had  left  the  pulpit  standing.  My  little  zealous 
flock,"  says  the  President,  "took  down  the  chim- 
ney, and  cleansed  the  meeting  house,  and  then 
procured  some  benches,  made  for  the  king's  troops' 
entertainment  and  left  behind  :  so  that  we  attend- 
ed divine  service  very  conveniently,  though  with 
a  pleasure  intermixed  with  tender  grief."  He 
retained  his  Presidency  with  high  honor  to  him- 
self and  usefulness  to  the  institution,  until  his 
death,  May  12,  1795. 

Dr.  Stiles  was  an  indefatigable  student  through- 
out his  life.  By  the  aid  of  a  Jewish  acquaintance 
in  Newport,  he  instructed  himself  in  Hebrew,  and 
afterwards  acquired  an  acquaintance  with  the 
other  oriental  languages.  He  corresponded  with 
the  Jesuits  on  the  geography  of  California,  with 
Greek  bishops  on  the  physical  formation  of  Pales- 
tine and  the  adjacent  countries,  and  addressed 
queries  of  a  scientific  and  philological  nature  to 
travellers  from  the  interior  of  Africa,  Behring's 
Straits,  and  other  remote  regions.  The  late 
Chancellor  Kent,  who  was  one  of  Stiles's  pupils 
i  in  the  college,  has  paid  a  handsome  tribute  to  the 
!  warmth  and  character  of  his  political  principles 
and  personal  virtues:  "President  Stiles's  zeal  for 
i  civil  and  religious  liberty  was  kindled  at  the  altar 
j  of  the  English  and  New  England  Puritans,  and 
it  was  animating  and  vivid.  A  more  constant 
and  devoted  friend  to  the  Revolution  and  inde- 
pendence of  this  country  never  existed.  He  had 
anticipated  it  as  early  as  the  year  1760,  and  his 
whole  soul  was  enlisted  in  favor  of  every  measure 
which  led  on  gradually  to  the  formation  and 
establishment  of  the  American  Union.  The  fre- 
quent appeals  which  he  was  accustomed  to  make 
i  to  the  heads  and  hearts  of  his  pupils,  concerning 
the  slippery  paths  of  youth,  the  grave  duties  of 
life,  the  responsibilities  of  man,  and  the  perils, 
and  hopes,  and  honors,  and  destiny  of  our  coun- 
try, will  never  be  forgotten  by  those  who  heard 
them  ;  and  especially  when  he  came  to  touch,  as  he 
often  did,  with  'a  master's  hand  and  prophet's 
fire,'  on  the  bright  vision  of  the  future  prosperity 

and  splendor  of  the  United  States Take 

him  for  all  in  all,  this  extraordinary  man  was 
undoubtedly  one  of  the  purest  and  best  gifted 
men  of  his  age.  In  addition  to  his  other  emi- 
nent attainments  he  was  clothed  with  humility. 
with  tenderness  of  heart,  with  disinterested  kind- 
ness, and  with  the  most  artless  simplicity.  He 
was  distinguished  for  the  dignity  of  his  deport- 
ment, the  politeness  of  his  address,  and  the 
urbanity  of  his  manners.  Though  he  was  uncom- 
promising in  his  belief  and  vindication  of  the 
great  fundamental  doctrines  of  the  Protestant 
faith,  he  was  nevertheless  of  a  most  charitable 
and  catholic  temper,  resulting  equally  from  the 
benevolence  of  his  disposition  and  the  spirit  of 
the  Gospel."  * 


♦Address  delivered  at  New  Haven,  before  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  Sueiety,  by  James  Kent,  September  18, 1S31. 


1G0 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Dr.  Channing  has  also  been  the  eulogist  of 
Stiles.  In  his  discourse  at  Newport,  he  speaks 
with  animation  of  this  "  noble  friend  of  religious 
liberty,"  who  "threw  a  lustre  on  this  island  imme- 
diately before  the  Revolution  ;"  and  adds,  "to  the 
influence  of  this  distinguished  man  in  the  cir- 
cle in  which  I  was  brought  up,  I  may  owe  in  part 
the  indignation  which  I  feel  towards  every  inva- 
sion of  human  rights.  In  my  earliest  years  I 
regarded  no  human  being  with  equal  reverence."* 

Stiles  was  twice  married,  his  second  wife  being 
the  widow  of  William  Cheekley,  of  Providence. 
One  of  his  daughters  married  the  Rev.  Abiel 
Holmes,  by  whom  his  life  was  written  and  pub- 
lished in  1798.  There  is  also  a  biography  by  Prof. 
Kingsley,  of  Yale,  in  the  second  series  of  Sparks's 
collection. 

His  chief  literary  production  was  his  History 
of  Three  of  the  Judges  of  King  Charles  J.\  A 
letter  written  in  1793,  by  a  gentleman  of  South 
Carolina,  to  the  President,  suggesting  a  monument 
to  the  memory  of  John  Dixwell,  one  of  the  three 
Judges  of  Charles  I.  who  escaped  to  and  died  in 
this  country,  led  him  to  the  completion  of  a  work 
on  these  worthies  for  which  he  had  long  been 
engaged  in  collecting  materials.];  It  appeared  in 
1795.  The  kindly  pen  of  Chancellor  Kent  has 
placed  ite  political  merits  in  a  strong  light :  "  Tins 
work  contains  .proof,"  he  says,  "that  the  author's 
devotion  to  civil  and  religious  liberty  carried  him 
forward  to  some  hasty  conclusions ;  in  like  man- 
ner as  his  fondness  for  antiquarian  researches 
tended  to  lead  his  mind  to  credulous  excesses. 
He  dwells  on  trifling  traditionary  details  on  a  very 
unimportant  inquiry ;  but  the  volume  also  con- 
tains a  dissertation  on  republican  polity,  and  his 
vindication  of  the  resistance  of  the  Long  Parlia- 
ment to  King  Charles  L,  and  of  the  judicial  trial 
and  condemnation  of  that  monarch.  Here  he 
rises  into  a  theme  of  the  loftiest  import,  and  dis- 
cusses it  with  his  usual  boldness,  fervor,  acuteness, 
and  copiousness  of  erudition.  He  takes  occasion 
to  condemn  all  hereditary  orders  in  government, 
as  being  incompatible  with  public  virtue  and 
security ;  and  he  was  of  opinion  that  monarchy 
and  aristocracy,  with  all  their  exclusive  political 
appendages,  were  going  fast  into  discredit  and 
disuse,  under  the  influence  of  more  just  and 
enlightened  notions  of  the  natural  equality  and 
liberties  of  mankind.  In  these  opinions  the 
President  did  no  more  than  adopt  and  declare  the 
principles  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the  English 
Puritans  under  the  Stuarts,  and  of  many,  at  least, 
of  the  English  Protestant  Dissenters  under  the 
Brunswick  line.  His  fundamental  doctrine,  that 
a  nation  may  bring  to  trial  and  punishment  delin- 
quent kings,  is  undoubtedly  true  as  an  abstract 
proposition,  though  the  right  is  difficult  to  define 
and  dangerous  in  the  application.  This  humble 
little  volume  was  dedicated  to  the  patrons  of  un- 
polluted liberty,  civil  and  religious,  throughout 

*  Channing's  Works,  iv.  341. 

t  A  Historv  of  Three  of  tlie  Judges  of  Kins  Charles  I.,  Ma- 
jor General  "Whalley,  Major  General  Goffe,  and  Colonel  Dix- 
well:  who  at  the  Restoration,  1660,  fled  to  America,  and  vrete 
secreted  and  concealed  in  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut,  for 
near  Thirty  years.  With  au  account  of  Mr.  Theophihu*  Whale, 
of  Narragansett,  supposed  to  have  been  also  one  of  the  Judges. 
By  President  Stiles,  Hartford.  Printed  by  Elisha  Babcoek,  1794. 

t  "A  Poem,  commemorative  of  Goffe,  Whalley,  and  Dixwell, 
three  of  the  Judges  of  Charles  I.,  by  Philagathos,"  was  pub- 
lished in  Boston,  during  the  same  year. 


the  world;  and  when  we  consider  its  subject,  its 
republicanism,  its  spirit,  its  frankness,  its  piety, 

!  its  style  and  its  tact,  we  are  almost  led  to  believe 
that  we  are  perusing  the  legacy  of  the  last  of  the 
Puritans.  He  gives  us  also  a  conspectus  or  plan 
of  an  ideal  commonwealth,  and  it  is  far  superior 
to  the  schemes  sketched  by  Harrington,  or  Mil- 
ton, or  Locke,  or  Hume,  or  to  any  other  plan  of 
a  republic  prior  to  the  establishment  of  our  own 
American  constitutions.  It  is  very  much  upon 
the  model  of  some  of  the  best  of  them,  and 
though  entire  political  equality  and  universal  suf- 

i  frage  were  the  basis  of  his  plan,  he  was  fully 
aware  of  the  dangerous  propensities  to  which 
they  might  expose  us,  and  therefore  he  cheeked 
the  rapidity  of  his  machine  by  a  Legislature  of 
two  Houses,  chosen,  the  one  for  three  and  the 
other  for  six  years,  and  by  a  single  Executive 
chosen  for  seven  years,  and  by  .an  independent 
Judiciary.  In  addition  to  all  these  guards,  he 
insisted  on  the  necessity  of  a  general  diffusion  of 
light  and  knowledge,  and  of  the  recognition  of 
Christianity." 

Stiles's  other  works  consist  principally  of 
addresses  and  sermons.  One  of  the  latter  is  an 
able  plea  for  the  union  of  various  Kew  England 
denominations.  -  His  election  sermon  in  1783, 
entitled  The  United  States  Elevated  to  Glory  and 
Honour,  is  an  animated  eulogium  on  the  revolu- 
tionary contest,  and  an  eloquent  and  sensible  anti- 
cipation of  its  consequences.  In  his  eulogy  of 
"Washington,  his  enthusiasm  carries  him  to  its 
utmost  limits : — 

Thy  fame  is  of  sweeter  perfume  than  Arabian 
spices  iu  the  gardens  of  Persia,  A  Baron  de  Steuben 
shall  waft  its  fragrance  to  the  monarch  of  Prussia; 
a  Marquis  de  la  Fayette  shall  waft  it  to  a  far  greater 
monarch,  and  diffuse  thy  renown  throughout  Europe : 
listening  angels  shall  catch  the  odour,  waft  it  to 
heaven,  and  perfume  the  universe. 

Stiles's  Diary  and  bound  manuscripts  preserved 
at  Yale  College,  fill  some  forty -five  volumes.  Of 
these  fifteen  are  occupied  with  his  literary  Diary, 
embracing  the  narrative  of  daily  occurrences, 
public  and  private,  notices  of  the  books  he  read, 
the  sermons  he  preached  and  heard,  and  his  doc- 
trinal reflections.  It  includes  numerous  important 
details  of  the  Revolution.  A  Meteorological 
Record  occupies  five  volumes;  an  Itinerary  of.his 
tours,  notices  of  Town  and  Church  Records, 
Tombstone  Inscriptions  and  such  matters,  five 
more ;  while  the  remainder  are  filled  with  letters 
addressed  to  him,  and  miscellaneous  extracts.  He 
was  a  good  draughtsman,  and  occasionally  sketches 
plans  of  the  battles.  There  is  an  account,  in  par- 
ticular, of  the  battle  at  Charleston,  taken  down 
from  the  narrative  of  an  eye-witness  and  par- 
ticipant, the  Rev.  Mr.  Martin. 

Though  the  Diary  has  been  freely  drawn  upon 
by  Dr.  Stiles's  biographer,  Holmes,  and  consulted 
since  for  historical  purposes,  it  contains  much 
unpublished  matter  worthy  to  see  the  light. 

We  are  indebted  to  Mr.  E.  C.  Herrick,  of  Yale, 
for  the  following  extracts,  which  exhibit  the 
activity  of  the  n  riter's  mind,  and  the  extent  of 
his  pursuits  : — 

EXTRACTS  FROM   THE  LITERARY   IUART   OF  EZRA  STILES.      NEW- 
PORT, R.  I.  (TILL  1777). 

1770.     Mar.  9.    9   Heb.    Arab.      This  day  news 


EZRA  STILES. 


161 


from  Boston,  that  an  Affray  had  happened  there 
between  the  Inhabitants  and  the  Army,  wherein  the 
Soldiery  fired  and  killed  three  Men  and  wounded 
others :  upon  which  the  Bells  all  rang,  and  the  Town 
thrown  into  most  alarming  confusion.  This  day  ends 
the  prediction  of  Mr.  Edwards  of  Philadelphia. 

1769.  June  3.  rj  Fine  serene  day.  Assiduously 
employed  in  observing  the  Transit  of  Venus,  which 
will  not  happen  again  in  above  an  hundred  years, 
at  either  node ;  and  at  this  descending  node  again, 
not  in  two  hundred  and  forty  [36]"years,  or  before 
A.D.  2004. 

Oct.  5.  7L   Heb.   Arab.      LenJ   Mr.   Tutor  How, 
Origines  Ecelesiae  Alexandrine,  by  Eutychius,  Pa-   i 
triar.cn  of  that  church  in  the  Tenth  Century;  which 
I  had  copied  in  the  Arabic  Letter:  with  the  English 
Translation  which  I  made  from  the  original  Arabic. 

This  evening  visited  by  a  young  man, Hamilton, 

set.  20,  born  a  mile  from  Providence,  but  brought  up 
in  Coventry:  can  read  the  Bible,  but  scarce  knows 
the  nine  figures;  can't  set  down  any  sum  in  figures. 
Yet  has  a  surprizing  Talent  at  Addition  and  Multi- 
plication of  large  Numbers.  I  asked  him  with  my 
watch  in  my  hand,  how  many  minutes  there  were 
in  Ten  Million  years  ?  then  in  an  hundred  Million 
j'ears  ?  he  told  them  both  in  less  than  one  minute  by 
my  Watch. 

1777.  Sept.  19.  9  1  received  the  following  letter 
from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Whittelsey:  [announcing  that 
he,  Dr.  Stiles,  had  been  chosen  President  of  Yale 
College.]  My  Election  to  the  Presidency  of  Yale 
College  is  an  unexpected  and  wonderful  ordering  of 

Divine  Providence An  hundred  and  fifty  or 

180  Young  Gentlemen  Students,  is  a  bundle  of  Wild 
Fire,  not  easily  controlled  and  governed,  and  at  best 
the  Diadem  of  a  President  is  a  Crown  of  Thorns. 

1779.  Nov.  1.  Mr.  Guild,  Tutor  of  Harvard  Col- 
lege, visited  us  this  day.  He  has  been  to  Philadel- 
phia, and  is  planning  an  Academy  of  Sciences  for 
Massachusetts.  I  had  much  conversation  with  him 
upon  tills  as  well  as  upon  an  Acadenry  of  Sciences  I 
am  meditating  for  Connecticut. 

1780.  Dec.  19.  Mr.  Doolittle  tells  me  there  has 
been  made,  at  his  Powder  Mill,  in  New  Haven,  eighty 
Thousand  pounds  of  Powder  since  the  commence- 
ment of  this  war. 

1786.  June  29.  The  spirit  for  raising  silk  worms  is 
great  in  this  town,  Northford,  Worthington,  Mans- 
field, Ac. 

July  8.  The  German  or  Wheat  Insects  have  got 
into  and  destroyed  Squire  Smith's  Harvest  of  Rye 
and  Wheat  at  West  Haven,  and  that  of  several  of 
his  neighbours  ;  but  are  not  general  there.  These 
animalcules  which  fix  in  the  Joynts  of  Wheat,  and 
if  no  Wheat  in  Rye,  have  come  from  the  Westward 
and  got  into  Litchfield  and  New  Haven  Counties. 

1787.  July  2.  The  Rev.  Manasseh  Cutler,  of  Ips- 
witch,  visited  us.  He  is  a  great  Botanist,  and  is 
travelling  on  to  Philadelphia  to  inspect  all  vegetables 
and  plants  in  their  state  of  flowering,  with  the  view 
of  perfecting  his  Publication  upon  Indigenous  Ameri- 
can Plants,  ranged  into  Classes,  Genera  and  Species, 
according  to  the  sexual  or  Linnfean  system. 

Aug.  27.  ®Heb.  Recita.— Finished'the  first  Psalm. 
Judge  Ellsworth,  a  member  of  the  federal  conven- 
tion, just  returned  from  Philadelphia,  visited  me, 
and  tells  me  the  Convention  will  not  rise  under  three 
weeks.  He  there  saw  a  Steam  Engine  for  rowing 
Boats  against  the  stream,  invented  by  Mr.  Fitch,  of 
Windsor,  in  Connecticut,  He  was  on  board  the 
Boat,  and  saw  the  experiment  succeed. 

1794.  Mr.  Whitney  brought  to  my  house  and 
6howed  us  his  machine,  by  him  invented,  for  clean- 
ing cotton  of  its  seeds.  He  showed  us  the  model 
which  he  has  finished  to  lodge  at  Philadelphia,  in 

VOL.  I. — 11 


the  Secretary  of  State's  office,  when  he  takes  out  his 

Patent A  curious  and  very  ingenious  piece 

of  Mechanism. 

1786.  Oct.  25.  Mr.  Tutor  Morse  desiring  to  be 
absent,  while  spring,  in  order  to  make  the  Tour  of 
the  States  to  Georgia,  for  perfecting  a  new  edition 
of  his  Geography,  we  elected  the  Rev.  Abiel  Holmes 
Tutor. 

1788.  January  7.  This  Evening  I  gave  permission 
to  the  Freshman  Class  to  wear  their  Hats  in  the 
College  Yard  after  the  ensuing  vacation.  Formerly 
they  kept  off  their  Hats  the  whole  Freshman  year. 
About  1775,  they  were  permitted  to  wear  them  after 
May  vacation.  We  now  permit  them  after  January 
vacation. 

1794.  July  17.  *  *  *  This  day  I  was  visited  by 
M.  Talleyrand  Perigord,  Bishop  of  Autun,  &a.  .  .  . 
and  M.  Beaumez,  Member  for  the  District  of  Arras, 
....  Both  men  of  Information,  Literature,  Calm- 
ness and  Candor :  and  very  inquisitive The 

Bishop  has  written  a  piece  on  Education,  and  origi- 
nated the  Bill  or  Act  in  the  National  Assembly  for 
setting  up  schools  all  over  France  for  diffusing  Edu- 
cation and  Letters  among  the  Plebeians.  I  desired 
them  to  estimate  the  proportion  of  those  who  could 
not  read  in  France.  Mr.  Beaumez  said  of  25  mil- 
lions he  judged  20  millions  could  not  read.  The 
Bishop  corrected  it  and  said  Eighteen  Millions.  They 
were  very  inquisitive  about  our  mode  of  diffusing 
knowledge.  I  told  them  of  our  parochial  schools  from 
the  beginning,  and  that  I  had  not  reason  to  think  there 
was  a  single  person  of  the  natives  in  New  Haven 
that  could  not  read.  *  *  * 

ON  KINGS — FROM  LIVES  OF  THE  JUDGES. 

In  like  manner  we  are  not  to  infer  the  primaeval 
meaning  of  a  King,  or  the  chief  ruler  of  a  sove- 
reignty among  the  nations,  from  the  meaning  to  ' 
which  it  has  long  grown  up  by  use,  from  the  ages 
of  tyranny  and  usurpation.  Kings,  Metakim,  lead- 
ers, rulers  were  primaeval  in  all  nations  and  countries 
around  the  terraqueous  globe,  and  must  have  been 
from  the  spontaneous  nature  of  universal  society. 
The  first  seventy-two  nations  immediately  after 
Babel  had  them.  But  what  were  the  primaeval 
kings?  Not  despots ;  rulers  by  their  own  will ;  but 
actors  forth  of  the  counsel  and  will  of  the  people,  in 
what  for  the  public  was  by  the  people  confided  to 
their  execution,  n&primi  inter  pares  consiliarios,  the 
first  or  chief  baron  in  the  teutonic  policies,  of  a  pre- 
sidential, not  autocratical  authority,  the  organ  of 
the  supreme  council,  but  of  no  separate  and  disjoined 
power.  Early,  indeed,  among  the  oriental  nations, 
sprung  up  a  few  Ninuses,  while  in  general,  for  ages, 
particularly  in  Europe,  they  were  what  they  ought 
to  be.  If  we  recede  back  into  early  antiquity,  and 
descend  thence,  even  late,  into  the  martial  ages,  we 
shall  find  the  reliquice  of  the  original  policies,  espe- 
cially in  Hesperia,  Gaul,  Belgium,  and  Britain,  and 
plainly  discern  the  Duces,  the  Reges,  the  heads  of 
nations,  by  whatever  appellation  designated,  still 
the  pa/res patrice.  The  additions  powers  annexed  to 
their  titles  afterwards,  caused  them  to  grow  up  to 
ti/ranni,  governors  of  will.  Not  so  in  the  beginning, 
when  they  were  like  the  sachems  of  Indian  nations. 
And  perhaps  the  primaeval  may  have  subsisted  and 
survived  with  purity  in  the  Indian  sachemdoms, 
which,  however  hereditary,  are  so  in  a  mode  un- 
known to  the  rest  of  the  world,  though  perfectly 
understood  by  themselves;  nor  is  any  man  able, 
with  our  present  ignorance,  to  comprehend  thegenius 
of  their  polity  or  laws,  which  I  am  persuaded  are 
wise,  beautiful,  and  excellent;  rightly  and  fairly 
understood,  however  hitherto  despised  by  Europe- 
ans and  Americans.      We  think  of  a  sachem  as  an 


162 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


European  king  in  his  little  tribe,  and  negoeiate  -with 
him  under  mistaken  transatlantic  ideas.  And  so  are 
frequently  finding  them  cyphers  to  certain  purposes 
■without  the  collective  council  of  warriors,  who  are 
all  the  men  of  the  nation,  whose  subordination  is 
settled,  and  as  fixt  as  that  in  the  feudal  system.  At 
times  we  see  a  sachem  dictating  with  the  seeming 
authority  of  a  despot,  and  he  is  obeyed  because  of 
the  united  sense  of  the  nation — never  otherwise. 
On  their  views  of  society,  their  policy  is  perfect 
wisdom.  So  ancient  kingship  and  council  monarchy 
in  Asia  and  Europe,  was  like  that  of  Melchisedee, 
lenient,  wise,  and  efficacious.  This  still  lives  in 
Africa,  and  amongst  some  of  the  hordes  of  Tartars, 
as  it  did  in  Montezuma  and  Mango  Capae.  But 
these  primi  inter  pares  soon  grew  up  into  beasts  of 
prey ;  until,  ages  ago,  government  has  been  con- 
signed to  the  will  of  mouarchs,  and  this  even  with 
the  consent  of  the  people,  deluded  by  the  idea  that 
a  father  of  his  people  could  not  but  rule  with  affec- 
tion and  wisdom.  These  in  Greece  and  Sicily  were 
called  Tyranui,  to  distinguish  them  from  Archons, 
Princes,  ami  other  rulers,  by  council.  All  govern- 
ment was  left  to  will,  hoped  and  expected  to  have 
been  a  wise  will.  But  the  experiment  raised  such 
horror  and  detestation,  and  this  official  title  has  for 
ages  become  so  disgustful  and  obnoxious,  that  kings 
themselves  cannot  endure  it.  Jsever  will  a  king 
hereafter  assume  the  name  of  a  tyrant,  nor  give  the 
name  of  Bastile  to  a  national  or  state  prison.  The 
brazen  bull  of  Phalaris  was  used  once ;  has  been  dis- 
used two  thousand  years;  and  will  never  be  used 
again.  So  the  name  of  a  king  now  excites  horror, 
and  is  become  as  odious  in  Europe  as  that  of  Tyran- 
nus  at  Athens,  Syracuse,  and  Agrigentum.  The 
name  and  title  of  ting  will  soon  become  as  disgust- 
ful to  supreme  magistrates,  in  every  polity,  as  that 
of  tyrant,  to  which  it  is  become  synonymous  and 
equipollent.  It  may  take  a  century  or  two  to  ac- 
complish this  extirpation  of  title ;  but  the  die  is  cast, 
kingship  is  at  an  end  ;  like  a  girdled  tree  in  the 
forest,  it  may  take  a  little  time  to  wither  and  die — 
but  it  is  dying — and  in  dying,  die  it  must.  Slaying 
the  monster  was  happily  begun  by  Oliver:  but  the 
people  spared  its  life,  judiciously  given  up  by  hea- 
ven to  be  wliipt,  and  scourged,  and  tormented  witli 
it  two  or  three  centuries  more,  unless  it  may  be  now 
in  its  last  gasps.  jS'ow  there  must  be  a  supreme  and 
chief  ruler  in  every  society,  in  every  polity :  and 
wras  it  not  for  the  complex  association  of  insidious 
ideas,  ideas  of  dread  and  horror  connected  with  the 
appellation  king,  or  could  it  be  purged  or  restored 
to  the  purity  of  antiquity,  it  might  still  be  safely 
used  in  a  republic.  But  this  cannot  be  done.  It 
must  therefore  be  relegated  into  contemptuous 
neglect  And  a  new  appellation  must  be  taken  up 
— very  immaterial  what  it  is,  so  it  be  defined  to  be 
but  primus  inter  pares  consiliarios,  stand  on  fre- 
quent election,  and  hereditation  for  ever  repudiated 
and  banished.  The  charm  and  unintelligible  mys- 
teries wrapt  up  in  the  name  of  a  king  being  done 
away,  the  way  would  be  open  for  all  nations  to  a 
rational  government  and  policy,  on  such  plain  and 
obvious  general  principles,  as  would  be  intelligible 
to  the  plainest  rustic,  to  the  substantial  yeomanry, 
or  men  of  landed  estates,  which  ought  to  be  the 
body  of  the  population.  Every  one  could  under- 
stand it  as  plain  as  a  Locke  or  a  Camden.  And 
whatever  the  Filmers*  and  Acherlysf    may  say, 

*  Sir  Robert  Eilmer,  who  lived  in  the  first  half  of  the  17th 
century,  wrote  several  works  in  favor  of  absolute  govern- 
ment His  "Anarchy  of  a  limited  and  mixed  Monarchy,'' 
in  aDSwer  to  Phil.  Hutton's  Treatise  on  Monarchy,  LondoD, 
1646.  is  probably  the  one  chiefly  referred  to  by  Stiles. 

t  Roger  Acherley  wrote  and  published— The  Britannic  Con- 


the  common  people  are  abundantly  capable  and 
susceptible  of  such  a  polity.  It  is  greatly  wise, 
therefore,  to  reject  the  very  name  of  a  king.  Many 
of  the  enlightened  civilians  of  the  Long  Parliament 
and  Protectorate  saw  this.  Oliver  saw  it  And 
who  shall  say,  this  was  not  the  governing  reason  of 
his  rejecting  it? 

SAMUEL  SEAEOEY. 
Samuel  Seabtjey  was  the  son  of  the  Eev.  Sa- 
muel Seabury,  missionary  of  the  Society  for  the 
Propagation  of  the  Gospel,  at  New  London,  Conn. 
He  was  born  at  Groton  in  1728,  and  was  graduated 
at  Yale,  1748.  He  then  went  to  Scotland  to  study 
theology,  but,  while  thus  employed,  also  devoted 
his  attention  to  medicine.  He  was  ordained,  and 
on  his  return  to  America,  settled  at  New  Bruns- 
wick, as  the  missionary  of  the  Society  for  the 
Propagation  of  the  Gospel.  In  1756,  he  removed, 
with  the  consent  of  the  Society,  to  Jamaica,  and 
from  thence,  in  1766,  to  Westchester,  where  he 
took  charge,  in  addition  to  his  church,  of  a 
classical  school.  Here  he  wrote  and  published, 
anonymously,  several  pamphlets  in  favor  of  the 
Crown,  under  the  signature  of  A.  W.  Farmer. 
These  publications  were  commonly  attributed  to 
him,  and  were  the  cause  of  his  being  seized  in 
1775,  by  a  party  of  soldiers,  carried  to  New  Ha- 
ven, and  imprisoned.  As  the  fact  of  authorship 
could  not  be  proved,  he  was  suffered  to  relurn  to 
"Westchester,  where  he  continued  to  exert  himself 
in  behalf  of  the  same  opinions.  After  the  de- 
claration of  Independence,  he  removed  with  his 
family  to  New  York,  on  the  entry  of  the  British, 
and  remained  until  the  peace,  officiating,  during 
a  portion  of  the  time,  as  chaplain  to  the  King's 
American  Regiment,  commanded  by  Col.  Fanning, 
practising  medicine  for  his  own  and  the  support 
of  those  dependent  upon  him. 

In  March,  1783,  immediately  after  the  peace, 
Dr.  Seabury,  having  been  elected  bishop  by  the 
clergy  of  Connecticut,  sailed  for  England,  and  ap- 
plied for  consecration  to  the  Archbishop  of  York, 
the  see  of  Canterbury  being  then  vacant.  This 
application  failed,  in  consequence  of  the  inability 
of  the  English  bishops  to  dispense  with  the  oath 
of  allegiance  to  the  Crown,  and  the  difficulty  of 
procuring  an  act  of  parliament  for  the  purpose. 
Having  spent  more  than  a  year  in  England,  in 
fruitless  efforts  to  overcome  these  obstacles,  Dr. 
Seabury,  in  August,  1784,  made  a  similar  applica- 
tion to  the  bishops  of  the  Scottish  Episcopal 
Church,  by  whom  he  was  consecrated  on  Novem- 
ber 14th,  1784.  In  the  spring  of  the  following 
year  he  returned  to  America,  and  entered  on  the 
duties  of  his  office.  He  resided  at  New  London, 
where  he  also  filled  his  father's  place  as  rector  of 
the  church,  in  addition  to  his  episcopal  duties. 

In  1790,  he  published  an  address  to  the  minis- 
ters and  congregations  of  the  Presbyterian  and 
Independent  persuasions  in  the  United  States  of 
America.  He  also  published  several  sermons 
delivered  on  special  occasions,  and,  in  1791,  Dis- 
courses on  Several  Subjects,  in  two  volumes,  to 
which  a  third  was  added  in  1798.     These   dis- 


stitution,  or  the  fundamental  Form  of  Government  in  Bri- 
tain, demonstrating  the  original  contract  entered  into  by  king 
and  people.  Wherein  is  proved,  that  the  placing  on  tho 
throne  King  William  III.,  was  the  natural  fruit  and  effect 
of  the  original  Constitution,  &c.    London,  1772»» 


MERCY  WARREN. 


163 


courses  displayed  the  vigor  and  earnestness  of  the 
man,  qualities  which  were  also  exerted  to  good 
effect  at  the  early  conventions  of  the  church,  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  liturgy  and  other  import- 
ant matters.  Bishop  Seabury  died,  February  25, 
1796,  at  New  London. 

MERCY  WAKKEN. 

Mrs.  Warp.ex  was  a  member  of  a  family  cele- 
brated for  several  generations  in  American  history. 
She  was  the  third  child  of  Colonel  James  Otis, 
of  Barnstable,  where  she  was  born  Sept.  25, 1728. 
Her  early  education  was  greatly  aided  by  the 
kindness  shown  to  her  by  the  Rev.  Jonathan 
Russell,  the  village  clergyman,  who  lent  her 
books  and  directed  her  ta-.tes.  His  recommenda- 
tion to  her  of  Raleigh's  History  of  the  World 
shows  that  she  was  a  diligent  reader,  and  the 
perusal  of  that  work  is  said  to  have  been  the 
basis  of  her  future  historical  labours. 


ssf^fesis 


'( &  l  £,/      //a/  / 


7. 


a ;  /  t  ti_ 


About  1754  she  married  James  "Warren,  a 
descendant  of  one  of  the  first  settlers  of  Ply  mouth, 
where  he  was  at  that  time  a  merchant.  In  1757, 
Mr.  Wan-en  wa9  appointed  High  Sheriff  on  the 
death  of  his  father,  who  had  held  the  same  office. 
He  was  not  removed  by  the  government  until 
after  the  actual  commencement  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary conflict,  though  he  took  an  active  part  on 
the  eolouial  side  in  all  the  movements  which  led 
to  independence.  He  was  the  author  of  the 
scheme  for  forming  Committees  of  Correspon- 
dence, which  he  suggested  to  Samuel  Adams  in 
1773,  by  whom  it  was  adopted  with  marked  suc- 
cess for  the  American  cause.  His  wife,  with 
father,  brother,  and  husband,  prominent  leaders  in 
the  same  cause,  could  not,  with  the  active  and 
vigorous  intellect  with  which  nature  had  endowed 
her,  fail  to  be  warmly  interested  in  behalf  of 
liberty.  Her  correspondence  shows  that  she  en- 
joyed the  confidence  and  respect  of  all  the  great 
leaders  of  the  Revolution,  with  many  of  whom 
she  exchanged  frequent  letters.  Her  advice  was 
sought  by  men  like  Samuel  and  John  Adams, 


Jefferson,  Dickinson,  Gerry,  and  Knox,  and  her 
suggestions  received  with  marked  respect.  One 
of  these  was  the  Congress  of  1765,  the  first  .sug- 
gestion of  which  was  made  by  the  Corresponding 
Committee  of  the  New  York  Assembly.  The 
two  Otises,  father  and  son,  while  on  a  visit  to 
Mrs.  Warren,  at  Plymouth,  talked  over  this  sug- 
gestion, and  it  was  agreed  to  propose  such  a  Con- 
vention in  the  Massachusetts  Legislature,  which 
was  done  by  the  younger  Otis  on  the  6th  of  June 
following.  She  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Mrs. 
Adams,  and  the  most  celebrated  men  and  women 
of  the  day  were  her  frequent  guests.  In  her  own 
words,  "  By  the  Plymouth  fireside  were  many 
political  plans  originated,  discussed,  and  digested." 
Washington,  with  other  generals  of  the  army, 
dined  with  her  during  her  stay  at  Watertown, 
one  of  her  several  residences  during  the  war. 
She  writes  of  him  as  "  one  of  the  most  amiable 
and  accomplished  gentlemen,  both  in  person, 
mind,  and  manners,  that  I  have  met  with." 

Her  first  publication  was  The  Adulator^  a 
political  satire  in  a  dramatic  form.  It  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  second  satire  of  a  similar  design 
and  execution,  TheQroup.\  She  afterwards  wrote 
two  tragedies,  The  Sack  of  Rome  and  The  Ladies 
of  Castile,  the  heroine  of  the  last  being  Mario 
de  Padilla,  the  wife  of  the  leader  of  the  popu- 
lar insurrection  against  Charles  V.,  in  Castile. 
They  were  highly  commended  by  Alexander  Ham- 
ilton and  John  Adam-,J  and  were  published  with 
her  poems,  most  of  which  had  appeared  previously, 
in  1790,  with  a  dedication  to  Washington.§  One 
of  the  most  spirited  of  the  lighter  portions  of  the 
volume  is  a  poetical  response  to  the  Hon.  John 
Wiuthrop,  who  had  consulted  her  on  the  proposed 
suspension  of  trade  with  England  in  all  but  the 
necessaries  of  life,  as  to  the  articles  which  should 
be  included  in  the  reservation.  It  contains  a 
pleasant  enumeration  of  the  component  parts  of 
a  fine  lady's  toilet  of  '76. 

A  number  of  specimens  are  given  of  Mrs.  War- 
ren's letters,  from  the  manuscript  originals  in  the 
possession  of  her  descendants,  by  Mrs.  Ellet,  in 
her  "  Women  of  the  Revolution."  They  are  all 
marked  by  good  sense  and  glowing  patriotic 
fervor.  A  passage  descriptive  of  the  entrance 
into  Cambridge  of  Burgoyne  and  his  Hessians  as 


*  The  Adulator,  a  tragedy,  as  it  is  now  acted  iu  Upper 
Servia. 

Then  let  us*ise,  my  friends,  and  strive  to  fill 
This  little  interval,  this  pause  of  life 
(While  yet  our  liberty  and  fates  arc  doubtful) 
With  resolution,  friendship.  Roman  bravery, 
And  all  the  virtues  we  can  crowd  iuto  it ; 
That  Ueav'n  may  say  it  ought  to  be  prolong" d. 

Cato's  Tragedy. 

Boston. — Printed  and  sold  at  tne  New  Printing  Office,  near 
Concert  Hall.    1773.    Svo.  pp.  30. 

t  The  Group,  as  lately  acted,  and  to  be  re-acted,  to  the  won- 
der of  all  superior  intelligences,  nigh  head-quarters  at  Am- 
boyne.  Boston,  printed  and  sold  by  Edes  &  Gill,  in  Queen  st. 
1T7S. 

X  John  Adams  pays  this  lady  a  pointed  compliment  in  a  let- 
!  ter  to  her  husband  dated  December,  1773,  when  he  indulges  iu 
some  poetical  talk  of  his  own  on  the  Hyson  and  Congo  ottered 
to  Neptune  in  "  the  scarcity  of  nectar  and  ambrosia  among  the 
celestials  of  the  sea,"  and  expresses  his  wish  in  reference  to 
that  tea  party,  "to  see  a  late  glorious  event  celebrated  by  a 
certain  poetical  pen  which  has  no  equal  that  I  know  of  in  this 
I  country.1'  He  has  also  an  allusion  to  Mrs.  Warren's  character 
of  Ha/.elrod,  in  her  dramatic  piece  Tlie  Group,  written  at  the 
expense  of  the  Royalists. — Works,  ix.  335. 

§  Poems,  Dramatic  and  Miscellaneous,  by  Mrs.  M.  Warren. 


164 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


prisoners,  present"  a  scene  that  recalls  some  of 
the  pictures  of  Hogarth's  March  to  Finchley. 

La9t  Thursday,  which  was  a  very  stormy  day,  a 
large  number  of  British  troops  came  softly  through 
the  town,  via  Watertown,  to  Prospect  Hill.  On 
Friday  we  heard  the  Hessians  were  to  make  a  pro- 
cession in  the  same  route.  We  thought  we  should 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  view  them  as  they  passed. 
To  be  sure  the  sight  was  truly  astonishing.  1  never 
had  the  least  idea  that  the  creation  produced  such  a 
sordid  set  of  creatures  in  human  figure — poor,  dirty, 
emaciated  men.  Great  numbers  of  women,  who 
seemed  to  be  the  beasts  of  burden,  having  bushel- 
baskets  on  their  backs,  by  which  they  were  bent 
double.  The  contents  seemed  to  be  pots  and  kettles, 
various  sorts  of  furniture,  children  peeping  through 
gridirons,  and  other  utensils — some  very  young  in- 
fants, who  were  born  on  the  road — the  women  bare- 
foot, clothed  in  dirty  rngs.  Such  effluvia  filled  the 
air  while  they  were  passing,  that,  had  they  not  been 
smoking  nil  the  time,  I  should  have  been  apprehen- 
sive of  being  contaminated. 

An  anecdote  of  Burgoyne,  from  the  same  letter, 
is  creditable  to  himself  and  his  captors  : — 

General  Burgoyne  dined  on  Saturday,  in  Boston, 

with  General   .     He  rode   through   the  town 

properly  attended,  down  Court  street,  and  through 
the  main  street ;  and  on  his  return  walked  on  foot 
to  Charlestown  Ferry,  followed  by  a  great  number 
of  spectators  as  ever  attended  a  pope ;  and  gene- 
rously observed  to  an  officer  with  him,  the  decent 
and  modest  behaviour  of  the  inhabitants  as  he 
passed  ;  saying,  if  he  had  been  conducting  prisoners 
through  the  city  of  London,  not  all  the  Guards  of 
Majesty  could  have  prevented  insults.  He  likewise 
acknowledges  Lincoln  and  Arnold  to  be  great  gene- 
rals. 

She  writes  to  the  widow  of  Montgomery  (a  sis- 
ter of  Chancellor  Livingston),  January  20, 1776 : — 

While  you  are  deriving  comfort  from  the  highest 
source,  it  may  still  further  brighten  the  clouded 
moment  to  reflect  that  the  number  of  your  friends 
is  not  confined  to  the  narrow  limits  of  a  province, 
but  by  the  happy  union  of  the  American  colonies 
(suffering  equally  by  the  rigor  of  oppression),  the 
affections  of  the  inhabitants  are  cemented;  and  the 
urn  of  the  companion  of  your  heart  will  be  sprinkled 
with  the  tears  of  thousands  who  revere  the  com- 
mander at  the  gates  of  Quebec,  though  not  person- 
ally acquainted  with  General  Montgomery. 

One  of  her  correspondents  was  Mrs.  Macanlay, 
the  English  authoress,  who  participated  warmly 
in  her  republican  sympathies.  They  met  for  the 
first  time  on  the  visit  of  the  latter  to  America,  in 
1785. 

She  published  in  1805,  at  the  age  of  seventy- 
seven,  a  History  of  the  American  Revolution,  in 
three  volumes  8vo.,  which  she  had  prepared  some 
time  previously  from  her  notes  taken  during  the 
■war. 

Mrs.  Warren  lived  to  the  good  old  age  of  eigh- 
ty-seven, her  intellectual  powers  unimpaired  to 
the  last.  Eochefoucault  De  Liancourt  speaks  of 
her  at  seventy  as  "truly  interesting;  for  lively 
in  conversation,  she  has  lost  neither  the  activity 
of  her  mind  nor  the  graces  of  her  person."  A 
lady  visitor  ten  years  after  speaks  of  her  as  erect 
in  person,  and  in  conversation  full  of  intelligence 


and  eloquence.  Her  cheerfulness  remained  un- 
impaired, although  blindness  excluded  her  from 
many  of  the  delights  of  the  outer  world.  Her 
last  illness  was  disturbed  only  by  the  fear  that 
disease  might  impair  her  intellectual  as  well  as 
physical  faculties ;  a  groundless  apprehension,  as 
her  mind  retained  its  vigor  to  the  last. 

FROM  THE  LADIES  OF  CASTILE. 

Not  like  the  lover,  but  the  hero  talk — 

The  sword  must  rescue,  or  the  nation  sink, 

And  self  degraded,  wear  the  badge  of  slaves. 

We  boast  a  cause  of  glory  and  renown; 

We  arm  to  purchase  the  sublimest  gift 

The  mind  of  man  is  capable  to  taste. 

'Tis  not  a  factious,  or  a  fickle  rout, 

That  calls  their  kindred  out  to  private  war, 

With  hearts  envenom'd  by  a  thirst  of  blood — 

Nor  burns  ambition,  rancour,  or  revenge, 

As  in  the  bosom  of  some  lordly  chief 

Who  throws  his  gauntlet  at  his  sovereign's  foot, 

And  bids  defiance  in  his  wanton  rage  : — 

'Tis  freedom's  genius,  nurs'd  from  age  to  age, 

Matur'd  in  schools  of  liberty  and  law, 

On  virtue's  page  from  sire  to  son  eonvey'd, 

E'er  since  the  savage,  fierce,  barbarian  hordes, 

Pour'd  in,  and  ehas'd  beyond  Karvasia's  mount, 

The  hardy  chiefs  who  govern'd  ancient  Spain. 

Our  independent  ancestors  disdain'd 

All  servile  homage  to  despotic  lords. 

TO  TnE  HON.  .1.  WINTHROP,  ESQ.,  WHO  ON  THE  AMERICAN  BB- 
TEP.MINATI0N,  IN  1774,  TO  SUSPEND  ALL  COMMERCE  WITH 
BRITAIN  (EXCEPT  FOR  THE  REAL  NECESSARIES  OF  LIFE),  RE- 
QUESTED A  POETICAL  LIST  OF  THE  ARTICLES  THE  LADIES  MIGHT 
COMPRISE  UNDER  THAT  HEAD. 


But  does  Helvidius,  vigilant  and  wise, 
Call  for  a  schedule,  that  may  all  comprise? 
'Tis  so  contracted,  that  a  Spartan  sage, 
Will  sure  applaud  tli'  economizing  age. 

But  if  ye  doubt,  an  inventory  clear, 
Of  all  the  needs,  Lamira  offers  here; 
Nor  does  she  fear  a  rigid  Cato's  frown, 
When  she  lays  by  the  rich  embroider' d  gown, 
And  modestly  compounds  for  just  enough — 
Perhaps  some  dozens  of  more  slighty  stuff; 
With  lawns   and  lustrings — blond   and   mecklin 

laces, 
Fringes  and  jewels,  fans  and  tweezer  eases, 
Gay  cloaks  and  hats,  of  every  shape  and  size, 
Scarfs,  cardinals,  and  ribbons  of  all  dyes; 
With  ruffles  stamp'd,  and  aprons  of  tambour. 
Tippets  and  handkerchiefs,  at  least  three  score; 
With  finest  muslins  that  fair  India  boasts, 
And  the  choice  herbage  from  Chinesan  coasts. 
(But  while  the  fragrant  hyson  leaf  regales, 
Who'll  wear  the  homespun  produce  of  the  vales? 
For  if  t'would  save  the  nation  from  the  curse 
Of  standing  troops;  or,  name  a  plague  still  worse, 
Few  can  this  choice  delicious  diaughb»give  up, 
Though  all  Medea's  poisons  fill  the  cup.) 
Add  feathers,  furs,  rich  sattins  and  du  capes, 
And  head  dresses  in  pyramidal  shapes; 
Side-boards  of  plate,  and  porcelain  profuse, 
AVith  fifty  dittos  that  the  ladies  use; 
If  my  poor  treach'rous  memory  has  miss'd, 
Ingenious  T — 1  shall  complete  the  list. 
So  weak  Lamira,  and  her  wants  so  few, 
WLo  can  refuse  ?  they're  but  the  sex's  due. 

In  youth,  indeed,  an  antiquated  page, 
Taught  us  the  threatenings  of  an  Hebrew  safe 
Gainst  wimples,  mantles,  curls  and  crisping  pins, 
But  rank  not  these  among  our  modern  sins ; 


GEORGE  BERKELEY. 


165 


For  when  our  manners  are  well  understood, 
WUat  in  the  scale  is  stomacher  or  hood  ? 

lis  true,  we  love  the  courtly  mien  and  air, 
The  pride  of  dress,  and  all  the  debonair; 
Yet  Clara  quits  the  more  dress'd  negligee, 
And  substitutes  the  careless  polanee; 
Until  some  fair  one  from  Britannia's  court, 
Some  jaunty  dress, — or  newer  taste  import; 
This  sweet  temptation  could  not  be  withstood, 
Though  for  the  purchase 's  paid  her  father's  blood ; 
Though  loss  of  freedom  were  the  costly  price, 
Or  flaming  comets  sweep  the  angry  skies; 
Or  earthquakes  rattle,  or  volcauos  roar; 
Indulge  this  trifle,  and  she  asks  no  more: 
Can  the  stern  patriot  Clara's  suit  deny  ? 
'Tis  beauty  asks,  and  reason  must  comply. 

FROM  "  A  POLITICAL  REVERIE,"  JAN.  1774. 

I  look  with  rapture  at  the  distant  dawn, 
And  view  the  glories  of  the  opening  morn, 
When  justice  holds  his  sceptre  o'er  the  land, 
And  rescues  freedom  from  a  tyrant's  hand  ; 
When  patriot  states  in  laurel  crowns  may  rise, 
And  ancient  kingdoms  court  them  as  allies, 
Glory  and  valour  shall  be  here  displayed, 
And  virtue  rear  her  long  dejected  head  ; 
Her  standard  plant  beneath  these  gladden'd  skies, 
Her  fame  extend,  and  arts  and  science  rise ; 
While  empire's  lofty  spreading  sails  unfuiTd, 
Roll  swiftly  on  towards  the  western  world. 

*******         * 
No  despot  here  shall  rule  with  awful  sway, 
Nor  orphan's  spoils  become  the  minion's  prey; 
No  more  the  widow'd  bleeding  bosom  mourns, 
Nor  injur'd  cities  weep  their  slaughter'd  sons; 
For  then  each  tyrant,  bj7"  the  hand  of  fate, 
And  standing  troups,  the  bane  of  every  state, 
Forever  spuru'd,  shall  be  remov'd  as  far 
As  bright  Hesperus  from  the  polar  star ; 
Freedom  and  virtue  shall  united  reign, 
And  stretch  their  empire  o'er  the  wide  domain. 
On  a  broad  base  the  commonwealth  shall  stand, 
When  lawless  power  withdraws  its  impious  hand; 
When  crowns  and  sceptres    are    grown    useless 

things, 
Nor  petty  pretors  plunder  her  for  kings. 


GEOKGE  BERKELEY. 
"  The  arrival  in  America  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  George 
Berkeley,  then  Dean  of  Derry,  afterwards  Bishop 
of  Cloyne,"  says  Samuel  Miller,  in  his  Retrospect 
of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  "  deserves  to  be 
noticed  in  the  literary  history  of  America,  not 
only  as  a  remarkable  event,  but  also  as  one  which 
had  some  influence  on  the  progress  of  literature, 
particularly  in  Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut."* 

Berkeley  was  to  the  country  not  only  a  per- 
sonal friend  and  benefactor,  through  the  genial 
example  of  his  scholar's  life  and  conversation,  and 
the  gifts  which  he  directly  made,  but  ho  brought 
with  him  the  prestige  which  attached  to  high 
literary  reputation,  and  was  a  connecting  link  to 
America  with  what  is  called  the  Augustan  age 
of  Queen  Anne.  Born  in  Ireland,  March  12, 
1(184,  and  educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  he 
had  acquired  distinction  in  mathematics  and  phi- 
losophy, and  before  the  age  of  thirtv  had  vented 
his  celebrated  ideal  theory  in  print.  He  was 
introduced  by  Steele  and  Swift  to  the  circle  of 


London  wits,  who  admired  the  man  while  they 
jested  at  his  immaterial  philosophy.  To  the  fine 
speculations  of  the  scholar,  he  had  added  a  know- 
ledge of  the  world,  and  the  liberal  associations  of 
travel  through  his  residence  in  Italy  and  France. 
By  the  friendship  of  the  Duke  of  Grafton  ha 


*  Retrospect,  ii.  349. 


received  his  appointment  as  Dean  of  Derry;  and 
the  death  of  Swift's  Vanessa,  who  made  him  one 
of  her  legatees,  further  added  to  his  resources. 
With  all  this  good  fortune  at  hand,  his  benevolent 
enthusiasm  led  him  to  engage  in  the  distant  and 
uncertain  project  of  erecting  a  college  in  the  Ber- 
mudas, for  converting  the  American  Indians  to 
Christianity.  He  wrote  out  his  Proposal*  and 
his  friend  Swift  gave  him  a  letter  to  Lord  Car- 
teret to  second  the  affair,  with  a  humorous  ac- 
count of  the  amiable  projector.  "  He  is  an  absolute 
philosopher  with  regard  to  money,  titles,  and 
power  ;  and  for  three  years  past  hath  been  struck 
with  a  notion  of  founding  a  university  at  Ber- 
muda, by  a  charter  from  the  crown.  He  shewed 
me  a  little  tract  which  he  designs  to  publish,  and 
there  your  Excellency  will  see  his  whole  scheme 
of  a  life  academico-philosophical  of  a  college 
founded  for  Indian  schools  and  missionaries, 
where  he  most  exorbitantly  proposeth  a  whole 
hundred  pounds  a  year  for  himself,  forty  pounds 
for  a  fellow,  and  ten  for  a  student.  His  heart  will 
break  if  his  deanery  be  not  taken  from  him,  and 
left  to  your  Excellency's  disposal.' t 

Berkeley  was  an  ingenious  political  economist, 
as  his  book,  The  Querist,  proves;  and  managing 
to  connect  his  scheme  with  plans  of  advantage  to 
the  Government,  he  gained,  through  one  of  his 
Italian  friends,  the  ear  of  George  I.,  who  ordered 
Sir  Robert  Walpole  to  carry  the  project  through. 
St.  Paul's  College,  Bermuda,  was  incorporated, 


*  A  Proposal  for  the  Better  Supplying  of  Churches  in  our 
Foreign  Plantations;  and  for  Converting  the  Savage  Americans 
to  Christianity,  by  a  College  to  be  Erected  in  the  Summer 
Islands,  otherwise  called  the  Isles  of  Bermuda.    Lond.    17'.25. 

t  Swift  to  Lord  Carteret,  Sept.  3, 1724. 


166 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


and  twenty  thousand  pounds  promised  for  its 
support. 

Dean  Berkeley  set  sail,  or  at  least  was  ready  to 
embark  from  Gravesend,  September  6,  1728,  for 
the  New  World*  He  had  just  completed  the 
honeymoon  of  his  marriage  with  Anne  Forster, 
the  daughter  of  the  Speaker  of  the  Irish  House 
of  Commons,  to  whom  he  had  been  united  on  the 
first  of  August, — and  of  "whom  he  writes  before 
leaving  England,  at  this  time,  to  his  friend  Thomas 
Prior,  as  a  lover  should,  that  "  her  humor  and 
turn  of  mind  pleases  me  beyond  anything  I  know 
in  her  whole  sei."  This  lady  accompanied  him 
with  her  i'riend,  "  my  Lady  Hancock's  daughter ;" 
and  three  gentlemen  completed  the  party,  Mr. 
James,  Mr.  Dalton,  and  Mr.  Smibert.  The  last 
was  the  artist  whose  name  is  prominently  con- 
nected with  the  early  history  of  American  art. 
He  sketched  a  group  of  his  fellow-travellers  in 
the  cabin,  at  sea,  at  least  this  is  one  of  the  Berke- 
ley traditions, — which  he  afterwards  painted,  in 
the  interesting  picture  which  now  hangs  in  the 
Gallery  of  Yale  College.t  If  so,  he  made  the  addi- 
tion of  the  child  in  his  wife's  arms  subse- 
quently, for  that  infant  was  born  in  Ame- 
rica.} The  travellers  reached  Newport  the 
23d  of  January,  1729,  after  a  protracted  pas- 
sage of  rive  months. §  There  is  a  tradition, 
which  is  probably  worth  very  little,  that 
Berkeley  sent  a  letter  on  coming  up  the  bay 
to  the  Rev.  James  Iloneyman,  the  Episcopal 

*  There  is  a  tradition  that  Berkeley  sailed  for 
Bermuda  directly,  and  that  the  captain  of  the  vessel, 
not  finding  his  way  to  that  island,  accidentally  put 
into  Newport.  This  is  so  stated  in  the  Memoir  in 
Updike's  History  of  the  Narragansett  Church  (p.  395); 
but  the  matter  is  conclusively  set  at  rest  by  Berkeley's 
own  letter  to  his  friend  Thomas  Prior,  dated  Graves- 
end,  Sept.  5,1728,  where  he  says:  "To-morrow,  with 
God's  blessing,  I  set  sail  for  Rhode  Island." — Letters 
appended  to  Memoir  of  Berkeley.  Edition  of,  his 
works  by  Priestley.    London,  1820,  i.  xxxvi. 

t  Smibert,"  says  Mr.  H.  T.  Tuckerman,  in  an  article  on 
Berkeley  in  the  North  American  Review,  for  January,  1855,  p. 
190,  "was  the  first  educated  artist  who  visited  our  shores,  and 
this  picture  was  the  first  of  more  than  a  single  figure  executed 
in  the  country."  Smibert  had  risen  in  his  art  from  the  hum- 
ble fortunes  of  a  house-painter.  Horace  Walpole  describes 
him  in  his  Anecdotes  of  Painting  as  "a  silent  and  modest  man, 
who  abhorred  the  .finesse  of  some  of  his  profession,  and  was 
enchanted  with  a  plan  that  he  thought  promised  him  tranquil- 
lity and  honest  subsistence  in  a  healthful  elysian  climate,  and 
in  spite  of  remonstrances  engaged  with  the  Dean."— Walpole, 
ed.  1849,  673.  We  follow  Walpole.  who  follows  Vertue,  as  de- 
cisive authority  for  the  spelling  of  the  name,  about  which  there 
has  been  some  uncertainty — John  Smibert. 

X  There  is  a  description  of  this  painting  in  the  well  prepared 
Catalogue  of  the  College  Gallery.  "  The  principal  figure  is  the 
Dean  in  his  clerical  habit.  The  lady  with  the  child  is  his  wife ; 
the  other  lady  has  been  said  to  be  her  sister,  but  more  proba- 
bly is  the  Miss  Hancock  who  accompanied  her  to  America. 
The  gentleman  writing  at  the  table  is  Sir  James  Dalton  The 
gentleman  standing  behind  the  ladies  has  been  thought  by 
some  to  be  a  Mr.  WainwriL'ht;  but.  is  undoubtedly  Mr.  James. 
The  other  gentleman  in  brown  is  a  Mr.  John  Moffat,  a  friend 
of  the  artist.  The  remaining  figure  is  the  artist  Smibert.  The 
Dean  is  resting  his  hand  on  a  copy  of  Plato,  his  favorite  author, 
and  appears  to  be  dictating  to  Sir  James,  who  is  acting  as 
amanuensis.  This  painting  was  presented  to  the  college  in 
the  year  1808,  by  Isaac  Lothrop,  of  Plymouth,  Mass.  It  had 
been  preserved  in  Boston,  in  a  room  occupied  by  the  8ml- 
berts;  certainly  by  the  son,  and  probably  bv  the  father." 

§  A  Newport  letter  dated  January  24,  describing  Berkeley's 
arrival,  was  printed  in  the  Boston  New  England  Journal,  Sep- 
tember 3, 1729,  It  says,  "  Yesterday  arrived  here  Dean  Berke- 
ley, of  Londonderry,  in  a  pretty  large  ship.  He  is  a  gentleman 
of  middle  stature,  of  an  agreeable,  pleasant,  and  erect  aspect. 
He  was  ushered  into  the  town  with  a  <rrcat  number  of  gentle- 
men, to  whom  he  behaved  himself  after  a  very  complaisant 
manner.  'Tis  said  he  purposes  to  tarry  here  with  his  family 
about  three  months."  If  the  Dean  did  not  embark  on  the  day 
proposed,  and  some  delay  might  have  occurred,  the  time  of 
his  passage  would,  of  course,  be  less.  We  find  the  date  of  the 
Boston  paper  in  Updike's  Narr.  Ch.,  p.  394;  the  date  of  the 
letter  in  Elton's  Memoir  of  Callender,  p.  31. 


clergyman'of  the  town,  which  found  him  at  church 
celebrating  a  holiday.  The  intelligence  was  com- 
municated to  the  congregation,  Mr.  Honeyman 
dismissed  them  with  his  blessing,  and  the  wholo 
body  proceeded  to  meet  the  distinguished  Dean 
on  the  wharf.*  Six  months  passed,  and  the  Dean's 
Bermuda  enterprise  still  lingered  for  hick  of  the 
prompt  receipt  of  "His  Majesty's  bounty."  The 
opening  of  summer  reconciled  him,  however,  to 
the  delay.  He  writes  in  June  of  the  delight  of 
the  climate  and  of  the  birth  of  a  son. 

"The  truth  is,"  he  says,  "if  the  king's  bounty 
could  be  paid  in,  and  the  charter  could  be  removed 
hither,  I  should  like  it  better  than  Bermuda." 
His  friends  of  the  voyage  were  drawn  at  the  close 
of  the  year  to  Boston,  and  solicitations  were  made 
to  carry  Berkeley  thither,  but  "  preferring  quiet 
and  solitude  to  the  noise  of  a  great  town,"  and 
happy  in  the  "  two  domestic  comforts  that  arc 
very  agreeable,  my  wife  and  my  little  son,"  he 
still  remained  at  Newport  in  the  enjoyment  of  the 
country  estate  which  he  had  purchased.  There 
his  acquaintance  was  sought  by  Samuel  Johnson, 


Whitehall, 
afterwards  the  president  of  King's  College  in  New 
York,  and  then  a  resident  in  Connecticut,  who 
called  his  attention  to  the  wants  of  Yale  College, 
to  which  he  became  so  liberal  a  donort  of  books 
and  land ;  after  his  retirement  to  England  set- 
tling upon  the  college  his  farm  of  ninety-six  acres, 
to  which  he  had  given  the  name  of  Whitehall,  for 
the  assistance  of  its  scholars  }  He  also  made  valu- 
able gifts  to  the  library  of  Harvard,  and  when  he 
left  Newport  distributed  the  books  he  had  with 
him  among  the  neighboring  clergy. 

It  was  also  after  his  arrival  in  England,  in  1733, 
that  he  presented  the  organ  to  Trinity  church,  at 
Newport,  which  is  still  surmounted  by  the  crown 
of  the  olden  time,  and  which  bears  an  inscription 
that  it  is  the  gift  of  Dr.  George  Berkeley,  late 
Lord  Bishop  of  Cloyne. 

This  organ  was  originally  forwarded  to  Ame- 
rica by  the  Dean,  as  a  gift  to  the  town  of  Berke- 


*  Memoir  of  Trinity  Church,  Newport,  from  1G9S  to  1S1I), 
compiled  from  the  Records;  by  Henry  Bull,  Esq.,  with  Notes 
by  the  Rector,  Rev.  Francis  Vinton. — Updike's  Narr.  Ch.  395. 

t  Chandler's  Life  of  Johnson,  55-53;  ante,  S7. 

J  The  autograph,  which  we  trive,  is  taken  directly  from 
Berkeley's  deed  of  gift  to  the  college.  The  woodcut  head  is 
after  the  portrait  in  the  Smibert  picture.  We  find  the  fol- 
lowing entry  in  the  New  England  Weekly  Journal,  October 
80,  1732 :— "  Newport,  October  20.— We  bear  that  the  Rev. 
Mr.  George  Berkeley,  Dean  of  Londonderry,  has  given  his 
farm  on  this  island,  worth  about  £3,000,  to  Yale  college,  in 
Connecticut.'1 


GEORGE  BERKELEY. 


167' 


ley,  in  Massachusetts,  which  had  been  named 
after  him.  The  select  men  of  the  town,  how- 
ever, were  not  prepared  to  harbor  so  dangerous  a 
guest,  and  voting  that  "  an  organ  is  an  instrument 
of  the  devil,  for  the  entrapping  of  men's  souls," 
declined  the  offer ;  when  the  Dean  conferred  it 
on  Trinity.*  It  still  sends  forth  its  strains  from 
some  of  the  old  pipes. 

During  his   pleasant   sojourn  in  America,  we 
always  hear  of  Berkeley  in  some  amiable  relation. 
He   compliments  the  Huguenot  refugee,  Gabriel 
Bernon,in  a  letter  written  in  French,  on  his  "zeal 
for  religion  and  the  glory  of  God."     He.  preaches 
constantly  for  his  friend,  the  rector  of  Trinity,  the 
Rev.  James  Iloneyman,  in  the  pulpit  which  is  still 
there,  while  the  Quakers  stand  in  their   broad- 
brimmed  hats  in  the  aisles  to  hear  him;  on  one 
occasion  humorously  announcing  that  "  to  give  the 
devil  his  due,  John  Calvin  was  a  great  man. "t     In 
company  with   Smibert,   Col.   Updike,   and   Dr. 
McSparran,  he  visits  the  Narraghansett  Indians. 
To  his  friend,  Daniel  Updike,  the  attorney-general 
of   the  colony,   he  presents  his    "  well- wrought 
silver  coffee-pot,"  still  preserved  as  a  relic  in  the 
family,  as  the  good  bishop's  old-fashioned  chair, 
"  in  which  he  is  believed  to  have  composed  the 
Minute  Philosopher,"  is  esteemed  as  an  heir-loom 
at  this  day  by  Dr.  Ooit.|     There  is  an  anecdote  of 
Berkeley's  calculations  respecting   the    value  of 
property  at  Newport,  preserved  by  a  traveller, 
the  Church  of  England  clergyman,  Andrew  Bur- 
naby,  who  visited  Newport  in  1700,  which  at 
this  time  of  day  is  curious.     The  growth  of  New- 
port, which  suffjred  a  relapse  after  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  was  for  a  long  while  in  abeyance,  is  now 
again  in  the  ascendant;    not  as    Berkeley  may 
have  anticipated  with  the  commerce  of  Cheap- 
side,  but  with  the  luxury  of  the  American  Babe. 
"  About  three  miles  from  town,"  writes  Bur- 
naby,  "  is  an  indifferent  woolen  house,  built  by 
Dean  Berkeley,  when  he  was  in  these  parts :  the 
situation  is  low,  but  commands  a  fine  view  of  the 
ocean,  and  of  some  wild  rugged  rocks  that  are  on  the 
left  hand  of  it.     Tluy  relate  here  several  strange 
stories  of  the  Dean's  wild  and  chimerical  notions  ; 
which,  as  they  are  characteristic  of  that  extra- 
ordinary  man,   deserve   to   be   taken  notice  of. 
One  in  particular,  I  must  beg  the  reader's  indul- 
gence to  allow  ine  to  repeat  to  him.     The  Dean 
had  formed  a  plan  of  building  a  town  upon  the 
rocks,  and   of  cutting  a   road  through  a  sandy 
beach  which  lies  a  little  below  it,  in  order  that 
ships  might  come  up  and  be  sheltered   in  bad 
weather.     He  was  so  full  of  this  project,  as  one 
day  to  say  to  one  Smibert,  a  designer,  whom  he 
had  brought  over  with  him  from  Europe,  on  the 
latter  asking  some  ludicrous  question  concerning 


*  Mason's  Newport  Illustrated:  99.  It  is  said  that  there  is 
another  claimant  for  the  honors  of  the  organ,  in  a  church  of 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  The  story  goes  that  the  Newport  organ 
boing  out  of  repair,  was  sent  to  New  York  to  be  put  in  order. 
A  portion  of  the  pipes  were  found  to  be  so  defective  that  it 
was  considered  expedient  to  replace  them  by  new  ones,  which 
were  provided,  and  forwarded  in  the  old  case.  It  afterwards 
occurred  to  a  workman  that  the  old  metal  should  not  be  thrown 
away;  so  he  restored  the  rejected  pipes,  and  thev  were  set  up 
in  a  new  case  in  the  Brooklyn  Church.  Mason  states,  "the 
original  case,  of  English  oak,  is  still  in  use  in  the  church,  and 
it  contains  a  part  of  the  old  works,  with  the  addition  of  such 
new  pipes  as  were  found  necessary  when  it  was  rebuilt  a  few 
years  ago.1' 

t  Updike's  Narr.  Church,  129. 


t  Ibid.  290,  306. 


the  future  importance  of  the  place :  '  Truly,  you 
have  very  little  foresight,  for  in  fifty  years'  time 
every  foot  of  land  in  this  place  will  be  as  valuable 
as  the  land  in  Cheapside.'  The  Dean's  house, 
notwithstanding  his  prediction,  is  at  present  no- 
thing better  than  a  farm-house,  and  his  library 
converted  into  the  dairy:  when  he  left  America, 
he  gave  it  to  the  college  at  New  Haven,  in  Con- 
necticut, who  have  let  it  to  a  farmer  on  a  long 
lease;  his  books  he  divided  between  this  college 
and  that  in  Massachusetts.  The  Dean  is  said  to 
have  written  in  this  place  The  Minute  Philoso- 
pher."* For  the  value  of  the  farm,  it  must  be 
great  to  its  present  holder  ;  Yale  College  having 
in  the  last  century  leased  out  the  land  for  a  term 
of  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  years,  at  a  rent 
payable  in  wheat,  which  was  afterwards  com- 
muted into  the  present  annual  receipt  of  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  dollars. 

Berkeley  left  America,  by  the  way  of  Boston, 
on  his  return  to  England,  in  September,  1731,  and 
in  February  of  the  following  year,  preached  a 
sermon  before  the  Incorporated  Society  for  the 
Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts,  in 
which  he  speaks  of  his  observations  of  the 
American  colony,  alluding,  among  other  points, 
to  the  fashion  of  infidelity  which  had  spread 
from  the  mother  country.  This  was  the  topic 
of  his  chief  work,  Alciphron,  or  the  Minute 
Philosopher,  which  he  published  the  same  year, 
and  which  he  had  penned  in  America.  It 
is  a  series  of  dialogues,  after  the  manner  of 
Plato,  ingeniously  combating  the  free-thinking 
spirit  of  the  age  as  it  manifested  itself  in 
"  the  atheist,  libertine,  enthusiast,  scorner,  critic, 
metaphysician,  fatalist,  and  sceptic."  The  dia- 
logue is  graced  by  occasional  passages  of  descrip- 
tion of  the  scenery  at  Newport,  in  the  midst  of 
which  it  was  written.  It  opens  with  a  reference 
to  the  disappointment  in  the  Bermuda  scheme. 

I  flattered  myself,  Tbeages,  that  before  this  time 
I  might  have  been  able  to  have  sent  you  anagreea- 
ble  account  of  the  success  of  the  affair  which  brought 
me  into  this  remote  corner  of  the  country.  But 
instead  of  this,  I  should  now  give  you  the  detail  of 
its  miscarriage,  if  I  did  not  rather  choose  to  enter- 
tain you  with  some  amusing  incidents,  which  have 
helped  to  make  me  easy  under  a  circumstance  I 
could  neither  obviate  nor  foresee.  Events  are  not 
in  our  power ;  but  it  always  is,  to  make  a  good  use 
even  of  the  very  worst.  And  I  must  needs  own, 
the  course  and  event  of  this  affair  gave  opportunity 
for  reflections  that  make  me  some  amends  for  a 
great  loss  of  time,  pains  and  expense.  A  life  of 
action,  which  takes  its  issue  from  the  counsels,  pas- 
sions, and  views  of  other  men,  if  it  doth  not  draw  a 
man  to  imitate,  will  at  least  teach  him  to  observe. 
And  a  mind  at  liberty  to  reflect  on  its  own  observa- 
tions, if  it  produce  nothing  useful  to  the  world,  seldom 
fails  of  entertainment  to  itself.  For  several  months 
past  I  have  enjoyed  such  liberty  and  leisure  in  this 
distant  retreat,  far  beyond  the  verge  of  that  great 
whirlpool  of  business,  faction  and  pleasure,  which  is 
called  the  world. 

The  writer  describes  his  host  Euphranor,  the 
philosopher  and  the  farmer,  two  characters  not  so 


*  Travels  through  the  Middle  Settlements  in  North  America, 
In  the  years  1759  and  17*50.  By  the  Rev.  Andrew  Burnaby, 
A.M.,  Vicar  of  Greenwich.    Load.    4to.    1775. 


168 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


inconsistent  in  nature  as  by  custom  they  seem  to 
be,  and  bis  friend  Crito,  who  maintain  the  burden 
of  discourse  in  behalf  of  truth  and  Revelation 
against  the  sceptical  Alciphron  and  Lysicles.  The 
first  conversation  is  in  the  open  air — a  pleasant 
picture  of  the  landscape. 

Next  morning  Euphranor  rose  early,  and  spent 
the  forenoon  in  ordering  his  affairs.  After  dinner 
we  took  a  walk  to  Crito's,  which  lay  through  half  a 
dozen  pleasant  fields  planted  round  witli  plane  trees, 
that  are  very  common  in  this  part  of  the  country. 
We  walked  under  the  delicious  shade  of  these  trees 
for  about  an  hour  before  we  came  to  Crito's  house, 
which  stands  in  the  middle  of  a  small  park,  beauti- 
fied with  two  fine  groves  of  oak  and  walnut,  and  a 
winding  stream  of  sweet  and  clear  water.  We  met 
a  servant  at  the  door  with  a  small  basket  of  fruit, 
which  he  was  carrying  into  the  grove,  where  he  said 
his  master  was,  with  the  two  strangers.  "We  found 
them  all  three  sitting  under  a  shade.  And  after  the 
usual  forms  at  first  meeting,  Euphranor  and  I  sat 
down  by  them.  Our  conversation  began  about  the 
beauty  of  this  rural  scene,  the  fine  season  of  the 
year,  and  some  late  improvements  which  had  been 
made  in  the  adjacent  country  by  new  methods  of 
agriculture. 

The  next  "  Dialogue"  is  carried  on  by  the  sea- 
shore : — 

Next  morning  Alciphron  and  Lysicle3  said  the 
weather  was  so  fine  they  had  a  mind  to  spend  the 
day  abroad,  and  take  a  cold  dinner  under  a  shade 
in  some  pleasant  part  of  the  country.  Whereupon, 
after  breakfast,  we  went  down  to  a  beach  about 
half  a  mile  off;  when  we  walked  on  the  smooth 
sand,  witli  the  ocean  on  one  hand,  and  on  the  other 
wild  broken  rocks,  intermingled  witli  shady  trees 
and  springs  of  waters,  till  the  sun  began  to  be 
uneasy.  We  then  withdrew  into  a  hollow  glade 
between  two  rocks. 

These  associations  are  cherished  at  Newport, 
and  the  spot  is  pointed  out  where  Berkeley  wrote 
Alciphron.  It  gives  a  flavor  to  the  region  to 
have  had  the  fine  argument  and  poetic  thoughts 
of  the  book  written  there.  Though  it  belongs  to 
English  rather  than  American  literature,  we  may 
quote  one  of  its  passages,  for  its  bearing  upon  the 
author's  liberality  to  our  colleges,  that  in  which 
he  refutes  an  attack  of  Shaftesbury  upon  "  men  of 
the  church  and  universities"  as  unfriendly  to  true 
learning. 

In  the  mean  time,  I  must  beg  to  be  excused, 
if  I  cannot  believe  your  great  man  on  his  bare 
word ;  when  he  would  have  us  think,  that  igno- 
rance and  ill  taste  are  owing  to  Christian  reli- 
gion or  the  clergy,  it  being  my  sincere  opinion,  that 
whatever  learning  or  knowledge  we  have  among  us, 
is  derived  from  that  order.  If  those,  who  are  so 
sagacious  at  discovering  a  mote  in  other  eyes,  would 
but  purge  their  own,  I  believe  they  might  easily 
see  tins  truth.  For  what  but  religion  could  kindle 
and  preserve  a  spirit  towards  learning,  in  such  a 
northern  rough  people?  Greece  produced  men  of 
active  and  subtile  genius.  The  public  conventions 
and  emulations  of  their  cities  forwarded  that  genius ; 
and  their  natural  curiosity  was  amused  and  excited 
by  learned  conversations,  in  their  public  walks  and 
gardens  and  porticos.  Our  genius  leads  to  amuse- 
ments of  a  grosser  kind:  we  breathe  a  grosser 
and  a  colder  air:  and  that  curiosity  which  was 
general  iu   the  Athenians,  and  the  gratifying   of 


which  was  their  chief  recreation,  is  among  our 
people  of  fashion  treated  like  affectation,  and  as 
such  banished  from  polite  assemblies  and  places 
of  resort;  and  without  doubt  would  in  a  little 
time  be  banished  the  country,  if  it  were  not  for  the 
great  reservoirs  of  learning,  where  those  formalists, 
pedants,  and  bearded  boys,  as  your  profound  critic 
calls  them,  are  maintained  by  the  liberality  and 
piety  of  our  predecessors.  For  it  is  as  evident  that 
religion  was  the  cause  of  those  seminaries,  as  it  is 
that  they  are  the  cause  or  source  of  all  the  learning 
and  taste  which  are  to  be  found,  even  in  those  very 
men  who  are  the  declared  enemies  of  our  religion 
and  public  foundations.  Every  one,  who  knows  any 
thing,  knows  we  are  indebted  for  our  learning  to  the 
Greek  and  Latin  tongues.  This  those  severe  censors 
will  readily  grant.  Perhaps  they  may  not  be  so 
ready  to  grant,  what  all  men  must  see,  that  we  are 
indebted  for  those  tongues  to  our  religion.  What 
else  could  have  made  foreign  and  dead  languages  in 
such  request  among  us?  What  could  have  kept  in 
being  and  handed  them  down  to  our  times,  through 
so  many  dark  ages  in  which  the  world  was  wasted 
and  disfigured  by  wars  and  violence  ?  What,  but  a 
regard  to  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  theological 
writings  of  the  fathers  and  doctors  of  the  church? 
And  in  fact,  do  we  not  find  that  the  learning  of 
those  times  was  solely  in  tlte  hands  of  ecclesiastics, 
that  they  alone  lighted  the  lamp  in  succession  one 
from  another,  and  transmitted  it  down  to  after-ages; 
and  that  ancient  books  were  collected  and  pre- 
served in  their  colleges  and  seminaries,  when  all 
love  and  remembrance  of  polite  arts  and  studies  were 
extinguished  among  the  laity,  whose  ambition 
entirely  turned  to  arms? 

A  eulogy  which  might  be  justly  extended  to 
our  American  seats  of  literature  which  have  been 
so  greatly  indebted  to  clergymen. 

Berkeley  soon  became  Bishop  of  Cloyne,  and 
some  years  afterwards  again  found  vent  for  his 
amiable  enthusiasm  in  advocating  his  specific  of 
tar  water,  which  he  made  quite  the  fashion  of 
the  day,*  and  for  which  he  gained  the  attention 
of  philosophers  and  theologians  by  the  subtle 
speculations  of  his  Siris  ;  a  Chain  of  Philosophi- 
cal Reflections  and  Inquiries  concerning  the 
virtues  of  Tar  Water  ;  and  divers  other  subjects 
connected  together  and  arising  one  from  another.^ 

In  his  death  Berkeley  realized  the  Euthanasia 
which  he  had  desired.  On  a  Sunday  evening, 
Jan.  14,  1753,  as  he  was  with  his  family  in  his 
residence  at  Oxford,  lying  on  a  couch  listening  to 
his  wife  reading  a  sermon  by  Sherlock,  the  final 
messenger  came  to  him  in  silence,  and  it  was  not 
perceived  that  he  was  dead  till  hu  daughter 
offered  him  a  cup  of  tea.  He  was  buried  at 
Christ  Church,  and  a  weil  written  inscription  in 
Latin  was  put  upon  his  monument:  but  the 
friendly  pen  of  Pope  wrote  his  lasting  epitaph : 


*  "  It  is  impossible,"  writes  Mr.  Buncombe  to  Archbishop 
Herring  iu  1744.  "  to  write  a  letter  now  without  tincturing  tho 
ink  with  tar  water.  This  is  the  common  topic  of  discuurso 
both  among  the  rich  and  poor,  high  and  low;  and  the  Bi-hop 
of  Cloyne  has  made  it  as  fashionable  as  going  to  Yauxhall  or 
Kanelagll." 

t  "  Had  the  conversation(Coleridge's)  been  thrown  upon  paper 
it  might  have  been  easy  to  trace  the  continuity  of  the  links; 
just  as  in  Bishop  Berkeley's  Siris.  [Seiris  ought  to  have  been 
the  name,  i.&  Xctpts,  a  chain]  from  a  pedestal  so  low  and  ab- 
ject,—so  culinary  as  tar  water,  the  method  of  preparing  it  and 
its  medicinal  effects — the  dissertation  ascends,  like  Jacob's 
ladder,  by  just  gradations,  into  the  Heaven  of  Heavens  aLd  Hid 
Thrones  of  the  Trinity."— De  Quincy. 


GEORGE  BERKELEY. 


109 


To  Berkeley  every  "virtue  under  heaven.* 

Berkeley's  prophetic  verses  on  America,  so 
often  quoted,!  will  secure  his  popular  reputation 
with  our  history.! 

As  an  introduction  to  them  wo  may  present, 
with  other  illustrations  of  the  main  idea,  a  passage 
from  George  Herbert's  poem  of  "  The  Church 
Militant,"  published  in  1633,  in  which  the  pro- 
gress of  religion  westward  had  been  a  century 
earlier  commemorated. 

Religion  stands  on  tiptoe  in  our  land, 

Ready  to  pass  to  the  American  strand. 

When  height  of  malice,  and  prodigious  lusts, 

Impudent  sinning,  witchcrafts,  and  distrusts, 

The  marks  of  future  bane,  shall  fill  our  cup 

Unto  the  brim,  and  make  our  measure  up ; 

When  Seine  shall  swallow  Tiber,  and  the  Thames 

By  letting  in  them  both,  pollutes  her  streams  ! 

When  Italy  of  us  shall  have  her  will, 

And  all  her  calendar  of  sins  fulfil ; 

Whereby  one  miy  foretell  what  sins  next  year 

Shall  both  in  France  and  England  domineer: 

Then  shall  religion  to  America  flee  ; 

They  have  their  times  of  Gospel,  e'en  as  we. 

My  God,  thou  dost  prepare  for  them  a  way, 

By  carrying  first  their  gold  from  them  away: 

For  gold  and  grace  did  never  yet  agree  : 

Religion  always  sides  with  poverty. 

We  think  we  rob  them,  but  we  think  amiss: 

We  are  more  poor,  and  they  more  rich  by  this. 

Thou  wilt  revenge  their  quarrel,  making  grace 

To  pay  our  debts,  and  leave  our  ancient  place 

To  go  to  them,  while  that,  which  now  their  nation 

But  lends  to  us,  shall  be  our  desolation. 

Yet  as  the  Church  shall  thither  westward  fly, 

So  sin  shall  trace  and  dog  her  instantly  ; 

They  have  their  period  also  and  set  times, 

Both  for  their  virtuous  actions  and  their  crimes. 

Inlfi81Sir  Thomas  Browne  published  "  certain 
Miscellany  Tracts,"  one  of  which,  entitled  The 
Prophecy,  contained  several  reflections  of  this  kind 


*  Epilogue  to  the  Satires. 

t  And  sometimes  misquoted,  particularly  in  making  one  of 
the  lines  misread — 

Westward  the  star  of  empire  takes  its  way. 
X  These  lines,  though  now  familiar  to  everv  schoolboy,  were 
not  many  years  ago  brought  out  by  Mr.  Verplanck  in  his  anni- 
versary discourse  before  the  New  York  Historical  Society  as  a 
novelty,  and  Knapp,  in  his  Lectures  on  American  Literature, 
quotes  •'  this  little  poem  as  extremely  scarce'1  from  that  source. 
— Lectures,  04. 

There  is  a  curious  reminiscence,  or  rather  unsatisfactory 
tradition,  of  these  lines  of  Berkeley,  in  a  letter  of  John  Adams 
to  Benjamin  Rush,  dated  180T,in  which  he  introduces  "brother 
Crancli,  a  gentleman  of  four  score,"  and  interrogates  him  as  to 
a  couplet,  the  second  line  of  which  ran- 

And  empire  rises  where  the  sun  descends: 
His  friend,  after  a  moment's  pause,  gave  him — 

The  eastern  nations  sink,  their  glory  ends, 
And  empire  rises  where  the  sun  descends. 
"  I  asked  him,"  continues  Adams,  "  if  Dean  Berkeley  was  the 
author  of  them.  He  answered,  no.  The  tradition  was,  as  he 
had  heard  it  for  sixty  years,  that  these  lines  were  inscribed,  or 
rather  drilled,  into  a  rock  on  the  shore  of  Monument  Bay,  in 
our  old  colony  of  Plymouth,  and  were  supposed  to  have  been 
written  and  engraved  there  by  some  of  the  first  emigrants 
from  Leydcn,  who  landed  at  Plymouth,  However  this  may 
be,  I  may  add  my  testimony  to  Mr.  Cl'anch's,  that  I  have 
heard  these  verses  for  more  than  sixty  years.  I  conjecture 
that  Berkeley  became  connected  with  them,  in  my  head,  by 
some  report  that  the  Bishop  had  copied  them  into  some 
publication.  There  is  nothing  in  my  little  reading,  more  an- 
cient in  my  memory  than  the  observation  that  arts,  sciences, 
and  empire  had  travelled  westward;  and  in  conversation  it 
was  always  added,  since  I  was  a  child,  that  their  next  leap 
would  be  over  the  Atlantic  into  America."— John  Adams's 
Works,  ix.  6'uo. 


on  the  rise  and  progress  of  America,  in  which,  Dr. 
Johnson  says,  "  Browne  plainly  discovers  his  ex- 
pectation to  be  the  same  with  that  entertained 
lately  with  more  confidence  by  Dr.  Berkeley, 
that  '  America  will  be  the  seat  of  the  fifth  em- 


pire. 


It  is  in  verse,  with  a  prose  commentary. 


The  lines  relating  to  America  are, 

When  New  England  shall  trouble  New  Spain, 
When  America  shall  cease  to  send  out  its  treasure, 
But  employ  it  at  home  in  American  pleasure; 
When  the  new  world  shall  the  old  invade, 
Nor  count  them   their   lords   but   their  fellows  in 
trade.f 

The  benevolent  prophecies  of  Berkeley,  in  refer- 
ence to  America,  also  recall  to  us  the  later  anti- 
cipations, which,  if  not  the  measure  of  our  per- 
formance, were  of  his  own  benevolence,  expressed 
in  1773  by  the  good  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  the 
worthy  friend  of  Franklin,  before  the  Society  for 
the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts, 
which  always  had  American  welfare  at  heart. 
"It  is  difficult,"  said  he,  "for  men  to  look  into 
the  destiny  of  future  ages,  the  designs  of  Provi- 
dence are  too  vast  and  complicated,  and  our  own 
powers  are  too  narrow  to  admit  of  much  satisfac- 
tion to  our  curiosity.  But  when  we  see  many 
great  and  powerful  causes  constantly  at  work,  wo 
cannot  doubt  of  their  producing  proportionable 
effects.  The  colonies  in  North  America  have  not 
only  taken  root  and  acquired  strength,  but  seem 
hastening,  with  an  accelerated  progress,  to  such  a 
powerful  state  as  may  introduce  a  new  and  im- 
portant change  in  human  affairs."  He  goes  on  to 
describe  their  opportunities  and  the  prospects  of 
new  states.  "The  vast  continent  itself,  over 
which  they  are  gradually  spreading,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  a  treasure,  yet  untouched,  of  natural 
productions  that  shall  hereafter  afford  ample 
matter  for  commerce  and  contemplation."  And 
he  anticipates  that  "  time  and  discipline  may  dis- 
cover some  means  to  correct  the  extreme  inequa- 
lities of  condition  between  the  rich  and  the 
poor."J 

VERSES  ON  THE    PROSPECT  OF  PLANTING    ARTS    AND   LEARNING 
IN  AMERICA. 

The  Muse,  disgusted  at  an  age  and  clime, 

Barren  of  every  glorious  theme, 
In  distant  lands  now  waits  a  better  time, 

Producing  subjects  worthy  fame: 

Iu  happy  climes,  where  from  the  genial  sun 
And  virgin  earth  such  scenes  ensue, 

The  force  of  art  by  nature  seems  outdone, 
And  fancied  beauties  by  the  true: 

In  happy  climes  the  seat  of  innocence, 
Where  nature  guides  and  virtue  rules, 

Where  men  shall  not  impose  for  truth  and  sense, 
The  pedantry  of  courts  and  schools: 

There  shall  be  sung  another  golden  age, 

The  rise  of  empire  and  of  arts, 
The  good  and  great  inspiring  epic  rage, 

The  wisest  heads  and  noblest  hearts. 


*  Life  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne. 

t  Sir  Thomas  Browne's  Works,  iv.  232.  Grahame,  in  his  His- 
tory of  the  United  States,  notices  this  idea  of  western  progress 
In  the  country,  quoting  Bumaby's  Travels,  and  leferring  to  the 
language  of  the  Italian  irnprovisatoi  e  to  Benjamin  West,  as  the 
story  is  related  in  Gait's  Life.— History,  iv.  130,  MS. 

X  Bishop  Shipley's  Works,  ii.  3^S. 


170 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Not  such  as  Europe  breeds  in  her  decay ; 

Such  as  she  bred  when  fresh  and  young, 
When  heavenly  flame  did  animate  her  clay, 

By  future  poets  shall  be  sung. 

Westward  the  course  of  empire  takes  its  way; 

The  four  first  acts  already  past, 
A  fifth  shall  close  the  drama  with  the  day  ; 

Time's  noblest  offspring  is  the  last. 


CHAELES  THOMSON, 

The  "perpetual  secretary"  of  the  old  Revolutionary 
Congress  from  1775,  was  a  man  of  literary  tastes, 
who,  when  he  had  long  served  his  country  and 
become  to  his  contemporaries  one  of  the  best 
known  and  most  respected  personages  of  our  early 
political  annals,  occupied  the  remainder  of  his 
life  in  composition,  publishing  a' Translation  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  He  was  born  in 
Ireland  in  1729,  and  came  to  America  at  the  age 
of  eleven.  His  father  died  on  the  pas>age,  and  he 
was  thrown  on  his  own  resources  in  Maryland. 
One  of  his  brothers  assisted  him  in  entering  the 
school  of  Dr.  Alison,  at  Thunder  Hill  in  that 
state.  Books  were  scarce,  and  a  single  lexicon 
did  duty  for  the  whole  school.  A  story  is  told 
of  the  boy's  eagerness  in  pursuit  of  an  intellectual 
pleasure.  One  of  his  schoolfellows  came  down 
from  Philadelphia,  bringing  with  him  an  odd  vo- 
lume of  the  Spectator.  Thomson  read  it  with 
great  delight,  and  learning  that  an  entire  set 
could  be  purchased  at  a  certain  place  for  the 
small  stock  of  money  which  he  had  at  command, 
without  asking  permission  he  set  off  on  foot  for 
Philadelphia  to  buy  it.  Having  obtained  it  he 
returned,  when  the  motive  of  his  journey  was 
taken  a;  sufficient  excuse  for  the  truant.  An 
anecdote  like  this  is  worth  a  volume  in  illustrat- 
ing the  character  of  the  man  and  the  state  of 
literature  in  America  at  the  time.  At  Dr.  Ali- 
son's seminary  he  learnt  Greek,  Latin,  and  Mathe- 
matics enough  to  undertake  a  Friends'  Academy 
in  Philadelphia,  which  he  conducted  with  credit. 
He  was  an  ardent  republican,  and  immediately 
upon  the  assembling  of  the  old  Continental  Con- 
gress of  1774,  was  chosen  its  secretary.  John 
Adams  at  the  time,  in  his  Diary,  describes  him  as 
"the  Sam.  Adams  of  Philadelphia,  the  life  of  the 
cause  of  liberty."*  He  retained  his  post  of  Secre- 
tary with  every  Congress  till  the  close  of  the 
war,  and  was  chosen  as  the  person  to  inform 
Washington  at  Mount  Vernon  of  his  nomination 
to  the  Presidency.  His  services  to  Congress 
were  very  efficient,  and  the  repute  of  his  integrity 
gained  him  the  name  with  the  Indians  of  "  The 
Man  of  Truth. "t 

The  Rev.  Ashbel  Green,  President  of  the  Col- 
lege of  New  Jersey,  in  his  Autobiography,  says 
of  the  sacred  regard  for  truth  which  marked  the 
statements  of  the  old  Congress,  that  it  became  a 
proverb,  "It's  as  true  as  if  Charles  Thomson's 
name  was  to  it;"  and  adds  this  personal  reminis- 
cence,— "  I  had  the  happiness  to  be  personally 
acquainted  with  Charles  Thomson.  He  was  tall 
of  stature,  well  proportioned,  and  of  primitive 
simplicity  of  manners.  He  was  one  of  the  best 
classical  scholars  that  our  country  has  ever  pro- 


*  Works,  ii.  858. 

t  Walsh  s  Article,  Am.  Biography.    Am.  Qnar.  Rev.  i.  29-32. 


duced.  He  made  three  or  four  transcriptions  of 
his  trairslation  of  the  whole  Bible,  from  the  Sep- 
tuagint  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  from  the 
original  of  the  New;  still  endeavoring  in  each  to 
make  improvements  on  his  former  labors.  After 
our  revolutionary  war  wa?  terminated,  and  before 
the  adoption  of  the  present  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,  our  country  was  in  a  very  deplo- 
rable state,  and  many  of  our  surviving  patriotic 
fathers,  and  Mr.  Thomson  among  the  rest,  could 
not  easily  rid  themselves  of  gloomy  apprehen- 
sions. Mr.  Thomson's  resource  was  the  study  of 
the  Sacred  Scriptures.  His  last  work  was  a 
Harmony  of  the  Four  Gospels,  in  the  language 
of  his  own  version."* 

In  person  Thomson  was  remarkable.  The 
Abbe  Robin,who  was  in  the  country  with  Rocham- 
beau,  found  him  at  Philadelphia  "the  soul  of  the 
body  politic, rt  and  was  struck  with  his  meagre 
and  furrowed  countenance,  his  hollow  and  spark- 
ling eyes,  and  white  erect  hair.  This  description, 
in  1781,  does  not  argue  a  condition  of  perfect 
health,  yet  Thomson  lived  till  1824,  dying  at  the 
venerable  age  of  ninety-five. 

EOEEET  EOGEES. 

Robert  was  the  son  of  James  R.  Rogers,  an  early 
settler  of  the  town  of  Dumbarton,  New  Hamp- 
shire, entered  military  service  during  the  French 
war,  and  raised  a  company  of  Rangers,  who  ac- 
quired a  high  reputation  for  activity  in  the  region 
surrounding  Lake  George,  where  his  name  is  per- 
petuated by  the  precipice  known  as  Rogers's  slide, 
on  the  edge  of  the  lake,  so  called  from  an  act  of 
daring  of  their  leader  in  escaping  down  its  steep 
side,  and  so  over  the  ice,  from  a  party  of  Indians 
in  hot  pursuit.  In  1760  Rogers  received  orders 
from  Sir  Jeffrey  Amherst  to  take  possession  of 
Detroit  and  other  western  posts  ceded  by  the 
French  after  the  fall  of  Quebec.  He  ascended  the 
St.  Lawrence  and  the  lakes  with  two  hundred  of 
his  rangers,  visited  Fort  Pitt,  had  an  interview 
with  the  Indian  chief,  Pontiae,  at  the  site  of  the 
present  Cleveland  on  Lake  Erie;  received  the 
submission  of  Detroit,  but  was  prevented  from 
proceeding  further  by  the  approach  of  winter.  lie 
afterwards  visited  England,  where  he  suffered 
from  want  until  he  borrowed  the  means  to  print 
his  Journal  and  present  it  to  the  King,  when  he 
received  the  appointment  of  Governor  of  Michili- 
mackinac  in  1765.J  He  returned  and  entered 
upon  his  command,  but  was  afterwards,  on  an 
accusation  of  a  plot  to  deliver  up  his  post  to  the 
Spaniards,  then  the  possessors  of  Louisiana,  sent 
to  Montreal  in  irons.  In  1769  he  revisited.  Eng- 
land, was  presented  to  the  King,  and  imprisoned 
for  debt.  He  afterwards,  according  to  his  ac- 
count of  himself  to  Dr.  Wheelock  at  Dartmouth, 
"fought  two  battles  in  Algiers  under  the  Dey." 

In  1775  he  made  his  appearance  in  the  northern 
states,  where  lie  made  loud  professions  of  patriot- 
ism, and  talked  of  recent  interviews  with  the 
Congress  at  Philadelphia.  He  held  a  pass  from 
that  body,  but  it  had  been  obtained  after  he  had 


*  Life  of  Ashbel  Green,  4S. 

t  Nouveau  Voyage  dans  l'Amerique  Septcntrionale.  en  Tan- 
nee  17S1  ct  campagne  de  l'amire  de  M.  le  Comte  de  Eocham- 
beau.    Par  M.  l'Abbc  Eobin.    Paris,  17S2.  pp.  91. 

%  Diary  of  John  Adams,  December  27,  17G5.  "Works,  U, 
1C7. 


ROBERT  ROGERS. 


171 


been  their  prisoner,  and  been  released  on  bis 
parole.  In  January,  1776,  Washington  recom- 
mended that  he  should  be  watched,  and  in  June 
ordered  his  arrest,  lie  was  taken  at  South  Am- 
boy,  where  he  professed  to  be  on  his  way  to  offer 
his  services  to  Congress.  Washington  sent  him 
to  that  body,  by  whom  he  was  directed  to  return 
to  New  Hampshire.  He  soon  after  openly  joined 
the  side  of  the  crown,  accepted  a  colonelcy,  and 
raised  a  company  called  the  Queen's  Rangers.  In 
the  fall  of  1776  he  narrowly  escaped  being  taken  pri- 
soner by  Lord  Stirling  at  Mamaroneck.  He  not  long 
after  went  to  England,  and  was  succeeded  in  his 
command  by  Colonel  Siincoe.  He  was  proscribed 
and  banished  under  the  act  of  New  Hampshire  in 
1778,  and  his  subsequent  history  is  unknown.* 

Rogers  published,  in  1765,  his  Journals^  a 
spirited  account  of  bis  early  adventures  as  a  ran- 
ger, and  in  the  same  year  A  Concise  Account  of 
North  America.^  He  attempted  a  bolder  flight 
in  the  following  year  in  his  tragedy  of  Ponteach. 
The  publication  does  not  bear  his  name.  It  is  a 
curious  production,  the  peculiarities  of  which  can 
be  best  displayed  by  analysis  and  extract. 

The  play  of  Ponteach  opens  with  an  interview  be- 
tween two  Indian  traders,  one  of  whom  di  -clo?es  to 
bis  less  experienced  associate,  the  means  by  which 
the  Indians  are  cheated  in  the  commerce  for  furs. 
Indians  enter  with  packs  of  skins  which  they  part 
with  for  rum.  They  are  defrauded  by  a  juggle  in 
the  weight,  and  paid  in  well  watered  spirits.  We 
have  njxt  Osborne  and  Honnyman,  two  English 
hunters,  in  possession  of  the  stage,  who'expatiate 
on  the  advantages  of  shooting  down  well  laden 
Indians,  and  taking  possession  of  their  packs 
without  even  the  ceremony  of  bargains.  The 
scene  changes  to  an  English  fort,  with  Colonel 
Cockum  aud  Captain  Frisk,  a  pair  of  blusterers, 
who  propose  immediate  extermination  of  the  red- 
skins. Ponteach  enters  with  complaints  that  his 
men  are  cheated,  but  receives  naught  but  abuse 
in  return.  We  have  next  a  scene  in  which  the 
governors  distribute  the  presents  sent  by  the  Eng- 
lish King  to  the  Indians,  reserving  half  of  the 
stock  for  themselves  and  retaining  a  similar  share 
of  the  furs  brought  by  the  Indians  in  return. 
What  would,  says  Catehum,  one  of  these  Govern- 
ors, the  King  of  England  do  with  Wampum? 

Or  beaver  skins  d'ye  think  ?     He's  not  a  hatter ! 

Thus  ends  the  first  act.  In  the  second,  the  In- 
dian dramatis  personaa  are  brought  forward. 
Ponteach  summons  Ins  sons  Philip  and  Chekitan, 
and  his  counsellor  Tenesco,  to  deliberate  on  war 
with  the  English.     He  feels  sure  of  the  support 


*  Sabine's  American  Loyalists.  Parkmaa's  Ilistorv  of  Pon- 
tiac,  p.  114.  ' 

t  Journals  of  Major  Robert  Rogers,  containing  an  account  of 
the  several  excursions  he  made,  under  the  generals  who  com- 
manded on  the  continent  el' America  during  tile  late  war.  From 
which  may  be  collected  the  most  material  circumstances  of 
every  campaign  on  that  continent  from  the  commencement  to 
the  conclusion  of  the  war.     London,  17(15.    8vo.  jip.  236. 

X  A  concise  account  of  North  America,  containing  a  descrip- 
tion ot  the  several  British  colonies  on  that  continent,  including 
the  islands  of  Newfoundland,  Cape  Breton,  &c. ;  as  to  their 
situation,  extent,  climate,  soil,  produce,  rise,  government,  pre- 
sent boundaries,  and  the  number  of  inhabitants  supposed  to  be 
in  each.  Also,*  of  the  interior  or  westerly  parts  of  the  country 
upon  the  rivers  St.  Lawrence,  the  Mississippi,  Christine,  and 
the  great  lakes.  To  which  is  subjoined  an  account  of  the  seve- 
ral nations  and  tribes  of  Indians  residing  in  those  parts,  as  to 
their  customs,  manners,  government,  numbers,  &c.,  containing 
many  useful  and  entertaining  facts,  never  before  treated  of  By 
Major  Robert  Rogers.    London,  1TU5.    Svo.  pp.  204. 


of  the  chiefs,  with  the  exception  of  the  "  Mohawk 
Emperor."  Philip  undertakes  to  secure  his  con- 
currence, and  Ponteach  departs  to  consult  his 
Indian  doctor  and  a  French  priest,  as  to  the  in- 
terpretation of  a  dream  which  he  relates.  After 
his  exit  Philip  narrates  his  plan.  It  is  to  secure 
possession  of  Monelia  and  Torax,  the  children  of 
Ilendrick  the  Mohawk  Emperor,  and  detain  them 
in  case  of  his  opposition;  a  plan  by  which  ho 
proposes  to  serve  his  brother,  who  is  in  love  with 
Monelia,  as  well  as  his  father.  Chekitan  joyfully 
acquiesces  and  departs,  leaving  Philip  to  deliver  a 
soliloquy  from  which  it  appears  that  he  hates  his 
brother.     After  a  rhapsody  on  love  he  says : — 

Onee  have  I  felt  its  poison  in  my  heart, 

When  this  same  Chekitan  a  captive  led 

The  fair  Donauta  from  the  Illinois; 

I  saw,  admir'd,  and  lov'd  the  charming  maid, 

And  as  a  favor  ask'd  her  from  his  hands, 

But  lie  refus'd  and  sold  her  for  a  slave. 

My  love  is  dead,  but  my  resentment  lives, 

And  now's  my  time  to  let  the  flame  break  forth, 

For  while  I  pay  this  ancient  debt  of  vengeance, 

I'll  serve  my  country,  and  advance  myself. 

He  loves  Monelia — Ilendrick  must  be  won — 

Monelia  and  her  brother  both  must  bleed — 

This  is  my  vengeance  on  her  lover's  head — 

Then  I'll  affirm,  'twas  done  by  Englishmen — - 

And  to  gain  credit  both  with  friends  and  foes, 

I'll  wound  myself,  aud  say  that  I  reeeiv'd  it 

By  striving  to  assist  them  in  the  combat. 

This   will   rouse   Hendrick's   wrath,    and   arm   his 

troops 
To  blood  and  vengeance  on  the  common  foe. 
And  further  still  my  profit  may  extend  ; 
My  brother's  rage  will  lead  him  into  danger, 
And,  he  cut  off,  the  Empire's  all  my  own. 
Thus  am  I  flx'd  ;  my  scheme  of  goodness  laid, 
And  I'll  effect  it,  tho'  thro'  blood  I  wade, 
To  desperate  wounds  apply  a  desperate  cure, 
And  to  tall  structures  lay  foundations  sure  ; 
To  fame  and  empire  hence  my  course  I  bend, 
And  every  step  I  take  shall  thither  tend. 

This  closes  the  second  act.  In  the  third  we 
have  a  scene  between  Ponteach  and  his  ghostly 
counsellors.  Both  interpret  the  dream  as  an 
admonition  to  go  to  war,  and  the  monarch  and 
Indian  depart,  leaving  the  priest  solus  to  take  the 
audience  into  his  confidence,  which  he  does  most 
unlilusliingly,  in  a  curious  passage,  valuable  as 
showing  the  perverted  views  entertained  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  missionaries  by  the  English. 

Next  follows  an  Indian  pow-wow,  with  long 
speeches,  winding  up  with 

THE  WAR  SONG. 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Over  the  Bills  and  Far  Away," 
Sung  by  Tenesco,  the  Head  Warrior.  They  all 
join  in  the  Chorus,  and  dance  while  (hat  is  singing, 
in  a  circle  round  hint. ;  and  during  the  Chorus  the 
Music  plays. 

Where-e'er  the  sun  displays  his  light, 
Or  moon  is  seen  to  shine  by  night, 
Where-e'er  the  noisy  rivers  flow, 
Or  trees  and  grass  and  herbage  grow. 

Chorus. 
Be't  known  that  we  this  war  begia 
With  proud  insulting  Englishmen; 
The  hatchet  we  have  lifted  high 

[holding  up  their  hatchets] 
And  them  we'll  conquer  or  we'll  die. 

Chorus. 


172 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  edge  is  keen,  the  blade  is  bright, 
Nothing  saves  them  but  their  flight; 
And  then  like  heroes  we'll  pursue, 
Over  the  hills  aud  valleys  through. 

Chorus. 

They'll  like  frighted  women  quake, 
When  they  behold  a  hissing  snake; 
Or  like  timorous  deer  away, 
And  leave  both  goods  and  arms  a  prey. 

Chorus. 

Pain'd  with  hunger,  cold,  or  heat, 

In  haste  they'll  from  our  land  retreat ; 

While  we'll  employ  our  scalping  knives — 

[Drawing  and  flourishing  tlicir  scalping 
knives'] 
Take  off  their  sculls  and  spare  their  lives. 

Chorus. 

Or  in  their  country  they'll  complain, 
Nor  ever  dare  return  again  ; 
Or  if  they  should  they'll  rue  the  day, 
Ar.d  curse  the  guide  that  shew'd  the  way. 

Chorus. 

If  fortune  smiles,  we'll  not  be  long 
Ere  we  return  with  dance  and  song, 
But  ah  !  if  we  should  chance  to  die, 
Dear  wives  and  children  do  not  cry. 

Chorus. 

Our  friends  will  ease  your  grief  and  woe, 
By  double  vengeance  on  the  foe ; 
Will  kill,  and  scalp,  and  shed  their  blood, 
Where-e'er  they  find  them  thro'  the  wood. 

Chorus. 

No  pointing  foe  shall  ever  say 
'Twas  there  the  vanquish'd  Indian  lay. 
Or  boasting  to  his  friends,  relate 
The  tale  of  our  unhappy  fate. 

Chorus. 

Let  us  with  courage  then  away 
To  hunt  and  seize  the  frighted  prey; 
Nor  think  of  children,  friend,  or  wife, 
While  there's  an  Englishman  alive. 

Chorus. 

In  heat  and  cold,  thro'  wet  and  dry, 

Will  we  pursue,  and  they  shall  fly 

To  seas  which  they  a  refuge  think 

And  there  in  wretched  crowds  they'll  sink. 

Chorus.     Exeunt  ontnes  singi?ig. 

Philip  removes  Chekitan  from  Monelia,  by 
placing  him  at  the  head  of  troops.  The  piece 
proceeds  in  accordance  with  his  programme,  but 
justice  is  first  wreaked  on  Honnyman,  the  trader, 
■who  is  despatched  on  the  stage. 

In  Act  V.,  Scene  1,  Monelia  and  Torax  are  also 
killed,  and  Philip  discovered  wounded.  His  story 
is  believed,  until  Torax  revives  sufficiently  to 
declare  the  truth,  after  he  has  left  the  scene.  On 
his  return  he  is  confronted  by  the  injured  Cheki- 
tan. They  fight.  Philip  is  slain,  and  Chekitan 
kills  himself.  Tenesco  bears  the  news  of  this 
extirpation  of  his  offspring  to  Ponteach,  and  is 
soon  followed  by  tidings  of  the  complete  rout  of 
the  Indian  forces.  The  monarch  closes  the  piece 
with  the  following  lines,  which  possess  force  and 
beauty : — 

Ye  fertile  fields  and  glad'ning  streams  adieu, 

Ye   fountains   that   have    quench'd    my   scorching 

thirst, 
Ye  shades  that  hid  the  sunbeams  from  my  head, 


Ye  groves  and  hills  that  yielded  me  the  chace, 
Ye  flow'ry  meads,  and  banks,  and  bending  trees, 
And  thou,   proud   earth,   made  drunk  with  royal 

blood, 
I  am  no  more  your  owner  and  your  king. 
But  witness  for  me  to  your  new  base  lords, 
That  my  unconquer'd  mind  defies  them  still ; 
And  though  I  fly,  'tis  on  the  wings  of  hope. 
Yes,  I  will  hence  where  there's  no  British  foe, 
And  wait  a  respite  from  this  storm  of  woe ; 
Beget  more  sons,  fresh  troops  collect  and  arm, 
And  other  schemes  of  future  greatness  form ; 
Britons  may  boast,  the  gods  may  have  their  will, 
Ponteach  I  am,  and  shali  be  Ponteach  still. 

JOSEPH  GALLOWAY, 

A  loyalist  refugee  of  the  Revolution,  was  in 
the  early  part  of  his  career  an  advocate  to  the 
popular  interest  in  Pennsylvania.  He  was  born 
in  Maryland  about  1730,  came  early  to  Philadel- 
phia, took  part  with  Franklin  in  opposition  to 
the  proprietary  interest,  and  was  a  member  of  the 
first  Continental  Congress  of  1774.  His  plan,  in 
that  body,  of  a  "  a  proposed  union  between  Great 
Britain  and  the  colonies,"  was  published  in  his 
pamphlet,  A  Candid  Examination  of  the  Mutual 
Claims  of  Great  Britain  and  the  Colonies.  Two 
years  later  he  joined  the  British  troops  in  New 
Jersey,  and  entered  with  them  when  they  took  pos- 
session of  Philadelphia.  He  was  employed  under 
Sir  William  Howe,  and  when  the  city  was  freed 
from  the  enemy  went  to  New  York,  and  shortly 
left  for  England,  where  he  was  examined  before 
the  House  .of  Commons  on  American  affairs. 
He  published  there  a  number  of  pamphlets :  Let- 
ters to  a  Nobleman  on  the  Conduct  of  the  War  in 
the  Middle  Colonies;  A  Letter  to  Lord  Hoice  on 
his  Naval  Conduct ;  A  Reply  to  the  Observations 
of  General  Howe,  with  Thoughts  on  the  Conse- 
quences of  American  Independence;  Reflections 
on  the  American  Rebellion*  At  the  close  of  his 
life  he  occupied  himself  with  the  study  of  the 
Prophecies.  Two  volumes,  the  fruits  of  these 
studies,  were  published  in  London  in  1802  and  '3, 
entitled,  Brief  Commentaries  on  such  Farts  of  the 
Revelation  and  other  Prophecies  as  immediately 
refer  to  the  Present  Times ;  in  which  the  several 
Allegorical  Types  and  Expressions  of  these  Pro- 
phecies are  translated  into  their  literal  meaning 
and  applied  to  their  appropriate  events :  contain- 
ing a  Summary  of  the  Revelation,  the  Prophetic 
Histories  of  the  Beast  of  the  Bottomless  Pit ;  the 
Beast  of  the  Earth ;  the  Grand  Confederacy  or 
Babylon  the  Great ;  the  Man  of  Sin  ;  the  Little 
Horn  and  Antichrist;  and  The  Prop/hetic  and 
Anticipated  History  of  the  Church  of  Rome; 
written  and  published  six  hundred  years  before 
the  Rise  of  that  Church.  In  which  the  Prophetic 
Figures  and  Allegories  are  literally  explained ; 
and  her  Tricks,, Frauds,  Blasphemies,  and  Dread- 
ful Persecutions  of  the  Church  of  Christ  are  fore- 
told and  described.  Prefaced  by  an  Address,  de- 
dicatory, expostnlatory,  and  critical.t  He  resided 
in  England  till  his  death  in  1803. 

John  Adams  describes  him,  in  his  Diarv,  as 
"sensible  and  learned,  but  a  cold  speaker."! 
Franklin  had  confidence  in  his  patriotism,  and  left 


*  Sparks' s  Franklin,  vii.  277;  Sabine's  American  Loyalists, 
IC8. 
t  Works,  ii.  390.  t  Watts's  Bib.  Brit. 


HECTOR  ST.  JOHN  CREVECCEUE. 


173 


in  his  charge  in  America  a  valuable  collection  of 
his  letter-books  and  papers,  which  were  lost. 
His  defection,  from  his  well  known  talents,  was 
severely  commented  upon  by  the  friends  of  the 
Revolution.  Stiles,  in  his  manuscript  Diary,  of 
the  date  of  October  1,  1775,  says: — "Mr.  Gallo- 
way has  also  fallen  from  a  great  height  into  con- 
tempt and  infamy ;  but  he  never  was  entirely 
confided  in  as  a  thorough  son  of  liberty."  Trum- 
bull, too,  tells  the  story  in  his  M'Fingal,  how 
"  Galloway  began  by  being  a  flaming  patriot ;  but 
being  disgusted  at  his  own  want  of  influence,  and 
the  greater  popularity  of  others,  he  turned  Tory, 
wrote  against  the  measures  of  Congress,  and  ab- 
sconded. Just  before  his  escape,  a  trunk  was  put 
on  -board  a  vessel  in  the  Delaware,  to  be  delivered 
to  Joseph  Galloway,  Esquire.  On  opening  it,  he 
found  it  contained  only,  as  Shakespeare  says — 

A  halter  gratis,  and  leaye  to  hang  himself; 

while  M'Fingal  himself,  in  his  royalist  zeal,  de- 
claims against  the  popular  party,  in  his  left-hand- 
ed maimer — 

Did  you  not,  in  as  vile  and  shallow  way. 
Fright  our  poor  Philadelpliian,  Galloway, 
Your  Congress,  when  the  loyal  ribald 
Belied,  berated,  and  beseribbled  ? 
What  ropes  and  halters  did  you  send, 
Terrific  emblems  of  his  end, 
Till,  least  he'd  hang  in  more  than  effigy, 
Fled  in  a  fog  the  trembling  refugee  ?* 

Francis  Hopkinson  addressed  Galloway  a  wi- 
thering letter  in  1778,  when  he  was  "  in  the  seat 
of  power  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,"  and  the  re- 
negade Cunningham  was  made  keeper  of  the  pro- 
vost prison,  which  was  published  at  the  time, 
and  is  preserved  in  his  works : — "  The  temporary 
reward  of  iniquity,"  was  his  language,  "  you  nov£ 
hold  will  soon  shrink  from  your  grasp ;  and  the 
favor  of  him  on  whom  you  now  depend  will  cease, 
when  your  capacity  to  render  the  necessary  ser- 
vices shall  cease.  This  you  know,  and  the  reflec- 
tion must  even  now  throw  a  gloom  of  horror 
over  your  enjoyments,  which  the  glittering  tinsel 
of  your  new  superintendency  cannot  illumine. 
Look  back,  and  all  is  guilt — look  forward,  and 
all  is  dread.  "When  the  history  of  the  present 
times  shall  be  recorded,  the  names  of  Galloway 
and  Cunningham  will  not  be  omitted ;  and  pos- 
terity will  wonder  at  the  extreme  obduracy  of 
which  the  human  heart  is  capable,  and  at  the  un- 
measurablo  distance  between  a  traitor  and  a 
Washington." 

hectoe  st..johx  ceeveccetjb. 
Tue  volume  entitled  Letters  from  an  .American 
Farmer,  describing  certain  provincial  Situations, 
Manners  and  Customs,  and  conveying  some  idea 
of  the  state  of  the  People  of  North  America: 
written  to  a  Friend  in  England,  by  J.  Hector  St. 
John,  a  farmer  in  Pennsylvania,  is  one  of  the 
most  pleasing  and  agreeable  of  the  books  respect- 
ing the  early  impressions  made  by  the  simple  hie 
of  America  upon  intelligent  and  sensitive  Euro- 
peans.!   With  the  exception  of  the  Memoirs  of  an 

*  Trumbull's  McFingall,  canto  iii. 

t  We  have  given  the  title  of  this  book  from  the  copy  print- 
e  1  by  Mathew  Carey,  in  1794. 


American  Lady,  by  Mrs.  Grant  of  Laggan,  and 
some  passages  in  the  travels  of  Brissot  de  War- 
ville,  we  know  of  no  more  appreciative  pictures 
of  the  idyllic  life  of  America  in  the  period  just 
preceding  the  Revolution.  It  is  all  sentiment 
and  susceptibility  in  the  French  school  of  St. 
Pierre  and  Chateaubriand,  looking  at  homely 
American  life  in  the  Claude  Lorraine  glass  of 
fanciful  enthusiasm.  The  author  prides  him- 
self upon  his  good  feeling ;  and  instead  of  hiding 
it  in  his  breast,  as  an  Englishman  would  do, 
brings  it  out  into  the  sunlight  to  enjoy  it,  and 
writes  it  down  to  see  how  it  will  look  upon  pa- 
per. The  book  is  written  in  the  character  of  a 
plain  country  farmer,  who,  having  entertained 
an  accomplished  scholar  from  the  old  world  at 
his  farm,  is  invited  by  this  European  friend,  on 
his  return  home,  to  communicate  to  him  his 
observations  and  reflections  on  life  in  America. 
The  farmer,  who  is  a  man  of  acuteness  and  sensi- 
bility, is  encouraged  to  undertake  the  task  by  the 
advice  of  the  clergyman  at  Yale,  who  tells  him, 
that  letter-writing,  like  preaching,  will  soon  be- 
come eas}r  from  practice;  and  by  the  good  sense 
and  kindliness  of  his  Quaker  wife,  who  is  ever 
ready  to  cheer  him,  in  her  kind,  homely  way,  in 
whatever  he  undertakes.  There  is  an  introduc- 
tion, a  chapter  on  "  the  situation,  feelings,  and 
pleasures  of  an  American  farmer;"  a  discussion 
of  the  question,  "  What  is  an  American  ?"  a  long 
account  of  Nantucket  and  its  manners,  and  of 
Martha's  Vineyard ;  a  description  of  Charleston, 
and  a  notice  of  the  naturalist  Bartram. 

The  author  of  these  letters,  the  contents  of 
which  we  have  thus  indicated,  was  a  French 
gentleman,  born  in  1731,  of  a  noble  family,  at 
Caen  in  Normandy,  who,  at  the  age  of  sixteen, 
was  sent  by  his  parents  to  England  to  complete 
his  education,  and  passed  six  years  there,  acquir- 
ing, among  other  things,  a  passion  for  emigration 
to  the  British  colonies.  In  1754  he  embarked  for 
America,  and  settled  upon  a  farm  near  New  York. 
He  married  the  daughter  of  a  merchant.  In  the 
war,  his  lands  were  overrun  by  the  British  troops. 
Affairs  of  importance,  in  1780,  requiring  his  pre- 
sence in  England,  he  obtained  permission  of  the 
British  commander  to  cross  the  lines,  and  embark 
with  one  of  his  sons  from  New  York.  A  French 
fleet  on  the  coast  detained  the  vessel  in  the  har- 
bor, when  he  was  arrested  as  a  spy  in  the  place, 
and  kept  in  prison  for  three  months.  He  was  re- 
leased on  examination,  and  sailed  for  Dublin, 
where  he  arrived  in  December.  He  travelled  to 
London,  and  finally  reached  the  paternal  roof,  in 
France,  April  2,  1781,  after  an  absence  of  twenty- 
seven  years.  He  became  a  member  of  the  Agri- 
cultural Society  of  Caen,  and  introduced  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  potato  into  his  district.  His 
Letters  from  an  American  Farmer  were  first 
written  in  English :  a  language  which  had  become 
more  familiar  to  him  than  his  native  tongue,  and 
published  in  1782,  in  London.*     He  translated 


*  Ilis  Letters  from  an  American  Fanner  first  made  their 
appearance  in  London,  in  1762.  Written  thus  originally  in 
English,  they  were  translated  by  the  author  into  French  on 
his  return  to  his  native  countrv,  where  thev  appeared,  with 
some  additions,  in  1787,  with  the' title.  Lettreed'tm  Cultivateur 

Americain,    adressees   d    Win.  ,S' :?.  Esq.,  depute  Vanned 

1770,  jmqu'd  1786.  Par  Jl  St.  John  lie  Crevecmnr.  Tra- 
duites  de  V  Anglais.  There  was  au  earlier  French  edition  iu 
1784. 


174 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


them  into  French,  in  which  language  two  editions 
appeared  in  Paris,  in  1784  and  1787.  His  glow- 
ing and  extravagant  pictures  of  American  life 
induced  many  families  to  emigrate  to  the  borders 
of  the  Ohio,  where  they  suffered  the  extremities 
of  famine  and  fever.  His  friend,  the  author  Lizay- 
Marnesia,  who  trusted  to  the  representations  of 
the  Scioto  company,  was  one  of  the  disappointed. 

In  1783  Crevecceur  returned  to  New  York  as 
French  consul.  He  found  his  house  burnt,  his 
wife  dead,  and  his  children  in  the  hands  of  a 
)C  stranger,  Mr.  Flower,  a  merchant  of  Boston,  who 
had  been  led  to  take  charge  of  them  by  the  kind- 
ness Crevecceur  had  shown  to  prisoners  abroad. 
He  was  honored  by  Washington,  and  retained  his 
office  till  1703,  when  he  returned  to  his  native 
country,  residing  first  at  a  coimtry-seat  near 
Eouen,  and  afterwards  at  Sarcelles.  He  em- 
ployed his  leisure  in  writing  a  book  of  his  travels 
and  observations  in  America,  which  lie  published 
in  three  volumes,  in  Paris,  in  1801 :  Voyage  dans 
la  Saute  Pensylvanie  et  dans  VEtat  de  New  York, 
par  un  Membre  Adoptif  de  la  Nation  Oneida. 
Traduit  ct  publii;  par  Vauteur  des  Lettres  d'un 
Cultirateur  Americain.  The  translation  is  an 
affectation,  purporting  to  be  from  a  manuscript 
cast  ashore  from  a  wreck  on  the  Elbe.  The  work 
is  dedicated  to  "Washington  in  highly  complimen- 
tary terms,  recapitulating  the  public  events  of  his 
life,  of  which  the  translator  had  been  an  observer. 
It  contains  much  interesting  matter  relating  to 
the  Indians,  the  internal  improvements  of  the 
country,  agriculture,  and  a  curious  conversation 
on  the  first  peopling  and  the  antiquities  of  the 
country  with  Franklin,  whom  St.  John  accompa- 
nied in  1787  to  Lancaster,  when  the  sage  laid  the 
foundation-stone  of  his  German  college  at  that 
place. 

Crevecceur  died  at  Sarcelles,  November,  1813, 
leaving  behind  him  a  high  reputation  for  worth 
and  agreeable  personal  qualities. 

An  interesting  notice  of  this  writer  is  published 
in  one  of  the  notes  to  Darlington's  biographical 
sketch  of  John  Bartram,  from  the  recollections  of 
Samuel  Breck,  of  Philadelphia,  who  saw  St.  John 
in  Paris  in  1787.  He  describes  him  as  in  the 
midst  of  Parisian  society,  where  the  man  and  his 
book  were  much  admired.  He  made  the  return 
voyage  home  with  him,  and  gives  this  record  of 
his  impressions  of  his  character,  which  is  fully  in 
unison  with  the  manner  of  his  book : — "  St.  John 
was  by  nature,  by  education,  and  by  his  writings 
a  philanthropist;  a  man  of  serene  temper,  and 
pure  benevolence.  The  milk  of  human  kindness 
i  circulated  in  every  vein.  Of  manners  unas- 
suming; prompt  to  serve,  slow  to  censure ;  intelli- 
gent, beloved,  and  highly  worthy  of  the  esteem 
and  respect  he  everywhere  received.  His  society 
on  shipboard  was  a  treasure."* 

Hazlitt  was  a  great  admirer  of  the  freshness 
and  enthusiasm  of  the  American  Farmer.  In  one 
of  the  charming  letters  addressed  to  him,  Charles 
Lamb  interpolates  an  exclamation,  doubtless  from 
Bridget  Elia,  "  O  tell  Hazlitt  not  to  forget  to  send 
me  the  American  Farmer.  I  dare  say  it  is  not 
so  good  as  he  fancies;  but  a  book's  a  book."t 


*  Memorials  of  Bartram  and  Marshall,  by  William  Darling- 
ton, p.  44. 
t  Charles  Lamb  to  Hazlitt,  November  18, 1S05. 


Hazlitt  kept  the  Farmer  in  memory,  for  in  1829, 
in  an  article  on  American  Literature  in  the  Edin- 
burgh Review,  he  bestows  all  his  warmth  upon 
him.  "  The  American  Farmer's  Letters,"  says  he, 
"  give  us  a  tolerable  idea  how  American  scenery 
and  manners  may  be  treated  with  a  lively  poetic 
interest.  The  pictures  are  sometimes  highly  co- 
lored, but  they  are  vivid  and  strikingly  charac- 
teristic. He  gives  not  only  the  objects  hut  the 
feelings  of  a  new  country.  He  describes  himself 
as  placing  his  little  boy  in  a  chair,  screwed  to  the 
plough  which  he  guides  (to  inhale  the  scent  of  the 
fresh  furrows),  while  his  wife  sits  knitting  under 
a  tree  at  one  end  of  the  field.  He  recounts  a  bat- 
tle between  two  snakes  with  a  Homeric  gravity 
and  exuberance  of  style.  He  paints  the  dazzling, 
almost  invisible  flutter  of  the  humming-bird's 
wing :  Mr.  Moore's  airiest  verse  is  not  more  light 
and  evanescent.  His  account  of  the  manners  of 
the  Nantucket  people,  their  frank  simplicity,  and 
festive  rejoicings  after  the  perils  and  hardships  of 
the  whale-fishing,  is  a  true  and  heartfelt  picture. 

The  most  interesting  part  of  the  author's 

work  is  that  where  he  describes  the  first  indica- 
tions of  the  breaking-out  of  the  American  war — 
the  distant  murmur  of  the  tempest — the  threat- 
ened inroad  of  the  Indians,  like  an  inundation, 
on  the  peaceful  back-settlements :  his  complaints 
and  his  auguries  are  fearful."*  Hazlitt  did  not 
know  the  author  to  be  a  Frenchman,  or  he  would 
have  accounted,  in  his  brilliant  wa}',  for  the  con- 
stitutional vivacity  of  the  book,  and  its  peculiar 
treatment  of  an  American  subject. 

AMERICAN    FARMER'S   PLEASURES. 

The  instant  I  enter  on  my  own  land,  the  bright  . 
idea  of  property,  of  exclusive  right,  of  independence, 
exalts  my  mind.  Precious  soil,  I  say  to  myself,  by 
what  singular  custom  of  law  is  it,  that  thou  wast 
made  to  constitute  the  riches  of  the  freeholder? 
What  should  we  American  farmers  be,  without  the 
distinct  possession  of  that  soil  ?  It  feeds,  it  clothes 
us;  from  it  we  draw  even  a  great  exuberancy,  our 
best  meat,  our  richest  drink,  the  very  honey  of  our 
bees  comes  from  this  privileged  spot.  No  wonder 
we  should  thus  cherish  its  possession,  no  wonder  that 
so  many  Europeans  who  have  never  been  able  to 
say,  that  such  portion  of  land  was  theirs,  cross  the 
Atlantic  to  realize  that  happiness.  This  formerly 
rude  soil  has  been  converted  by  my  father  into  a 
pleasant  farm,  and  in  return  it  has  established  all  our 
rights ;  on  it  is  founded  our  rank,  our  freedom,  our 
power  as  citizens,  our  importance  as  inhabitants  of 
such  a  district.  These  images,  I  must  confess,  I 
always  behold  with  pleasure,  and  extend  them  as 
far  as  my  imagination  can  reach :  for  this  is  what 
may  be  called  the  true  and  the  only  philosophy  of 
an  American  farmer.  Pray  eft>  not  laugh  in  thus 
seeing  an  artless  countryman  tracing  himself  through 
the  simple  modifications  of  his  life;  remember 
that  you  have  required  it;  therefore  with  can- 
dour, though  with  diffidence,  I  endeavour  to  follow 
the  thread  of  my  feelings;  but  I  cannot  tell  you  all. 
Often  when  I  plough  my  low  ground,  I  place  my 
little  boy  on  a  chair,  which  screws  to  the  beam  of 
the  plough — it3  motion,  and  that  of  the  horses 
please  him ;  he  is  perfectly  happy,  and  begins  to 
chat.  As  I  lean  over  the  handle,  various  are  the 
thoughts  which  crowd  into  my  mind.  I  am  now 
doing  for  him,  I  say,  what  my  father  formerly  did 

*  Edinburgh  Eeview,  October,  1S29,  p.  ISO, 


HECTOR  ST.  JOHN"  CREVECffiUR. 


175 


for  me ;  may  God  enable  him  to  live,  that  lie  may 
perform  the  same  operations,  for  the  same  purposes, 
when  I  am  worn  out  and  old!  I  relieve  his  mother 
of  some  trouble,  while  I  have  him  with  me;  the 
odoriferous  furrow  exhilarates  his  spirits,  and  seems 
to  do  the  child  a  great  deal  of  good,  for  he  looks 
more  blooming  since  I  have  adopted  that  practice ; 
can  more  pleasure,  more  dignity  be  added  to  that 
primary  occupation?  The  father  thus  ploughing 
with  his  child,  and  to  feed  his  family,  is  inferior 
only  to  the  emperor  of  China,  ploughing  as  au  ex- 
ample to  his  kingdom. 

SONG  AND  rNSTINCT. 

The  pleasure  I  receive  from  the  warblings  of  the 
birds  in  the  spring,  is  superior  to  my  poor  descrip- 
tion, as  the  continual  succession  of  their  tuneful 
notes,  is  for  ever  new  to  me.  I  generally  rise  from 
bed  about  that  indistinct  interval,  which,  properly 
speaking,  is  neither  night  nor  day ;  for  this  is  the 
moment  of  the  most  universal  vocal  choir.  Who  can 
listen  unmoved,  to  the  sweet  love  tales  of  our  robins, 
told  from  tree  to  tree?  or  to  the  shrill  eat  birds? 
The  sublime  accents  of  the  thrush  from  on  high, 
always  retard  my  steps,  that  I  may  listen  to  the  de- 
licious music.  The  variegated  appearances  of  the 
dew  drops,  as  they  hang  to  the  different  objects, 
must  present,  even  to  a  clownish  imagination,  the 
most  voluptuous  ideas.  The  astouishing  art  which 
all  birds  display  in  the  construction  of  their  nests,  ill 
provided  as  we  may  suppose  them  with  proper  tools, 
their  neatness,  their  convenience,  always  make  me 
ashamed  of  the  slovenliness  of  our  houses  ;  their  love 
to  their  dame,  their  incessant  careful  attention,  and 
the  peculiar  songs  they  address  to  her,  while  slie 
tediously  incubates  their  eggs,  remind  me  of  my 
duty,  could  I  ever  forget  it.  Their  affection  to  their 
helpless  little  ones,  is  a  lively  precept;  and  in  short, 
the  whole  economy  of  what  we  proudly  call  the 
brute  creation,  is  admirable  in  every  circumstance; 
and  vain  man,  though  adorned  with  the  additional 
gift  of  reason,  might  learn  from  the  perfection  of  in- 
stinct, how  to  regulate  the  follies,  and  how  to  temper 
the  errors  which  this  second  gift  often  makes  him 
commit.  This  is  a  subject,  on  which  I  have  often 
bestowed  the  most  serious  thoughts;  I  have  often 
blushed  within  myself,  and  been  greatly  astonished, 
when  I  have  compared  the  unerring  path  they  all 
follow,  all  just,  all  proper,  all  wise,  up  to  the  neces- 
sary degree  of  perfection,  with  the  coarse,  the  im- 
perfect systems  of  men,  not  merely  as  governors  and 
kings,  but  as  masters,  as  husbands,  as  fathers,  as  citi- 
zens. But  this  is  a  sanctuary  in  which  an  ignorant 
farmer  must  not  presume  to  enter. 

THE  niTM.MING    BIRD. 

One  anecdote  I  must. relate,  the  circumstances  of 
which  are  as  true  as  they  are  singular.  One  of  my 
constant  walks,  when  I  am  at  leisure,  is  in  my  low- 
lands, where  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  my  cattle, 
horses,  and  colts.  Exuberant  grass  replenishes  all 
my  fieids,  the  best  representative  of  our  wealth;  in 
the  middle  of  that  track,  I  have  cut  a  ditch  eight 
feet  wide,  the  banks  of  which  nature  adorns  every 
spring  with  the  wild  salendine,  and  other  flowering 
weeds,  which,  on  these  luxuriant  grounds,  shoot  up 
to  a  great  height.  Over  this  ditch  I  have  erected  a 
bridge,  capable  of  bearing  a  loaded  waggon;  on 
each  side  1  carefully  sow  every  year  some  grains  of 
hemp,  which  rise  to  the  height  of  fifteen  feet,  so 
stiong  and  so  full  of  limbs,  as  to  resemble  young 
trees:  I  once  ascended  one  of  them  four  feet  above 
the  ground.  These  produce  natural  arbours,  ren- 
dered often  still  more  compact  by  the  assistance  of 


an  annual  creeping  plant,  which  we  call  a  vine,  that 
never  fails  to  entwine  itself  among  their  branches, 
and  always  produces  a  very  desirable  shade.  From 
this  simple  grove  I  have  amused  myself  an  hundred 
times  in  observing  the  great  number  of  humming 
birds  with  which  our  country  abounds:  the  wild 
blossoms  every  where  attract  the  attention  of  these 
birds,  which,  like  bees,  subsist  by  suction.  From 
this  retreat  I  distinctly  watch  them  in  all  their  va- 
rious attitudes;  but  their  flight  is  so  rapid  that  you 
cannot  distinguish  the  motion  of  their  wings.  On 
i  this  little  bird,  nature  lias  profusely  lavished  her 
most  splendid  colours;  the  most  perfect  azure,  the 
most  beautiful  gold,  the  most  dazzling  rod,  are  for 
ever  in  contrast,  and  help  to  embellish  the  plumes 
of  his  majestic  head.  The  richest  pallet  of  the  most 
luxuriant  painter,  could  never  invent  any  thing  to 
be  compared  to  the  variegated  tints  with  which  this 
insect  bird  is  arrayed.  Its  bill  is  as  long  and  as 
sharp  as  a  coarse  sewing  needle;  like  the  bee,  nature 
has  taught  it  to  find  out,  in  the  calix  of  flowers  and 
blossoms,  those  mellifluous  particles  that  serve  it  for 
sufficient  food ;  and  yet  it  seems  to  leave  them  un- 
touched, undeprived  of  anything  that  our  eyes  can 
possibly  distinguish.  When  it  feeds,  it  appears  as 
if  immoveable,  though  continually  on  the  wing ;  and 
sometimes,  from  what  motives  I  know  not,  it  will 
tear  and  lacerate  flowers  into  a  hundred  pieces: 
for,  strange  to  tell,  they  are  the  most  irascible  of  the 
feathered  tribe.  Where  do  passions  find  room  in  so 
diminutive  a  body  ?  They  often  fight  with  the  fury 
of  lions,  until  one  of  the  combatants  falls  a  sacrifice 
and  dies.  When  fatigued,  it  has  often  perched 
within  a  few  feet  of  me,  and  on  such  favourable  op- 
portunities I  have  surveyed  it  with  the  most  minute 
attention.  Its  little  eyes  appear  like  diamonds,  re- 
flecting light  on  every  side:  most  elegantly  finished 
in  all  parts,  it  is  a  miniature  work  of  our  great  pa- 
rent; who  seems  to  have  formed  it  the  smallest, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  most  beautiful  of  the 
winged  species. 

A  .TOURNEY  WITH  FRANKLIN.* 

In  the  year  1787  I  accompanied  the  venerable 
Franklin,  at  that  time  Governor  of  Pennsylvania,  on 
a  journey  to  Lancaster,  where  he  had  been  invited 
to  lay  the  corner-stone  of  a  college,  which  he  had 
founded  there  for  the  Germans.  In  the  evening  of 
the  day  of  the  ceremony,  we  were  talking  of  the  dif 
ferent  nations  which  inhabit  the  continent,  of  their 
aversion  to  agriculture,  etc.,  when  one  of  the  princi- 
pal inhabitants  of  the  city  said  to  him : 

"  Governor,  where  do  you  think  these  nations 
came  from  ?  Do  you  consider  them  aborigines  ? 
Have  you  heard  of  the  ancient  fortifications  and 
tombs  which  have  been  recently  discovered  in  the 
west  ? " 

"Those  who  inhabit  the  two  Floridas,"  he  replied, 
"  and  lower  Louisiana,  say,  that  they  came  from  the 
mountains  of  Mexico.  I  "should  be  inclined  to  be- 
lieve it.  If  we  may  judge  of  the  Esquimaux  of  the 
coasts  of  Labrador  (the  most  savage  men  known)  by 
the  fairness  of  their  complexion,  the  color  of  their 
eyes,  and  their  enormous  beards,  they  are  originally 
from  the  north  of  Europe,  whence  they  came  at  a 
very  remote  period.  As  to  the  other  nations  of  this 
continent,  it  seems  difficult  to  imagine  from  what 
stock  they  can  be  descended.  To  assign  them  an 
Asiatic  and  Tartar  origin,  to  assert  that  they  crossed 
Behring  Straits,  and  spread  themselves  over  this 
continent,  shocks  all  our  notions  of  probability. 
How,   indeed,   can   we   conceive   that  men   almost 


*  Translated  from  St.  John's  Voyage  dans  la  Haute  Pennsyl- 
vania, ch.  ii. 


176 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 


naked,  armed  with  bows  and  arrows,  could  have 
undertaken  a  journey  of  a  thousand  leagues  through 
thick  forests  or  impenetrable  marshes,  accompanied 
by  their  wives  and  children,  with  no  means  of  sub- 
sistence, save  what  they  derived  from  hunting? 
"What  could  have  been  the  motives  of  such  an  emi- 
gration ?  If  it  were  the  severe  cold  of  their  own 
country,  why  should  they  have  advanced  to  Hud- 
son's Bay  and  Lower  Canada?  Why  have  they  not 
stopped  on  their  way  at  the  beautiful  plains  on  the 
banks  of  the  Missouri,  the  Minnesota,  the  Mississippi, 
or  the  Illinois?  But  it  will  be  said,  they  did  settle 
there,  and  those  with  whom  we  are  acquainted  are 
but  the  surplus  population  of  these  ancient  emigra- 
tions. If  it  were  so,  we  should  discover  some  analogy 
between  their  languages:  and  it  is  ascertained  be- 
yond a  doubt,  that  the  languages  of  the  Nadouassees 
and  Padoukas  no  more  resemble  the  Chippewa,  the 
Mohawk,  or  the  Abenaki,  than  they  do  the  jargon 
of  Kamschatka. 

"  On  the  other  hand,"  he  continued,  "  how  can 
we  suppose  them  to  be  the  aborigines  of  a  region 
like  this,  which  produces  scarcely  any  fruits  or 
plants  on  which  the  primitive  man  could  have  sub- 
sisted until  he  had  learned  to  make  a  bow  and  ar- 
row, harpoon  a  fish,  and  kindle  a  fire  ?  How  could 
these  first  families  have  resisted  the  inclemency  of 
the  seasons,  the  stings  of  insects,  the  attacks  of 
carnivorous  animals?  The  warm  climates,  there- 
fore, and  those  that  abound  in  natural  fruits,  must 
have  been  the  cradle  of  the  human  race ;  it  was 
from  the  bosom  of  these  favored  regions  that  the 
exuberant  portion  of  the  early  communities  gradu- 
ally spread  over  the  rest  of  the  world.  Whence 
came  the  nations  which  inhabit  this  continent,  those 
we  meet  with  in  New  Zealand,  New  Holland,  and 
the  islands  of  the  Pacific  ?  WThy  have  the  people  of 
the  old  world  been  civilized  for  thousands  of  ages, 
while  those  of  the  new  still  remain  plunged  in  igno- 
rance and  barbarism?  Has  this  hemisphere  more 
recently  emerged  from  the  bosom  of  the  waters? 
These  questions,  and  a  thousand  others  we  might 
ask,  will  ever  be  to  us,  frail  beings,  like  a  vast 
desert  where  the  wandering  eye  sees  not  the  small- 
est bush  on  which  it  may  repose. 

"This  planet  is  very  old,"  he  continued.  "  Like  the 
works  of  Homer  and  Hesiod,  who  can  say  through. 
how  many  editions  it  has  passed  in  the  immensity 
of  ages?  The  rent  continents,  the  straits,  the  gulfs, 
the  islands,  the  shallows  of  the  ocean,  are  but  vast 
fragments  on  which,  as  on  the  planks  of  some 
wrecked  vessel,  the  men  of  former  generations  who 
escaped  these  commotions,  have  produced  new  po- 
pulations. Time,  so  precious  to  us,  the  creatures  of 
a  moment,  is  nothing  to  nature.  Who  can  tell  us 
when  the  earth  will  again  experience  these  fatal 
catastrophes,  to  which,  it  appears  to  me,  to  be  as 
much  exposed  in  its  annual  revolutions,  as  are  the 
vessels  which  cross  the  seas  to  be  dashed  in  pieces 
on  a  sunken  rock?  The  near  approach  or  contact 
of  one  of  those  globes  whose  elliptical  and  mys- 
terious courses  are  perhaps  the  agents  of  our  desti- 
nies, some  variation  in  its  annual  or  diurnal  rotation, 
in  the  inclination  of  its  axis  or  the  equilibrium  of  the 
seas,  might  change  its  climate,  and  render  it  long 
uninhabitable. 

"As  to  your  third  question,"  continued  the  gover- 
nor, "  I  will  give  you  some  reflections  which  occurred 
to  me  on  reading  the  papers  lately  presented  to  our 
philosophical  society  by  Generals  Varnum  and  Par- 
sons, and  Captains  John  Hart  and  Serjeant,  in  rela- 
tion to  the  entrenched  camps  and  other  indications 
of  an  ancient  population,  of  whom  tradition  has 
transmitted  no  account  to  our  indigenous  popula- 
tion.     In  travelling  through  the  parts  of  this  state 


beyond  the  Alleghanies,  we  often  find  on  the  high 
ground  near  the  rivers  remains  of  parapets  and 
ditches  covered  with  lofty  trees.  Almost  the  whole 
of  the  peninsula  of  Muskinghum  is  occupied  by  a 
vast  fortified  camp.  It  is  composed  of  three  square 
inclosures ;  the  central  one,  which  is  the  largest, 
has  a  communication  with  the  former  bed  of  the 
river,  whose  waters  appear  to  have  retreated  nearly 
three  hundred  feet.  These  inclosures  are  formed  by 
ditches  and  parapets  of  earth,  in  which  no  cut  stones 
or  brick  have  been  found.  ■  The  centre  is  occupied 
by  conical  elevations  of  different  diameters  and 
heights.  Each  of  these  inclosures  appears  to  have 
had  a  cemetery.  As  a  proof  of  the  high  antiquity 
of  these  works,  we  are  assured,  as  an  undisputed 
fact,  that  the  bones  are  converted  into  calcareous 
matter,  and  that  the  vegetable  soil  with  which  these 
fortifications  are  covered,  and  which  has  been  formed 
merely  by  the  falling  off  of  the  leaves  and  of  the 
fragments  of  trees,  is  almost  as  thick  as  in  the  places 
around  about  them.  Two  other  camps  have  been 
likewise  discovered  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Lexing- 
ton. The  area  of  the  first  is  six  acres,  that  of  the 
second,  three.  The  fragments  of  earthenware  which 
have  been  found  in  digging  are  of  a  composition  un- 
known to  our  Indians. 

"  On  Paint  Creek,  a  branch  of  the  Scioto,  there 
has  been  found  a  series  of  these  fortified  inclosures, 
extending  as  far  as  the  Ohio,  and  even  south  of  that 
river.  Similar  works  have  been  discovered  in  the 
two  Miamis,  at  a  distance  of  more  than  twenty 
miles,  and  likewise  on  Big  Grave  Creek.  These 
last  are  only  a  series  of  elevated  redoubts  on  the 
banks  of  these  rivers  at  unequal  distances  apart. 
Those  which  have  been  found  on  Big  Black  Creek, 
and  at  Byo  Pierre,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi, appear  to  have  been  embankments  intended 
to  protect  the  inhabitants  from  the  inundations  of 
the  river. 

"At  a  distance  of  five  hundred  leagues  from  the 
sea,  on  the  eastern  shore  of  Lake  Peppin  (which  is 
only  an  extension  of  the  Mississippi),  Carver  found 
considerable  remains  of  entrenchments  made,  like 
the  former,  of  earth,  and  covered  with  high  woods. 
Tne  barrows  lately  discovered  in  Kentucky  and 
elsewhere,  are  cones  of  different  diameters  and 
heights;  they  are  covered  with  a  thick  layer  of 
earth,  and  resemble,  although  smaller,  those  which 
are  still  seen  in  Asia  and  some  parts  of  Europe. 
The  first  row  of  bodies  lies  upon  flat  stones,  with 
which  the  whole  of  the  bottom  is  paved:  these  are 
covered  over  with  new  layers,  serving  as  beds  for 
other  bodies  placed  like  the  former,  and  so  on  to  the 
top.  As  in  the  fortifications  on  the  Muskinghum,  we 
meet  with  no  signs  of  mortar,  and  no  traces  of  the 
hammer.  The  new  state  of  Tennessee  is  full  of  these 
tombs,  and  several  caves  have  also  been  discovered 
there  in  which  bones  have  been  found. 

"  In  the  neighborhood  of  several  Cherokee  vil- 
lages, in  Iveowe,  Steccoe,  Sinica,  <fce.,  there  have 
been  found  terraces,  pyramids,  or  artificial  hills,  of 
great  height,  whose  origin  was  unknown  to  the 
inhabitants  whom  the  Cherokees  drove  out  at  the 
time  of  their  invasion,  nearly  two  centuries  ago. 
The  same  artificial  heights,  the  same  proofs  of  the 
residence  and  power  of  ancient  nations,  are  also 
found  in  the  two  Floridas,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Oakmulgee,  at  Taensa,  on  the  Alabama,  &c. 

"At  what  period,  by  what  people,  were  these 
works  constructed  ?  What  degree  of  civilization 
had  this  people  reached  ?  Were  they  acquainted 
with  the  use  of  iron  ?  What  has  become  of  them  I 
Can  we  conceive  that  nations  sufficiently  powerful 
to  have  raised  such  considerable  fortifications,  and 
who  buried  their  dead  with  such  religious  care,  can 


THE  LIBRARY  COMPANY  OF  PHILADELPHIA 


177 


have  been  destroyed  and  replaced  by  the  ignorant 
and  barbarous  hordes  we  see  about  us  at  the  present 
day?  Could  the  calamities  occasioned  by  a  long 
state  of  war  have  effaced  the  last  traces  of  their 
civilization  and  brought  them  back  to  the  primitive 
condition  of  hunters?  Are  our  Indians  the  descend- 
ants of  that  ancient  people  ? 

"Such  are  the  doubts  and  conjectures  which  arise 
in  our  minds  on  contemplating  the  traces  of  the  pas- 
sage and  existence  of  the  nations  which  inhabited 
the  regions  of  the  west ;  traces  which  are  not  suf- 
ficient to  guide  us  in  the  vagueness  of  the  past. 
Although  neither  arms  nor  instruments  of  iron  have 
yet  been  discovered,  how  can  we  conceive  that  they 
could  dig  such  deep  ditches,  or  raise  such  large 
masses  of  earth,  without  the  aid  of  that  metal  ? 
This  ancient  people  must  have  had  chiefs,  and  been 
subject  to  laws ;  for  without  the  bonds  of  subordina- 
tion, how  could  they  have  collected  and  kept  to- 
gether so  great  a  number  of  workmen  ?  They  must 
have  been  acquainted  with  agriculture,  since  the 
products  of  the  chase  would  never  have  sufficed  to 
support  them.  The  extent  of  these  camps  also 
proves  that  the  number  of  the  troops  destined  to 
defend  these  works,  and  that  of  the  families  to 
which,  in  moments  of  danger,  they  afforded  an 
asylum,  was  immense.  The  cemeteries  prove  that 
they  sojourned  there  a  long  time.  This  people  must 
therefore  have  been  much  further  advanced  in  civil- 
ization than  our  Indians. 

"  When  the  population  of  the  United  States  shall 
have  spread  over  every  part  of  that  vast  and  beauti- 
ful region,  our  posterity,  aided  by  new  discoveries, 
may  then  perhaps  form  more  satisfactory  conjec- 
tures. What  a  field  for  reflection !  A  new  conti- 
nent, which,  at  some  unknown  period,  appears  to 
have  been  inhabited  by  agricultural  and  warlike 
nations !  Were  it  not  for  my  advanced  age,  I  would 
myself  cross  the  mountains  to  examine  those  old 
military  works.  Perhaps  a  careful  and  minute 
inspection  would  give  rise  to  conjectures  which 
now  elude  all  the  combinations  of  the  mind." 

THE  LIBEAEY  COMPANY  OF  PHILADELPHIA. 
The  first  record  of  this  institution  is  as  follows  : 

Tiie  minutes  of  me,  Joseph  Breintnall,  Secretary 
to  the  Directors  of  the  Library  Company  of  Phila- 
delphia, with  such  of  the  minutes  of  the  same  direc- 
tors as  they  order  me  to  make,  begun  on  the  8th 
day  of  November,  1731.  By  virtue  of  the  deed  or 
instrument  of  the  said  company,  dated  the  first  day 
of  July  last. 

The  said  instrument  being  completed  by  fifty  sub- 
scriptions, I  subscribed  my  name  to  the  following 
summons  or  notice  which  Benjamin  Franklin  sent 
by  a  messenger,  viz. : 

"  To  Benjamin  Franklin,  Thomas  Hopkinson,  Wil- 
liam Parsons,  Philip  Syng,  jun.,  Thomas  Godfrey, 
Anthony   Nicholas,    Thomas   Cadwalader,    John 
Jones,  jun.,  Robert  Grace,  and  Isaac  Penington. 
Gentlemen, — The  subscription  to  the  library  being 
completed,  you  the  directors  appointed  in  the  in- 
strument,  are   desired  to  meet  this    evening    at  5 
o'clock,  at  the  house  of  Nicholas  Scull,  to  take  bond 
of  the  treasurer  for  the  faithful  performance  of  his 
trust,  and  to  consider  of  and  appoint  a  proper  time   I 
for  the  payment  of  the  money  subscribed,  and  other 
matters  relating  to  the  said  library. 

Jos.  Breintnall,  See'y. 
Philad.,  8th  Nov.,  1731." 

William  Coleman  was  at  this  meeting  elected 
treasurer,  and  signed  a  bond  with  sureties  for  the 
lull   performance  of  his    duties.     The   price   of 

vol.  i. — 12 


shares  was  fixed  at  forty  shillings  each,  and  ten 
were  at  onee  disposed  of,  but  some  difficulty  was 
experienced  in  collecting  the  amounts.  At  a 
meeting  on  the  29th  of  March,  1732,  it  was 
determined  to  proceed  to  the  purchase  of  books, 
and  Thomas  Godfrey  having  reported  that  James 
Logan  had  expressed  a  willingness  to  give  advice 
as  to  their  selection,  it  was  ordered  that  Thomas 
Godfrey  wait  on  Mr.  Logan,  "  a  gentleman  of 
universal  learning  and  the  best  judge  of  books  in 
these  parts,"  and  accept  his  offer. 

The  list  was  made  out  and  intrusted  to  Thomas 
Hopkinson,  who  was  about  sailing  for  England, 
with  a  draft  on  London  in  his  favor  of  £15  ster- 
ling. Charles  Broekden  (the  uncle  of  Broekden 
Brown)  having  executed  the  original  constitution 
without  charge,  was  presented  with  a  share  in 
the  association.  Breintnall  was  excused  from 
the  payment  of  annual  dues  for  six  years  in  con- 
sideration of  his  services  as  secretary  ;  Syng,  two 
years,  for  engraving  the  seal  of  the  company,  and 
Franklin  two  years,  for  printing  notices  to  delin- 
quent subscribers. 

The  books  arrived  in  October,  1732,  with  the 
addition  of  a  donation  of  "  Sir  Isaac  Newton's 
Philosophy"  and  "  Philip  Miller's  Gardener's 
Dictionary,"  from  Peter  Oollmsoi*.  They  were 
deposited  in  "  Robert  Grace's  chamber,  at  his 
house  in  Jones  Alley  :"  Louis  Timothee,  the  occu- 
pant of  the  house,  was  appointed  librarian, 
and  the  collection  opened  on  Wednesdays  from  2 
to  3  p.m.  and  on  Saturdays  from  10  a.m.  to  4  p.m. 
to  subscribers,  who  were  to  be  allowed  to  take 
books  out,  while  "  any  civil  gentleman"  was  to  be 
permitted  to  examine  the  books  on  the  premises. 
Both  privileges  were  extended  to  Mr.  Logan, 
though  not  a  member  of  the  Company. 

In  December,  1732,  Dr.  Franklin  prepared  and 
printed  a  catalogue  without  charge.  On  tlie22d 
of  February,  1733,  the  full  number  of  subscribers 
originally  contemplated,  was  filled  up  by  the  ad- 
dition of  the  fiftieth,  Joseph  Growden.  The  first 
American  donor  was  William  Rawle,  who  pre- 
sented, on  the  12th  of  March,  1733,  a  set  of  the 
works  of  Edmund  Spenser,  in  six  volumes.  On 
the  fifteenth  of  May  following,  an  address  was 
drawn  up  and  presented  to  Thomas  Penn,  the 
son  of  William,  proprietor  of  the  colony,  soliciting 
his  aid,  which  was  responded  to  by  the  gift  of 
several  articles,  and  in  1737,  by  the  promise  of  a 
lot  of  ground  for  a  building.  In  May,  1738,  Penn 
presented  an  air-pump,  accompanied  by  a  com- 
plimentary letter,  which  commences — 

"Gentlemen, — It  always  gives  me  pleasure 
whes  I  think  of  the  Library  Company  of  Phila- 
delphia, as  they  were  the  first  that  encouraged 
knowledge  and  learning  in  the  province  of  Penn- 
sylvania." 

The  praise  is  not  ill  deserved,  a:,  at  the  time  of 
its  foundation,  there  was  not  even  a  good  book- 
store accessible  nearer  than  Boston. 

In  1738,  the  institution  received  a  donation  of 
£58  6s.  8d.  from  Dr.  Walter  Sydserfe,  of  Antigua. 

On  the  7th  of  April,  17-40,  the  number  of  mem- 
bers having  in  the  meanwhile  increased  to 
seventy-four,  the  library  was  removed  "  to  the 
upper  room  of  the  westernmost  office  of  the 
State  House,"  by  permission  of  the  Assembly. 

In  1762,  the  lot  of  ground  promised  in  1737  by 
the  Penn  family,  was  conveyed  to  the  institution. 


178 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


It  was  situated  in  Chestnut,  near  Ninth  street, 
and  for  several  years  yielded  a  small  revenue. 

Franklin  at  various  times  served  in  the  direc- 
tion, which  also  includes  the  names  of  Charles 
Thomson,  John  Dickinson,  Francis  Hopkinson, 
and  others  of  high  reputation.  In  1767,  "a 
woman's  hand,  taken  from  an  Egyptian  mummy, 
in  good  preservation,"  from  Benjamin  West,  was 
brought  home  by  the  librarian,  Francis  Hopkin- 
son, for  the  museum.  This  collection  received  for 
some  time  donations  of  similar  curious  trifles, 
which  were  until  recently  exhibited  in  the  rooms. 
In  1768  the  price  of  a  share  was  raised  to  £10, 
and  on  the  thirteenth  of  March,  the  Union  Li- 
brary Company  united  with  the  institution,  the 
books  and  library  house  in  Third  Street,  in  which 
they  had  been  deposited,  being  included  in  the 
transfer.  In  1771  the  Association  Library  Com- 
pany and  the  Amicable  Company  were  also  incor- 
porated with  the  institution.  The  collections 
thus  acquired  seem  to  have  been  of  small  value. 

In  1773  the  books  were  removed  to  the  second 
floor  of  Carpenters'  Hall,  which  was  rented  for 
the  purpose,  and  the  library  was  for  the  first  time 
opened  daily,  from  two  to  seven  p.m.  The  libra- 
rian's salary  was  fixed  at  £60.  Large  additions 
were  made  to  the  cabinet  of  coins  about  the 
same  time. 

On  the  assemblage  of  Congress,  in  1774,  the 
free  use  of  its  library  was  tendered  to  its  members. 
The  war  retarded  the  progress  of  the  company. 
In  1777  the  room'  was  occupied  as  a  hospital. 
Iu  the  same  year  the  company  received  a  hand- 
some bequest  of  books  by  the  will  of  James 
Logan. 

In  1784  the  Library  Company  united  with  the 
American  Philosophical  Society  in  a  petition  for 
lots  of  ground  on  the  State-house  square,  on  which 
to  erect  buildings  for  their  separate  accommoda- 
tion, which  were  to  correspond  in  appearance, 
anil  face  on  Fifth  and  Sixth  Streets.  So  action 
was  taken  on  the  petition,  but  the  Philosophical 
Society  finally  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  grant  on 
Fifth  Street,  the  locality  proposed  for  the  Library 
Company.  Subsequent  endeavors,  in  which  Dr. 
Franklin,  as  President  of  the  Philosophical  So- 
ciety, took  a  prominent  j>art,  were  made  to  unite 
the  two  institutions  under  the  same  roof,  but 
without  success. 


The  Philadelphia  Library. 

In  1789  the  long  contemplated  intention  of 
erecting  a  suitable  building  for  the  library  was 
carried  into  effect,  and  the  corner-stone  of  the 
edifice  on   Fifth  Street,    facing  the  state-house 


square,  laid.  It  bears  an  inscription  prepared  by 
Franklin,  with  the  exception  of  the  portions 
relating  to  himself,  which  were  added  by  the  com- 
mittee having  the  matter  in  charge. 

Be  it  remembered, 

In  honour  of  the  Philadelphia  youth, 

(then  chiefly  artificers) 

that  in  MDCCXXXI, 

they  cheerfully 

at  the  instance  of  Benjamin  Franklin, 

one  of  their  number, 

instituted  the  Philadelphia  Library, 

■which,  though  small  at  first, 

is  become  highly  valuable,  and  extensively  useful, 

and  which  the  walls  of  this  edifice 

are  now  destined  to  contain  and  preserve  ; 

the  first  stone  of  whose  foundation 

was  here  placed 
the  thirty -first  day  of  August,  17S9. 

The  building,  from  the  design  of  Dr.  William 
Thornton,  who  received  a  share  as  his  compensa- 
tion, was  completed,  and  the  books  removed  and 
arranged  by  the  close  of  the  year  1790.  The 
libraiw  was  then  opened  daily  from  one  o'clock  to 
sunset,  and  the  librarian's  salary  fixed  at  £100. 
William  Bingham,  a  wealthy  and  liberal  citizen, 
having  heard  that  the  directors  intended  to  place  a 
statue  of  Franklin  on  a  niche  in  the  front  of  the 
building,  volunteered  to  present  such  a  work  to 
the  institution.  A  bust  and  full  length  drawing 
of  the  original  were  sent  to  Italy  for  the  guidance 
of  the  artist  by  whom  the  statue,  which  still  graces 
the  niche,  was  executed.  During  the  construction 
of  the  edifice,  a  number  of  apprentices  engaged 
on  the  work  were  allowed  by  their  masters  to 
give  an  amount  of  labor  equivalent  to  the. pur- 
chase money  of  a  share,  and  thus  constitute  them- 
selves members,  an  incident  creditable  to  all 
concerned. 

In  January,  1791,  the  free  use  of  the  library 
was  tendered  to  the  President  and  Congress  of 
the  United  States,  and  in  the  following  year  an 
addition  made  to  the  building,  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  the  Loganian  library,  a  collection  of 
which  we  have  already  given  an  account.* 

In  the  same  year,  the  manuscripts  of  John 
Fitch,  relating  to  the  steam-engine,  were  deposited 
in  the  library,  with  a  condition  that  they  should 
remain  unopened  until  the  year  1828. 

In  1788  a  portion  of  the  collections  of  Pierre 
du  Simiiicre  was  purchased,  on  his  decease. 

John  Adams,  writing  from  Philadelphia,  Au- 
gust 14,  1776,  says- 
There  is  a  gentleman  here  of  French  extraction, 
whose  name  is  Du  Simitiere.  a  painter  by  profession, 
whose  designs  are  very  ingenious,  and  his  drawings 
well  executed.  He  has  been  applied  to  for  his 
advice.  I  waited  on  him  yesterday,  and  saw  his 
sketches.  For  the  medal  he  proposes,  Liberty,  with 
her  spear  and  pilens,  leaning  on  General  Washing- 
ton. The  British  fleet  in  Boston  harbor  with  all 
their  sterns  towards  the  town,  the  American  troops 
marching  in.  For  the  seal,  he  proposes,  The  arms 
of  the  several  nations  from  whence  America  has 
been  peopled,  as  English,  Scotch,  Irish,  Dutch,  Ger- 
man, &c,  each  in  a  shield.  On  one  side  of  them, 
Liberty  with  her  pileus,  on  the  other  a  rifler  in  his 
uniform,  with  his  rifle  gun  in  one  hand,  and  his 

*  Ante,  p.  7S. 


GEORGE  "WASHINGTON; 


179 


tomahawk  in  the  other.  This  dress  and  these  troops 
with  this  kind  of  armor  being  peculiar  to  America, 
unless  the  dress  was  known  to  the  Romans.  -Dr. 
Franklin  showed  me  yesterday  a  book,  containing 
an  account  of  the  dresses  of  all  the  Roman  soldiers, 
one  of  which  appeared  exactly  like  it.  This  M.  du 
Simitiere  is  a  very  curious  man.  He  has  begun  a 
collection  of  materials  for  a  history  of  this  revolu- 
tion. He  begins  with  the  first  advices  of  the  tea 
ships.  He  cuts  out  of  the  newspapers  every  scrap 
of  intelligence,  and  every  piece  of  speculation,  and 
pastes  it  upon  clean  paper,  arranging  them  under 
the  head  of  that  State  to  which  they  belong,  and  in- 
tends to  bind  them  up  in  volumes.  He  has  a  list  of 
every  speculation  and  pamphlet  concerning  indepen- 
dence, and  another  of  those  concerning  forms  of  go- 
vernment. 

These  scraps  and  pamphlets  form  a  valuable, 
though  by  no  means  complete,  collection  of  the 
fugitive  literature  of  the  period. 

A  collection  of  "  Thirteen  portraits  of  Ameri- 
can legislators,  patriots,  and  soldiers,  who  dis- 
tinguished themselves  in  rendering 
their  country  independent,  viz.  Ge- 
neral Washington,  Gen.  Baron  de 
Steuben,  Silas  Deane,  Gen.  Reed, 
Gov.  Morris,  Gen.  Gates,  John  Jay, 
"W.  II.  Drayton,  Henry  Laurens, 
Charles  Thomson,  S.  Huntingdon, 
J.  Dickenson,  Gen.  Arnold.  Drawn 
from  the  life  by  Du  Simitiere, 
painter  and  member  of  the  Philosophical  So- 
ciety in  Philadelphia,  and  engraved  by  Mr.  B. 
Reading,"  was  published  in  London  in  1783. 
The  engravings  are  good,  and  that  of  Washing- 
ton (a  profile)  is  quite  different  from  any  others 
in  circulation. 

In  1793,  the  price  of  shares  was  changed  to 
their  present  value,  $40. 

In  1799,  a  valuable  collection  of  manuscripts 
relating  to  the  history  of  Ireland,  and  including 
the  original  Correspondence  of  James  I.  with  the 
Privy  Council  of  that  country,  from  1603  to  1615 
inclusive,  was  presented  by  William  Cox,  and  in 
1804  the  institution  was  still  further  enriched  by 
the  bequest  of  one  thousand  pounds  from  John 
Bleakly,  and  of  a  very  valuable  collection  of  rare 
and  curious  books,  including  many  richly  illus- 
trated volumes,  from  the  Rev.  Samuel  Preston,  a 
friend  of  Benjamin  West,  to  whose  suggestion 
the  library  is  indebted  for  the  gift. 

Another  bequest  was  received  in  1828,  by  the 
will  of  William  Mackenzie,  of  five  hundred  rare 
and  valuable  volume;.* 

The  library  now  numbers  65,000  volumes.  It 
has,  until  recently,  been  for  several  years  under 
the  care  of  John  Jay  Smith,  as  librarian,  a  gen- 
tleman to  whom  the  public  are  indebted  for  the 
publication  of  a  large  and  valuable  collection  of 
fac-similes  of  manuscript  documents  and  speci- 
mens of  early  and  revolutionary  newspaper  and 
oilier  curiosities.!    On  Mr.  Smith's  resignation,  in 


*  Notes  for  a  History  of  the  Library  Company  of  Philadel- 
phia, by  J.  Jay  Smith. 

t  Mr.  Smith  was  for  many  years  the  editor  of  Waldie's  Circu- 
lating: Library.    He  is  the  author  of 

A  Summer's  Jaunt  across  tlie  Water.  By  J.  Jay  Smith, 
Philadelphia,  2  vols.  12mo.  1S46. 

Michaux's  Sylva  of  North  American  Trees.  Edited,  with 
notes,  by  J.  Jay  Smith.    8  vols.  8vo.     Philadelphia,  1851. 


1851,  he  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Lloyd  P.  Smith, 
Esq.,  under  whose  care  an  additional  volume  to 
the  catalogue,  published  in  two  volumes  8vo.,  in 
1835,  has  been  prepared,  which  will  render  still 
more  accessible  to  the  public,  the  rare  pamphlets 
and  fugitive  literature  relating  to  the  history  of 
the  country,  scattered  through  the  collection. 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

The  name  of  "Washington  may  be  introduced  in  a 
collection  of  American  literature,  rather  to  grace 
it  than  do  honor  to  him.  In  any  strict  sense  of 
the  word,  Washington  was  not  a  literary  man ; 
he  never  exercised  his-mindin  composition  on  any 
of  those  topics  abstracted  from  common  life,  or  its 
affairs,  which  demanded  either  art  or  invention. 
He  prepared  no  book  of  elaborate  industry. — 
Yet  he  was  always  scrupulously  attentive  to  the 
claims  of  literature  ;  elegant  and  punctilious  in  the 
acknowledgment  of  compliments  from  authors 
and  learned  institutions  ;  and  had  formed  a  style 


which  is  so  peculiar  that  it  may  be  recognised  by 
its  own  ear-mark.  He  was  for  nearly  the  whole 
of  his  life  actively  employed,  a  considerable  part 
of  the  time  in  the  field,  where  the  pen  was  oftener 
in  his  hand  than  the  sword.  Though  he  produc- 
ed no  compositions  which  may  be  dignified  with 
the  title  of  "  works,"  the  collection  of  his  "  writ- 
ings," in  the  selection  of  Mr.  Sparks,  fills  twelve 
large  octavo  volumes.  As  embraced  in  the  folio 
series  of  Mr.  Force,  the  number  will  be  greatly 
increased.  In  the  chronicle  of  American  litera- 
ture, if  it  were  only  for  their  historical  material, 
some  mention  of  these  papers  would  be  necessary. 
In  1754,  Washington  appeared  as  an  author  in 
the  publication  at  Williamsburg,  Virginia,  and  in 
London,  of  hfs  Journal  of  his  proceeding  "  to  and 
from  the  French  of  the  Ohio,"  a  brief  tract,  which 
he  hastily  wrote  from  the  rough  minutes  taken  on 
his  expedition. 

The  Letters  of  Washington  early  attracted  at- 
tention, and  several  publications  of  them  were 
made  in  1777,  in  1795  and" '6,  in  the  perusal  of 
which  the  reader  should  be  on  his  guard  to  note 
the  authenticity,  a  number  of  these  compositions 
being  spurious.  Washington's  respect  for  his 
character  led  him  to  prepare  a  careful  list  of  the 
fabrications,  which  he  transmitted  in  a  letter  to 
Timothy  Pickering,  then  Secretary  of  State*  The 
publication  by  Mr.  Sparks  of  Washington's  writ- 
ings, a  selection  from  the  correspondence,  ad- 
dresses,  messages,  and  other  papers,  was  corn- 


American  Historical  and  Literary  Curiosities.  By  J.  F. 
Watson  and  J.  Jav  Smith.  2  vols.  4to.  Philadelphia,  1S4T, 
and  New  York,  1861. 

Celebrated  Trials  of  all  Countries.  1  vol.  Svo.  Philadelphia, 
1S85. 

Letters  of  Dr.  Richard  Hill  and  his  descendants.  Edited  by 
J.  Jav  Smith.    Privately  printed.    Svo.    Philadelphia,  1S54. 

*  To  Timothy  Pickering,  Philadelphia,  March  3,  17D7.— 
Sparks's  Washington,  xi.  192. 


180 


CYCLOPEDIA  CF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


pleted  by  him  in  1837;  and  is  the  most  accessible 
work  in  which  the  mind  of  "Washington  can  be 
properly  studied,  as  he  himself  placed  its  decisions 
upon  record. 

As  a  question  not  long  since  arose  with  respect 
to  Mr.  Sparks's  editorship,  which  enlisted  several 
distinguished  combatants,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to 
present  a  brief  account  of  it. 

The  chief  publications  on  the  matter  consist  of, 
first,  a  paper  by  "  Friar  Lubin,"  in  the  Evening 
Post,  Feb.  12,  1851,  then  the  notice  in  the  ap- 
pendix of  Lord  Mahon's  sixth  volume  of  his  His- 
tory of  England,*  which  drew  forth  from  Mr. 
Sparks,  A  Reply  to  the  Strictures  of  Lord  Mahon 
and  others,  on  the  mode  of  Editing  the  Writing!,  of 
Washington,  1852  ;  next  a  letter  of  Lord  Mahon 
in  1852,  addressed  to  Mr.  Sparks,  being  A  Re- 
joinder to  his  Reply  to  the  Strictures,  &c,  to 
which  Mr.  Sparks  replied  in  his  Letter  to  Lord 
Mahon,  being  an  Ansioer  to  his  Letter  addressed 
to  the  Editor  of  Washington's  Writings,  dated 
Camb.  Oct.  25,  1852.  Here  the  matter  rested, 
till  Mr.  William  B.  Reed  published  a  Reprint  of 
the  Original  Letters  from  Washington  to  Jo- 
seph Reed,  duriny  the  American  Recolution,  re- 
ferred to  in  the  Pamphlets  of  Lord  Mahon  and 
Mr.  Sparks.  Phil.  Nov.  16,  1852.  Tomeetthis 
Mr.  Sparks  published  a  third  pamphlet,  Re- 
marks on  a  "  Reprint,"  &c,  dated  April  20,  1853. 
The  controversy  may  thus  be  summed  up.  Mr. 
Sparks  was  charged,  on  the  evidences  of  discre- 
pancies seen  in  a  comparison  of  his  reprint  of 
Washington's  Letters  to  Joseph  Peed,  with  the 
Letters  as  published  in  the  Reed  Memoirs  by  W. 
B.  Peed,  with  omissions  and  alterations  affect- 
ing the  integrity  of  the  correspondence.  The 
alterations  were  charged  to  be  for  the  purpose  of 
putting  a  better  appearance  on  the  war,  and 
amending  the  style  of  the  writer.  To  the 
omissions,  Mr.  Sparks  replied  that  he  never  in- 
tended to  publish  the  whole,  as  he  had  declared 
in  his  preface  ;  and  to  this  it  was  answered  that 
if  so,  the  omissions  should  have  been  noted  where 
they  occur  by  asterisks  and  foot-notes.  Mr. 
Sparks  justified  himself  from  the  imputation  of  a 
prejudiced  or  local  purpose  in  the  omissions. 
Several  of  the  alleged  alterations  turned  out  to  be 
defects,  not  in  Mr.  Sparks's  edition,  but  in  Mr. 
Reed's  ;  and  others  arose  from  discrepancies  be- 
tween the  letters  •  sent  by  Washington,  and  his 
copy  of  them  in  the  letter  books.  A  few  cases 
of  alteration  of  Washington's  phraseology  Mr. 
Sparks  acknowledged,  but  stated  his  sense  of  their 
slight  importance,  and  his  good  intentions  in  the 
matter.  It  may  be  said  that  all  parties  were 
taught  something  by  the  discussion;  for  errors 
of  party  judgment  and  of  fact  were  corrected  on 
all  sides. 

There  have  been  several  distinct  publications 
of  parts  of  Washington's  Writings,  which  afford 
matter  of  literary  interest.  Of  these,  the  most 
important  is  in  reference  to  the  Farewell  Address 
to  the  People  of  the  United  States  of  America. 

The  history  of  this  composition  would  seem  to 
refer  its  authorship  in  various  proportions  .to 
Madison,    Hamilton,    and   Washington    himself. 


*  History  of  England  from  the  Peace  of  Utrecht.    Vol.  vi. 
.Appendix.    1851. 


The  first  was  charged  by  the  President  in  1702, 
on  the  approaching  conclusion  of  his  term  of  of- 
fice, to  assist  him  in  the  preparation  of  a  farewell 
paper,  for  which  he  furnished  the  chief  points. 
Madison  put  them  briefly  into  shape ;  but  Wash- 
ington accepting  a  second  term  of  office,  the  ad- 
dress was  not  called  for  at  that  time.  On  his  sub- 
sequent retirement,  his  intimacy  with  Madison,  in 
the  course  of  political  affairs,  had  somewhat  abat- 
ed, and  Hamilton  was  consulted  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  required  paper.  Washington  wrote 
his  views,  and  committed  them  to  Hamilton,  who, 
instead  of  making  amendments  on  the  copy,  wrote 
out  a  new  paper,  including  Washington's  original 
draft,  which  lie  sent  to  the  President,  who  then 
appears  to  have  re-written  it  and  submitted  it  again 
for  revision  to  Hamilton  and  Jay.  The  copy  en- 
tirely in  Washington's  own  handwriting,  marked 
with  corrections  and  erasures,  which  was  sent  to 
the  printer,  Claypoole,  and  from  which  the  ad- 
dress was  first  published,  is  now  in  the  possession 
of  Mr.  James  Lenox  of  New  York,  by  whom  it 
has  been  printed  with  a  careful  marking  of  all  the 
erasures.*  It  is  considered  by  Mr.  Lenox  that 
this  is  Washington's  second  draft  of  the  paper, 
altered  by  him  after  he  had  received  the  Llaniil- 
ton  and  Jay  revision. 

It  is  impossible  to  determine  accurately  the 
respective  shares  of  Hamilton  and  Washington  in 
the  language.  The  idea  of  the  whole  was  pro- 
jected by  Washington,  and  so  far  as  can  be  learnt, 
the  parts  were  mostly  contrived  and  put  into 
shape  by  him.  The  deliberation  and  intelligent 
counsel  bestowed  upon  the  work,  proved  by  the 
Madison,  Hamilton,  and  Jay  letters  on  the  subject, 
so  far  from  detracting  from  Washington's  own 
labors,  add  further  value  to  them.  He  had  a  pub- 
lic duty  to  perform,  and  he  took  pains  to  discharge 
it  in  the  most  effective  manner.  The  pride  of 
literary  authorship  sinks  before  such  considera- 
tions. Yet  the  temper  of  this  paper  is  eminently 
Washingtonian.  It  is  unlike  any  composition  of 
Madison  or  Hamilton,  in  a  certain  considerate 
moral  tone  which  distinguished  all  Washington's 
writings.  It  is  stamped  by  the  position,  the 
character,  and  the  very  turns  of  phrase  of  the 
great  man  who  gave  it  to  his  country. 

A  publication  representing  a  large  part  of 
Washington's  cares  and  pleasures,  was  published  in 
London  in  1800,  and  "dedicated  to  the  American 
People,"  the  Letters  from  his  Excellency  George 
Washington,  President  of  the  United  States  of 
America,  to  Sir  John  Sinclair,  Bart.,  M.P.,  on 
Agricultural  and  other  Interesting  Tojrics.  En- 
graced  from  the  original  letters,  so  as  to  be  an 
exact  facsimile  of  the  hand-writing  of  that  cele- 
brated character.^ 

A  folio  volume  of  "Monuments  of  Washing- 
ton's Patriotism,"  was  published  in  1811,  in  a 
third  edition,  containing  among  other  things  a  fac- 
simile of  Washington's  Account  of  his  expenses 
during  the  Revolutionary  War  in  his  own  hand- 
writing— the  only  payment  he  would  consent  to 


*  Claypoole  preserved  the  manuscript  with  care,  and  it  passed 
into  the  hands  of  his  administrators,  by  whom  it  was  sold  at 
auction  in  Philadelphia,  in  1S50.  Mr.  Lenox  becoming  the  pur- 
chaser for  the  sum  of  $2300.  llr.Lenox's  reprint  was  limited  to 
229  copies  in  folio  and  quarto,  for  private  circulation. 

+  These  letters  have  been  reprinted  in  ftc-simile  by  Franklin 
Knight,  Washington,  1S44. 


JOHN  DICKINSON. 


181 


receive  from  the  country.     There  are  sixty -six 
pages  of  the  accounts.* 

The  handwriting  of  Washington,  large,  liberal, 
and  flowing,  might  be  accepted  as  proof  of  the 
honesty  of  the  tigures.t  Indeed  this  same  hand- 
writing is  a  capital  index  of  the  style  of  all  the 
letters,  and  may  help  us  to  what  we  would  say  of 
its  characteristics.  It  is  open,  manly,  and  uni- 
form, with  nothing  minced,  affected,  or  con- 
tracted. It  has  neither  the  precise  nor  the  slovenly 
style  which  scholars  variously  fall  into  ;  but  a  cer- 
tain grandeur  of  the  countenance  of  the  man 
seems  to  look  through  it.  Second  to  its  main 
quality  of  truthfulness,  saying  no  more  than  the 
writer  was  ready  to  abide  by,  is  its  amenity  and 
considerate  courtesy.  Washington  had,  at  dif- 
ferent times,  many  unpleasant  truths  to  tell ;  but 
he  could  always  convey  them  in  the  language  of 
a  gentleman.  He  wrote  like  a  man  of  large  and 
clear  views.  His  position,  which  was  on  an  emi- 
nence, obliterated  minor  niceties  and  shades  which 
might  have  given  a  charm  to  his  writings  in  other 
walks  of  life.  This  should  always  be  remembered, 
that  Washington  lived  in  the  eye  of  the  public, 
and  thought,  spoke,  and  wrote  under  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  empire.  Let.  his  writings  be  com- 
pared with  those  of  other  rulers  and  commanders, 
he  will  be  found  to  hold  his  rank  nobly,  as  well 
intellectually  as  politically.  There  will  be  found, 
too,  a  variety  in  his  treatment  of  different  topics 
and  occasions.  He  can  compliment  a  friend  in 
playful  happy  terms  on  his  marriage,  as  well  as 
thunder  his  demands  for  a  proper  attention  to  the 
interests  of  the  country  at  the  doors  of  Congress. 
Never  vulgar,  he  frequently  uses  colloquial  phra- 
ses with  effect,  and,  unsuspected  of  being  a  poet, 
is  fond  of  figurative  expressions.  In  fine,  a  critical 
examination  of  the  writings  of  Washington  will 
■  show  that  the  man  here,  as  in  other  lights,  will 
suffer  nothing  by  a  minute  inspection. 

JOHN  DICKINSON, 

The  author  of  The  Farmer's  Letters,  the  spirited 
and  accurate  vindication  of  the  rights  of  the  Colo- 
nies against  the  pretensions  of  the  British  Parlia- 
ment, and  the  writer  of  several  of  the  most 
important  appeals  of  the  Old  Continental  Con- 
gress, was  a  native  of  Maryland,  where  he  was 
born  in  1732.  His  parents  shortly  removed  to 
Delaware. ,  He  studied  law  at  Philadelphia  and 
prosecuted  his  studies  at  the  temple  in  London. 
On  his  return  to  Philadelphia  he  practised  at  the 
bar.  In  176±  he  was  one  of  the  members  for  the 
county  in  the  House  of  Assembly  of  the  Province, 
when  he  defended  in  a  speech  the  privileges  of 
the  state  against  the  meditated  innovations  of  the 
Government.  It  is  characterized  by  the  force  of 
argument,  weight  and  moderation  of  expression 
by  which  his  style  was  always  afterwards  recog- 
nised. His  Address  to  the  Committee  of  Corre- 
spondence in  Barbadoes  who  had  censured  the 
opposition  of  the  northern  colonies  to  the  Stamp 
Act,  published  at  Philadelphia,  in  1766,  is  an  elo- 
quent and  dignified  defence  of  the  proceedings  of 


*  It  was  published  at  Washington,  "  by  the  Trustees  of  Wash- 
ington's Manual  Labour  School  and  Male  Orphan  Asylum,  for 
the  benefit  of  that  institution." 

+  It  is  endorsed,  by  the  same  hand,  "Accounts,  G.Washington 
with  the  United  States,  commencing  June,  1775,  and  ending 
June,  1783.     Comprehending  a  space  of  eight  years." 


the  colonies.  In  this  he  borrows  an  illustration 
since  grown  familiar  in  Congressional  speaking. 
"  Let  any  person,"  says  he,  "  consider  the  speeches 
lately  made  in  parliament,  and  the   resolutions 


said  to  be  made  there,  notwithstanding  the  con- 
vulsions occasioned  through  the  British  Empire, 
by  the  opposition  of  their  colonies  to  the  stamp 
act,  and  he  may  easily  judge  what  would  have 
been  their  situation,  in  case  they  had  bent  down 
and  humbly  taken  up  the  burden  prepared  for 
them.  When  the  Exclusion  bill  was  depending 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  Col.  Titus  made  this 
short  speech — '  Mr.  Speaker,  I  hear  a  lion  roaring 
in  the  lobby.  Shall  we  secure  the  door,  and  keep 
him  there  :  or  shall  we  let  him  in,  to  try  if  we 
can  turn  him  out  again  V  "  * 

The  Farmers  Letters  to  the  Inhabitants  of  the 
British  Colonies  were  printed  at  Philadelphia  in 
1767.  Dr.  Franklin  caused  them  to  be  reprinted 
in  London  the  next  year,  with  a  Preface,  which 
he  wrote,  inviting  the  attention  of  Great  Britain 
to  the  dispassionate  consideration  of  American 
"  prejudices  and  errors,"  if  these  were  such,  and 
hoping  the  publication  of  the  Letters  would 
"  draw  forth  a  satisfactory  answer,  if  they  can  be 
answered."  In  1769,  the  book  was  published  at 
Paris  in  French.     It  consists  of  twelve  letters, 


*  Pictorial  Hist,  of  England.  Bk.  viii.  ch.  1,  p.  733.  Notes 
and  Queries,  vii.  SIS.  The  last  application  of  this  convenient 
parliamentary  proverb,  was  in  the  Nebraska  question  in  tho 
debate  of  1864  The  versification  of  the  story  by  the  Ecv.  Mr. 
Bramston,  in  his  adaptation  of  Horace's  Art  of  Poetry,  supplies 
the  usual  form  of  quotation. 

With  art  and  modesty  vour  part  maintain; 

And  talk  like  Col'nel  Titus,  not  like  Lane. 

The  trading  knight  with  rants  his  speech  begins, 

Sun,  moon,"  and  stars,  and  dragons,  saints,  and  kings: 

But  Titus  said,  with  his  uncommon  sense, 

When  the  Exclusion  bill  was  in  suspense, 

I  hear  a  lion  in  the  lobby  roar ; 

Say,  Mr.  Speaker,  shall  we  shut  the  door 

And  keep  him  there,  or  shall  we  let  him  in 

To  try  if  we  can  turn  him  out  again  ? 

Dodsloy's  Collection  of  Poerm,  i.  2C5. 


182 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


written  in  the  character  of  "  a  farmer,  settled, 
after  a  variety  of  fortunes,  near  the  banks  of  the 
river  Delaware,  in  the  province  of  Pennsylvania," 
"who  claims  for  himself  a  liberal  education  and 
experience  of  "  the  busy  scenes  of  life,"  but  who 
has  become  convinced  "  that  a  man  may  be  as 
happy  without  bustle  as  with  it."  He  spends  his 
time  mostly  in  his  library,  and  has  the  friendship 
of  "  two  or  three  gentlemen  of  abilities  and 
learning,"  and  having  been  "  taught  by  his 
honored  parents  to  love  humanity  and  liberty," 
proposes  to  try  the  political  abuses  of  the  times 
by  these  sacred  tests.  There  is  very  little  of  the 
farmer  about  the  work,  unless  the  cool  tempered 
style  and  honest  patriotic  purpose  is  a  charac- 
teristic of  the  fields.  The  skill  and  force  of  the 
argument  betray  the  trained  constitutional  lawyer. 
The  immediate  topics  handled  are  the  act  for 
suspending  the  legislation  of  New  York,  the  act 
for  granting  the  duties  on  paper,  &c,  the  pro- 
priety of  peaceful  but  effective  resistance  to  the 
oppression  of  Parliament,  the  established  preroga- 
tive of  the  colonies  invaded  by  Grenville,  the 
grievance  of  an  additional  tax  for  the  support  of 
the  conquests  in  America  from  the  French,  the 
necessity  in  free  states  of  "  perpetual  jealousy 
respecting  liberty"  and  guardianship  of  the  con- 
stitutional rights  of  the  British  subject  and  colo- 
nist. There  is  little  ornament  or  decoration  in 
these  writings ;  the  style  is  simple,  and,  above  all, 
sincere.  You  feel,  as  you  read,  that  you  are  pay- 
ing attention  to  the  language  of  an  honest  gentle- 
man. England  should  have  taken  Franklin's 
warning  of  the  circulation  of  these  letters,  and 
should  not  have  neglected  the  force  of  their 
mingled  courtesy  and  opposition.  "With  the 
firmest  they  breathe  the  fondest  mind.*  The 
attachment  to  England  is  constantly  expressed, 
and  was  the  feeling  of  the  high-minded  race  of 
American  gentlemen  who  became  the  "Whigs  of 
the  Revolution.  "  We  have,"  he  writes,  "  a 
generous,  sensible,  and  humane  nation,  to  whom 
we  may  apply.  Let  us  behave  like  dutiful  chil- 
dren, who  have  received  unmerited  blows  from  a 
beloved  parent.  Let  us  complain  to  our  parent ; 
but  let  our  complaints  speak  at  the  same  time  the 
language  of  affliction  and  veneration." 

Thus  early  in  the  field  in  defence  of  American 
constitutional  liberty  was  John"  Dickinson.  In 
1774,  he  published  his  Essay  on  the  Constitu- 
tional Power  of  Great  Britain  oxer  the  Colonies 
in  America,  prepared  as  a  portion  of  the  Instruc- 
tions of  the  Committee  for  the  Province  of 
Pennsylvania  to  their  Representatives  in  Assem- 
bly. Elected  to  the  Congre=s  of  1774,  he  wrote  the 
Address  to  the  Ink  bitants  of  Quebec,  the  First  Pe- 
tition to  the  King,  the  Perforation  to  the  Amies,  the 
Second PeHtiou  to  the  King,  and  the  Address  to  the 
Several  States.  These  are  papers  of  strong  and  in- 
nate eloquence.  The  Declaration  of  Congress  of 
July  6, 1775,  read  to  the  soldiery,  contains  the  me- 
morable sentences,  adopted  from  the  draft  by  Tho- 
mas Jefferson,  ''Our  cause  is  just.  Our  Union  is  per- 
fect. Ourinternal  resources  are  great,  and,  if  neces- 
sary, foreign  assistance  is  undoubtedly  attainable. 
"We  gratefully  acknowledge,  as  signal  instances  of 
the  Divine  favor  towards  us,  that  his  providence 

*  The  poet  Crabbe's  noble  peasant,  Isaac  Ashford,  "who, 
With  the  firmest  bad  the  fondest  mind. 


would  not  permit  us  to  be  called  into  this  severe 
controversy,  until  we  were  grown  up  to  our  pre- 
sent strength,  had  been  previously  exercised  in 
warlike  operations,  and  possessed  the  means  of 
defending  ourselves.  "With  hearts  fortified  by 
these  animating  reflections,  we  most  solemnly, 
before  God  and  the  world,  declare,  that  exerting 
the  utmost  energy  of  those  powers,  which  our 
beneficent  Creator  hath  graciously  bestowed  upon 
us,  the  arms  we  have  been  compelled  by  our 
enemies  to  assume,  we  will,  in  defiance  of  every 
hazard,  with  unabating  firmness  and  perseverance, 
employ  for  the  preservation  of  our  liberties  ; 
being  with  one  mind  resolved  to  die  freemen 
rather  than  to  live  slaves."  Its  concluding  ap- 
peal was: — "In  our  own  native  land,  and  in 
defence  of  the  freedom  that  is  our  birthright,  and 
which  we  ever  enjoyed  till  the  late  violation  of 
it — for  the  protection  of  our  property,  acquired 
solely  by  the  honest  industry  of  our  forefathers 
and  ourselves,  against  violence  actually  offered, 
we  have  taken  up  arms.  "We  shall  lay  them 
down  when  hostilities  shall  cease  on  the  part  of 
the  aggressors,  and  all  danger  of  their  being 
renewed  shall  be  removed,  and  not  before.  With 
an  humble  confidence  in  the  mercies  of  the 
supreme  and  impartial  Judge  and  Ruler  of  the 
universe,  we  most  devoutly  implore  his  divine 
goodness  to  protect  us  happily  through  this  great 
conflict,  to  dispose  our  adversaries  to  reconcilia- 
tion on  reasonable  terms,  and  thereby  to  relieve 
the  empire  from  the  calamities  of  civil  war." 
When  these  sentences  were  read  in  camp  to 
General  Putnam's  division,  the  soldiers  "  shouted 
in  three  huzzas,  a  loud  Amen!'"*  They  express 
Dickinson's  feeling  on  the  commencement  of  hos- 
tilities, and  the  principles  which  governed  him 
when  of  all  the  members  of  the  Congress  of  1776 
he  only  did  not  sign  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence. He  was  ready  /or  war  as  a  means  of 
redress,  but  he  would  not,  at  that  time,  shut  the 
door  against  reconciliation.  His  course  was  ap- 
preciated by  his  noble  compatriots  in  Congress, 
who  knew  the  man  and  his  services ;  with  the 
people  it  cost  him  two  years  of  retirement  from 
the  public  service.  Though  claiming  the  privi- 
lege of  thinking  for  himself,  he  was  not  one  of 
those  impracticable  statesmen  who  refuse  to  act 
with  a  constitutional  majority.  He  proved  his 
devotion  to  the  cause  of  liberty  by  immediately 
taking  arms  in  an  advance  to  Elizabethtown. 
Retiring  to  Delaware,  he  was  employed  in- 1777 
in  the  military  defence  of  that  State,  whose 
Assembly  returned  him  to  Congress  in  1709,  when 
he  wrote  the  Address  to  the  States  of  the  26th 
May.  He  succeeded  Cfesar  Rodney  as  President 
of  Delaware  in  1781.  The  next  year  he  filled  the 
same  office  in  Pennsylvania,  which  he  held  till 
Franklin  succeeded  him  in  1785.  His  Letters  of 
Fabius  on  the  Federal  Constitution,  in  178S. 
were  an  appeal  to  the  people  in  support  of  the 
provisions  of  that  proposed  instrument,  marked 
by  his  habitual  energy  and  precision.  In  the 
reprint  of  this  work  he  compares  passages  of  it 
with  the  views  and  expressions  of  Paine's  Fights 
of  Han.  as  published  three  years  after  his  origi- 
nal. Another  series  of  letters,  with  the  same 
signature,  in  1797,  On  the  Present  Situation  oj 

*  Humphrey's  Life  of  Putiiain. 


PELEG  FOLGER. 


183 


PuUio  Afftirs,  present  a  review  of  the  relations 
of  the  country  with  France,  in  which  there  is  a 
spirit  of  calm  historical  investigation,  with  much 
statesmanlike  philosophical  discussion,  as  in  his 
remarks  on  the  connexion  of  self-love  and  virtue, 
applied  to  the  imputed,  interested  motives  of 
the  French  government  in  its  American  alliances. 
At  this  time  lie  was  living  at  Wilmington,  in 
Delaware,  where  he  superintended  the  collection 
of  his  political  writings  in  1801.*  He  passed  his 
remaining  years  in  retirement,  in  the  enjoyment 
of  his  literary  acquisitions,  and  the  society  of  his 
friends,  who  were  attracted  by  his  conversation 
and  manners,  dying  Feb.  14,  180S,  at  the  age  of 
seventy-six. 

He  had  married  in  1770  Mary  Norris,  of  Fair 
Hill,  Philadelphia  county.  John  Adams,  in  1774, 
dined  with  him  at  this  seat,  and  notices  "  the 
beautiful  prospect  of  the  city,  the  river,  and  the 
country,  fine  gardens,  and  a  very  grand  library. 
The  most  of  his  books  were  collected  by  Mr. 
Norris,  once  speaker  of  the  House  here,  father  of 
Mrs.  Dickinson.  Mr.  Dickinson  (lie  adds)  is  a 
very  modest  man,  and  very  ingenious  as  well  as 
agreeable."  Again  he  describes  him  in  committee 
duty  of  Congress  "  very  modest,  delicate,  and 
timid,"  though  he  forfeited  the  character  with 
Adams  by  what  the  latter  thought  an  attempt  to 
bully  him  out  of  his  ardent  pursuit  of  indepen- 
dence. Personally,  Adams  describes  him  at  that 
time  as  subject  to  hectic  complaints.  "  lie  is  a 
shadow  ;  tall,  but  slender  as  a  reed ;  pale  as  ashes; 
one  would  think  at  first  sight  that  he  could  not 
live  a  mouth;  yet,  upon  a  more  attentive  inspec- 
tion, he  looks  as  if  the  springs  of  life  were  strong 
enough  to  last  many  years."t 

PELEG  FOLGER. 
Peleg  Folgf.r,  a  Quaker,  was  born  at  Nantucket 
in  the  year  1734.  His  boyhood  was  passed  on  a 
farm,  where  he  remained  until  twenty-one,  when 
he  changed  from  land  to  sea,  and  for  several  years 
was  engaged  in  the  cod  and  whale  fisheries.  He 
kept  a  journal  of  his  voyages,  which  is  written  in 
a  much  more  scholarly  manner  than  could  be  ex- 
pected from  his  limited  education.  He  introduced 
into  it  a  number  of  poetical  compositions,  one  of 
which  is  quoted  in  Macy's  History  of  Nantucket. 

DOMINU.M  COLLAtJDAMUS. 

Praise  ye  the  Lord,  0  celebrate  his  fame, 
Praise  the  eternal  God,  that  dwells  above ; 

His  power  will  forever  be  the  same, 
The  same  for  ever  his  eternal  love. 

Long  as  that,  glitt'ring  lamp  of  heaven,  the  sun, 
Long  as  the  moon  or  twinkling  stars  appear, 

Long  as  they  all  their  annual  courses  run, 
And  make  the  circle  of  the  sliding  year  ; 

So  long  our  gracious  God  will  have  the  care 
To  save  his  tender  children  from  all  harms; 

Wherever  danger  is,  he  will  be  near, 
And,  underneath,  his  everlasting  arms. 


*  The  Political  Writing  of  John  Dickinson.  Esq..  late  Presi- 
dent of  the  State  of  Delaware,  and  of  tli3  Commonwealth  of 
Pennsylvania.  2  vols.  8vo.  Wilmington  :  Bonsai  and  Niles, 
IS01. 


t  Adams's  Diary.    Works,  ii.  800,  879,  401. 


0  Lord,  I  pray,  my  feeble  muse  inspire, 
That,  while  I  touch  upon  a  tender  string, 

1  may  be  filled,  as  with  celestial  fire, 
And  of  thy  great,  deliverances  sing. 

My  soul  is  lost,  as  in  a  wond'rous  maze, 
When  I  contemplate  thine  omnipotence, 

That  did  the  hills  create,  and  mountains  raise, 
And  spread  the  stars  over  the  wide  expanse. 

Almighty  God,  thou  didst  create  the  light, 
That  swiftly  through  th'  etherial  regions  flies ; 

The  sun  to  rule  the  day,  the  moon  the  night, 
With  stars  adorning  all  the  spangled  skies. 

Thou  mad'st  the  world  and  all  that  is  therein, 
Men,  beasts,  and  birds,  and  fishes  of  the  sea: 

Men  still  against  thy  holy  law  do  sin, 
Whilst  all  the  rest  thy  holy  voice  obey. 

Monsters  that  in  the  briny  ocean  dwell, 

And  winged  troops  that  every  way  disperse, 

They  nil  thy  wonders  speak,  thy  praises  tell, 
O  thou  great  ruler  of  the  universe. 

Ye  sailors,  speak,  that,  plough  the  wat'ry  main, 
Where  raging  seas  and  foaming  billows  roar, 

Praise  ye  the  Lord,  and  in  a  lofty  strain, 
Sing  of  his  wonder-working  love  and  power. 

Thou  did'st,  O  Lord,  create  the  mighty  whale, 
That  wondrous  monsterof  a  mighty  length; 

Vast  is  his  head  and  body,  vast  his  tail, 

Beyond  conception  his  unmeasured  strength. 

When  he  the  surface  of  the  sea  hath  broke, 
Arising  from  the  dark  abyss  below, 

His  breath  appears  a  lofty  stream  of  smoke, 
The  circling  waves  like  glitt'ring  banks  of  snow. 

But,  everlasting  God,  thou  dost  ordain, 
That  we  poor  feeble  mortals  should  engage 

(Ourselves,  our  wives  and  children  to  maintain,) 
This  dreadful  monster  with  a  martial  rage. 

And,  though  he  furiously  doth  us  assail, 

Thou  dost  preserve  us  from  all  dangers  free; 
He  cuts  our  boat  in  pieces  with  his  tail, 

And  spills  us  all  at  once  into  the  sea. 
*         w         *         *         * 
I  twice  into  the  dark  abyss  was  cast, 

Straining  and  struggling  to  retain  my  breath, 
Thy  waves  and  billows  over  me  were  past. 

Thou  didst,  O  Lord,  deliver  me  from  death. 

Expecting  every  moment  still  to  die, 

Methought  I  never  more  should  see  the  light: 
Well  nigh  the  gates  of  vast  eternity 

Environed  nte  with  everlasting  night. 
Great  was  my  anguish,  earnest  were  my  cries, 

Above  the  power  of  human  tongue  to  tell, 
Thou  hear'dst,  OLord,  my  groans  and  bitter  sighs, 

Whilst  I  was  lab'ring  in  the  womb  of  hell. 

Thou  saved'st  me  from  the  dangers  of  the  sea, 
That  I  might  bless  thy  name  for  ever  more. 

Thy  love  and  power  the  same  will  ever  be, 
Thy  mercy  is  an  inexhausted  store. 

Oh,  may  I  in  thy  boundless  power  confide, 

And  in  thy  glorious  love  for  ever  trust, 
Whilst  I  in  thy  inferior  world  reside. 

Till  earth  return  to  earth  and  dust  to  dust. 
And  when  I  am  unbound  from  earthly  clay, 

Oh,  may  my  soul  then  take  her  joyful  flight 
Into  the  realms  of  everlasting  day, 

To  dwell  in  endless  pleasure  and  delight, 

At  God's  right  hand,  in  undiminished  joy, 
In  the  blest  tabernacles  made  above, 

Glory  and  peace  without  the  least  alloy, 
Uninterrupted,  never  dying  love. 


184 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


There  angels  and  archangels  still  remain, 
The  saints  in  their  superior  regions  dwell, 

They  praise  their  God,  and  in  a  heavenly  strain, 
The  wond'rous  works  of  great  Jehovah  telL 

And  when  I  shall  this  earthly  ball  forsake, 
And  leave  behind  me  frail  mortality, 

Then  may  my  soul  her  nimble  journey  take 
Into  the  regions  of  eternity. 

Then  may  my  blessed  soul  ascend  above, 
To  dwell  with  that  angelic,  heavenly  choir, 

And  in  eternal  songs  of  praise  and  love, 
Bless  thee,  my  God,  my  King,  for  evermore. 

Folger  was  a  man  of  pure  and  exemplary  life, 
and  on  his  retirement  from  the  sea,  much  sought 
after  for  counsel  by  his  neighbors,  lie  died  in 
1789. 

JOHN  ADAMS. 
TnE  Adams  family  had  been  thoroughly  Ameri- 
canized by  a  residence  of  three  generations  in 
Massachusetts,  when  one  of  the  most  ardent 
heralds  and  active  patriots  of  the  Revolution, 
John  Adams,  was  born  at  Braintree,  the  original 
settlement  of  his  great-great-grandfather,  the  19th 
October,  1735.  His  lather,  who  was  a  plain 
fanner  and  mechanic,  was  encouraged  by  his  apt- 
ness for  books  to  give  him  a  liberal  education, 
lie  was  instructed  by  Mr.  Marsh,  for  Cambridge, 
at  which  institution  he  took  his  degree  in  the 
year  1755.  At  this  period,  his  Diary,  published 
by  his  grandson,  Charles  Francis  Adams,  com- 
mences. It  is  a  curious  picture  of  an  active  and 
politic  struggle  with  the  world,  full  of  manly  and 
ingenuous  traits.  He  kept  this  diary  for  thirty 
years.  At  its  commencement*  he  is  at  Worcester, 
at  the  age  of  twenty,  fresh  from  his  college  educa- 
tion, thinking  of  preaching,  and,  in  the  mean  time, 
teaching  school  after  the  good  American  fashion, 
as  a  means  of  livelihood.  He  records  his  visits 
to  the  best  houses  of  the  place,  while  he  studies 
character  closely,  and  picks  up  knowledge  where 
it  is  always  most  forcibly  taught — in  the  oral, 
conversational  lessons  of  men  of  weight  and  expe- 
rience. He  questioned  points  of  the  Calvinistic 
creed,  discussed  freely  the  Puritan  theology : — in 
later  life  referred  his  Unitarian  views  to  this 
period, — and  the  result  was  an  abandonment  of 
his  proposed  ministerial  study  for  the  law.  His 
independent  chopping  of  logic  with;  the  country 
gentlemen  and  clergy  wa3  good  discipline  for  a 
revolutionist,  who  was  to  cope  in  the  court  room 
and  the  senate  with  British  political  authority .+ 


*  It  might  be  taken  as  an  omen  of  the  future  undaunted 
revolutionist,  that  the  first  entry  in  this  Diary,  of  the  date  of 
Nov.  18, 1755,  relates  to  an  earthquake  in  America:  "We  had 
a  very  severe  shock  of  an  earthquake.  It  continued  near  four 
minutes.  I  then  was  at  my  father's  in  Braintree,  and  awoke 
out  of  my  sleep  in  the  midst  of  it.  The  house  seemed  to  rock, 
and  reel,  and  crack,  as  if  it  would  fall  in  ruins  about  us. 
Chimnies  were  shattered  by  it,  within  one  mile  of  my  father's 
house.1'  This  was  a  vibration  of  the  great  shock  which 
destroyed  the  city  of  Lisbon.  Other  "shocks''  of  the  political 
and  social  world  were  to  be  entered  upou  Mr.  Adams's  Diary 
and  Correspondence. 

t  This  is  a  marked  trait  of  the  Diary,  and  is  commented 
upon  by  a  writer  .in  the  North  American  Review  (Oct.  1850), 
as  "  an  important  feature  in  the  intellectual  character  of  the 
times.  Burke,  in  his  admirable  sketch  of  the  love  of  freedom 
In  the  American  Colonies,  alludes  to  their  religious  character, 
and  especially  to  the  prevalence  in  the  northern  colonies  of 
dissent  from  the  Established  Church  of  the  mother  country. 
The  religious  discussion  and  controversy  between  diiferent 
parties  among  the  dissidents  from  the  Church,  had  escaped  his 


His  legal  development  as  a  student  in  the  office  of 
Samuel  Putnam  follows :  stiff,  formal,  constrained 
reading  in  the  days  before  Blackstone,  with  many 
soul  and  body  conflicts,  between  flesh  and  spirit, 
all  set  down  in  the  Diary  : — memorials  of  idle- 
ness, pipe-smoking,  gallanting  ladies,  reading 
Ovid's  Art  of  Love  to  Dr.  Savil's  wife,  and  form- 
ing resolutions  against  all  of  them,  in  favor  of 
"Wood  and  Justinian,  Locke  and  Bolingbroke. 
His  self-knowledge  appears  to  have  been  accurate 
and  unflinching.  It  is  sometimes  displayed  with 
considerable  naivete.  We  may  smile  at  his  model- 
ling a  professional  manner  upon  that  of  his  pre- 
ceptor, where  he  says,  "  I  learned  with  design  to 
imitate  Putnam's  sneer,  his  sly  look,  and  his  look 
of  contempt.  This  look  may  serve  good  ends  in 
life,  may  procure  respect ;"  and  at  his  deliberate 
studies  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  deacons  by 
small  conversational  hypocrisies,  and  his  inten- 
tions as  a  thing  "  of  no  small  importance,  to  set 
the  tongues  of  old  and  young  men  and  women  a 
prating  in  one's  favor."  His  analysis  of  his  vanity 
is  frequent;  a  vanity  which  was  the  constant 
spur  to  action,  allied  to  constitutional  boldness 
and  courage,  balanced  by  ready  suspicion  of  his 
motives  and  bearing.  In  his  youth  Adams  was 
at  once  self-reliant  and  self-denying  :  a  combina- 
tion which  guaranteed  him  success  in  the  world. 
This  training  and  formation  of  the  man,  as  his 
own  pen  set  it  down  from  day  to  day,  is  a  cheer- 
ful, healthy  picture  of  conscientious  exertion. 

In  1765,  he  printed  in  the  Boston  Gazette  the 
papers  which  form  his  Dissertation  on  the  Canon 
and  Feudal  Law — a  spirited  protest  against  the 
ecclesiastical  and  political  systems  of  Europe, 
with  a  general  incitement  to  cultivate  earnestly 
civil  and  religious  liberty,  and  the  principles  of 
.American  freedom  independently  of  England. 

It  is  not  necessary  here  to  pursue  his  political 
career,  which  began  in  1770  with  his  election  to 
the  legislature,  after  he  had  secured  a  position  at 
the  bar.  In  1774,  he  travelled  to  Philadelphia  a 
member  of  the  first  Continental  Congress,  and 
has  left  us  some  spirited  notices  of  its  eminent 
characters.  He  found  time  to  write  in  the  same 
year  his  Nozanglvs ;  a  History  of  the  Dispute 
with  America,  from  its  Origin  in  1754  to  the 
Present  Time.  This  was  a  series  of  papers  in  the 
Boston  Gazette,  written  in  reply  to  the  articles 
of  "  Massachusettensis,"  the  productions  of 
Daniel  Leonard,  which  were  much  thought  of  on 
the  Eoyalist  side,  and  were  reprinted  by  Riving- 
ton.  Adams's  language  is  direct  and  energetic, 
and  meets  Tory  assumptions  with  at  least  equal 
vehemence.* 


penetration.  It  had  no  doubt  contributed  materially  to 
sharpen  the  public  mind  and  strengthen  tiie  existing  predispo- 
sition of  the  people  to  canvass  with  aeuteness,  aiike  for  tho 
purposes  of  defence  and  opposition,  important  propositions  on 
which  they  were  called  upon  to  make  up  their  minds.  Neither 
of  the  parties,  arrayed  against  each  other  mainly  under  tho 
influence  of  the  preaching  of  Whitefield.  allied  itself  with  tho 
government  in  the  political  struggle  ;  and  the  entiie  force  of 
the  excitement  of  intellect  and  controversial  skill,  produced 
\  by  these  controversies,  was,  between  the  years  1TG1  and  1775, 
■  turned  upou  the  discussion  of  the  light  of  Parliament  to  tax 
America.1' 

*  These  were  republished  at  Boston  in  1819.  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Adams,  as  a  reply  to  the  claims  of  Wirt  for  the  early 
Virginia  movement,  in  his  Life  of  Patrick  Henry, — with  the 
title,  "Novanglus  and  Massachusetteusis,  or  Political  Essays, 
published  in  the  years  1774  and  1775,  on  the  principal  points 
1    of  Controversy  between  Great  Britain  aud  her  Colonies.    The 


JOHN  ADAMS. 


185 


John  jJdawu 

In  the  Congress  of  the  next  year,  he  had  the 
honor  of  first  nominating  George  Washington  as 
Commander-in-Chief  of  the  American  forces. 
Jefferson,  with  whom  he  was  on  the  committee 
for  preparing  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
has  celebrated  his  doughty  championship  of  that 
instrument.  The  letter  which  he  wrote  to  his 
wife  when  the  act  was  resolved  upon,  has  become 
familiar  to  American  ears  as  "household  words." 
Its  anticipations  have  been  fulfilled  in  every 
syllable.  "  The  second  day  of  July,  177G,"  he 
write-,  "will  lie  the  most  memorable  epocha  in  the 
history  of  America.  I  am  apt  to  believe  that  it 
will  be  celebrated  by  succeeding  generations  as 
the  great  anniversary  Festival.  It  ought  to  be 
commemorated,  as  the  day  of  deliverance,  by 
solemn  acts  of  devotion  to  God  Almighty.  It 
ought  to  be  solemnized  with  pomp  and  parade, 
with  shows,  games,  sports,  guns,  bells,  bonfires, 
and  illuminations,  from  one  end  of  this  continent 
to  the  other,  from  this  time  forward,  for  ever- 
more."* 

In  1777,  Adams  succeeded  Silas  Deane  as  Com- 
missioner to  France,  where  I*e  was  again  sent  in 
1779,  as  minister,  to  negotiate  peace.  His  pen 
was  employed  in  Holland  in  exhibiting  the  ideas 
and  resources  of  the  United  States.  He  arranged 
the  treaty  of  peace  of  1783,  at  Paris,  with  Frank- 
lin, Jay,  and  Laurens.  In  1785,  he  became  the 
first  minister  to  the  court  of  England.  In  1787, 
in  London,  he  published  the  first  volume  of  his 
Defence  of  the  Constitutions  of  Government  of 
the  United  States  of  America,  and  the  second  and 
third  the  year  following.  This  work  was  pri- 
marily suggested  by  a  letter  of  Turgot,  appended 
to  the  "Observations  on  the  Importance  of  the 
American  Revolution,"  by  Dr.  Richard  Price,  in 


former  by  John  Adams,  late  President  of  the  United  States  ; 
the  latter  by  Jonathan  Bewail,  then  Kind's  Attorney-General 
of  the  Province  of  Massachusetts  Bay.  To  which  are  added  a 
number  of  Letters,  lately  written  by  President  Adams  to  the 
Hon.  William  Tudor."  Adams  then  thought  his  opponent  to 
have  been  Mr.  Sewall. — Works  of  Adams,  iv.  4;  Kennedy's 
Life  of  Wirt.  ii.  43. 

*  The  letter  in  which  this  famous  sentence  of  Adams  occurs 
was  written  to  Mrs.  Adams,  and  was  dated  Philadelphia,  July 
3.  1770.  It  refers  to  the  second  of  July,  the  day  of  the  resolu- 
tion in  Congress  to  make  the  declaration.  The  convenience  of 
referring  the  sentence  to  the  fourth  i5  obvious. 


which  comments  are  made  on  the  Constitutions 
of  the  States,  the  imitation  of  English  usages 
objected  to,  and  the  preference  given  to  a  single 
authority  of  the  nation  or  assembly,  over  a 
balanced  system  of  powers.  The  reading  which 
Adams  brings  to  bear  in  the  discussion  of  this 
subject  is  very  great,  as  he  describes  the  conduct 
of  ancient  and  modern  republics,  and  scrutinizes 
the  opinions  of  historians  and  political  philoso- 
phers. The  Italian  republics,  in  particular,  occu- 
py a  large  share  of  his  attention.  The  work  was 
prepared  in  great  haste,  and  with  some  defects  of 
form,  which  the  editor  of  the  Collected  Works 
has  endeavored  to  amend  by  changing  the  original 
style  of  letters  to  a  friend  into  chapters,  embracing 
the  whole  or  a  distinct  portion  of  a  particular 
topic,  and  by  the  arrangement  of  some  dislocated 
passages. 

On  his  return  to  the  United  States,  in  1788,  he 
was  elected  the  first  Vice-President  of  the  United 
States,  an  office  which  he  held  during  both  terms 
of  Wa-hingi  oil's  Presidency,  to  which  he  succeeded 
in  1797.  His  Discourses  on  Davila  ;  a  series  of 
papers  on  political  history,  were  published  in 
1790,  in  the  Gazette  of  the  United  States,  at  Phi- 
ladelphia, as  a  sequel  to  the  Defence.  In  1812,  he 
wrote  of  this  work :  "  This  dull,  heavy  volume 
still  excites  the  wonder  of  its  author, — first,  that 
he  could  find,  amidst  the  constant  scenes  of  busi- 
ness and  dissipation  in  which  he  was  enveloped, 
time  to  write  it;  secondly,  that  he  had  the 
courage  to  oppose  and  publish  his  own  opinions 
to  the  universal  opinion  of  America,  and,  indeed, 
of  all  mankind."  The  opinions  to  which  ho 
alludes  were  supposed  to  be  of  an  aristocratical 
complexion.  If  Adams  had  a  political  system  to 
convey,  it  is  to  be  regretted  he  did  not  adopt  a  , 
clearer  and  more  methodical  form  of  writing 
about  it.* 

The  year  1817  brought  to  Adams  a  great  per- 
sonal affliction,  in  the  death  of  his  wife,  his  pub- 
lished correspondence  with  whom  has  created  a 
lasting  interest  with  posterity,  in  the  intellectual 
and  patriotic  resources  of  his  home.  This  lady, 
whose  maiden  name  was  Abigail  Smith,  was  the 
daughter  of  a  Congregational  clergyman  at  Wey- 
mouth. She  was  married  in  her  twentieth  year, 
in  176L  Often  separated  from  her  husband  by 
the  employments  of  his  public  life',  the  corre- 
spondence between  the  two  was  a  matter  of 
necessity,  and  in  her  hands  became  a  pleasure  as 
well.  Her  style  is  spirited:  she  shows  herself 
versed  in  public  affairs;  with  a  good  taste  in  the 
poetic  reading  of  the  times.f 

The  last  years  of  Adams  were  passed  in  the  re- 
tirement of  a  scholar  and  a  politician,  at  his  farm 
at  Quincy,  till  the  dramatic  termination  of  his 


*  Fessenden  (Christopher  Caustic),  in  one  of  the  notes  to  his 
Democracy  Unveiled,  speaks  of  -the  tricks  of  the  shuffling 
Jacobins  of  the  present  period  (18U6),  who  mutilate,  garble, 
and  misquote  Adams's  Defence  of  the  American  Constitution, 
in  order  to  show  that  the  author  of  a  treatise  written  in  defence 
of  a  republican  form  of  government  is  at  heart  a  monarchist." 

+  The  letters  of  Mrs.  Adams,  with  a  memoir  by  her  L'rand- 
son.  C.  F.  Adams,  were  published  in  two  volumes,  in  1S40; 
followed,  the  next  year,  by  a  similar  publication  of  the  letters 
of  John  Adams,  addressed  to  his  wife.  The  latter  are  three 
hundred  in  number.  Thejournal  and  correspondence  of  Miss 
Adams,  the  wife  of  Col.  Smith,  Secretary  to  the  American 
Legation  at  London,  the  daughter  of  John  Adams,  were  pub- 
lished in  New  York,  in  two  vols.  1S41-2.  Edited  by  her  daugh- 
ter, Mrs.  J.  P.  DeWint, 


186 


CYCLOP.EDU  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


career,  parallel  -with  the  death-bed  of  Jefferson, 
on  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  in  his  ninety-first  year.  Still 
in  his  ashes  lived  their  wonted  fires.  On  the 
morning  of  his  last  day,  he  was  asked  for  a  senti- 
ment for  the  public  celebration.  "  Independence 
for  ever !  "  exclaimed  the  dying  patriot,  in  almost 
his  last  words — words  which  carry  back  our 
thoughts  of  John  Adams  over  the  period  of  his 
political  controversies — nearly  a  century — to  the 
early  days  of  the  Revolution,  when  Otis  was  "  a 
flame  of  fire,"  and  the  heart  of  the  young  Braintree 
lawyer  beat  high  as  he  rode  on  his  way  through 
New  England  to  the  heroic  old  Continental  Con- 
gress. 

PASSAGES  FROM  TITE  DIARY. 

Meditates  Hie  Choke  of  Ilercides. 

Braintree,  Jan.  8,  1759. — The  other  night  the 
choice  of  Hercules  came  into  my  mind,  and  left 
impressions  there  which  I  hope  will  never  be  effaced, 
nor  long  unheeded.  I  thought  of  writing  a  fable 
on  the  same  plan,  but  accommodated,  by  omitting 
some  circumstances  and  inserting  others,  to  my  own 
case. 

Let  Virtue  address  me :  "  Which,  dear  youth,  will 
you  prefer,  a  life  of  effeminacy,  indolence,  and 
obscurity,  or  a  life  of  industry,  temperance,  and 
honor?  Take  my  advice;  rise  and  mount  your 
horse  by  the  morning's  dawn,  and  shake  away, 
amidst  the  great  and  beautiful  scenes  of  nature  that 
appeal'  at  that  time  of  the  day,  all  the  crudities  that 
are  left  in  your  stomach,  and  all  the  obstructions 
that  are  left  in  your  brains.  Then  return  to  your 
studies,  and  bend  your  whole  soul  to  the  institutes 
of  the  law  and  the  reports  of  cases  that  have  been 
adjudged  by  the  rules  in  the  institutes ;  let  no 
trifling  diversion,  or  amusement,  or  company,  decoy 
you  from  your  book  ;  that  is,  let  no  girl,  no  gun,  no 
cards,  no  flutes,  no  violins,  no  dress,  no  tobacco,  no 
laziness,  decoy  you  from  your  books.  (By  the  way, 
laziness,  languor,  inattention,  are  my  bane.  I  am 
too  lazy  to  rise  early  and  make  a  fire ;  and  when 
my  fire  is  made,  at  ten  o'clock  my  passion  for  know- 
ledge, fame,  fortune,  for  any  good,  is  too  languid  to 
make  me  apply  with  spirit  to  my  books,  and  by 
reason  of  my  inattention  my  mind  is  liable  to  be 
called  off  from  law  by  a  girl,  a  pipe,  a  poem,  a  love- 
letter,  a  Spectator,  a  play,  &c.  <fec.)  But  keep  your 
law  book  or  some  point  of  law  in  your  mind,  at 
least,  six  hours  in  a  day.  (I  grow  too  minute  and 
lengthy.)  Labor  to  get  distinct  ideas  of  law,  right, 
wrong,  justice,  equity;  search  for  them  in  your  own 
mind,  in  Roman,  Grecian,  French,  English  treatises 
of  natural,  civil,  common,  statute  law;  aim  at  an 
exact  knowledge  of  the  nature,  end,  and  means  of 
government ;  compare  the  different  forms  of  it  with 
each  other,  and  each  of  them  with  their  effects  on 
public  and  private  happiness.  Study  Seneca,  Cicero, 
and  all  other  good  moral  writers ;  study  Montes- 
quieu, Bolingbioke,  Vinnius,  &c.,  and  all  other  good 
civil  writers." 

What  am  I  doing  ?  shall  I  sleep  away  my  whole 
seventy  years?  no,  by  every  thing  I  swear  I  will 
renounce  this  contemplative,  and  betake  myself  to 
an  active,  roving  life  by  sea  or  land,  or  else  I  will 
attempt  some  uncommon,  unexpected  enterprise  in 
law;  let  me  lay  the  plan,  and  arouse  spirit  enough 
to  push  boldly.  I  swear  I  will  push  myself  into 
business;  I'll  watch  my  opportunity  to  speak  in 
court,  and  will  strike  with  surprise — surprise  bench, 
bar,  jury,  auditors  and  all.  Activity,  boldness,  for- 
wardness, will  draw  attention.  I'll  not  lean  with 
my  elbows  on  the  table  for  ever,  like  Read,  Swift, 


Fitch,  Skinner,, Story,  <fcc. ;  but  I  will  not  forego  the 
pleasure  of  ranging  the  woods,  climbing  cliffs,  walk- 
ing in  fields,  meadows,  by  rivers,  lakes,  &c,  and 
confine  myself  to  a  chamber  for  nothing.  I'll  have 
some  boon  in  return,  exchange  ;  fame,  fortune,  or 
something. 

Here  are  two  nights  and  one  day  and  a  half  spent 
in  a  softening,  enervating,  dissipating  series  of 
hustling,  prattling,  poetry,  love,  courtship,  marriage; 
during  all  tins  time  I  was  seduced  into  the  course  of 
unmanly  pleasures  that  Vice  describes  to  Hercules, 
forgetful  of  the  glorious  promises  of  fame,  immor- 
tality, and  a  good  conscience,  which  Virtue  makes  to 
the  same  hero  as  rewards  of  a  hardy,  toilsome, 
watchful  life  in  the  service  of  mankind.  I  could 
reflect  with  more  satisfaction  on  an  equal  space  of 
time  spent  in  a  painful  research  of  the  principles  of 
law,  or  a  resolute  attempt  of  the  powers  of  elo- 
quence. But  where  is  my  attention?  16  it  fixed 
from  sunrise  to  midnight  on  Grecian,  Roman,  Gallic, 
British  law,  history,  virtue,  eloquence  ?  I  don't  see 
clearly  the  objects  that  I  am  after ;  they  are  often 
out  of  sight ;  motes,  atoms,  feathers,  are  blown  into 
my  eyes  and  blind  me.  Who  can  see  distinctly  the 
course  he  is  to  take  and  the  objects  that  he  pursues, 
when  in  the  midst  of  a  whirlwind  of  dust,  straws, 
atoms,  pnd  feathers  ? 

Let  me  make  this  remark.  In  Parson  Wibird's 
company  something  is  to  be  learned  of  human 
nature,  human  life,  love,  courtship,  marriage.  He 
has  spent  much  of  his  life  from  his  youth  in  conver- 
sation witli  young  and  old  persons  of  both  sexes, 
married  and  unmarried,  and  yet  has  his  mind  stuffed 
with  remarks  and  stories  of  human  virtues  and  vices, 
wisdom  and  folly,  <fec.  But  his  opinion,  out  of 
poetry,  love,  courtship,  marriage,  politics,  war, 
beauty,  grace,  decency,  <fcc,  is  not  very  valuable; 
his  soul  is  lost  in  a  dronish  effeminacy.  I'd  rather 
be  lost  in  a  whirlwind  of  activity,  study,  business, 
great  and  good  designs  of  promoting  the  honor, 
grandeur,  wealth,  happiness  of  mankind. 

The  Year  1765. 

Braintree,  December  18  of  that  date. — The  year 
1705  has  been  the  most  remarkable  year  of  my 
life.  That  enormous  engine,  fabricated  by  the 
British  Parliament,  for  battering  down  all  the  rights 
and  liberties  of  America,  I  mean  the  Stamp  Act,  lias 
raised  and  spread  through  the  whole  continent  a 
spirit  that  will  be  recorded  to  our  honor  with  all 
future  generations.  In  ever)'  colony,  from  Georgia 
to  New  Hampshire  inclusively,  the  stamp  distributers 
and  inspectors  have  been  compelled  by  tiie  uncon- 
querable rage  of  the  people  to  renounce  their  offices. 
Such  and  so  universal  lias  been  the  resentment  of  the 
people,  that  every  man  who  has  dared  to  speak  in 
favor  of  the  stamps  or  to  soften  the  detestation  in 
which  they  are  held,  how  great  soever  his  abilities 
and  virtues  had  been  esteemed  before,  or  whatever 
his  fortune,  connections,  and  influence  had  been,  has 
been  seen  to  sink  into  universal  contempt  and 
ignominy. 

The  people,  even  to  the  lowest  ranks,  have  become 
more  attentive  to  their  liberties,  more  inquisitive 
about  them,  and  more  determined  to  defend  them, 
than  they  were  ever  before  known  or  had  occasion 
to  be ;  innumerable  have  been  the  monuments  of 
wit,  humor,  sense,  learning,  spirit,  patriotism,  and 
heroism,  erected  in  the  several  colonies  and  provinces 
in  the  course  of  this  year.  Our  presses  have  groaned, 
our  pulpits  have  thundered,  our  legislatures  have 
resolved,  our  towns  have  voted  ;  the  crown  officers 
have  everywhere  trembled,  and  all  their  little  tools 
and  creatures  been  afraid  to  speak  and  ashamed  to 
be  seen. 


JOHN  ADAMS. 


187 


This  spirit,  however,  has  not  yet  teen  sufficient  to 
banish  from  persons  in  authority  that  timidity  which 
they  have  discovered  from  the  beginning.  The  exe-  j 
cutive  courts  have  not  yet  dared  to  adjudge  the  ; 
Stamp  Act  void,  nor  to  proceed  with  business  as  ! 
usual,  though  it  should  seem  that  necessity  alone 
would  be  sufficient  to  justify  business  at  present, 
though  the  act  should  be  allowed  to  be  obligatory. 
The  stamps  are  in  the  castle.  Mr.  Oliver  has  no 
commission.  The  Governor  has  no  authority  to  dis- 
tribute or  even  to  unpack  the  bales;  the  Act  has 
never  been  proclaimed  nor  read  in  the  Province ; 
yet  the  probate  office  is  Bhut,  the  custom-house  is 
shut,  the  courts  of  justice  are  shut,  and  all  business 
seems  at  a  stand.  Yesterday  and  the  day  before, 
the  two  last  days  of  service  for  January  Term,  only 
one  man  asked  me  for  a  writ,  and  he  was  soon 
determined  to  waive  his  request.  I  have  not  drawn 
a  writ  since  the  first  of  November. 

How  long  we  are  to  remain  in  this  languid  condi- 
tion, this  passive  obedience  to  the  Stamp  Act,  is  not 
certain.  But  such  a  pause  cannot  be  lasting. 
Debtors  grow  insolent;  creditors  grow  angry;  and 
it  is  to  be  expected  that  the  public  offices  will  very 
soon  be  forced  open,  unless  such  favorable  accounts 
should  be  received  from  England  as  to  draw  away 
the  fears  of  the  great,  or  unless  a  greater  dread  of 
the  multitude  should  drive  away  the  fear  of  censure 
from  Great  Britain. 

It  is  my  opinion  that  by  this  inactivity  we  dis- 
cover cowardice,  and  too  much  respect  to  the  Act. 
This  rest  appears  to  be,  by  implication  at  least,  an 
acknowledgment  of  the  authority  of  Parliament  to 
tax  us.  And  if  this  authority  is  once  acknowledged 
and  established,  the  ruin  of  America  will  become 
inevitable. 

A  very  Pleasant  Evening. 

Boston,  May  14,  1771. — A  very  pleasant  evening. 
Otis  gave  us  an  account  of  a  present  from  Doctor 
Cummiugs  of  Concord  to  Harvard  College  chapel, 
of  a  brass  branch  of  candlesticks,  such  as  Isaac 
Royal,  Esq.,  gave  to  the  Representatives'  room,  and 
that  it  was  sent  to  N.  Hurd's  to  have  an  inscription 
engraved  on  it.     The  inscription  is — 

In  sacelli  hujusee  ornatum  et  splendorem 
Phosphoron  hoc  munus,  benigne  contulit 
Cuniicgs,  armiger,  medicos,  Concordiensis. 

Danforth.  "  The  inscription  was  much  faulted  by 
the  wits  at  club,  and  as  it  was  to  be  a  durable  thing 
for  the  criticisms  of  strangers  and  of  posterity,  it  was 
thought  that  it  ought  to  be  altered."  Doctor  Cooper 
mentioned  an  old  proverb,  that  an  ounce  of  mother 
wit  is  worth  a  pound  of  clergy.  Mr.  Otis  mentioned 
another,  which  he  said  conveyed  the  same  senti- 
ment,— An  ounce  of  prudence  is  worth  a  pound  of 
wit.  This  produced  a  dispute,  and  the  sense  .of  the 
company  was,  that  the  word  wit  in  the  second 
proverb  meant,  the  faculty  of  suddenly  raising 
pleasant  pictures  in  the  fancy  ;  but  that  the  phrase, 
mother  wit,  in  the  first  proverb,  meant  natural 
parts,  and  clergy-acquired  learning — book  learning. 
Doctor  Cooper  quoted  another  proverb  from  his 
Negro  Glasgow, — A  mouse  can  build  an  house  with- 
out trouble.  And  then  told  us  another  instance  of 
Glasgow's  intellect,  of  which  I  had  before  thought 
him  entirely  destitute.  The  Doctor  was  speaking 
to  Glasgow  about  Adam's  Fall,  and  the  introduction 
of  natural  and  moral  evil  into  the  world,  and  Glas- 
gow said,  they  had  in  his  country  a  different  account 
of  this  matter.  The  tradition  was,  that  a  dog  and  a 
toad  were  to  run  a  race,  and  if  the  dog  reached  the 
goal  first,  the  world  was  to  continue  innocent  and 
happy;  but  if  the  toad  should  outstrip  the  dog,  the 


world  was  to  become  sinful  and  miserable.  Every 
body  thought  there  could  be  no  danger;  but  in  the 
midst  of  the  career  the  dog  found  a  bone  by  the 
way,  and  stopped  to  gnaw  it ;  and  while  he  was 
interrupted  by  his  bone,  the  toad,  constant  in  his 
malevolence,  hopped  on,  reached  the  mark,  and 
spoiled  the  world. 

Col.  Putnam's  Indian  Story. 
Nov.  10,  1772. — Sunday.      Heard  Mr.   Cutler  of 
Ipswich  Hamlet;  dined  at  Dr.  Putnam's,  with  Colonel 
Putnam  andlady,  and  two  young  gentlemen,  nephews 

of  the  Doctor,  and  Colonel ,  and  a  Mrs.  Seollay. 

Colonel  Putnam  told  a  story  of  an  Indian  upon  Con- 
necticut River,  who  called  at  a  tavern,  in  the  fall  of 
the  year,  for  a  dram.  The  landlord  asked  him  two 
coppers  for  it.  The  next  spring,  happening  at  the 
same  house,  he  called  for  another,  and  had  three 
coppers  to  pay  for  it.  "  How  is  this,  landlord  <" 
says  he  ;  "  last  fall,  you  asked  but  two  coppers  for  a 
glass  of  rum,  now  you  ask  three."  "  Oh  !  "  says  the 
landlord,  "  it  costs  me  a  good  deal  to  keep  rum  over 
winter.  It  is  as  expensive  to  keep  a  hogshead  of 
rum  over  winter  as  a  horse."  "  Ay ! "  says  the 
Indian,  "I  can't  see  through  that;  he  wont  eat  so 
much  hay  : — Maybe  he  drink  as  much  water."  This 
was  sheer  vjit,  pure  satire,  and  true  humor.  Humor, 
wit  and  satire,  in  one  very  short  repartee. 

Madame  Helvetius. 

Paris,  April  15,  1778. — Dined  this  day  with 
Madame  Helvetius.  One  gentleman,  one  lady,  Dr. 
Franklin,  his  grandson,  and  myself,  made  the  com- 
pany ;  an  elegant  dinner.  Madame  is  a  widow  ;  her 
husband  was  a  man  of  learning,  and  wrote  several 
books.  She  has  erected  a  monument  to  her  husband, 
a  model  of  which  she  has.  It  is  herself  weeping  over 
his  tomb,  with  this  inscription. 

Toi  dont  l'Ame  sublime  et  tendre, 
A  fait  ma  Gloire,  et  mon  Bonheur, 
Je  V  ai  perdu  :  pivs  de  ta  Ccndre, 
Je  viensjouir  de  ma  l)uuleur. 

Voltaire  and  Franklin. 
Paris,  April  29,  1778. — After  dinner  we  went  to 
the  Academy  of  Sciences,  and  heard  M.  d'Alembert, 
as  perpetual  secretary,  pronounce  eulogies  on  several 
of  their  members,  lately  deceased.  Voltaire  and 
Franklin  were  both  present,  and  there  presently 
arose  a  general  cry  that  M.  Voltaire  and  M.  Franklin 
should  be  introduced  to  each  other.  This  was  done, 
and  they  bowed  and  spoke  to  each  other.  This  was 
no  satisfaction ;  there  must  be  something  more. 
Neither  of  our  philosophers  seemed  to  divine  what 
was  wished  or  expected ;  they,  however,  took  each 
other  by  the  hand.  But  this  was  not  enough;  the 
clamor  continued,  until  the  explanation  came  out. 
"  II  faut  s'embrasser  a  la  Francoise."  The  two  aged 
actors  upon  this  great  theatre  of  philosophy  and 
frivolity  then  embraced  each  other,  by  hugging  one 
another  in  their  arms,  and  kissing  each  other's 
cheeks,  and  then  the  tumult  subsided.  And  the  cry 
immediately  spread  through  the  whole  kingdom, 
and,  I  suppose,  over  all  Europe — "  Qu'il  etnit  char- 
maut  de  voir  embrasser  Solon  et  Sophocle !  "* 

FROM    TnE    LETTERS. 

John  Adams  to  his  Wife. 
Philadelphia,  May  22d,  four  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing.     After  a  series  of  the  severest  and    harshest 


*  This  anecdote  is  told  in  the  Life  of  Voltaire,  by  Condorc.t, 
(Euvres  Completes,  vol.  c.  p.  161.— -Vote  to  Works. 


183 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


■Breather  that  I  ever  felt  in  this  climate,  we  are  at 
last  blessed  with  a  bright  6un  end  a  soft  air.  The 
weather  here  has  been  like  our  old  easterly  winds  to 
me  and  southerly  winds  to  you.  The  charms  of  the 
morning  at  this  hour  are  irresistible.  The  streaks 
of  glory  dawning  in  the  east ;  the  freshness  and 
purity  in  the  air,  the  bright  blue  of  the  sky,  the 
sweet  warblings  of  a  great  variety  of  birds  in- 
termingling with  the  martial  clarions  of  a  hundred 
cocks  now  within  my  hearing,  all  conspire  to  cheer 
the  spirits. 

This  kind  of  puerile  description  is  a  very  pretty 
employment  for  an  old  fellow  whose  brow  is  fur- 
rowed with  the  cares  of  politics  and  war.  I  shall  be 
on  horseback  in  a  few  minutes,  and  then  I  shall  enjoy 
the  morning  in  more  perfection.  I  spent  the  last 
evening  at  the  war  office  with  General  Arnold.  He 
has  been  basely  slandered  and  libelled.  The  regu- 
lars say,  "  he  fought  like  Julius  Caesar"  [at  Danbury]. 
I  am  wearied  to  death  with  the  wrangles  between 
military  officers,  high  and  low.  They  quarrel  like 
cats  and  dogs.  They  worry  one  another  like  mas- 
tiffs, scrambling  for  rank  and  pay,  like  apes  for  nuts. 
I  believe  there  is  no  one  principle  which  predomi- 
nates in  human  nature  so  much,  in  every  stage  of 
life,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  in  males  and 
females,  old  and  young,  black  and  white,  rich  and 
poor,  high  and  low,  as  this  passion  for  superiority. 
Every  human  being  compares  itself  in  its  imagina- 
tion with  every  other  round  about  it,  and  will  find 
some  superiority  over  every  other,  real  or  imagin- 
ary, or  it  will  die  of  grief  and  vexation.  I  have 
seen  it  among  boys  and  girls  at  school,  among  lads 
at  college,  among  practitioners  at  the  bar,  among  the 
clergy  in  their  associations,  among  clubs  of  friends, 
among  the  people  in  town  meetings,  among  the  mem- 
bers of  a  House  of  Representatives,  among  the  grave 
councillors,  on  the  more  solemn  bench  of  Justice, 
and  in  that  awfully  august  body,  the  Congress,  and 
on  many  of  its  committees,  and  among  ladies  every- 
where ;  but  I  never  saw  it  operate  with  sueh  keen- 
ness, ferocity,  and  fury,  as  among  military  officers. 
They  will  go  terrible  lengths  in  their  emulation, 
their  envy  and  revenge,  in  consequence  of  it. 

So  much  for  philosophy.  I  hope  my  five  or  six 
babes  are  all  well.  My  duty  to  my  mother  and 
your  father,  and  love  to  sisters  and  brothers,  aunts 
and  uncles.  Pray  how  does  your  asparagus  perform  ? 
&c.  I  would  give  three  guineas  for  a  barrel  of  your 
cider.  Not  one  drop  is  to  be  had  here  for  gold,  and 
wine  is  not  to  be  had  under  six  or  eight  dollars 
a  gallon,  and  that  very  bad.  I  would  give  a  guinea 
for  a  barrel  of  your  beer.  The  small  beer  here  is 
wretchedly  bad.  In  short,  I  can  get  nothing  that  I 
can  drink,  and  I  believe  I  shall  be  sick  from  this 
cause  alone.  Rum  at  forty  shillings  a  gallon,  and 
bad  water  will  never  do,  in  this  hot  climate,  in  sum- 
mer, when  acid  liquors  are  necessary  against  putre- 
faction. 

The  same  to  the  same. 

Passy,  April  25th,  1778.  My  Deaeest  Feiend, — 
Monsieur  Chaumont  has  just  informed  me  of  a  vessel 
bound  to  Boston,  but  I  am  reduced  to  such  a  mo- 
ment of  time,  that  I  can  only  inform  you  that  I  am 
well,  and  enclose  a  few  lines  from  Johnny  to  let  you 
know  that  he  is  so.  I  have  ordered  the  things  you 
desired  to  be  sent  you,  but  I  will  not  yet  say  by 
what  conveyance,  for  fear  of  accidents. 

If  human  nature  could  be  made  happy  by  any 
thing  that  can  please  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  taste,  or 
any  other  sense,  or  passion,  or  fancy,  this  country 
would  be  the  region  for  happiness.  But  if  my 
country  were  at  peace,  I  should  be  happier  among 
the   rocks   and   shades  of   Penn's  hill;   and  would 


cheerfully  exchange  all  the  elegance,  magnificence, 
and  sublimity  of  Europe,  for  the  simplicity  of  Brain- 
tree  and  Weymouth. 

To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  admire  the  ladies  here. 
Don't  be  jealous.  They  are  handsome,  and  very 
well  educated.  Their  accomplishments  are  exceed- 
ingly brilliant,  and  their  knowledge  of  letters  and 
arts  exceeds  that  of  the  English  ladies,  I  believe. 

Tell  Mrs.  Warren  that  I  shall  write  her  a  letter,  as 
she  desired,  and  let  her  know  some  of  my  reflections 
in  this  country.  My  venerable  colleague  [Dr.  Frank- 
lin] enjoys  a  privilege  here,  that  is  much  to  be 
envied.  Being  seventy  years  of  age,  the  ladies  not 
only  allow  him  to  embrace  them  as  often  as  he 
pleases,  but  they  are  perpetually  embracing  him. 
I  told  him,  yesterday,  I  would  write  this  to  America. 

Mrs.  Adams  to  her  husoand. 

Sunday,  June  ISth,  1775.  Deaeest  Feiend, — The 
day, — perhaps,  the  decisive  dayr, — is  come,  on  which 
the  fate  of  America  depends.  My  bursting  heart 
must  find  vent  at  my  pen.  I  have  just  heard,  that 
our  dear  friend,  Dr.  Warren,  is  no  more,  but  fell  glori- 
ously fighting  for  his  country  ;  saying,  better  to  die 
honorably  in  the  field,  than  ignominiously  hang  upon 
the  gallows.  Great  is  our  loss.  He  has  distil  guish- 
ed  himself  in  every  engagement,  by  his  couiage  and 
fortitude,  by  animating  the  soldiers,  and  leading 
them  on  by  his  own  example.  A  particular  account 
of  these  dreadful,  but  I  hope  glorious  days  will  be 
transmitted  to  you,  no  doubt,  in  the  exactest  man- 
ner. 

"  The  race  is  not  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the 
strong;  but  the  God  of  Israel  is  he  that  giveth 
strength  and  power  unto  his  people.  Trust  in  him 
at  all  times,  ye  people,  pour  out  your  hearts  before 
him ;  God  is  a  refuge  for  us."  Chnrlestown  is  laid 
in  ashes.  The  battle  began  upon  our  inti'enehmenta 
upon  Bunker's  Hill,  Saturday  morning  about  three 
o'clock,  and  lias  not  ceased  yet,  and  it  is  now  three 
o'clock  Sabbath  afternoon. 

It  is  expected  they  will  come  out  over  the  Neck 
to-night,  and  a  dreadful  battle  must  ensue.  Almighty 
God,  cover  the  heads  of  our  countrymen,  and  be  a 
shield  to  our  dear  friends!  How  many  have  fallen, 
we  know  not.  The  constant  roar  of  the  cannon  is  so 
distressing,  that  we  cannot  eat,  drink,  or  sleep. 
May  we  be  supported  and  sustained  in  the  dreadful 
conflict.  I  shall  tarry  here  till  it  is  thought  unsafe 
by  my  friends,  and  then  I  have  secured  myself  a 
retreat  at  your  brothers,  who  has  kindly  offered  me 
part  of  his  house.  I  cannot  compose  myself  to  write 
any  further  at  present.  I  will  add  more  as  I  hear 
further. 

Tuesday  afternoon. — I  have  been  so  much  agitated, 
that  I  have  not  been  able  to  write  since  Sabbath 
day.  When  I  say,  that  ten  thousand  reports  are 
passing,  vague  and  uncertain  as  the  wind,  I  believe 
I  speak  the  truth.  I  am  not  able  to  give  you  any 
authentic  account  of  last  Saturday,  but  you  will  not 
be  destitute  of  intelligence.  Colonel  Palmer  has 
just  sent  me  word,  that  he  has  an  opportunity  of 
conveyance.  Incorrect  as  this  scrawl  may  be,  it 
6hall  go.  I  ardently  pray,  that  you  may  be  sup- 
ported through  the  arduous  task  you  have  before 
you.  I  wisli  I  could  contradict  the  report  of  the 
Doctor's  death  ;  but  it  is  a  lamentable  truth,  and  the 
tears  of  multitudes  pay  tribute  to  his  memory; 
those  favorite  lines  of  Collins  continually  sound  in 
my  ears; 

"How  sleep  the  brave,"  &c* 

I  must  close,   as  the  Deacon  waits.     I  have  not 

*  Collins's  Ode  is  too  well  known  to  need  iosertion. 


HUGH  WILLIAMSON. 


189 


pretended  to  be  particular  with  regard  to  what  I 
have  heard,  because  I  know  you  will  collect  better 
intelligence.  The  spirits  of  the  people  are  very 
good:  the  loss  of  Charlestowu  affects  them  no  more 
than  a  drop  of  the  bucket.  I  am,  most  sincerely, 
Yours,  Poetia. 

Mrs.  Adams  to  Mrs.  Smith. 

Quiney,  Feb.  3d,  1794.  My  Dear  Mrs.  Smith, — I 
have  not  written  to  you  since  I  received  yours  of 
January  5th.  I  go  from  home  but  very  little,  yet  I 
do  not  find  my  time  hang  heavy  upon  my  hands. 
You  know  that  I  have  no  aversion  to  jom  in  the 
cheerful  circle,  or  mix  in  the  world,  when  oppor- 
tunity offers.  I  think  it  tends  to  rub  off  those  aus- 
terities which  age  is  apt  to  contract,  and  reminds  us, 
as  Goldsmith  says,  "  that  we  once  were  young." 
Whilst  our  presence  is  easy  to  youth,  it  will  tend 
to  guide  and  direct  them. 

"Be  to  their  faults  a  little  blind, 
Be  to  their  virtues  ever  kind, 
And  fix  the  padlock  on  the  mind." 

To-morrow  our  theatre  is  to  open.  Every  pre- 
caution has  been  taken  to  prevent  such  unpleasant 
seenes  as  you  represent  are  introduced  upon  yours. 
I  hope  the  managers  will  be  enabled  to  govern  the 
mobility,  or  the  whole  design  of  the  entertainment 
will  be  thwarted. 

Since  I  wrote  you  last,  a  renewal  of  the  horrid 
tragedies  has  been  acted  in  France,  and  the  Queen 
is  no  more. 

"Set  is  her  star  of  life; — the  pouring  storm 
Turns  its  black  delude  from  that  aching  head; 
The  fiends  of  murder  quit  that  bloodless  form, 
And  the  last  animating  hope  is  fled. 

"Blest  is  the  hour  of  peace,  though  cursed  the  hand 
Which  snaps  the  thread  of  life's  disastrous  loom; 
Thrice  blest  tiie  great,  invincible  command, 
That  deals  the  solace  of  the  slumb'ring  tomb." 

Not  content  with  loading  her  with  ignominy,  whilst 
living,  they  blacken  her  memory  by  ascribing  to  her 
the  vilest  crimes.  Would  to  Heaven  that  the  destroy- 
ing angel  might  put  up  his  sword,  and  say,  "  It  is 
enough ;"  that  he  would  bid  hatred,  madness,  and 
murder  cease. 

"Peace  o'er  the  world  her  olive  branch  extend, 
And  white-robed  Innocence  from  Heaven  descend." 

I  wish,  most  ardently,  that  every  arm  extended 
against  that  unhappy  country  might  be  withdrawn, 
and  they  left  to  themselves,  to  form  whatever  con- 
stitution they  choose;  and  whether  it  is  republican 
or  monarchical  is  not  of  any  consequence  to  us,  pro- 
vided it  is  a  regular  government  of  some  form  or 
other,  which  may  secure  the  faith  of  treaties,  and 
due  subordination  to  the  laws,  whilst  so  many  go- 
vernments are  tottering  to  the  foundations.  Even 
in  one  of  the  freest  and  happiest  in  the  world,  rest- 
less spirits  will  aim  at  disturbing  it.  They  cry  "A 
lion!  a  lion!"  when  no  real  danger  exists,  but  from 
their  own  halloo,  which  in  time  may  raise  other 
ferocious  beasts  of  prey. 

Sirs.  A  dams  to  her  husband,  an  his  election  to  the  Presidency. 
Quiney.  February  8th,  1797. 

"The  sun  is  dressed  in  brightest  beams, 
To  give  thy  honors  to  the  day." 

And  may  it  prove  an  auspicious  prelude  to  each  en- 
suing season.  You  have  this  day  to  declare  your- 
self head  of  a  nation.  "  And  now,  O  Lord,  my  God, 
thou  hast  made  thy  servant  ruler  over  the  people. 
Give  unto  him  an  understanding  heart,  that  he  may 
know  how  to  go  out  and  come  in  before  this  great 
people ;  that  he  may  discern  between  good  andbad. 


For  who  is  able  to  judge  this  thy  so  great  a  people  ?" 
were  the  words  of  a  royal  sovereign ;  and  not  less 
applicable  to  him  who  is  invested  with  the  chief 
magistracy  of  a  nation,  though  he  wear  not  a  crown, 
nor  the  robes  of  royalty. 

My  thoughts  and  my  meditations  are  with  you, 
though  personally  absent ;  and  my  petitions  to 
Heaven  are,  that  "  the  things  which  make  for  peace 
may  not  be  hidden  from  your  eyes."  My  feelings 
are  not  those  of  pride  or  ostentation,  upon  the  occa- 
sion. They  are  solemnized  by  a  sense  of  the  obli- 
gations, the  important  trusts,  and  numerous  duties 
connected  with  it.  That  you  may  be  enabled  to 
discharge  them  with  honor  to  yourself,  with  justice 
and  impartiality  to  your  country,  and  with  satisfac- 
tion to  this  great  people,  shall  be  the  daily  prayer 
of  your  A.  A. 

HUGH  WILLIAMSON. 
A  physician,  patriot  of  note  and  historical  writer, 
was  born  of  Irish  parentage  in  West  Nottingham 
township,  Pennsylvania,  Dec.  5,  1735.  He  was 
taught  at  the  country  academy  of  the  Rev.  Fran- 
cis Alison.  After  leaving  the  college  of  Philadel- 
phia, he  became  a  Presbyterian  preacher,  which 
his  ill  health  did  not  permit  him  to  continue. 
He  was  then  Professor  of  Mathematics  in  his 
college  at  Philadelphia,  carrying  on  his  medical 
studies,  which  he  further  prosecuted  in  a  resi- 
dence at  Edinburgh  in  1704;   obtaining  his  medi- 


^^*-/<^^Z_ 


cal  degree  at  Utrecht.  On  his  return  to  Phila- 
delphia lie  was  engaged  in  several  important 
astronomical  observations,  which  he  published  in 
the  transactions  of  the  Philadelphia  and  New 
York  Philosophical  Societies.  He  travelled  in 
1772  to  the  West  India  Islands,  and  the  next 
year  through  Great  Britain,  to  collect  funds  for 
an  academy  at  Newark,  in  Delaware.  He  had 
the  honor  of  reporting  to  the  British  Government 
the  destruction  of  the  tea  in  Boston  harbor,  and 
prophesying  before  the  Privy  Council  a  civil  war 
if  the  coercive  'policy  was  continued.  It  is  not 
true,  as  has  been  stated,  that  he  procured  while 
in  London  the  letters  of  Hutchinson  which 
Franklin  sent  to  America;  for  the  letters  had 
been  received  in  Boston  before  he  reached  Eng- 
land. Returning  home  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
war,  he  employed  himself  as  a  mercantile  trader 
at  the  South,  offering  his  services  in  the  army  'to 
the  state  of  North  Carolina,  which  were  accepted. 
He  was  present  at  the  battle  of  Camden,  adminis- 
tering to  the  wounded  of  his  countrymen  in  the 
enemy's  camp,  under  the  protection  of  a  flag.  In 
1782  he  was  a  member  of  the  legislature  of  North 
Carolina,  and  afterwards  of  Congress,  and  in 
1787  signed  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States. 
After  1790  he  became  a  resident  of  New  York. 
His  chief  literary  productions  are  his  anniversary 
discourse  On  the  Benefit  of  Civil  History,  before 
the  New  York  Historical  Society  in  1810;  his 
Observations  on  the  Climate  in  different  parts 
of  America,  compared  with  the  climate  in  Corre- 
sponding parts  of  the  other  Continent,  and  his 
History  of  North  Carolina,  published  in  1812. 
He  also  wrote  a  number  of  medical  papers,  one 


190 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


on  the  fascination  of  serpents,  in  the  Medical 
Repository  and  American  Medical  and  Philoso- 
phical Register.  He  was  a  contributor  to  Ca- 
rey's Museum  of  several  papers  on  languages  and 
politics.  An  active  promoter  of  the  medical,  lite- 
rary, and  philanthropical  associations  of  New 
York,  and  of  its  material  interests,  especially  in 
his  advocacy  of  the  canal  policy,  he  enjoyed  the 
friendship  of  the  excellent  society  then  at  its 
height  in  New  York,  the  Clintons,  Hosacks, 
Mitchells,  and  others,  till  his  death  in  his  eighty- 
fifth  year,  May  22,  1819.  In  his  personal  charac- 
ter Williamson  was  a  man  of  strength  and  inte- 
grity. No  one  could  approach  him  with  flattery 
or  falsehood.  The  style  of  his  writing  is  direct 
and  forcible.  His  appearance  was  noticeable, 
tall,  dignified,  with  strongly  marked  features. 
His  portrait  was  painted  by  Trumbull.* 


SAMUEL  PETEES. 

Saio-el  Peters,  the  "  Parson  Peters"  of  M'Fin- 
gal,  and  the  reputed  and  undoubted  author  of  a 
History  of  Connecticut,  very  generally  read,  but 
deservedly  much  impugned  as  an  authority,  be- 
longed to  that  one  family  of  Peters  which  has 
become  so  widely  spread  in  the  country,  and  of 
which,  in  its  first  generation  in  America,  the 
celebrated  Hugh  Peters  was  the  representative. 
There  were  three  brothers  who  came  to  New 
England  in  1634  to  avoid  star-chamber  persecu- 
tion, William,  Thomas,  and  Hugh.  The  last  suc- 
ceeded Roger  Williams  at  Salem,  repudiating  his 
alleged  heresies,  and  remained  there  five  years, 
paying  much  attention  to  its  civil  affairs,  his  pro- 
ficiency in  which  led  to  his  being  sent  to  England 
to  regulate  some  matters  of  trade  in  16-11.  He 
there  became  the  active  parliamentary  leader  and 
preacher,  and  on  the  restoration  was  somewhat 
unnecessarily  beheaded,  as  a  return  for  his  political 
career.  His  publications  were  sermons,  reforming 
pamphlets,  and  poems.  His  Good  Work  for  a 
Good  Magistrate,  in  1651,  contained  the  radical 
proposition  of  burning  the  historical  records  in 
the  Tower. 

Hugh  Peters,  during  his  imprisonment  in  the 
Tower,  wrote  a  book  of  religious  advice  and  con- 
solation, addressed  to  his  daughter  Elizabeth — 
Mr.Hvgh  Peters's  Last  Legacy  to  an  only  Child.f 
His  great  nephew,  Samuel,  says  .of  it,  "  it  was 
printed  and  published  in  Old  and  New  England, 
and  myriads  of  experienced  Christians  have  read 
his  legacy  with  ecstasy  and  health  to  their  souls. 
No  doubt  but  the  book  Will  be  had  in  remem- 
brance in  America  as  long  as  the  works  of  the 
Assembly  of  Divines  (at  Westminster)  and  the 
holy  Bible."]:  Notwithstanding  this  prediction  it 
would  probably  be  difficult  to  procure  a  copy  of 
the  book  now.  Its  spirit  may  be  known  by  the 
rules  which  he  sent  to  his  daughter  from  his 
prison — 


*  Biographical  Memoir,  by  Dr.  Hosack.  Collections  of  the 
New  York  Historical  Society,  iii. 

+  A  Dying  Father's  Last  Legacy  to  an  only  Child:  or  Mr. 
Hugh  Peters's  Advice  to  his  Daughter:  written  by  his  own 
hand,  during  his  late  imprisonment  in  the  Tower  of  London; 
and  given  her  a  little  before  his  death.  London  ;  Printed  for 
G.  Calvert  and  T.  Brewster.    1660. 

X  History  of  the  Kev.  Hugh  Peters,  77. 


Whosoever   would   five   long   and 

Blessedly,  let  him  observe  these 

Following  Rules,  by  which 

He  shall  attain  to  that 

Which  he  desireth. 


Thoughts 

'Divine,              Awful, 
Godly. 

Talk 

Little,                 Honest, 
True. 

Words 

Profitable,         Holy, 
Charitable. 

Manners 

Grave,               Courteous, 
Cheerful. 

Dyet 

Temperate,        Convenient, 
Frugal. 

Apparel 

-be* 

Sober,                Seat, 
Comely. 

Will 

Constant,           Obedient, 
Ready. 

Sleep 

Moderate,          Quiet, 
Seasonable. 

Prayers 

Short,  Devout,  Often, 
Fervent. 

Recreation 

Lawful,             Brief, 
Seldom. 

Memory, 

Of  Death,          Punishment, 

, 

Glory. 

by  the  verses  which  he  wrote  for  her. 

Ml 

WISHES. 

I  wish  your  Lamp  and  Vessel 

full  of  oyl 
Like  the  Wise  Virgins 

(which  all  fools  neglect), 
And  the  rich  Pearl, 

for  which  the  Merchants  toyl, 
Yea,  how  to  purchase 
are  so  circumspect : 

I  wish  you  that  White  Stone 

With  the  new  Name, 
Which  none  can  read 
but  who  possess  the  same 

I  wish  you  neither  Poverty, 

nor  Riches, 
But  Godliness, 

so  gainful,  with  Content; 
No  painted  Pomp, 

nor  Glory  that  bewitches ; 
A  blameless  Life 

is  the  best  monument : 
And  sucli  a  Soul 

that  soars  above  the  Sky, 
Well  pleased  to  live, 

but  better  pleased  to  dye, 

I  wish  you  such  a  Heart 

as  Mary  had, 
Minding  the  Main, 

open'd  as  Lydia's  was : 
.  A  hand  like  Dorcas 

who  the  naked  clad ; 
Feet  like  Joanna's, 

posting  to  Christ  apace. 
And  above  all, 

to  live  yourself  to  see 
Marryed  to  Him, 

who  must  your  Saviour  be, 

The  son  of  the  eldest  brother,  William,  settled 
at  Hebron,  Connecticut,  in  1717,  where  his  fifth 
son,  Samuel,  was  born  Dec.  12, 1735.  He  was  gra- 
duated at  Yale  in  1757;  travelled  the  next  year  to 
Europe  ;  abandoned  the  family  Puritanism  and 


SAMUEL  PETERS. 


191 


became  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England  in 
1760,  when  lie  returned  to  Connecticut,  marrying 
a  descendant  of  learned  Dr.  John  Qwen.  He  had 
charge  of  the  churches  at  Hartford  and  Hebron. 
In  1774,  he  was  compelled  to  leave  the  country 

as  a  Royalist  clergyman.  The  circumstances  of 
this  exit  Were  characteristic  of  the  times.  He  was 
considered  by  the  Whigs  who  were  conducting 
the  Revolution,  as  an  arrant  Tory,  who  was  med- 
dling with  and  marring  the  work  of  Indepen- 
dence by  his  communications  to  his  correspon- 
dents in  England.  If  his  humorous,  voluble  style 
is  to  be  taken  as  evidence  of  his  conversational 
powers,  his  tongue  must  also  have  been  an  un- 
welcome scourge  of  his  rebellious  townspeople. 
So  a  committee  of  the  public  paid  him  a  domicilia- 
ry visit  to  secure  from  him  a  decided  declaration 
of  his  opinions.  Three  hundred  gathered  at  his 
house  at  Hebron,  stated  his  offences,  and  hinted  at 
a  suit  of  tar  and  feathers.  It  was  a  committee 
with  power ;  and  they  called  for  books  and  pa- 
pers, demanding  copies  of  the  letters  which  he 
had  forwarded,  and  of  the  malignant  articles 
which  be  had  sent  to  the  newspapers.  They  pro- 
cured from  him  a  declaration  in  writing,  that  he 
had  not  "  sent  any  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Eon- 
don  or  the  Venerable  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  the  Gospel,  relative  to  the  Boston  Port  Bill,  or 
the  Tea  affair,  or  the  Controversy  between  Great 
Britain  and  the  Colonies,  and  designed  not  to, 
during  his  natural  life,  as  these  controversies 
were  out  of  his  business  as  a  clergyman;  also,  he 
had  not  written  to  England  to  any  other  gentle- 
man, or  designed  Company,  nor  would  he  do  it." 
He  gave  them  up,  also,  a  copy  of  Thirteen  Re- 
solves Which  he  had  written  for  the  press,  which 
were  found,  when  they  came  to  be  published  and 
read,  to  be  not  satisfactory  to  the  public  mind. 
This  was  in  August.  In  September,  he  received 
another  visit  from  a  committee,  and  undertook  to 
defend  himself  by  argument ;  but  they  were  there' 
to  act  and  not  to  talk,  and  referred  him  to  the 
sovereign  people  in  full  assembly  without.  He 
addressed  the  latter  convocation  in  an  harangue; 
and  in  the  midst  of  it  a  gun  was  heard  to  go  off 
in  his  house,  notwithstanding  his  declaration  that 
he  had  no  serviceable  fire-arms.  He  was  allowed 
to  go  on,  and  another  paper  was  proposed  to  be 
signed  by  l>im.  He  prepared  one,  and  it  was  not 
satisfactory.  The  committee  requested  his  signa- 
ture to  one  of  their  own  writing,  which  he  de- 
clined. To  cut  short  the  parley,  "the  whole  body 
broke  into  the  house  by  door  and  windows,  and 
seizing  Dr.  Peters,  carried  him  off  to  the  meeting- 
house green,  three  quarters  of  a  mile  away.  He 
was  now  convinced  by  this  rough  logic,  ami  sign- 
ed the  required  document.  u  During  the  affair," 
we  are  told,  "  his  gown  and  shirt  were  torn,  one 
sash  of  his  house  was  somewhat  shattered,  a  table 
was  turned  over,  and  a  punch-bowl  and  glass  were 
broken."* 

After  this  the  Doctor  fled  to  Boston,  on  his 

*  Sabine's  Loyalists,  Art.  Peters. 


way  to  England,  smarting  with  the  wrongs  of 
the  Yankees,  and  bent  on  revenge.  His  design 
was  to  accumulate  stories  of  the  desperate  acts  of 
the  people  of  the  state  for  the  government  in 
England,  and  procure  a  withdrawal  of  the  Char- 
ter. This  was  suspected  by  his  Connecticut 
friends,  and  they  made  sure  of  it  by  intercepting 
his  letters.  In  one  of  these,  dated  Boston,  ad- 
dressed to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Auchmuty,  of  New  York, 
he  intimates  as  in  prospect,  that  "  the  bounds  of 
New  York  may  directly  extend  to  Connecticut 
River,  Boston  meet  them,  and  New  Hampshire 
take  the  Province  of  Maine,  and  Rhode  Island  be 
swallowed  up  as  Dathan."* 

Doctor  Peters  did  not  carry  his  point  of  dis- 
membering Connecticut,  but  he  punished  the  na- 
tives almost  as  effectually  by  writing  a  book — his 
history  of  the  State. t  It  was  published  anony- 
mously, but  it  was  as  plainly  Peters's  as  if  every 
page  had  been  subscribed  by  him,  like  the  extort- 
ed declarations.  Looked  at  as  history,  we  may 
say  it  is  unreliable ;  but  regarded  as  a  squib, 
which  the  author  almost  had  the  opportunity  of 
writing  with  quills  plucked  from  his  writhing 
body,  and  planted  there  by  his  over-zealous  breth- 
ren of  Hebron,  it  is  vastly  enjoyable  and  may  be 
forgiven. 

The  General  History  of  Connecticut  is  as  good, 
in  its  way,  as  Knickerbocker's  New  York.  The 
full-mouthed,  humorous  gravity  of  its  style  is  ir- 
resistible. Its  narrations  are  independent  of  time, 
place,  and  probability.  A  sober  critic  would  go 
mad  over  an  attempt  to  correct  its  misstate- 
ments ;  though  the  good  Dr.  Dwight  thought  the 
subject  once  of  importance  enough  to  do  some- 
thin'g  of  the  kind  in  his  Travels,  where  be  amends 
the  historian's  account  of  the  magnificent  flight 
of  steps  which  led  up  to  the  church  at  Green- 
wich, by  stating  that  they  were  simply  stones  of 
the  street  placed  there  to  protect  visitors  from 
the  mud. J 

In  the  reprint  of  the  work  at  New  Haven,  in 
1829,  illustrated  by  eight  very  remarkable  engra- 
vings, there  is  a  species  of  apologetic  preface, 
which  would  lift  the  work  into  the  dignity  of 
history,  after  making  liberal  allowances  for  the 
author's  "excited  feelings,"  and  particularly  ins 
revenge  npon  the  Trumbull  family  for  "  that  no- 
table tetrastic,"  which  was  put  into  the  mouth  of 
the  hero  by  the  author  of  M'Fingal : — 

"What  warnings  had  ye  of  your  duty, 
From  our  old  rev'rend  Sam  Auchmuty  ; 
From  priests  of  all  degrees  and  metres, 
To  our  fag-end  man  Parson  Peters. 

But  all  this  will  not  do.  What  are  we  to  think 
of  a  sober  writer,  on  the  eve  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  publishing  such  a  geographical  statement 


*  Sabine's  Loyalists,  584. 

+  A  General  History  of  Connecticut:  from  its  First  Settle- 
ment, under  George  Fenwick,  Esq.,  to  its  latest  period  of  ami- 
ty with  Great  Britain,  including  a  description  of  the  Country, 
and  many  curious  and  interesting  Anecdotes  ;  to  which  is  add- 
ed an  Appendix,  wherein  new  and  the  true  sources  of  the  pre- 
sent Rebellion  in  America  an'  pointed  out;  together  with  the 
particular  part  taken  by  the  People  of  Connecticut  in  its  Pro- 
motion. By  a  Gentleman  of  the  Province.  Plus  apud  me  ra- 
tio valebit,  quam  vulgi  opinio. — Clc.  London,  printed  for  the 
author.     Sold  by  J.  Bew,  1781. 

$  "This  is  the  building  pompously  exhibited  in  that  mass 
of  folly  andfalsehood  commonly  called  Peters's  History  of  Con- 
necticut."— Dwight's  Travels,  iii.  405. 


192 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


of  a  well  known  river  as  that  which  we  place  in 
italics  in  the  following  paragraph : — 

The  middle  river  is  named  Connecticut,  after  the 
great  Sachem  to  whom  that  part  of  the  province 
through  which  it  runs  belonged.  This  vast  river  is 
500  miles  long,  and  four  miles  wide  at  its  mouth: 
its  channel,  or  inner  banks,  in  general,  half  a  mile 
wide.  It  takes  its  rise  from  the  White  Hills,  in  the 
north  of  New  England,  where  also  springs  the  river 
Kennebec.  Above  500  rivulets,  which  issue  from 
lakes,  ponds,  and  drowned  lands,  fall  into  it;  many 
of  them  are  larger  than  the  Thames  at  London.  In 
March,  when  the  rain  and  sun  melt  the  snow  and 
ice,  each  stream  is  overcharged,  and  kindly  hastens 
to  this  great  river,  to  overflow,  fertilize,  and  preserve 
its  trembling  meadows.  They  lift  up  enormous 
cakes  of  ice,  bursting  from  their  frozen  beds  with 
threatening  intentions  of  plowing  up  the  frighted 
earth,  and  carry  them  rapidly  down  the  falls,  where 
they  are  dashed  in  pieces  and  rise  in  mist.  Except 
at  these  falls,  of  which  there  are  five,  the  first  sixty 
miles  from  its  mouth,  the  river  is  navigable  through- 
out. In  its  northern  parts  are  three  great  bondings, 
called  cohosses,  about  100  miles  asunder.  Two  hun- 
dred miles  from  the  Sound  is  a  narrow  of  five  yards 
only,  formed  by  two  shelving  mountains  of  solid 
rock,  whose  tops  intercept  the  clouds.  Through 
this  chasm  are  compelled  to  pnss  all  the  waters 
which  in  the  time  of  the  floods  bury  the  northern 
country.  At  the  upper  cohos  the  river  then  spreads 
several  miles  wide,  and  for  fiv^e  or  six  weeks  ships 
of  war  might  sail  over  lands,  that  afterwards  pro- 
duce the  greatest  crops  of  hay  and  grain  in  all 
America.  People  who  can  bear  the  sight,  the  groans, 
the  tremblings,  and  surly  motion  of  water,  trees, 
and  ice,  through  this  awful  passage,  view  with  as- 
tonishmentone  of  the  greatest  phenomenons  in  nature. 
Here  water  is  consolidated,  without  frost,  by  pressure, 
by  swiftness,  between  the  pinching,  sturdy  rocks,  to 
such  a  degree  of  induration,  that  an  iron  crow  floats 
smoothly  down  its  current : — here  iron,  lead,  and 
cork,  have  one  common  weight : — here,  steady  as  time, 
and  harder  than  marble,  the  stream  passes  irresisti- 
ble, if  not  swift,  as  lightning : — the  electric  fire 
rends  trees  in  pieces  with  no  greater  ease,  than  does 
this  mighty  water.  The  passage  is  about  400  yards 
in  length,  and  of  a  zigzag  form,  with  obtuse  cor- 
ners. 

or  how  can  we  accept  for  anything  but  a  wag  the 
narrator  of  this  marvel  at  Windham : — 

Windham  resembles  Rumford,  and  stands-  on 
Winnomantic  river  Its  meeting-house  is  elegant, 
and  has  a  steeple,  bell,  and  clock.  Its  court-house 
is  scarcely  to  be  looked  upon  as  an  ornament.  The 
township  forms  four  parishes,  and  is  ten  miles 
square. 

Strangers  are  very  much  terrified  at  the  hideous 
noise  made  on  summer  evenings  by  the  vast  number 
of  frogs  in  the  brooks  and  ponds.  There  are  about 
thirty  different  voices  among  them  ;  some  of  which 
resemble  the  bellowing  of  a  bull.  The  owls  and 
whippoorwills  complete  the  rough  concert,  which 
may  be  heard  several  miles.  Persons  accustomed 
to  such  serenades  are  not  disturbed  by  them  at  their 
proper  stations;  but  one  night,  in  July,  1758,  the 
frogs  of  an  artificial  pond,  three  miles  square,  and 
about  five  from  Windham,  finding  the  water  dried 
up,  left  the  place  in  a  body,  and  marched,  or  rather 
hopped  towards  Winnomantic  river.  They  were 
under  the  necessity  of  taking  the  road  and  going 
through  the  town,  which  they  entered  about  mid- 
night The  bull  frogs  were  the  leaders,  and  the 
pipers  followed  without  number.     They  filled  a  road 


40  yards  wide  for  four  miles  in  length,  and  were  for 
several  hours  in  passing  through  the  town,  unusual- 
ly clamorous.  .The  inhabitants  were  equally  per- 
plexed and  frightened  ;  some  expected  to  find  an 
army  of  French  and  Indians ;  others  feared  an 
earthquake,  and  dissolution  of  nature.  The  con- 
sternation was  universal.  Old  and  young,  male  and 
female,  fled  naked  from  their  beds  with  worse  shriek- 
ings  than  those  of  the  frogs.  The  event  was  fatal 
to  several  women.  The  men,  after  a  flight  of  half 
a  mile,  in  which  they  met  with  many  broken  shins, 
finding  no  enemies  in  pursuit  of  them,  made  a  halt, 
and  summoned  resolution  enough  to  venture  back 
to  their  wives  and  children  ;  when  they  distinctly 
heard  from  the  enemy's  camp  these  words,  Wight, 
Hilderkcn,  JJier,  Tete.  ■  This  last  they  thought  mgarrt 
treaty ;  and  plucking  up  courage,  they  sent  a  trium- 
virate to  capitulate  with  the  supposed  French  and 
Indians.  These  three  men  approached  in  their 
shirts,  and  begged  to  speak  with  the  general ;  but 
it  being  dark,  and  no  answer  given,  they  were  sore- 
ly agitated  for  some  time  betwixt  hope  and  fear ;  at 
length,  however,  they  discovered  that  the  dreaded 
inimical  army  was  an  army  of  thirsty  frogs,  going 
to  the  river  for  a  little  water. 

Such  an  incursion  was  never  known  before  nor 
since;  and  yet  the  people  of  Windham  have  been 
ridiculed  for  their  timidity  on  this  occasion.  I  ve- 
rily believe  an  army  under  the  Duke  of  Marlbo- 
rough, would,  under  like  circumstances,  have  acted 
no  better  than  they  did. 

His  story  of  Old  Put  and  the  Wolf  too  has  some 
variations  from  acknowledged  versions : — 

AVe  read  that  David  slew  a  lion  and  a  bear,  and 
afterwards  that  Saul  trusted  him  to  fight  Goliath. 
In  Pomfret  lives  Col.  Israel  Putnam,  who  slew  a  she- 
bear  and  her  two  quhs  with  a  billet  of  wood.  The 
bravery  of  this  action  brought  him  into  public  no- 
tice: and,  it  seems,  he  is  one  of  fortune's  favorites. 
The  story  is  as  follows : — In  1754,  a  large  she-bear 
came  in  the  night  from  her  den,  which  was  three 
miles  from  Mr.  Putnam's  house,  and  took  a  sow  out 
of  a  pen  of  his.  The  sow,  by  her  squeaking,  awoke 
Mr.  Putnam,  who  hastily  ran  to  the  poor  creature's 
relief;  but  before  he  could  reach  the  pen,  the  bear 
had  left  it,  and  was  trotting  away  with  the  sow  in 
her  mouth.  Mr.  Putnam  took  up  a  billet  of  wood, 
and  followed  the  screamings  of  the  sow,  till  he 
came  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  where  the  den 
was.  Dauntless  he  entered  the  horrid  cavern;  and, 
after  walking  and  crawling  upon  his  hands  and  knees 
for  fifty  yards,  came  to  a  roomy  cell,  where  the  bear 
met  him  with  great  fury.  He  saw  nothing  but  the 
fire  of  her  eyes ;  but  that  was  sufficient  for  our 
hero:  he  accordingly  directed  his  blow,  which  at 
once  proved  fatal  to  the  bear  and  saved  his  own  life 
at  a  most  critical  moment.  Putnam  then  discovered 
and  killed  two  cubs  ;  and  having,  though  in  Egyp- 
tian darkness,  dragged  them  and  the  dead  sow,  one 
by  one,  out  of  the  cave,  he  went  home,  and  calmly 
reported  to  his  family  what  had  happened.  The 
neighbors  declared,  on  viewing  the  place  by  torch." 
light,  that  his  exploit  exceeded  those  of  Sampson  or 
David.  Soon  afterwards  the  General  Assembly  ap- 
pointed Mr.  Putnam  a  Lieutenant  in  the  Army 
marching  against  Canada.  His  courage  and  good 
conduct  raised  him  to  the  rank  of  Captain  the  next 
year.  The  third  year  he  was  made  a  Major;  and 
the  fourth  a  Colonel.  Putnam  and  Rogers  were  the 
heroes  through  the  last  war.  Putnam  was  so  hardy, 
at  a  time  when  the  Indians  had  killed  all  his  men, 
and  completely  hemmed  him  in  upon  a  river,  as  to 
leap  into  a  stream,  which  in  a  minute  carried  him 


SAMUEL  PETERS. 


193 


down  a  stupendous  fall,  where  no  tree  could  pass 
without  being  torn  in  picees.  The  Indians  reasona- 
bly concduded  that  Putnam,  their  terrible  enemy,  was 
dead,  and  made  their  report  accordingly  at  Ticon- 
deroga ;  but  soon  after,  a  scouting  party  found 
their  sad  mistake  in  a  bloody  rencontre.  Some  few 
that  got  off  declared  that  Putnam  was  yet  living, 
and  that  he  was  the  first  son  of  Hobbamockow, 
and  therefore  immortal.  However,  at  length  the 
Indians  took  this  terrible  warrior  prisoner,  and  tied 
him  to  a  tree;  where  he  hung  three  days  without 
food.or  drink.  They  did  not  attempt  to  kill  him  for 
fear  of  offending  Hobbamockow  ;  but  they  sold  him 
to  the  French  at  a  great  price.  The  name  of  Put- 
nam was  more  alarming  to  the  Indians  than  cannon, 
and  they  never  would  fight  him  after  his  escape 
from  the  falls.  He  was  afterwards  redeemed  by 
the  English. 

The  sketch  of  the  manners  of  the  country  is 
amusing.  Passing  over  some  graver  topics  we 
light  upon  this  picture  of  a  courtship. 

An  English  gentleman,  during  a  short  residence  in 
a  certain  town,  had  the  good  luck  to  receive  some 
civilities  from  the  Deacon,  Minister,  and  Justice. 
The  Deacon  had  a  daughter,  without  beauty,  but 
Bensible  and  rich.  The  Briton  (for  that  was  the 
name  he  went  by),  having  received  a  present  from 
the  West  Indies,  of  some  pine-apples  and  sweet- 
meats, sent  his  servant  with  part  of  it  to  the  Dea- 
con's daughter,  to  whom  at  the  same  time  he  ad- 
dressed a  complimentary  note,  begging  Miss  would 
accept  the  pine-apples  and  sweetmeats,  and  wishing 
he  might  be  able  to  make  her  a  better  present. 
Miss,  on  reading  the  note,  was  greatly  alarmed,  and 
exclaimed  "  Mama!  Mama!  Mr.  Briton  has  sent  me 
a  love-letter."  The  mother  read  the  note,  and 
shewed  it  to  the  Deacon;  and,  after  due  considera- 
tion, both  agreed  in  pronouncing  it  a  love-letter. 
The  lawyer,  justice,  and  parson,  were  then  sent  for, 
who  in  council  weighed  every  word  in  the  note,  to- 
gether with  the  golden  temptation  which  the  lady 
possessed,  and  were  of  opinion  that  the  writer  was 
in  love,  and  that  the  note  was  a  love-letter,  but 
worded  so  carefully  that  the  law  could  not  punish 
Briton  for  attempting  to  court  Miss  without  obtain- 
ing her  parents'  consent.  The  parson  wrung  his 
hands,  rolled  up  his  eyes,  shrugged  up  his  shoulders, 
groaned  oat  his  hypocritical  grief,  and  said,  "Dea- 
con, I  hope  you  do  not  blame  me  for  having  been 
the  innocent  cause  of  your  knowing  this  imprudent 
and  haughty  Briton.  There  is  something  very  odd 
in  all  the  Britons  ;  but  I  thought  this  man  had  some 
prudence  and  modesty  :  however,  Deacon,"  putting 
his  hand  on  his  breast,  and  bowing  with  a  pale,  de- 
ceitful face,  "  I  shall  in  future  shun  all  the  Britons, 
for  they  are  all  strange  creatures."  The  lawyer  and 
justice  made  their  apologies,  and  were  sorry  that 
Briton  did  not  consider  the  quality  of  the  Deacon's 
daughter  before  he  wrote  his  letter.  Miss,  all  ap- 
prehension and  tears,  at  finding  no  punishment 
could  reach  Briton  in  the  course  of  law,  cried  out 
to  her  counsellors,  "  Who  is  Briton?  Am  I  not  the 
Deacon's  daughter?  What  have  I  done  that  he 
should  take  such  liberties  with  me?  Is  lie  not  the 
natural  son  of  some  priest  or  foundling?  Ought  he 
not  to  be  exposed  for  his  assurance  to  the  Deacon's 
daughter  ?" 

Her  words  took  effect.  The  council  voted  that 
they  would  show  their  contempt  of  Briton  by 
neglecting  him  for  the  time  to  come.  On  his  return 
home,  the  parson,  after  many  and  great  signs  of  sur- 

f)rise,  informed  his  wife  of  the  awful  event  which 
lad  happened  by  the  imprudence  of  Briton.     She 
vol..  I. — 13 


soon  communicated  the  secret  to  her  sister  gossips, 

Erudently  cautioning  them  not  to  report  it  as  from 
er.  But,  not  content  with  that,  the  parson  himself 
went  among  all  his  acquaintance,  shaking  his  head 
and  saying  "  0  Sirs  !  have  }Tou  heard  of  the  strange 
conduct  of  friend  Briton  ? — how  he  wrote  a  love- 
letter,  and  sent  it  with  some  pine-apples  to  the  Dea- 
con's daughter?  My  wife  and  I  had  a  great  friend- 
ship for  Briton,  but  cannot  see  him  any  more." 
Thus  the  afflicted  parson  told  this  important  tale  to 
every  one  except  Briton,  who,  from  his  ignorance 
of  the  story,  conducted  himself  in  his  usual  manner 
towards  his  supposed  friends,  though  he  observed 
they  had  a  show  of  haste  and  business  whenever  he 
met  with  any  of  them.  Happily  for  Briton,  he  de- 
pended not  on  the  Deacon,  Minister,  or  Colony,  for 
his  support.  At  last,  a  Scotchman  heard  of  the  evil 
tale,  and  generously  told  Briton  of  it,  adding  that 
the  parson  was  supposed  to  bo  in  a  deep  decline 
merely  from  the  grief  and  fatigue  he  had  endured 
in  spreading  it.  Briton  thanked  the  Scotchman,  and 
called  on  the  friendly  parson  to  know  the  particu- 
lars of  his  offence.  The  parson,  with  sighs,  bows, 
and  solemn  smirkings,  answered,  "  Sir,  the  fact  is, 
you  wrote  a  love-letter  to  the  Deacon's  daughter, 
without  asking  her  parents'  consent,  which  has  given 
great  offence  to  that  lady,  and  to  all  her  acquain- 
tance, of  whom  I  and  my  wife  have  the  honor  to  be 
reckoned  a  part."  Briton  kept  his  temper.  "  So 
then,"  said  he,  "  I  have  offended  you  by  my  insolent 
note  to  the  Deacon's  daughter!  I  hope  my  sin  is 
venial.  Pray,  Sir,  have  you  seen  my  note?"  "Yes," 
replied  the  parson,  "to  my  grief  and  sorrow:  I 
could  not  have  thought  you  so  imprudent,  had  I  not 
seen  and  found  the  note  to  be  your  own  writing." 
"How  long  have  you  known  of  this  offence?" 
"  Some  months."  "  Why,  Sir,  did  you  not  seasona- 
bly admonish  me  for  this  crime  ?"  "  I  was  so  hurt 
and  grieved,  and  my  friendship  so  great,  I  could 
not  bear  to  tell  you."  Mr.  Briton  then  told  the  par- 
son, that  his  friendship  was  so  fine  and  subtle,  it  was 
invisible  to  an  English  eye;  and  that  Gospel  minis- 
ters in  England  did  not  prove  their  friendship  by 
telling  calumnious  stories  to  everybody  but  the  per- 
son concerned.  "  But  I  suppose,"  added  he,  "  this 
is  genuine  New  England  friendship,  and  merits 
thanks  more  than  a  supple-jack  !"  The  parson,  with 
a  leering  look,  sneaked  away  towards  his  wife;  and 
Briton  left  the  colony  without  any  civil  or  ecclesias- 
tical punishment,  telling  the  Scotchman  that  the 
Deacon's  daughter  had  money,  and  the  parson  faith 
without  eyes,  or  he  should  never  have  been  accused 
of  making  love  to  one  who  was  naturally  so  great 
an  enemy  to  Cupid.  Of  such  or  worse  sort  being 
the  reception  foreign  settlers  may  expect  from  the 
inhabitants  of  Connecticut,  it  is  no  wonder  that  few 
or  none  choose  to  venture  among  them. 

As  a  satirical  and  humorous  writer  Peters  cer- 
tainly had  his  merits;  and  with  all  its  nonsense 
there  is  some  "  sharpened  sly  inspection"  in  his 
pages. 

When  the  war  was  ended,  Peters  was  chosen  in 
I'TO-i,  bishop,  by  a  convention  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church  in  Vermont,  and  accepted  tho 
office ;  but,  on  the  ground  that  the  act  of  Parlia- 
ment limited  the  number  of  bishops  for  America, 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  declined  his  con- 
secration. Dr.  Peters  had  gone  so  far,  not  only  as 
to  accept  tho  proffered  call,  but  to  write  an 
Episcopal  letter,  his  pen  armed  with  all  the  graces 
and  dignity  of  St.  Paul.  He  addresses  his  epistle 
"to  the  churches  of  Christ  spread  abroad  in  tho 
State   of  Vermont,  mercy,  peace,  and   love  be 


194 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


multiplied ;"  and  goes  on  with  an  apostolic  unc- 
tion, the  humor  of  which  is  irresistible  when  we 
consider  Saint  Paul,  Dr.  Peters,  and  that  the 
writer  was  no  bishop  after  all.  He  was  only 
trying  on  the  mitre. 

"  Until  I  come,"  writes  he,  parodying  the  Apostle, 
"give  attendance  to  reading,  prayer,  and  faith. 
When  present  with  you,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I  will 
lead  you  through  the  wilderness  of  life,  up  to  a 
world  that  knows  no  sorrow.  I  will  guide  you  with 
mine  eye,  and  feed  your  lambs  and  sheep,  with  bread 
more  durable  than  the  everlasting  hills.  While 
absent  from  you  in  body  I  am  present  with  you  in 
mind,  thanking  God  always  in  every  prayer  of  mine, 
and  making  request  with  joy  for  your  fellowship  in 
the  gospel  of  his  Son;  that  you  may  be  of  good 
cheer,  and  overcome  a  world  yielding  no  content, 
the  only  wealth  of  man ;  and  that  you  may  know 
how  to  be  abased,  and  how  to  abound ;  everywhere 
and  in  all  things  to  be  instructed  to  obey  the  laws 
of  Christ.  The  spirit  which  heals  all  our  infirmities, 
no  doubt  led  you  to  glorify  God  in  me,  when  you 
appointed  the  least  of  all  saints  to  fill  the  highest 
Btation  in  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ ;  duty  and 
inclination  (with  feeble  blood  flowing  in  my  veins) 
inspire  my  soul  to  seek  and  do  you  good  in  that 
6acred  office  to  which  you  have  invited  me  ;  being 
confident  that  j"ou  will  receive  me  with  nil  gladness, 
and  hold  me  in  reputation  for  the  work  of  Christ, 
which  brought  me  near  to  death,  and  shall  finally 
make  you  my  glory  and  my  joy.  *  *  Should  my 
insufficiency  in  spiritual  and  scientific  knowledge 
appear  too  manifest  among  you,  my  zeal  and  labors 
in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord  shall,  I  trust,  be  your 
pride  and  bonst:  in  this  hope,  and  resting  on  the 
candor,  order,  morality,  learning, piety,  and  religion 
of  those  over  whom  I  am  well  chosen  to  preside,  I 
shall  with  some  degree  of  confidence  undertake  the 
charge,  and  claim  the  wisdom  of  the  wise  to  enlighten 
my  understanding,  and  the  charity  and  prayers  of 
all  to  remove  any  wants,  and  to  lessen  my  manifold 
imperfections.  *  *  Salute  one  another  with  faith 
and  love."* 

Peters  seems  to  have  resided  in  England  till 
1805,  when  he  returned  to  America.  He  pub- 
lished in  New  York,  in  1807,  his  History  of  the 
Rev.  Hugh  Petersj  a  book  which  is  set  forth  as  a 
vindication  of  the  character  of  that  parliamentary 
divine.  The  appendix  contains  some  interesting 
notices  of  his  own,  and  of  some  of  the  royalist 
families  in  America.  The  calculation  of  the  rapid 
growth  of  the  Peters  family  in  the  country  is 
curious.  As  a  specimen  of  his  waggery  and  skill 
in  telling  a  story  we  may  quote  his  account  of  an 
interview  between  Ward,  the  simple  cobbler  of 
Agawam,  and  Cotton  Mather. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Ward,  being  an  eminent  Puritan  in 
England,  disliked  the  spiritual  and  star-chamber 
courts  under  the  control  of  tiie  hierarchy  of  Eng- 
land ;  he  fled  to  New  England,  and  became  minister 
of  Agawam,  an  Indian   village,  making  the   west 


*  The  Churchman's  Magazine,  N.  T.  June,  1S^7.  Art.  Sup- 
plement to  American  Episcopate. 

+  A  History  of  the  Eev.  Hugh  Peters.  A.M..  Avch-Intemlant 
of  the  Prerogative  Court  of  Doctors'  Commons  ;  member  of  tbo 
celebrated  Assembly  of  Divines  at  the  Savoy,  Westminster; 
and  Piincipal  Chaplain  to  the  Lord  Protector  and  to  the  Lords 
and  House  of  Commons,  from  the  yc3r  1640  to  1660.  With  an 
Appendix.  By  the  Eev.  Samuel  Peters,  LL.D.  "Let  us 
praise  famous  men,  and  our  fathers  who  begat  us:  the  Lord 
hath  wrought  great  glorv  by  them." — Eccles.  xliv.  New 
York:  Printed  for  tbo  Author.    1S07. 


part  of  Springfield,  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts. 
He  was  an  exact  scholar,  a  meek,  benevolent,  and 
charitable  Christian.  He  used  the  Indians  with 
justice  and  tenderness,  and  established  one  of  the 
best  towns  on  Connecticut  river.  He  was  free  from 
hypocrisy,  and  stiff  bigotry,  which  then  domineered 
in  New  England,  and  which  yet  remain  at  Hadley 
and  Northampton,  not  much  to  the  credit  of  morality 
and  piety.  Mr.  Ward  had  a  large  share  of  Hudi- 
brastic  wit,  and  much  pleasantry  with  his  gravity. 
This  appears  in  his  history  of  Agawam,  wherein 
he  satirized  the  prevailing  superstition  of  tlie  times; 
which  did  more  good  than  Dr.  Mather's  book, 
entitled,  Stilts  for  JJnarfs  in  Christ  toWade  through 
the  Mud,  or  his  Magnalia,  with  his  otlier  twenty- 
four  books.  His  posterity  are  many,  and  have  dona 
their  part  in  the  pulpit,  in  the  field,  and  at  the  bar, 
in  the  six  States  of  Kew  England,  and  generally 
have  followed  the  charitable  temper  of  their  vene- 
rable ancestor,  and  seldom  fail  to  hish  the  avarice  of 
the  clergy,  who  are  often  recommending  charity 
and  hospitality  to  the  needy  stranger,  and  at  the 
same  time  never  follow  their  own  advice  to  others. 
Mr.  Ward,  of  Agawam,  has  left  his  children  an 
example  worthy  of  imitation.  The  story  is  thus 
related  : 

Dr.  Mather,  of  Boston,  was  constantly  exhorting 
his  hearers  to  entertain  strangers,  for  by  doing  so 
they  might  entertain  angels.  But  it  was  remarked, 
that  Dr.  Mather  never  entertained  strangers,  nor 
gave  any  relief  to  beggars.  This  report  l  cached 
Mr.  Ward,  of  Agawam,  an  intimate  chum  of,  the 
Doctor  while  at  the  university.  Ward  said  he 
hoped  it  was  not  true  ;  but  resolved  to  discover  the 
truth  ;  therefore  he  set  off  for  Boston  on  foot,  one 
hundred  and  twenty  miles,  aid  arrived  at  the  door 
of  Dr.  Mather  on  Saturday  evening,  when  most 
people  were  in  bed,  and  knocked  at  the  door,  which 
the  maid  opened.  Ward  said,  "  I  come  from  the 
country,  to  hear  good  Dr.  Mather  preach  to-morrow. 
I  am  hungry,  and  thirsty,  without  money,  and  I 
beg  the  good  Doctor  will  give  me  relief  and  a  bed 
in  his  house  until  the  Sabbath  is  over."  The  maid 
replied,  "  The  Doctor  is  in  his  study,  it  is  Saturday 
night,  the  Sabbath  is  begun,  we  have  no  bed,  or 
victuals,  for  ragged  beggars,"  and  shut  the  door 
upon  him.  Mr.  Ward  again  made  use  of  the 
knocker:  the  maid  went  to  the  Doctor,  and  told 
him  there  was  a  sturdy  beggar  beating  the  door, 
wdio  insisted  on  coming  in  and  stayii  g  there  over 
the  Sabbath.  The  Doctor  said,  "  Tell  him  to  depart, 
or  a  constable  shall  conduct  him  to  a  prison."  The 
maid  obeyed  the  Doctor's  order;  and  Mr.  Ward  said, 
"  I  will  not  leave  the  door  until  I  have  seen  the 
Doctor."  This  tumult  roused  the  Doctor,  with  his 
black  velvet  cap  on  his  head,  and  he  came  to  the 
door  and  opened  it,  and  said,  "Thou  country  villain, 
how  dare  you  knock  thus  at  my  door  after  the  Sab- 
bath has  begun  ?"  Mr.  Ward  replied,  "  Sir,  I  am  a 
stranger,  hungry  and  moneyless;  pray  take  me  in, 
until  the  holy  Sabbath  is  past,  so  that  I  may  hear 
one  of  your  godly  sermons."  The  Doctor  said, 
"Vagrant,  go  thy  way,  and  trouble  me  no  more;  I 
will  not  break  the  Sabbath  by  giving  thee  food  and 
lodging,"  and  then  shut  the  door.  The  Doctor  had 
scarcely  reached  his  stud}',  when  Ward  began  to 
exercise  the  knocker  with  continued  violence.  The 
Doctor,  not  highly  pleased,  returned  to  the  door  and 
said,  "  Wretched  being,  why  dost  thou  trouble  me 
thus  ?  what  wilt  thou  have  s"  Ward  replied,  "  En- 
tertainment in  your  house  until  Monday  morning." 
The  Doctor  said,  "You  shall  not,  therefore  go  thy 
way."  Mr.  Ward  replied,  "  Sir,  as  that  point  is 
settled,  pray  give  me  a  sixpence  or  a  shilling, 
and   a   piece   of   bread   and    meat"      The    Doctor 


THOMAS  GODFREY. 


195 


said,  "  I  will  give  thee  neither,"  and  again  shut 
the  door.  And  then  Mr.  Ward  thundered  with  the 
knocker  of  the  door,  and  the  Doctor  returned  in 
great,  wrath  and  said,  "  Thou  art  mad,  or  possessed 
with  an  evil  spirit:  what  wilt  thou  have  now?" 
Mr.  Ward  replied,  "  Since  you,  sir,  will  not  give  lodg- 
ings, nor  money,  nor  food,  nor  drink  to  me,  I  pray 
for  your  advice;  will  you  direct  me  to  a  stew!" 
The'Doctor  cried  out,  "  Vagrant  of  all  vagrants !  the 
curse  of  God  will  fall  on  thee  ;  thou  art  one  of  the 
non-elects.  Dost  thou,  villain,  suppose  that  I  am 
acquainted  with  bad  houses?  What  dost  thou  want 
at  a  stew?"  Mr.  Ward  replied,  "I  am  hungry, 
weary,  thirsty,  moneyless,  and  almost  naked ;  and 
Solomon,  the  wisest  king  the  Jews  ever  had,  tells 
me  and  you,  that  a  whore  will  bring  a  man  to  a 
morsel  of  bread  at  the  last."  Now  Dr.  Mather  awoke 
from  his  reverend  dream,  and  cried,  "  Tu  es  Ward- 
onus  vel  Diabolus."  Mr.  Ward  laughed,  and  the 
Doctor  took  him  in  and  gave  him  all  he  wanted ;  and 
Mr.  Ward  preached  for  the  Doctor  next  day,  both 
morning  and  evening  This  event  had  its  due  effect 
on  the  Doctor  ever  after,  and  he  kept  the  Shnna- 
mite's  chamber,  and  became  hospitable  and  charita- 
ble to  all  in  want. 

'  It  corrected  the  Doctor's  temper  to  such  a  degree, 
that  six  months  after,  lie  ceased  to  pray  more 
against  the  pope  and  conclave  of  Rome,  and  sup- 
plied the  vacuum,  by  praying  for  the  downfall  of 
the  red  drag  mi  at  Morocco,  Egypt,  and  Arabia,  on 
the  east  side  of  the  Red  Sea,  even  at  Mecca  and 
Medina ;  words  which  helped  the  sand  to  pass 
through  the  hour-glass,  the  orthodox  length  of  a 
prayer. 

It  is,  perhaps,  not  the  best  manners  to  apply 
chronology  to  an  anecdote,  but  if  we  look  at  the 
facts  of  this  case,  it  is  rather  unfortunate  for 
good  Dr.  Peters  that  Ward  died  ten  years  before 
Cotton  Mather,  whom  the  story  was  probably 
intended  to  lit,  was  born;  and  if,  to  give  the 
joke  another  chance,  we  carry  it  back  to  In- 
crease Mather,  Ward  left  New  England  when  that 
quaint  divine  was  but  eight  years  old,  and  died 
tlirej  years  before  that  elder  Mather  graduated. 
If  we  were  disposed  still  further  to  go  into  par- 
ticulars, we  might  remark  that  Ward's  Agawam 
was  not  on  the  Connecticut;  that  he  did  not  write 
a  history  ol  that  place;  that  the  cobbler  was  not 
remarkably  free  from  bigotry ;  and  that  Dr. 
Mather's  "Stilts  for  Dwarfs"  is  not  to  be  found 
mentioned  in  any  respectable  bibliographical  work. 

Dr.  Peters  made  a  journey  to  the  We,3t,  to  the 
Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  in  prosecution  of  some 
land  claims,  in  1817.  lie  died  at  New  York, 
April  11),  1836,  at  the  venerable  age  of  90. 

In  conclusion,  if  he  may  be  allowed  to  be  his 
own  eulogist,  "he  is  reputed,"  says  he  of  him- 
self, "to  have  the  faculties  of  his  uncle  Hugh,  the 
zeal  and  courage  of  his  grand-parent,  General 
Thomas  Harrison,  mixed  with  the  benevolence 
that  characterized  his  great-grand-parent,  William 
.Peters,  Esq.,  of  1634.'' 

THOMAS    GODFREY. 
Thomas  Godfrey  was  born  in  the  city  of  Philadel- 
phia, in  the  year  1736.     His  father,  a  glazier  by 
trade,  was  an  accomplished  mathematician,  and 
the  inventor  of  the  quadrant,*  commonly  known 


*  Barlow,  in  his  notices  of  the  men  of  science  in  America 
in  the  eighth  book  of  the  Columbiad,  pays  this  tribute  to  God- 
frey : — 


as  Hadley's  Quadrant.  He  died  a  few  years  after 
the  birth  of  his  son,  who,  after  receiving  "  a  com- 
mon education  in  his  mother  tongue,"  was  ap- 
prenticed to  a  watch-maker  by  his  relatives.  The 
pursuit  was  one  contrary  to  his  inclinations, 
which  were  bent  on  the  study  of  painting,  but  he 
remained  at  the  trade  until  1758,  when  he  ob- 
tained a  lieutenant's  commission  in  the  Pennsyl- 
vania forces  raised  in  that  year  for  the  expedition 


5^>^y^- 


against  Fort  Du  Quesne.  On  the  disbanding  of 
the  troops  he  removed  to  Carolina,  to  accept  a 
situation  as  a  factor,  which  had  been  offered  to 
him.  Here  he  remained  three  years,  during 
which  he  wrote  his  tragedy  of  The  Prince  of  Par- 
thia.  He  sent  the  manuscript  on  to  a  friend  in 
Philadelphia,  to  be  offered  to  the  American  com- 
pany performing  in  that  city  in  1759,  but  it  was 
never  produced.  On  the  death  of  bis  employer 
he  returned  to  his  native  city,  and,  no  opening 
offering  there,  sailed  as  a  supercargo  to  the 
island  of  New  Providence,  returning  from  thence 
to  North  Carolina,  where  a  few  weeks  after  his 
arrival,  by  exposure  to  the  sun  on  horseback,  an 
exercise  to  which  he  was  unaccustomed,  lie  con- 
tracted a  fever  which  put  an  end  to  his  life  after 
a  week's  illness,  on  the  third  of  August,  1763. 

Godfrey,  in  addition  to  his  tragedy,  wrote  a 
poem  of  five  hundred  lines,  entitled,  The  Court 
of  Fancy,  modelled  on  Chaucer's  House  of  Fame, 
a  number  of  short  poems  on  subjects  of  the  day, 
a  few  pastorals  in  the  style  then  in  vogue,  and  a 
modernized  version  of  a  portion  of  Chaucer's 
Assembly  of  Fowles.  Most  of  these  appeared 
during  his  lifetime  in  the  American  Magazine, 
published  in  Philadelphia,  from  which  a  portion 
were  copied  with  commendatory  remarks  in  the 
London  Monthly  Review.  His  poetical  writings 
were  published  in  Philadelphia  in  1767,  with  a 
biographical  preface  by  N.  Evans,  in  which  he 
"  bespeaks  the  candour  of  the  public  in  behalf  of 
the  collection,  as  the  first  of  the  kind  which  the 
Province  has  produced."  The  volume  also  con- 
tains an  anonymous  critical  analysis  of  the  poems, 
written  by  Dr.  William  Smith.*  The  whole 
work  forms  a  quarto  volume  of  22-i  pages. 

The  Prince  of  Parthia  was  the  first  dramatic 
work  written  in  America.  It  possesses  much 
merit,  with  many  marks  of  hasty  composition, 
and  want  of  mental  maturity.  The  plot  is  drawn 
from  an  ancient  story,  and  is  well  developed, 
though  the  fifth  act  presents  the  usual  excess  of 
bloodshed  common  to  tragedies  by  youthful 
authors.  The  opening  scene,  descriptive  of  the 
triumphant  return  of  the  youthful  hero,  Arsaces, 
from  a  successful  war,  is  one  of  the  best  in  the 
play,   but    shows,   like    many   subsequent    pas- 


To  snide  the  sailor  in  his  wandering  way, 
See 'Godfrey's  glass  reverse  the  beams  of  day. 
His  lifted  quadrant  to  the  eye  displays 
From  adverse  skies  the  counteracting  rays; 
And  marks,  as  devious  sails  bewilder'd  roll, 
Each  nice  gradation  from  the  steadfast  pole. 

Jefferson,  in  his  Notes  on  Virginia,  supported  his  claims  to 
the  invention. 

*  Fisher's  Early  Poets  of  Fa. 


196 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


sages,  that  the  youCg  dramatist  had  read  Shake- 
speare. 

FROM  THE  PRINCE  07  PAETHIA. 

Glad  Ctes'phon 
Pouts  forth  her  numbers,  like  a  rolling  deluge, 
To  meet  the  blooming  Hero  ;  all  tlie  ways, 
On  either  side,  as  far  as  sight  can  stretch. 
Are  lin'd  with  crowds,  and  on  the  lofty  walla 
Innumerable  multitudes  are  rang'd. 
On  ev'ry  countenance  impatience  sate 
With  roving  eye,  before  the  train  appear'd. 
But  when  they  saw  the  Darling  of  the  Fates, 
They  rent  the  air  witli  loud  repeated  shouts  ; 
The  mother  show'd  hini  to  her  infant  son, 
And  taught  his  lisping  tongue  to  name  Arsaces : 
E'en  aged  sires,  whose  sounds  are  scarcely  heard, 
By  feeble  strength  supported,  toss  their  caps. 
And  gave  their  murmur  to  the  general  voice. 

Gotar.es.  The  spacious  streets,  which  lead  up  to  the 
temple, 
Are  strew'd  witli  flow'rs  ;  each,  with  frantic  joy, 
His  garland  forms,  and  throws  it  in  the  way. 
What  pleasure,  Phraates,  must  swell  his  bosom, 
To  see  the  prostrate  nation  all  around  him, 
And  know  he's  nuide  them  happy !  to  hear  them 
Tease  the  gods,  to  shower  their  blessings  on  him! 
Happy  Arsaces !  fain  I'd  imitate 
Thy  matchless  worth,  and  be  a  shining  joy  1 

The  following  lines  are  happily  expressed : — 

Vardancs.  Ileav'ns  !   what  a  night  is  this  I 
Lysias.  'Tis  filled  with  terror. 

Vardunes.  Terror  indeed!   it  6eems  as  sick'ning 
Nature 
Had  given  her  order  up  to  gen'ral  ruin  ; 
The  heavens  appear  as  one  continu'd  flame, 
Earth  with  her  terror  shakes,  dim  night  retires, 
And  the  red  lightning  gives  a  dreadful  day, 
While  in  the  thunder's  voice  each  sound  is  lost; 
Fear  sinks  the  panting  heart  in  ev'ry  bosom, 
E'en  the  pale  dead,  affrighted  at  the  horror, 
As  though  unsafe,  start  from  their  marble  goals, 
And  howling  through  the  streets  are  seeking  shelter. 

Fain  would  I  cast  this  tiresome  being  off, 
Like  an  old  garment  worn  to  wretchedness. 

How  sweet  the  eloquence  of  dying  men  ! 
Hence  poets  feigned  the  music  of  the  Swan, 
When  death  upon  her  lays  his  icy  hand, 
She  melts  away  in  melancholy  strains. 

"With  a  license  to  be  matched  nowhere  out  of 
Thomas  Ileywood  and  a  few  other  early  English 
dramatists,  he  has  introduced,  amidst  his  Persian 
scenes,  a  song  to  Phillis. 

Among  his  miscellanies  is  what  may  he  called 
a  patriotic  version  of  the  first  Psalm.  Its  open- 
ing stanza  is — 

Blest  is  the  man  who  never  lent 
To  bold,  designing  men  his  ear, 

Who,  on  his  country's  good  intent, 
From  bribing  offices  is  clear. 

He  also  wrote  A  Pastoral  to  the  Memory  of 
General  Wolfe,  and  an  ambitious  poem  on  Vic- 
tory, which  contains  some  forcible  imagery. 

P0E8T  — FKOM  THE  COURT  OF  FANCY. 

Sweet  Poesy  was  seen  their  steps  behind, 
With  golden  tresses  sporting  in  the  wind ; 


In  careless  plaits  did  her  bright  garments  flow, 
And  nodding  laurels  wav'd  around  her  brow ; 
Sweetly  she  struck  the  string,  and  sweetly  sung. 
The  attentive  tribe  on  the  soft  accents  hung. 
'Tis  her's  to  sing  who  great  in  arms  excel, 
Who  bravely  conquer'd  or  who  glorious  fell ; 
Heroes  in  verse  still  gain  a  deathless  name, 
And  ceaseless  ages  their  renown  proclaim. 
Oft  to  philosophy  she  lends  her  aid, 
And  treads  the  sage's  solitary  shade ; 
Pier  great  first  task  is  nobly  to  inspire 
Th'  immortal  soul  with  virtue's  sacred  fire. 


Young  Thyrsis  with  sighs  often  tells  me  his  tale, 

And  artfully  strives  o'er  my  heart  to  prevail, 

He  sings  me  love-songs  as  we  trace  through  the 

grove, 
And  on  each  fair  poplar  hangs  sonnets  of  love. 
Though  I  often  smile  on  him  to  soften  his  pain, 
(For  wit  I  would  have  to  embellish  my  train,) 
I  still  put  him  off,  for  I  have  him  so  fast, 
I  know  he  with  joy  will  accept  me  at  last 

Among  the  gay  tribe  that  still  flatter  m}'  pride, 
There's  Cloddy  is  handsome,  and  wealthy  beside ; 
With  such  a  gay  partner  more  joys  I  can  prove 
Than  to  live  in  a  cottage  with  Thyrsis  on  love. 
Though  the  shepherd  is  gentle,  yet  blame  me  who 

can, 
Since  wealth  and  not  manners,  'tis  now  makes  the 

man. 
But  should  I  fail  here,  and  my  hopes  be  all  past, 
Fond  Thyrsis,  I  know,  will  accept  me  at  last. 

Thus  Delia  enliven'd  the  grove  with  her  strain, 
When  Thyrsis  the  shepherd  came  over  the  plain  ; 
Bright  Chloris  he  led,  whom  he'd  just  made  his  bride, 
Joy  shone  in  their  eyes,  as  they  walk'd  side  by  side; 
She  scorn'd  each  low  cunning,  nor  wish'd  to  deceive, 
But  all  her  delight  was  sweet  pleasure  to  give. 
In  wedlock  she  chose  to  tie  the  swain  fast, 
For  shepherds  will  change  if  put  off  to  the  last. 

A  DITIIYRAMBIC   ON   WINK. 


Come !  let  Mirth  our  hours  employ, 

The  jolly  God  inspires; 

The  rosy  juice  our  bosom  fires, 

And  tunes  our  souls  to  joy. 

See,  great  Bacchus  now  descending, 

Gay,  with  blushing  honours  crown'd  ; 

Sprightly  Mirth  and  Love  attending, 

Around  him  wait. 

In  smiling  state — 

Let  Echo  resound 

Let  Echo  resound 

The  joyful  news  all  around. 


Fond  Mortals  come,  if  love  perplex, 

In  wine  relief  you'll  find  ; 

Who'd  whine  for  woman's  giddy  sex 

More  fickle  than  the  wind? 

If  beauty's  bloom  thy  fancy  warms, 

Here  see  her  shine, 

Cloth'd  in  superior  charms; 

More  lovely  than  the  blushing  morn. 

When  first  the  op'ning  day 

Bedecks  the  thorn, 

And  makes  the  meadows  gay. 

Here  see  her  in  her  crystal  shrine; 

See  and  adore  ;  confess  her  all  divine, 

The  Queen  of  Love  and  Joy 

Heed  not  thy  Chloe's  scorn — 


THOMAS  PAINE. 


19T 


This  sparkling  glass, 
With  winning  grace, 
Shall  ever  meet  thy  fond  embrace, 
And  never,  never,  never  cloy, 
No  never,  never  cloy. 


Here,  Poet,  see,  Castalia's  spring- 
Come,  give  me  a  bumper,  I'll  mount  to  the  skies, 
Another,  another — 'Tis  done!   I  arise; 

On  fancy's  wing, 

I  mount,  I  sing, 

And  now,  sublime, 
Parnassus'  lofty  top  I  climb — 
But  hark !  what  sounds  are  these  I  hear, 
Soft  as  the  dream  of  her  in  love, 
Or  zephyrs  whisp'ring  thro'  the  grove  f 
And  now,  more  solemn  far  than  fun'ral  woe, 
The  heavy  numbers  flow! 

And  now  again, 

The  varied  strain, 
Grown  louder  and  bolder,  strikes  quick  on  the  ear, 
And  thrills  through  every  vein. 


Tis  Pindar's  song! 

His  softer  notes  the  fanning  gales 

Waft  across  the  spicy  vales, 

While,  thro'  the  air, 

Loud  whirlwinds  bear 
The  harsher  notes  along. 

Inspir'd  by  wine, 
He  leaves  the  lazy  crowd  below, 
Who  never  dar'd  to  peep  abroad, 
And,  mounting  to  his  native  sky, 
For  ever  there  shall  shine. 

No  more  I'll  plod 

The  beaten  road ; 
Like  him  inspir'd,  like  him  I'll  mount  on  high; 

Like  his  my  strain  shall  flow. 


Haste,  ye  mortals !  leave  your  sorrow; 
Let  pleasure  crown  to-day — to-morrow 

Yield  to  fate. 
Join  the  universal  chorus, 

Bacchus  reigns 
Ever  great ; 

Bacchus  reigns 

Ever  glorious — 

Hark !  the  joyful  groves  rebound, 

Sporting  breezes  catch  the  sound. 

And  tell  to  hill  and  dale  around — 

"  Bacchus  reigns" — 

While  far  away, 
The  busy  echoes  die  away. — * 

THOMAS  PAINE. 
The  literary  merits  of  Paine,  associated  with 
his  services  to  the  American  cause  during  the 
Revolution,  well  entitle  him  to  a  place  in  this 
collection.  The  grossness  of  his  pen  in  his  attacks 
on  the  Christian  religion,  and  the  miserable  last 
years  of  his  life  as  painted  by  no  friendly  biogra- 
pher, have  thrown  into  the  shade  both  his  patri- 
otism and  the  merits  of  his  style,  in  those  days 
when  he  came  to  America,  and  in  clear  trumpet 


*  As  our  Poet  appears  so  warm  on  his  subject  it  may  not  be 
amiss  to  remark  here,  that  ha  never  drank  any  icint,  and  that 
his  Immpers  are  all  ideal,  which  may  serve,  perhaps,  as  a  refu- 
tation of  that  noted  ada^e,  that  a  water  drinker  can  never  be 
a  good  Dithyrarabic  Poet. 


tones  sounded  the  notes  of  resistance  to  oppres- 
sion, and  faith  in  the  success  of  the  armies  of 
Washington.  In  this  mixed  world  of  good  and 
evil,  we  must  learn  to  separate  virtues  and  vices, 
and  "pick  our  good  from  out  much  ill." 


■r 


Thomas  Paine  was  born  of  Quaker  parentage, 
the  son  of  a  stay-maker,  at  Thetford,  in  the 
county  of  Norfolk,  England,  January  29,  1736. 
He  received  a  grammar-school  education  in  his 
native  town,  and  early  developed  a  taste  for 
poetry,  which  his  parents  discouraged,  confining 
him  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  for  the  next  five  years, 
to  his  father's  uninteresting  and  laborious  calling. 
In  his  twentieth  year,  young  Paine  went  to  Lon- 
don, where  he  worked  at  his  trade,  relieving  its 
monotony  by  a  cruise  in  a  privateer.  In  1758 
he  is  stay-maker  again  at  Dover,  and  in  1759,  in 
the  same  occupation  at  Sandwich,  where  he  mar- 
ried the  daughter  of  an  exciseman,  who  died  the 
following  year.  The  occupation  of  his  father-in- 
law  opened  a  new  prospect  for  him,  and  he  aban- 
doned his  trade  for  an  office  in  the  excise,  which 
he  attained  after  some  preliminary  training  in  his 
home  at  Thetfi  >rd,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five.  His 
business  of  exciseman  was  varied  by  employment 
as  teacher  in  two  London  academies,  a  position 
which  enabled  him  to  acquire  some  philosophical 
knowledge  from  the  lectures  delivered  in  the 
metropolis.  In  1768  he  became  established  at 
Lewes,  in  Sussex,  as  exciseman,  where  he  married 
the  daughter  of  a  grocer  and  tobacconist  recently 
deceased,  to  whose  trade  he  succeeded.  He  be- 
longed to  a  club  of  the  place,  where  he  maintained 
his  stiff  Whig  opinions  with  pertinacity  and  ele- 
gance of  expression.  He  wrote  at  Lewes  his  ode 
on  the  Death  of  General  Wolfe,  which  was  pub- 
lished in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine. 

His  business  as  a  grocer  seems  to  have  led  him 
into  some  unwarrantable  smuggling  practices,  for 
which  he  was  dismissed  the  service  in  1774, 
when  he  went  to  London  as  an  adventurer, 
having  previously  parted  with  his  wife  by  mutual 


19S 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


agreement.  lie  was  fortunate  in  procuring  a 
letter  to  Benjamin  Franklin  from  a  commissioner 
of  the  excise,  who  had  been  impressed  with  the 
ability  with  which  Paine  had  urged  an  increase 
of  salary  for  the  officers  of  that  body,  in  a  pam- 
phlet which  he  had  drawn  up  in  their  behalf. 
Franklin  advised  him  to  go  to  America,  whither 
he  set  off  immediately,  reaching  Philadelphia  in 
the  beginning  of  the  year  1775,  on  the  eve  of  the 
actual  outbreak  of  the  Bevolution.  He  was  at 
once  employed  by  Aitken,*  a  bookseller  of  that 
city,  with  a  salary  of  £25  currency  a  year,  as 
editor  of  the  Peniuyhauian  Magazine,  for  which 
he  wrote  the  introduction,  a  felicitous  sentence 
of  which  has  been  noticed  by  his  biographers. 
Alluding  to  the  season,  January,  and  the  quite  as 
chilling  nature  of  such  enterprises  in  those  times, 
he  says :  "  Thus  encompassed  with  difficulties, 
this  first  number  of  the  Pennsylvanian  Magazine 
entreats  a  favorable  reception;  of  which  we  shall 
only  say,  that  like  the  early  snowdrop  it  comes 
forth  in  a  barren  season,  and  contents  itself  with 
foretelling  the  reader  that  choicer  flowers  are  pre- 
paring to  appear."  Dr.  Eush,  who  was  attracted 
by  his  clever  conduct  of  the  Magazine,!  formed 
his  acquaintance  in  Aitken's  bookstore,  and  sug- 
gested to  him  the  preparation  of  a  popular  book 
to  meet  the  objections  to  separation  from  the 
mother  country.  This  was  the  origin  of  the 
famous  pamphlet  Common  Sensc.\  Paine  thought 
of  calling  it  "Plain  Truth,"  when  Eush  suggested 
the  title  which  it  bears. 

Its  influence  upon  the  American  cause  was  very 
great.  Eush  says  it  was  published  "  with  an 
effect  which  has  been  rarely  produced  by  types 
and  paper  in  any  age  or  country."  "  1  think 
this  pamphlet,"  says  Ashbel  Green,  of  Princeton, 
in  his  autobiography,  "had  a  greater  run  than 
any  other  ever  published  in  our  country.  It  was 
printed  anonymously,  and  it  was  a  considerable 
time  before  its  author  was  known  or  suspected. 
In  the  meantime  large  editions  were  frequently 
issued;  and  in  newspapers,  at  taverns,  and  at  al- 
most every  place  of  public  resort,  it  wus  adver- 
tised, and  very  generally  in  these  words  :  '  Com- 
mon Sense,  for  eighteen-pence.'     I  lately  looked 


*  Robert  Aitken  was  a  Scotchman  who  came  to  Philadel- 

fthia  in  17G9.  and  wafi  a  bookseller  and  printer.  In  the  Revo- 
ntion  he  sided  -with  the  American  interest,  and  narrowly 
escaped  a  residence  in  the  prison  ships  of  New  York.  Ho 
published  the  Pennsylvania  Magazine,  or  American  Monthly 
Museum,  from  .Tan.  1775,  to  June  1776.  It  had  Francis  Hop- 
kinson  and  Witherspoon  for  contributors.  Aitken  died  in 
ISf  2,  at  the  age  of  sixty-eight. — Thomas's  Hist,  of  Printing, 
ii.  76. 

t  The  ode  on  Wolfe  and  some  spirited  Reflections  on  Lord 
Clive,  from  his  pen,  printed  in  the  Magazine,  were  noticeable 
articles  for  the  time. 

X  The  original  edition  of  "Common  Sense"  was  published  in 
Philadelphia  by  Robert  Bell,  with  whom  it  is  said  that  Paine 
was  then  employed  as  a  clerk. — Notes  on  the  Provincial  Hist, 
of  Penn.  by  T.  J.  Wharton.  Penn.  Hist.  Soc.  Memoirs,  1625, 
p.  151,  where  some  amusing  details  are  given  of  Bell.  He  was 
a  Scotsman,  who  came  to  Philadelphia  in  1766.  He  had  been  a 
partner  as  a  bookseller  in  Dublin  with  the  facetious  George 
Alexander  Stevens.  He  was  first  an  auctioneer,  and  after- 
wards a  bookseller  in  Philadelphia,  where  lie  published  Black- 
stone's  Commentaries  by  subscription  in  1772,  '-a  stupendous 
enterprise  for  the  time."  The  Revolution  broke  up  his  busi- 
ness, and  he  turned  auctioneer  again  and  peddler,  dying  at 
Richmond,  in  Virginia,  in  17S4.  He  headed  his  auction  an- 
nouncements, "Jewels  and  diamonds  to  be  sold  or  sacrificed 
by  Robert  Bell,  humble  provedore  to  the  sentimentalists."  and 
sought  subscribers  to  Blackstone  with  the  invitation,  "Inten- 
tional encouragers  who  wish  for  a  participation  of  this  senti- 
mental banquet,  are  requested  to  scud  their  names  to  Robert 
BelL" 


into  a  copy  of  this  pamphlet,  and  was  ready  to 
wonder  at  its  popularity,  and  the  effect  it  pro- 
duced when  originally  published.  But  the  truth 
is,  it  struck  a  string  which  required  but  a  touch 
to  make  it  vibrate.  The  country  was  ripe  for 
independence,  and  only  needed  somebody  to  tell 
the  people  so,  with  decision,  boldness,  and  plau- 
sibility. Paine  did  this  recklessly,  having  no- 
thing to  do  whether  his  suggestions  were  received 
favorably  or  unfavorably,  while  wiser  and  better 
men  than  he  were  yet  maturing  their  minds  by 
reflection,  and  looking  well  to  every  step  which 
they  took  or  advised.  Paine's  talent,  and  lie  cer- 
tainly possessed  it  eminently,  was,  to  make  a  tak- 
ing and  striking  appeal  to  popular  feelings,  when 
he  saw  it  tending  towards  a  point  to  which  he 
wi-hed  to  push  it,  whether  for  good  or  for  evil."* 

"  I  sent  you  from  New  York,"  writes  John 
Adams  to  his  wife,  Philadelphia,  February  18, 
1776,  "a  pamphlet  intituled  Common  Sense, 
written  in  vindication  of  doctrines  which  there  is 
reason  to  expect  that  the  further  encroachments 
of  tyranny  and  depredations  of  oppression  will 
soon  make  the  common  faith;  unless  the  cunning 
ministry,  by  proposing  negotiations  and  terms  of 
reconciliation,  should  divert  the  present  current 
from  its  channel.''! 

No  copyright  was  taken  out ;  it  was  printed  to 
the  number  of  a  hundred  thousand,  and  its  author, 
in  the  midst  of  success,  was  in  debt  to  his  printer 
for  the  work. 

Paine's  subsequent  pretensions  to  priority  in 
his  Common  Sense  in  setting  the  ball  of  revolu- 
tion in  motion  were  simply  absurd.  He  arrived 
a  foreigner  under  difficulties,  a  few  months  be- 
fore the  battle  of  Lexington.  John  Adams,  in  a 
letter  to  Eush,  May  1,  1807.J  seriously  notices 
these  vaporings.  The  fact  is  that  Paine,  admit- 
ting his  merits  to  the  full,  was  a  humble  though 
useful  servant  of  the  cause,  never  its  master. 

The  University  of  Pennsylvania  made  him  Mas- 
ter of  Arts,  and  the  legislature  voted  him  the 
substantial  honor  of  five  hundred  pounds.  In 
1776  he  served  as  a  volunteer  in  the  army,  and 
was  with  Washington  in  his  retreat  before  Howe 
to  the  Delaware.  To  arouse  the  spirit  of  the 
people  and  soldiery  he  commenced  the  publica- 
tion of  the  series  of  patriotic  tracts,  The  Crisis, 
the  first  number  of  which  appeared  December  19, 
1776,  and  the  last  on  the  attainment  of  peace, 
April  19,  1783.  There  were  eighteen  numbers 
in  all.  Number  one  is  now  before  us,  as  it  may 
have  been  read  to  the  corporal's  guard  in  the 
camp — eight  small  octavo  pages,  in  neat  pica,  and 
on  very  dingy  paper.  Its  first  stirring  sentence 
is  still  familiar  as  a  proverb: — "These  are  the 
times  that  try  men's  souls :  the  summer  soldier 


*  Life  of  Ashbel  Green,  46.    The  following  lines  appear  In 
Carey's  American  Museum,  i.  167 : — 

American  Indrper.d  nee. 
When  pregnant  Nature  strove  relief  to  gain, 
Her  nurse  was  Washington,  her  midwife  Paine : 
The  infant,  Independence,  scarce  began 
To  be,  ere  he  had  ripen'd  into  man. 
France  bis  godfather,  Britain  was  his  rod. 
Congress  his  guardian,  and  his  father  God. 
t  John  Adams,  in  his  diary  of  1779,  tells  us  that  on  bis  ar- 
rival in  France  in  that  year,  he  was  greeted  as  the  famous 
Adams  on  the  stieiiirth  of  the  authorship  of  this  pamphlet, 
which  was  translated  into  French,  having  been  ascribed  to 
him. — Works,  iii.  1E9. 
X  Works,  ix.  591. 


THOMAS  PAINE. 


199 


and  the  sunshine  patriot  will,  in  this  crisis,  shrink 
from  the  service  of  his  country ;  but  he  that 
stands  it  now,  deserves  the  love  and  thanks  of 
man  and  woman."  The  rest  was  as  good ;  sar- 
casm for  the  enemy,  eulogy  for  Washington,  and 
a  picturesque  account  of  the  camp  scenes  in  which 
he  had  been  engaged.  After  this,  as  Cheetham 
remarks:  " Pafne's  pen  wa-i  an  appendage  almost 
as  necessary  to  the  army  of  independence,  and  as 
formidable,  as  its  cannon;"  and  he  attributes 
"much  of  the  brilliant  little  affair"  which  in  the 
same  month  followed  at  Trenton,  to  the  confi- 
dence inspired  by  this  first  number.  Paine  wrote 
a  second  on  that  victory  ;  a  third  at  Philadelphia 
in  April,  1777,  in  which  month  he  was  elected 
by  Congress  Secretary  to  the  Committee  of  Fo- 
reign Affairs,  a  post  which  he  held  till  1779, 
when  he  was  dismissed  from  the  office  for  a  vio- 
lation of  confidence  in  publishing  a  delicate  state- 
ment affecting  the  loan  or  gift  from  France  in 
opposition  to  the  claim  of  the  negotiator  Silas 
Deane.  The  remaining  numbers  of  the  Crisis 
were  occupied,  as  occasion  arose,  with  war  or 
finance,  the  encouragement  of  the  army  at  home, 
and  witty  disparagement  of  the  enemy  in  America 
and  in  Parliament.  General  Sir  William  Howe 
and  Lord  North  were  particular  objects  of  his  in- 
vective. Of  the  honors  paid  to  the  former,  he 
says:  "  There  are  knights  of  various  orders,  from 
the  knight  of  the  windmill  to  the  knight  of  the 
post,"  and  proposes  as  a  final  substitute  for  the 
Egyptian  method  of  embalming  the  more  frugal 
American  plan:  "In  a  balmage,  sir,  of  humble 
tar,  you  will  be  as  secure  as  Pharaoh,  and  in  a 
hieroglyphic  of  feathers  rival  in  finery  all  the 
mummies  of  Egypt." 

In  1780,  Paine  was  appointed  clerk  to  the  As- 
sembly in  Pennsylvania.  In  1781,  he  accom- 
panied Col.  Laurens  in  his  mission  to  France,  to 
obtain  a  loan.  They  set  out  in  February,  and  re- 
turned in  August  with  two  millions  and  a  half  of 
specie.  In  1782,  he  had  published  at  Philadel- 
phia his  Letter  to  the  Abbe  Raynal ;  a  neat  pro- 
duction, correcting  erroneous  statements  touching 
the  Revolution,  in  which  he  shows  his  own  skill 
in  rhetoric  at  the  expense  of  the  foreign  writer. 

Paine's  services  during  the  war  time  were  pro- 
perly acknowledged  by  the  government.  When 
Washington  was  about  resigning  his  commission 
to  Congress,  and  was  at  Rocky  Bill  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Princeton,  be  sent  a  letter  to  Paine  at 
Bordentown,  acknowledging  his  services,  offering 
to  impress  them  upon  Congress,  and  inviting  him 
to  his  table.  In  1785,  Congress  discharged  the 
obligation  by  a  grant  of  three  thousand  dollars ; 
Pennsylvania  presented  him  five  hundred  pounds, 
and  New  York  conferred  upon  him  a  handsome 
estate  at  New  Rochelle,  confiscated  from  a  Royal- 
ist, which  embraced  three  hundred  acres  of  land. 

In  1787,  Paine  returned  to  Europe,  carrying 
with  him  the  model  of  an  iron  bridge,  winch  he 
made  some  stir  with  in  England.  Finding  his 
mother  in  want,  he  settled  upon  her  a  stated  pay- 
ment for  her  support.  When  Burke's  Reflections 
on  the  French  Revolution  appeared,  he  published 
his  reply,  the  Rights  of  Man,  the  first  part  in 
1791 ;  the  second  in  1792.  It  has  been  generally 
acknowledge  1  to  be  a  work  of  ability.  Many  of 
its  points  of  attack  upon  the  British  constitution 
are  strongly  taken,  and  held  with  success.     Its 


views  of  hereditary  Kingcraft  and  of  Democra- 
tic representations,  have  passed,  in  this  country 
at  least,  into  truisms.  One  passage  is  very  feli- 
citous in  expression,  where  he  is  picturing  in 
terms  equal  to  the  language  of  the  great  writer 
whom  he  is  answering,  that  orator's  oversight  of 
the  victims  of  despotism  in  his  poetical  commi- 
seration for  the  fate  of  its  royal  perpetrators. 
"  Not  one  glance  of  compassion,  not  one  commi- 
serating reflection,  that  I  can  find  throughout  his 
book,  has  he  bestowed  on  those  who  lingered  out 
the  most  wretched  of  lives,  a  life  without  hope,  in 
the  most  miserable  of  prisons.  It  is  painful  to 
behold  a  man  employing  his  talents  to  corrupt 
himself.  Nature  has  been  kinder  to  Mr.  Burke 
than  he  is  to  her.  He  is  not  affected  by  the  reali- 
ty of  distress  touching  his  heart,  but  by  the  showy 
resemblance  of  it  striking  his  imagination.  He 
pities  the  plumage,  but  forgets  the  dying  bird.  Ac- 
customed to  kiss  the  aristocratical  hand  that  hath 
purloined  him  from  himself,  he  degenerates  into 
a  composition  of  art,  and  the  genuine  soul  of  na- 
ture forsakes  him.  His  hero,  or  his  heroine, 
must  be  a  tragedy  victim  expiring  in  show,  and 
not  the  real  prisoner  of  misery  sliding  into  death 
in  the  silence  of  a  dungeon." 

A  state  prosecution  was  on  foot  against  him 
when  a  French  deputation  called  him  to  France,  to 
sit  in  Convention  for  the  department  of  Calais. 
His  reception  on  his  arrival  there  in  1792  was 
sufficiently  gratifying  to  his  vanity.  In  the  Con- 
vention, though  he  voted  for  the  trial  of  the  king, 
he  endeavored  to  preserve  his  life  by  a  speech,  in 
which  be  recommended  banishment  to  America. 
"  Let,"  said  he,  "  the  United  States  be  the  safe- 
guard and  asylum  of  Louis  Capet.  There,  here- 
after, far  removed  from  the  miseries  and  crimes  of 
royalty,  he  may  learn,  from  the  constant  aspect 
of  public  prosperity,  that  the  true  system  of  go- 
vernment consists  in  fair  equal,  and  honorable 
representation."  He  was  engaged  in  Constitution- 
making  with  Condorcet.  He  attracted  the  ill  will 
of  the  extreme  part}',  and  was  arrested  and  sent  to 
prison  by  Robespierre,  on  the  plea  of  being  a  fo- 
reigner, by  the  same  vote  which  consigned  famous 
Anacharsis  Clootz  to  a  dungeon  and  the  guillo- 
tine. Paine  escaped  the  latter  fate  by  an  acci- 
dent. He  was  imprisoned  (he  writes  in  one  of  his 
letters)  on  a  corridor  of  the  Luxembourg,  the  door 
of  his  room  opening  outwards.  While  in  this  po- 
sition it  was  marked  by  the  officers  for  its  supply 
of  victims.  When  they  came  round  the  door  was 
shut  and  the  mark  on  the  inside ;  so  Paine  was 
not  guillotined ;  and  the  tyrant  failing  shortly 
after,  Monroe,  the  American  ambassador,  reclaim- 
ed him  and  took  him  to  his  house.  Bis  imprison- 
ment lasted  eleven  months,  from  Dec.  1793  to 
Nov.  179-4.  A  first  part  of  Ins  infidel  work,  The 
Age  of  Reason,  was  published  while  Paine  was  in 
prison.      The  second  part  appeared  in  1796. 

In  the  same  year  with  the  completion  of  this 
wretched  publication,  Paine  sent  forth  in  Paris 
his  Letter  to  George  Washington,  whom  he 
charged  with  neglecting  to  use  the  influence  of 
government  for  his  release  as  an  American  citizen, 
and  not  content  with  this  discussion,  depreciated 
for  the  lack  of  qualities  which  he  had  expressly 
attributed  to  him  in  his  American  publications.* 

*  Paine  gave  vent  to  his  feelings  in  the  following  epigram- 


200 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


He  had  now  by  these  writings  made  enemies  of 
every  friend  of  religion  and  his  country  (for  pa- 
triotism was  identical  with  respect  for  Washing- 
ton), and  when  he  returned  to  America  in  1802, 
it  was  to  fall  rapidly  in  public  estimation,  with 
the  additional  incumbrance  of  the  personal  ne- 
glect and  vices  of  intemperance  and  avarice  into 
which  he  fell  in  his  old  age.  That  the  former 
had  anticipated  his  return  to  America  is  proved 
by  the  Paris  correspondence  of  Gouverneur  Mor- 
ris, who  writes  of  him  June  25,  1793,  as  "  a  little 
more  drunk  than  usual,"  and  the  following  year, 
March  G,  "  in  the  best  of  times  he  had  a  larger 
share  of  every  other  sense  than  of  common  sense, 
and  lately  the  intemperate  use  of  ardent  spirit 
has,  I  am  told,  considerably  impaired  the  small 
stock  which  he  originally  possessed." 

He  visited  Jefferson  at  Washington,  who,  re- 
membering his  early  position,  had  agreed  to  his 
request  to  bring  him  home  in  a  national  vessel; 
but  the  most  ardent  political  reminiscences  could 
not  compensate  for  Paine's  personal  habits,  and 
the  popular  contempt  into  which  he  had  fallen. 
His  friend  and  biographer  Packman  takes  Barlow 
to  task  for  omitting  any  mention  of  him  among 
the  heroes  of  the  American  war  in  the  Columbiad, 
and  proposes  to  give  him  a  snug  place  between 
Washington  and  Franklin  in  the  fifth  book  of  that 
poem.  His  last  days  at  New  Eochelle  and  New 
York  have  been  ruthlessly  brought  to  the  gaze 
of  the  world  by  his  American  biographer,  Cheet- 
ham,  who  sometimes  forgets  the  decencies  due 
even  to  drunkenness,  and  always  to  old  age* 
Paine's  vanity  was  wounded  by  the  neglect  into 
which  he  had  fallen;  his  early  habits  of  neatness, 
when  he  was  painted  by  Eomney,  and  "  looked 
altogether  like  a  gentleman  of  the  old  French 
school,"  could  not  be  detected  in  the  filth  into 
which  he  had  fallen.  His  intemperance  was  noto- 
rious. His  treatment  of  Madame  Bonneville, 
whom  he  had  induced  to  follow  him  from  Paris, 
not  without  scandal,  was  cruel.  He  was  ar- 
raigned in  court  for  a  petty  debt,  and  exposed  by 
his  servants :  one  of  whom  is  said  to  have  at- 
tempted his  life  in  revenge  for  his  ill  treatment. 
Janis,  the  painter,  tolerated  his  presence  in  his 
bachelor's  quarters,  and  has  left  us  a  melancholy 
memorial  of  his  appearance  in  the  plaster  bust 
which  is  preserved  in  the  rooms  of  the  New  York 
Historical  Society.     While  the  artist  was  at  work 


matic  direction  to  the  sculptor  who  should  make  the  statue  of 
Washington : 

Take  from  the  mine  the  coldest,  hardest  stone, 
It  needs  no  fashion,  it  is  Washington  ; 
But  if  you  chisel,  let  your  strokes  be  rude, 
And  on  his  breast  engrave  Ingratitude. 
*  Cheetham's  revised  private  copy  of  the  Life  of  Paino  is  in 
the  New  York  Historical  Society;  the  corrections  in  his  own 
handwriting  and  intended  for  a  second  edition.  In  the  preli- 
minary address  to  Clinton,  the  strong  animadversions  on  the 
despotism  of  Jefferson's  democracy,  and  Ids  fears  of  the  dura- 
tion of  the  Republic,  are  mitted.  The  style  is  generally  im- 
proved by  slight  verbal  alterations.  In  the  description  of  his 
first  interview  with  Paine  in  the  Preface,  the  comparison  of 
the  philosopher's  nose  to  Bardolph's.  as  described  by  Falstaff, 
is  stricken  out.  Cheetham  was  an  English  radical  from  Man- 
chester, who  edited  in  New  York  the  Amwican  Citizen,  hold- 
ing a  trenchant  pen  for  a  newspaper.  At  first  he  was  the 
friend  of  Paine.  Paine  has  had  numerous  biographers,  includ- 
ing Francis  Oldys,  a  fictitious  name  on  a  partisan  pamphlet, 
written  by  the  refugee  loyalist,  the  author  of  the  Political  An- 
nuls, George  Chalmers.  Paine's  name  is  spelt  Pain  throughout 
this  production.  There  is  a  volume  of  Memoirs  by  W.  T. 
Sherwin,  London,  1S19  ;  by  Thomas  Ciio  Hickman,  of  the 
same  date  ;  and  a  later  volume  by  G.  Yale,  New  York.    1S41. 


upon  it,  he  exclaimed,  "  I  shall  secure  him  to  a 
nicety,  if  I  am  so  fortunate  as  to  get  plaster  enough 
for  his  carbuncled  nose."*  He  would  lodge  at 
different  places  about  town  as  opportunity  served, 
his  habits  rendering  frequent  changes  of  lodging 
inevitable.  One  of  his  tenements,  in  not  the 
most  agreeable  locality,  he  shared  with  a  show 
of  wild  beast-.  Death  approaching,  he  desired, 
in  recollection  of  his  Quaker  parentage,  to  be 
interred  in  the  cemetery  of  that  body,  but  this 
consolation  was  refused  him, — a  circumstance 
which  is  said  to  have  affected  him  deeply.  In 
his  closing  days  he  was  visited  by  clergymen  and 
others  to  convert  him  from  his  irreligion  or  testify 
to  his  infidelity.  He  died  quietly  in  New  York, 
June  8,  1809.  His  remains  were  taken  to  New 
Bochelle  where  he  was  interred  on  his  farm,  with 
an  inscription  on  a  stone,  "  Thomas  Paine,  author 
of  Common  Sense."  In  1819,  ten  years  after- 
wards, when  Cobbett  wished  to  create  a  sensa- 
tion, he  absurdly  rifled  the  grave  of  the  bones, 
which  he  carried  to  England. 

The  merit  of  Paine's  style  as  a  prose  writer  is 
very  great.  He  had  the  art  of  saying  a  familiar 
thing  in  a  familiar  way,  and  at  the  same  time  im- 
parting to  it  great  spirit  and  freshness.  He  could 
sometimes  introduce  an  apposite  story  almost  as 
well  as  Franklin.  His  wit  was  ready,  and  generally 
pungent  enough.  After  his  return  to  America  in 
1802,  he  writes,  "  Some  of  John  Adams'  loyal 
subjects,  I  see,  have  been  to  present  him  with  an 
address  on  his  birth-day ;  but  the  language  they 
use  is  too  tame  for  the  occasion.  Birth-day  ad- 
dresses, like  birth-day  odes,  should  not  creep  along 
like  drops  of  dew  down  a  cabbage  leaf,  but  roll 
in  a  torrent  of  poetical  metaphor.''t  To  Frank- 
lin's saying,  "  Where  liberty  is,  there  is  my  coun- 
try," his  retort  was,  "  Where  liberty  is  not,  there 
is  my  country."  A  minister  of  a  new  sect  came 
to  him  to  explain  the  Scriptures,  asserting  that 
the  key  had  been  lost  these  four  thousand  years, 
and  they  had  found  it.  "  It  must  have  been  very 
rusty,  then,"  was  his  reply.  Some  of  his  sentences 
are  felicitous  as  Sheridan's  for  neatness  and  point. 
Tims  in  his  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Shelbnrne,  of  the 
loss  of  reputation :  "  There  are  cases  in  which  it 
is  as  impossible  to  restore  character  to  life,  as  it 
is  to  recover  the  dead.  It  is  a  phoenix  that  can 
expire  but  once,' and  from  whose  ashes  there  is 
no  resurrection  ;"  and  to  the  same  nobleman  on 
obedience  to  outlandish  authority  :  "  For  a  thou- 
sand reasons  England  would  be  the  last  country 
to  yield  it  to.  She  has  been  treacherous,  and  wo 
know  it.  Her  character  is  gone,  and  we  have  seen 
the  funeral."  To  the  Abbe  Raynal  he  says,  hold- 
ing Britain  to  account  for  keeping  the  world  ir 
disturbance  and  war :  "  Is  life  so  very  long  that 
it  is  necessary,  nay  even  a  duty,  to  shake  the 
sand  and  hasten  out  the  period  of  duration  ? n 
"  Science,"  he  says,  "the  partisan  of  no  country, 
but  the  benevolent  patroness  of  all,  has  liberally 
opened  a  temple  where  all  may  meet.  The  phi- 
losopher of  one  country  sees  not  an  enemy  in  the 
philosopher  of  another :  he  takes  his  seat  in  the 


*  Francis's  Reminiscences  of  Printers,  Authors,  &c    There 
was  an  old  couplet  sung  by  the  boys  in  the  streets  : — 
Tom  Paine  is  come  from  far.  from  far, 
llis  nose  is  like  a  blazing  star  ! 
t  Second  Letter  to  the  Citizens  of  the  U.  S.    Nov.  19, 1S.2, 
in  the  Nat  IntelL 


THOMAS  PAINE. 


201 


temple  of  science,  and  asks  not  who  sits  beside 
him."  Literature,  he  calls  "  the  tongue  of  the 
world."  "  War,"  he  says  in  the  Rights  of  Man, 
"  is  the  Pharo  table  of  governments,  and  nations 
the  dupes  of  the  game."  It  was  this  word  and  a 
blow,  this  powerful  expression  in  ordinary  sym- 
bols, which  gained  Paine  the  ear  of  the  public 
during  the  Revolutionary  war.  His  phrases  put 
American  resistance  in  an  incontrovertible  form. 

Paine's  slight  claims  as  a  poet  depend  upon  a 
few  showy  pieces,  more  remarkable  for  their 
collocation  of  fine  words  than  just  thought  or  ex- 
pression. He  had  fancy,  but  wanted  poetic 
feeling. 

In  another  light  the  study  of  Paine's  character 
may  be  of  importance  to  the  world,  in  showing 
that  a  certain  degree  of  ready  tact  and  ability, 
and  a  certain  amount  of  benevolence,  may  consist 
with  the  utter  absence  of  the  higher  philosophical 
and  mural  qualities.  Paine  had  a  great  deal  of 
wit  and  sagacity,  but  their  exercise  was  confined 
to  a  narrow  field.  "When  he  undertook  his  attack 
upon  the  Christian  religion,  it  was  without  the 
learning,  the  thought,  or  the  feeling  requisite  for 
its  study.  It  is  much  to  ask  us  to  believe  that  he 
was  sustained  by  any  better  motive  than  vanity. 
Notwithstanding  his  experience  of  the  French 
Revolution  in  the  cell  of  the  Luxembourg,  he 
could  not  relinquish  the  egotism  and  self-suffi- 
ciency productive  of  the  excesses  which  had  placed 
him  there.  Suffering  from  lawlessness,  he  was 
vain  and  empty  enough  to  seek  to  inflict  that 
curse  upon  the  world  in  its  most  important  re- 
lations. The  Age  of  Season  is  justly  treated  with 
contempt,  but  it  points  a  most  significant  moral 
of  the  worthlessness  of  the  shallow  powers  of  the 
understanding  divorced  from  the  control  of  the 
higher  faculties  of  the  soul.  "  It  must  soon  sink 
into  infamy,"  said  William  Linn,  from  the  pulpit, 
who  had  commended  Paine's  political  writings  in 
the  same  place,  and  "  carry  his  own  name  along 
with  it.  There  is  nothing  new  in  the  perfor- 
mance, save  the  bold  and  indecent  manner.  In- 
deed it  is  provoking  to  see  the  Christian  religion, 
after  having  withstood  the  roarings  of  the  lion,  in- 
sulted by  the  brayings  of  the  ass."*  The  pro- 
phecy has  been  verified,  and  under  the  odium  into 
which  he  cast  himself  few  readers  of  the  present 
day  are  familiar  with  the  brilliant  qualities  which 
once  excited  our  forefathers. 

ODE,   OH  THE  DEATH   OF  GENERAL  WOLFE. 

Is  a  mouldering  cave  where  the  wretched  retreat, 

Britannia  sat  wasted  with  care; 
She  moura'd  for  her  Wolfe,  and  exclaim'd  against 
fate, 

And  gave  herself  up  to  despair. 
The  walls  of  her  cell  she  had  sculptured  around 

With  the  feats  of  her  favorite  son  ; 
And  even  the  dust,  as  it  lay  on  the  ground, 

Was  engraved  with  the  deeds  he  had  done. 

The  sire  of  the  Gods  from  his  crystalline  throne 

Beheld  the  disconsolate  dame, 
And  moved  with  her  tears  he  sent  Mercury  down, 

And  these  were  the  tidings  that  eauie. 


*  Linn's  Discourse,  fall  of  Antichrist.     Series  "Signs  of  the 
Times."    1T94.     An  Epigrammatist  wrote : 

Here  lies  Tom  Paine,  who  wrote  in  liberty's  defence. 
But  iu  his  "Age  of  Reason"  lost  bis  "Common  Sense." 


Britannia  forbear,  not  a  sigh  nor  a  tear 

For  thy  Wolfe  so  deservedly  loved, 
Your  tears  shall  be  changed  into  triumphs  of  joy, 

For  thy  Wolfe  is  not  dead  but  removed. 

The  sons  of  the  East,  the  proud  giants  of  old, 

Have  crept  from  their  darksome  abodes, 
And  this  is  the  news  as  in  heaven  it  was  told, 

They  were  marching  to  war  with  the  Gods; 
A  council  was  held  in  the  chambers  of  Jove, 

And  this  was  their  final  deeree, 
That  Wolfe  should  be  called  to  the  armies  above, 

And  the  charge  was  entrusted  to  me. 

To  the  plains  of  Quebec  with  the  orders  I  flew, 

He  begg'd  for  a  moment's  dela}' ; 
He  cry'd,  Oh!  forbear,  let  me  victory  hear, 

And  then  thy  command  I'll  obey. 
With  a  darksome  thick  film  I  encompass'd  his  eyes, 

And  bore  him  away  in  an  urn, 
Lest  the  fondness  he  bore  to  his  own  native  shore, 

Should  induce  him  again  to  return. 

EEFLECTIONS  ON  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH  OF  LORD  CLIVE. 

Ah  !  the  tale  is  told — the  scene  is  ended — and  the 
curtain  falls.  As  an  emblem  of  the  vanity  of  all 
earthly  pomp,  let  his  monument  be  a  globe,  but,  be 
that  globe  a  bubble  ;  let  his  effigy  be  a  man  walking 
round  it  in  his  sleep;  and  let  Fame,  in  the  character 
of  a  shadow,  inscribe  his  honors  on  the  air. 

I  view  him  but  as  yesterday  on  the  burning  plains 
of  Plassey,  doubtful  of  life,  health,  or  victory.  I  see 
him  in  the  instant  when  "  To  be,  or  not  to  be," 
were  equal  chances  to  a  human  eye.  To  be  a  lord 
or  a  slave,  to  return  loaded  with  the  spoils,  or  remain 
mingled  with  the  dust  of  India.  Did  necessity 
always  justify  the  severity  of  a  conqueror,  the  rude 
tongue  of  censure  would  be  silent,  and  however 
painfully  he  might  look  back  on  scenes  of  horror, 
the  pensive  reflection  would  not  alarm  him.  Though 
his  feelings  suffered,  his  conscience  would  be  ac- 
quitted. The  sail  remembrance  would  move  serene- 
ly, and  leave  the  mind  without  a  wound.  But,  oh, 
India!  thou  loud  proclaimer  of  European  cruelties, 
thou  bloody  monument  of  unnecessary  deaths,  be 
tender  in  the  day  of  enquiry,  and  shew  a  Christian 
world  thou  canst  suffer  and  forgive. 

Departed  from  India,  and  loaded  with  the  plun- 
der, I  see  him  doubling  the  Cape  and  looking  wist- 
fully to  Euro-e.  I  see  him  contemplating  on  years 
of  pleasure,  a..d  gratifying  his  ambition  with  ex- 
pected honours.  I  see  his  arrival  pompously  an- 
nounced in  every  newspaper,  his  eager  eye  rambling 
through  the  crowd  in  quest  of  homage,  and  his  ear 
listening  lest  an  applause  should  escape  him.  Hap- 
pily for  him  he  arrived  before  his  fame,  and  the 
short  interval  \vas  a  time  of  rest.  From  the  crowd 
I  follow  him  to  the  court,  I  see  him  enveloped  in  the 
sunshine  of  popular  favour,  rivalling  the  great  in 
honours,  the  proud  in  splendour,  and  the  rich  in 
Avealth.  From  the  court  I  trace  him  to  the  country, 
his  equipage  moves  like  a  camp;  every  village  bell 
proclaims  his  coming ;  the  Avandering  peasants 
admire  his  pomp,  and  his  heart  runs  over  with  joy. 

But,  alas!  not  satisfied  Avith  uncountable  thou- 
sands, I  accompany  him  again  to  India.  I  mark  the 
variety  of  countenances  Avhich  appear  at  his  landing. 
Confusion  spreads  the  neAvs.  Every  passion  seems 
alarmed.  The  wailing  Avidow,  the  crying  orphan, 
and  the  childless  parent  remember  and  lament;  the 
rival  nabobs  court  his  faA-our;  the  rich  dread  his 
power  and  the  poor  his  severity.  Fear  and  terror 
march  like  pioneers  before  his  camp,  murder  and 
rapine  accompany  it,  famine  and  Avretcheduess  fol- 
low in  the  rear. 


202 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Resolved  on  accumulating  an  unbounded  fortune, 
he  enters  into  all  the  schemes  of  war,  treaty,  and 
intrigue.  The  British  sword  is  set  up  for  sale ;  the 
heads  of  contending  nabobs  are  offered  at  a  price, 
and  the  bribe  taken  from  both  sides.  Thousands  of 
men  or  money  are  trifles  in  an  Indian  bargain.  The 
field  is  an  empire,  and  the  treasure  almost  without 
end.  The  wretched  inhabitants  are  glad  to  com- 
pound for  offences  never  committed,  and  to  purchase 
at  any  rate  the  privilege  to  breathe,  while  he,  the 
sole  lord  of  their  lives  and  fortunes,  disposes  of 
either  as  he  pleases,  and  prepares  for  Europe. 

Uncommon  fortunes  require  an  uncommon  date 
of  life  to  enjoy  them  in.  The  usual  period  is  spent 
in  preparing  to  live:  and  unless  nature  prolongs 
the  time,  fortune  bestows  her  excess  of  favours  in 
vain. 

The  conqueror  of  the  East  having  nothing  more 
to  expect  from  the  one,  has  all  his  court  to  make  to 
the  other.  Anxiety  for  wealth  gives  place  to 
anxiety  for  life;  and  wisely  recollecting  that  the  sea 
is  no  respecter  of  persons,  resolves  on  taking  his 
route  to  Europe  by  land.  Little  beings  move  un- 
seen, or  unobserved,  but  he  engrosses  whole  king- 
doms in  his  march,  and  is  gazed  at  like  a  comet. 
The  burning  desert,  the  pathless  mountains,  and  the 
fertile  valleys,  are  in  their  turns  explored  and 
passed  over.  Ko  material  accident  distresses  his 
progress,  and  England  once  more  receives  the 
spoiler. 

How  sweet  is  rest  to  the  weary  traveller;  the 
retrospect  heightens  the  enjoyment ;  and  if  the 
future  prospect  be  serene,  the  days  of  ease  and  hap- 
piness are  arrived.  An  uriinquiring  observer  might 
have  been  inclined  to  consider  Lord  Give,  under  all 
these  agreeable  circumstances:  one,  whose  every 
care  was  over,  and  who  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  sit 
down  and  say,  sow/,  take  thine  ease,  thou  hast  goods 
laid  up  in  store  for  many  years. 

The  reception  which  he  met  with  on  his  second 
arrival  was  in  every  instance  equal,  and  in  many,  it 
exceeded,  the  honours  of  the  first.  'Tis  the  peculiar 
temper  of  the  English  to  applaud  before  they  think. 
Generous  of  their  praise,  they  frequently  bestow  it 
unworthily;  but  when  once  the  truth  arrives,  the 
torrent  stops,  and  rushes  back  again  with  the  same 
violence.  Scarcely  had  the  echo  of  applause  ceased 
upon  the  ear,  than  the  rude  tongue  of  censure  took 
up  the  talc.  The  newspapers,  fatal  enemies  to  ill- 
gotten  wealth,  began  to  buzz  a  general  suspicion  of 
his  conduct,  and  the  inquisitive  public  soon  refined 
it  into  particulars.  Every  post  gave  a  stab  to  fame 
— a  wound  to  his  peace,  and  a  nail  to  his  coffin. 
Like  spectres  from  the  grave  they  haunted  him  in 
every  company,  and  whispered  murder  in  his  ear. 
A  life  chequered  with  uncommon  varieties  is  seldom 
a  long  one.  Action  and  care  will,  in  time,  wear 
down  the  strongest  frame,  but  guilt  and  melancholy 
are  poisons  of  quick  dispatch. 

Say,  cool  deliberate  reflection,  was  the  prize, 
though  abstracted  from  the  guilt,  worthy  of  the 
pains  ?  Ah !  no.  Fatigued  with  victory,  he  sat 
down  to  rest,  and  while  he  was  recovering  breath 
he  lost  it.  A  conqueror  more  fatal  than  himself 
beset  him,  and  revenged  the  injuries  done  to  India. 

As  a  cure  for  avarice  and  ambition,  let  us  take  a 
view  of  him  in  his  latter  years.  Hah !  what  gloomy 
Being  wanders  yonder?  How  visibly  is  the  melan- 
choly heart  delineated  on  his  countenance.  He 
mourns  no  common  care — his  very  steps  are  timed 
to  sorrow — he  trembles  with  a  kind  of  mental  palsy. 
Perhaps  'tis  some  broken-hearted  parent,  some  David 
mourning  for  his  Absalom,  or  some  Heraclitus  weep- 
ing for  the  world.  I  hear  him  utter  something 
about  wealth — perhaps  he   is   poor  and  hath   not 


wherewithal  to  hide  his  head.  Some  debtor  started 
from  his  sleepless  pillow,  to  ruminate  on  poverty, 
and  ponder  on  the  horrors  of  a  jail ;  poor  man,  I'll 
to  him  and  relieve  him.  Hah !  'tis  Lord  Clive  him- 
self! Bless  me,  what  a  change!  He  makes,  I  see, 
for  yonder  cypress  shade — fit  scene  for  melancholy 
hearts  !  I'll  watch  him  there,  and  listen  to  his  story. 

Lord  Clive.  Can  I  but  suffer  when  a  beggar  pities 
me?  Ere  while  I  heard  a  ragged  wretch,  who  every 
mark  of  poverty  had  on,  say  to  a  sooty  sweep,  "  Ah, 
poor  Lord  Clive !  "  while  he,  the  negro-colored 
vagrant,  more  mercifully  cruel,  curst  me  in  my 
hearing. 

There  was  a  time  when  fortune,  like  a  yielding 
mistress,  courted  me  with  smiles.  She  never  waited 
to  be  told  my  wishes,  but  studied  to  discover  them; 
and  seemed  not  happy  to  herself,  but  when  she  had 
some  favour  to  bestow.  Ah,  little  did  I  think  the 
fair  enchantress  would  desert  me  thus,  and  after 
lavishing  her  smiles  upon  me,  turn  my  reproaeher, 
and  publish  me  in  folio  to  the  world.  Volumes  of 
morality  are  dull  and  spiritless  compared  to  me. 
Lord  Clive  is  himself  a  treatise  upon  vanity,  printed 
on  a  golden  type.  The  most  unlettered  clown 
writes  explanatory  notes  thereon,  and  reads  them 
to  his  children.  Yet  I  could  bear  these  insults 
could  I  but  bear  myself.  A  strange  unwelcome 
something  hangs  about  me.  In  company  I  seem  no 
company  at  all.  The  festive  board  appears  to  me  a 
stage,  the  crimson-colored  port  resembles  blood. 
Each  glass  is  strangely  metamorphosed  to  a  man  in 
armour,  and  every  bowl  appears  a  nabob.  The  joy- 
ous toast  is  like  the  sound  of  murder,  and  the  loud 
laugh  are  groans  of  dying  men.  The  scenes  of  India 
are  all  rehearsed,  and  no  one  sees  the  tragedy  but 
myself.  Ah  !  I  discover  things  wrhich  are  not,  and 
hear  unuttered  sounds. 

Oh,  peace !  thou  sweet  companion  of  the  calm  and 
innocent!  whither  art  thou  fled?  Here,  take  my 
gold,  and  all  the  world  calls  mine,  and  come  thou  in 
exchange.  Or  thou,  thou  noisy  sweep,  who  mix  thy 
food  with  soot  and  relish  it,  who  canst  descend  from 
lofty  heights  and  walk  the  humble  earth  again, 
without  repining  at  the  change,  come,  teach  that 
mystery  to  me.  Or  thou,  thou  ragged  wandering 
beggar,  who,  when  thou  canst  not  beg  successfully, 
will  pilfer  from  the  hound,  and  eat  the  dirty  morsel 
sweetly — be  thou  Lord  Clive,  and  I  will  beg,  so  I 
may  laugh  like  thee. 

Could  I  unlearn  what  I've  already  learned — unact 
what  I've  already  acted — or  would  some  sacred 
power  convey  me  back  to  youth  and  innocence,  I'd 
act  another  part — I'd  keep  within  the  vale  of  humble 
life,  nor  wish  for  what  the  world  calls  pomp. 

But  since  this  cannot  be. 

And  only  a  few  days  and  sad  remain  for  me, 
•I'll  haste  to  quit  the  scene;  for  what  is  life 
"When  ev'ry  passion  of  the  soul's  at  strife. 

THE  AMERICAN  CRISIS. — NUMBER  ONE. 

These  are  the  times  that  try  men's  souls:  The 
summer  soldier  and  the  sunshine  patriot  will,  in  this 
crisis,  shrink  from  the  service  of  his  country;  but  he 
that  stands  it  now,  deserves  the  love  and  thanks  of 
man  and  woman.  Tyranny,  like  hell,  is  not  easily 
conquered;  yet  we  have  this  consolation  With  us 
that  the  harder  the  conflict,  the  more  glorious  the 
triumph.  What  we  obtain  too  cheap,  we  esteem  too 
lightly: — 'Tis  dearness  only  that  gives  every  thing 
its  value.  Heaven  knows  how  to  set  a  proper  price 
upon  its  goods;  and  it  would  be  strange  indeed,  if 
so  celestial  an  article  as  Freedom  should  not   be 

*  Some  time  before  his  death,  lie  became  very  melancholy — 
subject  to  strange  imagiuatious — and  was  found  dead  at  last.— 
Author's  Note. 


THOMAS  PAINE. 


203 


hig'uly  rated.  Britain,  with  an  army  to  enforce  her 
tyranny,  has  declared,  that  she  has  a  right  (not  only 
to  Tax,  but)  "  to  bintd  us  in  all  cases  whatsoever," 
and  if  being  bound  in  that  manner  is  not  slavery, 
then  is  there  not  siuh  a  thing  as  slavery  upon  earth. 
Even  the  expression  is  impious,  for  so  unlimited  a 
power  can  belong  only  to  God. 

Whether  the  Independence  of  the  Continent  was 
declared  too  soon,  or  delayed  too  long,  I  will  not 
now  enter  into  as  an  argument;  my  own  simple 
opinion  is,  that  had  it  been  eight  months  earlier,  it 
would  have  been  much  better.  We  did  not  make  a 
proper  use  of  last  winter,  neither  could  we,  while 
we  were  in  a  dependent  state.  However,  the  fault, 
if  it  were  one,  was  all  our  own ;  we  have  none  to 
blame  but  ourselves.*  But  no  great  deal  is  lost 
yet;  all  that  Howe  has  been  doing  for  this  month 
past  is  rather  a  ravage  than  a  conquest,  which  the 
spirit  of  the  Jersies  a  year  ago  would  have  quickly 
repulsed,  and  which  time  and  a  little  resolution  will 
soon  recover. 

I  have  as  little  superstition  in  me  ns  any  man 
living,  but  my  secret  opinion  has  ever  been,  and 
still  is,  that  God  Almighty  will  not  give  up  a  people 
to  military  destruction,  or  leave  them  unsupportedly 
to  perish,  who  had  so  earnestly  and  so  repeatedly 
sought  to  avoid  the  calamities  of  war,  by  every 
decent  method  which  wisdom  could  invent.  Neither 
have  I  so  much  of  the  infidel  in  me,  as  to  suppose, 
that  He  has  relinquished  the  government  of  the 
world,  and  given  us  up  to  the  care  of  devils ;  and  as 
I  do  not,  I  cannot  see  on  what  grounds  the  king  of 
Britain  can  look  up  to  heaven  lor  help  against  us:  A 
common  murderer,  a  highwayman,  or  a  house- 
breaker, has  as  good  a  pretence  as  he. 

'Tis  surprising  to  see  how  rapidly  a  panic  will 
sometimes  run  through  a  country.  All  nations  and 
ages  have  been  subject  to  them:  Britain  has  trem- 
bled like  an  ague  at  the  report  of  a  French  fleet  of 
flat  bottomed  boats ;  and  in  the  fourteenth  century 
the  whole  English  army,  after  ravaging  the  kingdom 
of  France,  was  driven  back  like  men  petrified  with 
fear;  and  this  brave  exploit  was  performed  by  a 
few  broken  forces  collected  and  headed  by  a  woman, 
Joan  of  Arc.  Would  that  Heaven  might  inspire 
some  Jersey  Maid  to  spirit  up  her  countrymen,  and 
6ave  her  fair  fellow-sufferers  from  ravage  and  ravish- 
ment! Yet  panics,  in  some  cases,  have  their  uses; 
they  produce  as  much  good  as  hurt.  Their  dura- 
tion is  always  short;  the  mind  soon  grows  thro' 
them,  and  acquires  a  firmer  habit  than  before.  But 
their  peculiar  advantage  is,  that  they  are  the 
touchstones  of  sincerity  and  hypocrisy,  and  bring 
things  and  men  to  light,  which  might  otherwise 
have  Iain  for  ever  undiscovered.  In  fact,  they 
have  the  same  effect  on  secret  traitors,  which  an 
imaginary  apparition  would  upon  a  private  mur- 
derer. They  sift  out  the  hidden  thoughts  of  man, 
and  hold  them  up  in  public  to  the  world.  Many  a 
dignified  Tory  has  lately  shewn  his  head,  that  shall 
penitentially  solemnize  with  curses  the  day  on  which 
Howe  arrived  upon  the  Delaware. 

As  I  was  with  the  troops  at  Fort  Lee,  and  marched 
with  them  to  the  edg;  of  Pennsylvania,  I  am  well 
acquainted  with  many  circumstances,  which  those, 
who  lived  at  a  distance,  know  but  little  or  nothing 
of.  Our  situation  there  was  exceedingly  cramped, 
the  place  being  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land  between 


*  "The  present  winter"  (meaning  the  last)  "Is  worth  an 
age,  if  lightly  employed,  but  if  lost,  or  neglected,  the  whole 
Continent  will  partake  of  the  evil;  and  there  is  no  punishment 
that  man  does  not  deserve,  be  he  who,  or  what,  or  where  he 
will,  that  may  be  the  means  of  sacrificing  a  season  so  precious 
and  useful." — Author's  Nota. 


the  North  River  and  the  Hackensnck.  Our  force 
was  inconsiderable,  being  not  oue  fourth  so  great  as 
Howe  could  bring  against  us.  We  had  no  army  at 
hand  to  have  relieved  the  garrison,  had  we  shut 
ourselves  up  and  stood  on  the  defence.  Our  ammu- 
nition, light  artillery,  and  the  best  part  of  our 
stores,  had  been  removed  upon  the  apprehension 
that  Howe  would  endeavour  to  penetrate  the  Jer- 
sies, in  which  case  Fort  Lee  could  be  of  no  use  to 
us ;  for  it  must  occur  to  every  thinking  man, 
whether  in  the  army  or  not,  that  these  kind  of  field 
forts  are  only  for  temporary  purposes,  and  last  in 
use  no  longer,  than  the  enemy  directs  his  force 
against  the  particular  object,  which  such  forts  are 
raised  to  defend.  Such  was  our  situation  nnd  con- 
dition at  Fort  Lee  on  the  morning  of  the  20th  of 
November,  when  an  officer  arrived  with  informa- 
tion, that  the  enemy  with  200  boats  had  landed 
about  seven  or  eight  miles  above:  Major-General 
Green,  who  commanded  the  garrison,  immediately 
ordered  them  under  arms,  and  sent  express  to  his 
Excellency  General  Washington  at  the  town  of 
Hackensnck,  distant  by  the  way  of  the  ferry  six 
miles.  Our  first  object  was  to  secure  the  bridge 
over  the  Hackensaek,  which  laid  up  the  river  be- 
tween the  enemy  and  us,  about  six  miles  from  us 
and  three  from  them.  General  Washington  arrived 
in  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  and  marched  at 
the  head  of  the  troops  towards  the  bridge,  which 
place  I  expected  we  should  have  a  brush  for;  how- 
ever, they  did  not  chuse  to  dispute  it  with  us,  and 
the  greatest  part  of  our  troops  went  over  the  bridge, 
the  rest  over  the  ferry,  except  some  which  passed  at 
a  mill  on  a  small  creek,  between  the  bridge  and  the 
ferry,  and  made  their  way  through  some  marshy 
grounds  up  to  the  town  of  Hackensaek,  and  there 
passed  the  river.  We  brought  off  as  much  baggage 
as  the  waggons  could  contain,  the  rest  was  lost. 
The  simple  object  was  to  bring  off  the  garrison,  and 
to  march  them  on  till  they  could  be  strengthened  by 
the  Jersey  or  Pennsylvania  militia,  so  as  to  be 
enabled  to  make  a  stand.  We  staid  four  days  at 
Newark,  collected  in  our  out-posts,  with  some  of  the 
Jersey  militia,  and  marched  out  twice  to  meet  the 
enemy  on  information  of  their  being  advancing, 
though  our  numbers  were  greatly  inferior  to  theirs. 
Howe,  in  my  little  opinion,  committed  a  great  error 
in  generalship,  in  not  throwing  a  body  of  forces  off 
from  Staatan  Island  through  Amboy,  by  which 
means  he  might  have  seized  all  our  stores  at  Bruns- 
wick, and  intercepted  our  march  into  Pennsylvania: 
But,  if  we  believe  the  power  of  hell  to  be  limited, 
we  must  likewise  believe  that  their  agents  are  under 
some  providential  eontroul. 

I  shall  not  now  attempt  to  give  all  the  particulars 
of  our  retreat  to  the  Delaware  ;  suffice  it  for  tho 
present  to  say,  that  both  officers  and  men,  though 
greatly  harassed  and  fatigued,  frequently  without 
rest,  covering,  or  provision,  the  inevitable  conse- 
quences of  a  long  retreat,  bore  it  with  a  manly  and 
a  martial  spirit.  All  their  wishes  were  one,  which 
was,  that  the  country  would  turn  out  and  helr>  them 
to  drive  the  enemy  back.  Voltaire  has  emarked, 
that  King  William  never  appeared  to  full  :  dvantage 
but  in  difficulties  and  in  action;  the  samt  remark 
may  be  made  on  General  Washington,  for  I  e  cha- 
racter fits  him.  There  is  a  natural  firmness  in  some 
minds  which  cannot  be  unlocked  by  trifles,  but 
which,  when  unlocked,  discovers  a  cabinet  of  forti- 
tude; and  I  reckon  it  among  those  kind  of  public 
blessings,  which  we  do  not  immediately  see,  that 
God  hath  blest  him  with  uninterrupted  health,  nnd 
given  him  a  mind  that  can  even  flourish  upon  care. 

I  shall  conclude  this  paper  with  some  miscellaneous 
remarks  on  the  state  of  our  affairs ;  and  shall  begin 


204 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


with  asking  the  following  question,  Why  is  it  that 
the  enemy  hath  left  the  New  England  provinces, 
and  made  these  middle  ones  the  seat  of  war?  The 
answer  is  easy  :  Hew  England  is  not  infested  with 
Tories,  and  we  are.  I  have  been  tender  in  raising 
the  cry  against  these  men,  and  used  numberless 
arguments  to  shew  them  their  danger,  but  it  will 
not  do  to  sacrifice  a  world  to  either  their  folly  or 
their  baseness.  The  period  is  now  arrived,  in  which 
either  they  or  we  must  change  our  sentiments,  or  one 
or  both  must  fall.  And  what  is  a  Tory  ?  Good 
God!  what  is  he?  I  should  not  be  afraid  to  go 
with  a  hundred  Whigs  against  a  thousand  Tories, 
were  they  to  attempt  to  get  into  arms.  Every  Tory 
is  a  coward,  for  a  servile,  slavish,  self-interested 
fear  is  the  foundation  of  Toryism  ;  and  a  man  under 
such  influence,  though  he  may  be  cruel,  never  can 
be  brave. 

But  before  the  line  of  irrecoverable  separation  be 
drawn  between  us,  let  us  reason  the  matter  to- 
gether :  Your  conduct  is  an  invitation  to  the  enemy, 
yet  not  one  in  a  thousand  of  you  has  heart  enough 
to  join  him.  Howe  is  as  much  deceived  by  you  as 
the  American  cause  is  injured  by  you.  He  expects 
you  will  all  take  up  arms,  and  flock  to  his  standard 
with  muskets  on  your  shoulders.  Your  opinions  are 
of  no  use  to  him,  unless  you  support  him  personally; 
for  'tis  soldiers,  and  not  Tories,  that  he  wants. 

I  once  felt  all  that  kind  of  anger,  which  a  man 
ought  to  feel,  against  the  mean  principles  that  are 
held  by  the  Tories:  A  noted  one,  "who  kept  a  tavern 
at  Amboj',  was  standing  at  his  door,  with  as  pretty 
a  child  in  Ins  hand,  about  eight  or  nine  years  old, 
as  most  I  ever  saw,  and  after  speaking  his  mind  as 
freely  as  he  thought  was  prudent,  finished  with  this 
unfatherly  expression,  "  Well !  give  me  peace  in  my 
day."  Not  a  man  lives  on  the  Continent  but  fully 
believes  that  a  separation  must  some  time  or  other 
finally  take  place,  and  a  generous  parent  would  have 
said,  "  If  there  must  be  trouble,  let  it  be  in  my  day, 
that  my  child  may  have  peace;"  and  this  single 
reflection,  well  applied,  is  sufficient  to  awaken  every 
man  to  duty.  Not  a  place  upon  earth  might  be  so 
happy  as  America.  Her  situation  is  remote  from 
all  the  wrangling  world,  and  she  has  nothing  to  do 
but  to  trade  with  them.  A  man  may  easily  distin- 
guish in  himself  between  temper  and  principle,  and 
I  am  as  confident,  as  I  am  that  God  governs  the 
world,  that  America  will  never  be  happy  till  she 
gets  clear  of  foreign  dominion.  Wars,  without 
ceasing,  will  break  out  till  that  period  arrives,  and 
the  Continent  must  in  the  end  be  conqueror;  for, 
though  the  flame  of  liberty  may  sometimes  cease  to 
shine,  the  coal  never  can  expire. 

America  did  not,  nor  does  not,  want  force ;  out 
she  wanted  a  proper  application  of  that  force. 
Wisdom  is  not  the  purchase  of  a  day,  and  it  is  no 
wonder  that  we  should  err  at  first  setting  off.  From 
an  excess  of  tenderness,  we  were  unwilling  to  raise 
an  army,  and  trusted  our  cause  to  the  temporary 
defence  of  a  well  meaning  militia.  A  summer's 
experience  has  now  taught  us  better;  vet  with 
those  troops,  while  they  were  collected,  we  were 
able  to  set  bounds  to  the  progress  of  the  enemy,  and 
thank  God!  they  are  again  assembling.  I  always 
considered  a  militia  as  the  best  troops  in  the  world 
for  a  sudden  exertion,  but  they  will  not  do  for  a 
long  campaign.  Howe,  it  is  probable,  will  make  an 
attempt  on  this  city ;  should  he  fail  on  this  side  the 
Delaware,  he  is  ruined;  if  he  succeeds,  our  cause  is 
not  ruined.  He  stakes  all  on  his  side  against  a  part 
on  ours ;  admitting  he  succeeds,  the  consequence 
will  be,  that  armies  from  both  ends  of  the  Continent 
will  march  to  assist  their  suflering  friends  in  the 
middle  States :  for  he  cannot  go  every  where,  it  is 


impossible.  I  consider  Howe  as  the  greatest  enemy 
the  Tories  have ;  he  is  bringing  a  war  into  their 
country,  which,  had  it  not  been  for  him  and  partly 
for  themselves,  they  had  been  clear  of.  Should  he 
now  be  expelled,  I  wish,  with  all  the  devotion  of  a 
Christian,  that  the  names  of  Whig  and  Tory  may 
never  more  be  mentioned ;  but  should  the  Tories 
give  him  encouragement  to  come,  or  assistance  if 
he  come,  I  as  sincerely  wish  that  our  next  year's  arms 
may  expel  them  from  the  Continent,  and  the  Congress 
appropriate  their  possessions  to  the  relief  of  those  who 
have  suffered  in  well  doing.  A  single  successful  bat- 
tle next  year  will  settle  the  whole.  America  could 
carry  on  a  two  years'  war  by  the  confiscation  of  the 
property  of  disaffected  persons,  and  be  made  happy  by 
their  expulsion.  Say  not  that  this  is  revenge,  call  it 
rather  the  6oft  resentment  of  a  suffering  people,  who. 
having  no  object  in  view  but  the  good  of  all,  have 
staked  their  own  all  upon  a  seemingly  doubtful 
event.  Yet  it  is  folly  to  argue  against  determined 
hardness;  eloquence  may  strike  the  ear,  and  the 
language  of  sorrow  draw  forth  the  tear  of  compas- 
sion, but  nothing  can  reach  the  heart  that  is  steeled 
with  prejudice. 

Quitting  this  class  of  men,  I  turn  with  the  warm 
ardour  of  a  friend  to  those  who  have  nobly  stood, 
and  are  yet  determined  to  stand  the  matter  out-  I 
call  not  upon  a  few,  but  upon  all ,  not  on  this  State 
or  that  State,  but  on  every  State  .  up  and  help  us ; 
lay  your  shoulders  to  the  wheel .  better  have  too 
much  force  than  too  little,  when  so  great  an  object 
is  at  stake.  Let  it  be  told  to  the  future  world,  that 
in  the  depth  of  winter,  when  nothing  but  hope  and 
virtue  could  survive,  that  the  city  and  the  country, 
alarmed  at  one  common  danger,  came  forth  to  meet 
and  to  repulse  it.  Say  not,  that  thousands  are  gone, 
turn  out  your  tens  of  thousands ;  throw  not  the 
burthen  of  the  day  upon  Providence,  but,  "  shew 
your  faith  by  your  works,"  that  God  may  bless  you. 
It  matters  not  where  you  live,  or  what  rank  of  life 
you  hold,  the  evil  or  the  blessing  will  reach  you  all. 
The  far  and  the  near,  the  home  counties  and  the 
back,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  shall  suffer  or  rejoice 
alike.  The  heart  that  feels  not  now,  is  dead:  The 
blood  of  his  children  shall  curse  his  cowardice,  who 
shrinks  back  at  a  time  when  a  little  might  have 
saved  the  whole,  and  made  them  happy.  I  love  the 
man  that  can  smile  in  trouble,  that  can  gather 
strength  from  distress,  and  grow  brave  by  reflection. 
'Tis  the  business  of  little  minds  to  shrink ;  but  he 
whose  heart  is  firm,  and  whose  conscience  approves 
his  conduct,  will  pursue  his  principles  unto  death. 
My  own  line  of  reasoning  is  to  myself  as  strait  and 
clear  as  a  ray  of  light.  Not  all  the  treasures  of  the 
world,  so  far  as  I  believe,  could  have  induced  me  to 
support  an  offensive  war,  for  I  think  it  murder ;,  but 
if  a  thief  break  into  my  house,  burn  and  destroy  my 
property,  and  kill  or  threaten  to  kill  me.  or  those 
that  are  in  it,  and  to  "  bind  me  in  all  cases  whatso* 
ever,"  to  his  absolute  will,  am  I  to  suffer  it?  What 
signifies  it  to  me,  whether  he  who  does  it,  is  a  king 
or  a  common  man ;  my  countryman  or  not  my 
eemtryman?  whether  it  is  done  by  an  individual 
vllain,  or  an  army  of  them?  If  we  reason  to  the 
root  of  things  we  shall  find  no  difference ;  neither 
can  any  just  cause  be  assigned  why  we  should 
punish  in  the  one  case,  and  pardon  in  the  other. 
Let  them  call  me  rebel  and  welcome,  I  feel  no  con- 
cern from  it;  but  I  should  suffer  the  misery  of 
devils,  were  I  to  make  a  whore  of  my  soul  by 
swearing  allegiance  to  one,  whose  character  is  that 
of  a  sottish,  stupid,  stubborn,  worthless,  brutish 
man.  I  conceive  likewise  a  horrid  idea  in  receiving 
mercy  from  a  being,  who  at  the  last  day  shall  be 
shrieking  to  the  rocks  and  mountains  to  cover  him, 


THOMAS  PAINE. 


205 


and  fleeing  with  terror  from  the  orphan,  the  widow, 
and  the  slain  of  America. 

Tiiere  are  cases  which  cannot  be  overdone  by 
language,  and  this  is  one.  There  are  persons  too 
who  see  not  the  full  extent  of  the  evil  that  threatens 
them;  they  solace  themselves  with  hopes  that  the 
enemy,  if  they  succeed,  will  be  merciful.  It  is  the 
madness  of  folly  to  expect  mercy  from  those  who 
have  refused  to  do  justice;  and  even  mercy,  where 
conquest  is  the  object,  is  only  a  trick  of  war:  The 
cunning  of  the  fox  is  as  murderous  as  the  violence 
of  the  wolf;  and  we  ought  to  guard  equally  against 
both.  Howe's  first  object  is  partly  by  threats  and 
partly  by  promises,  to  terrify  or  seduce  the  people 
to  deliver  up  their  arms,  and  receive  mercy.  The 
ministry  recommended  the  same  plan  to  Gage,  and 
this  is  what  the  Tories  call  making  their  peace ;  "  a 
peace  which  passeth  all  understanding,"  indeed!  A 
peace  which  would  be  the  immediate  forerunner  of 
a  worse  ruin  than  any  we  have  yet  thought  of.  Ye 
men  of  Pennsylvania,  do  reason  upon  those  things! 
Were  the  back  counties  to  give  up  their  arms,  they 
would  fall  an  easy  prey  to  the  Indians,  who  are  all 
armed :  This  perhaps  is  what  some  Tories  would  not 
be  sorry  for.  Were  the  home  counties  to  deliver  up 
their  arms,  they  would  be  exposed  to  the  resent- 
ment of  the  back  counties,  who  would  then  have  it 
in  their  power  to  chastise  their  defection  at  plea- 
sure. .And  were  any  one  State  to  give  up  its  arms, 
that  State  must  be  garrisoned  by  all  Howe's  army 
of  Britons  and  Hessians  to  preserve  it  from  the 
anger  of  the  rest.  Mutual  fear  is  a  principal  link 
in  the  chain  of  mutual  love,  and  woe  be  to  that 
State  that  breaks  the  compact.  Howe  is  mercifully 
inviting  you  to  barbarous  destruction,  and  men 
must  be  either  rogues  or  fools  that  will  not  see  it. 
I  dwell  not  upon  the  vapours  of  imagination ;  I 
bring  reason  to  your  ears;  and  in  language,  as  plain 
as  A,  B,  C,  holl  up  truth  to  your  eyes. 

I  thank  God  that  I  fear  not.  I  see  no  real  cause 
for  fear,  I  know  our  situation  well,  ami  can  see  the 
way  out  of  it.  While  our  army  was  collected, 
Howe  dared  not  risk  a  battle,  and  it  is  no  credit  to 
him  that  he  decamped  from  the  White  Plains,  and 
waited  a  mean  opportunity  to  ravage  the  defence- 
less Jersies ;  but  it  is  great  credit  to  us,  that,  with 
an  handful  of  men,  Ave  sustained  an  orderly  retreat 
for  near  an  hundred  miles,  brought  off  our  ammuni- 
tion, all  our  field-pieces,  the  greatest  part  of  our 
stores,  and  had  four  rivers  to  pass.  None  can  say 
that  our  retreat  was  precipitate,  for  we  were  near 
three  weeks  in  performing  it,  that  the  country 
might  have  time  to  come  in.  Twice  we  marched 
back  to  meet  the  enemy  and  remained  out  till  dark. 
The  sign  of  fear  was  not  seen  in  our  camp,  and  had 
not  some  of  the  cowardly  and  disaffected  inhabitants 
spread  false  alarms  thro'  the  country,  the  Jersies  had 
never  been  ravaged.  Once  more  we  are  again  col- 
lected and  collecting  ;  our  new  army  at  both  ends 
of  the  Continent  is  recruiting  last,  and  we  shall  be 
able  to  open  the  next  campiign  with  sixty  thou- 
sand men,  well  armed  and  cloathed.  This  is  our 
situation,  and  who  will  may  know  it.  By  persever- 
ance and  fortitude  we  have  the  prospect  of  a 
glorious  issue ;  by  cowardice  and  submission,  the 
sad  choice  of  a  variety  of  evils — a  ravaged  coun- 
try—  a  depopulated  city — habitations  without 
safety,  and  slavery  without  hope — our  homes  turned 
into  barracks  and  bawdy-houses  for  Hessians,  and 
a  future  race  to  provide  for  whose  fathers  we 
shall  doubt  of.  Look  on  this  picture,  and  weep 
over  it! — and  if  there  yet  remains  one  thought- 
less wretch  who  believes  it  not,  let  him  suffer  it 
unlamented. 

Philadelphia,  December  19,  1770. 


LIBERTY  TREE, 

A  Song,  written  early  in  the  American  Revolution. 
Tune — "  Gods  of  the  Greeks." 
In  a  chariot  of  light,  from  the  regions  of  day, 

The  Goddess  of  Liberty  came, 
Ten  thousand  celestials  directed  her  way, 

And  hither  conducted  the  dame. 
A  fair  budding  branch  from  the  gardens  above, 

Where  millions  with  millions  agree, 
She  brought  in  her  hand  as  a  pledge  of  her  love, 

And  the  plant  she  named  Liberty  Tree. 

The  celestial  exotic  struck  deep  in  the  ground. 

Like  a  native  it  flourish'd  and  bore: 
The  fame  of  its  fruit  drew  the  nations  around, 

To  seek  out  this  peaceable  shore. 
Unmindful  of  names  or  distinctions  they  came, 

For  freemen  like  brothers  agree  ; 
With  one  spirit   endued,  they  one  friendship  pur- 
sued, 

And  their  temple  was  Liberty  Tree. 

Beneath  this  fair  tree,  like  the  patriarchs  of  old, 

Their  bread  in  contentment  they  ate, 
Unvexed  with  the  troubles  of  silver  or  gold, 

The  cares  of  the  grand  and  the  great. 
With  timber  and  tar  they  Old  England  supplied, 

And  supported  her  power  on  the  sea: 
Her  battles  they  fought,  without  getting  a  groat, 

For  the  honour  of  Liberty  Tree 

But  hear,  0  ye  swains  ('tis  a  tale  most  profane), 

How  all  the  tyrannical  powers, 
King,  commons,  and  lords,  are  uniting  amain, 

To  cut  down  this  guardian  of  ours. 
From   the  east  to   the  west  blow  the  trumpet  to 
arms, 

Thro'  the  land  let  the  sound  of  it  flee: 
Let  the  far  and  the  near  all  unite  with  a  cheer, 

In  defence  of  our  Liberty  Tree. 


Fr.OM   THE   CASTLE  IN  TnE  AIR  TO  THE  LITTLE  CORNEE  OF  Tim 
WORLD.* 

In   the   region   of   clouds,   where    the   whirlwinds 
arise, 

My  Castle  of  Fancy  was  built ; 
The  turrets  reflected  the  blue  of  the  skies, 

And  the  windows  with  sunbeams  were  gilt. 

The  rainbow  sometimes  in  its  beautiful  6tatc, 

Enamell'd  the  mansion  around ; 
And  the  figures  that  fancy  in  clouds  can  create, 

Supplied  me  with  gardens  and  ground. 

I    had    grottoes,   and    fountains,   and    orange-tree 
groves, 
I  had  all  that  enchantment  has  told; 
I  had  sweet  shady  walks,  for  the  Gods  and  their 
Loves, 
I  had  mountains  of  coral  and  gold. 

But  a  storm  that  I  felt  not.  had  risen  and  roll'd, 

While  wrapp'd  in  a  slumber  I  lay  ; 
And  when  I  look'd  out  in  the  morning,  behold 

My  Castle  was  carried  away. 


*  Mr.  Paine,  while  in  prison  at  Paris,  corresponded  with  a 
lady  under  the  signature  of  ■•The  Castle  in  the  Air,"  while  she 
addressed  her  letters  from  "The  Little  Corner  of  the  World. 
For  reafons  which  he  knew  not.  their  intercourse  was  sud- 
denly suspended,  and  for  some  time  he  believed  his  fair  friend 
to  be  in  obscurity  and  distress.  Many  years  afterwards,  how- 
ever, he  met  her  unexpectedly  at  Paris,  in  affluent  circum- 
stances, and  married  to  Sir  Robert  Smith.  The  following  is  a 
copy  of  one  of  these  poetical  effusions. — Note  by  T/to*.  Clio 
Itxckman. 


206 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


It  past  over  rivers,  and  vallies,  and  groves, 

The  world  it  was  all  in  my  view ; 
I   thought   of  rny  friends,  of  their  fates,  of  their 
loves, 

And  often,  full  often  of  you. 

At  length  it  came  over  a  beautiful  scene, 

That  Nature  in  silence  had  made ; 
The  place  was  but  small,  but  'twas  sweetly  serene. 

And  chequer'd  with  sunshine  and  shade. 

I  gazed,  and  I  envied  with  painful  goodwill, 
And  grew  tired  of  rny  seat  in  the  air; 

When  all  of  a  sudden  my  Castle  stood  still, 
As  if  some  attraction  was  there. 

Like  a  lark  from  the  sky  it  came  fluttering  down. 

And  placed  me  exactly  in  view, 
When  who  should  I  meet,  in  this  charming  retreat, 

This  corner  of  calmness,  but  you. 

Delighted  to  find  you  in  honour  and  ease, 

I  felt  no  more  sorrow,  nor  pain  ; 
But  the  wind  coming  fair,  I  ascended  the  breeze, 

And  went  back  with  my  Castle  again. 

ETHAN  ALLEN. 

Ethan  Allen",  the  herd  of  Vermont,  wasas  proud 
of  his  literature  as  of  his  personal  vigor  and  gene- 
ralship. Indeed,  no  small  part  of  the  former  was 
put  into  his  writings.  He  wrote  as  lie  acted,  a 
word  ami  a  blow.  For  a  certain  quick  intense 
conception  of  things,  the  uninstructed  physique 
of  the  mind,  his  narrative  of  his  captivity  is  a 
model,  like  his  own  figure,  of  rude,  burly  strength. 
It  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  did  not  choose  a  better 
provitice  for  the  exercise  of  his  intellect  in  his 
main  work  than  a  low  form  of  infidelity  and  vul- 
gar attack  upon  the  Christian  religion. 

Ethan  Allen,  the  son  of  a  farmer  in  Connecti- 
cut, was  born  at  Coventry  in  that  state,  Jan.  10, 
1737.  He  removed  to  Vermont  about  the  year 
1772,  and  became  the  stalwart  leader  of  the  Green 
Mountain  Boys  in  their  resistance  to  the  territo- 


rial claims  of  New  York.  His  brilliant  surprisal 
of  Ticonderoga,  in  1775,  "in  the  name  of  the  great 
Jehovah  and  of  the  Continental  Congress"  need 
hardly  be  mentioned  here.  It  was  probably  the 
success  of  that  adventure  which  led  to  the  rash 
attempt   upon    Montreal,   where   he   was   taken 


prisoner;  a  captivity  which  gave  rise  to  his  au- 
thorship of  a  volume  which  contains  as  much  of 
the  essence  of  military  revolutionary  whigismand 
anti-toryism,  as  it  is  possible  to  convey  in  the 
same  space.  This  work  tells  a  sad  story  of  the  lack 
of  gallantry  and  of  the  oppression  of  the  British 
service  at  that  time.  A  prisoner  taken  in  war  by 
the  English  seems  to  have  been  regarded  as 
something  between  an  enemy  and  a  convict,  not 
entitled  to  the  honorable  courtesy  due  to  the 
one,  and  not  exactly  responsible  to  the  gallows 
assigned  for  the  other.  The  intermediate  term 
was  a  rebel,  and  the  respect  for  consanguinity 
which  England  should  have  shown  in  the  strug- 
gle, was  lost  in  the  contempt  of  familiarity — as  an 
old-fashioned  father  would  whip  his  own  children 
and  reverence  those  of  other  persons.  In  this 
humor  of  his  conquerors,  Allen  was  taken  from 
Montreal  confined  hand  and  feet  in  irons,  carried 
on  board  the  Gaspee  schooner-of-war,  taken  from 
Quebec  to  Liverpool  in  a  government  vessel,  suf- 
fering the  accommodations  of  a  slave  ship,  landed 
with  indignity  at  Falmouth ;  was  kept  a  prisoner 
and  a  show  at  Pendennis  castle  ;  removed  to  the 
Solebay  frigate,  which  putting  into  Cork,  the 
stores  which  tender-hearted  Irish  friends  sent 
him  were  confiscated  for  the  use  of  the  vessel; 
was  brought  to  the  coast  of  America,  and  kept 
in  various  degrees  of  restraint,  latterly  under  free- 
dom of  parole  at  New  York,  till  the  victory  of 
Saratoga  brought  about  his  release  in  1778.  He 
published  the  narrative  of  his  captivity  in  the  fol- 
lowing year. 

A  few  sentences  of  this  production  will  show 
the  man  in  the  author.  It  opens  directly  with 
the  affair  of  Ticonderoga  : — "  Ever  since  I  arrived 
at  the  state  of  manhood,  and  acquainted  myself 
with  the  general  history  of  mankind,  I  have  felt 
a  sincere  passion  for  liberty."  For  a  vivid  pic- 
ture of  a  personal  encounter  at  a  critical  moment, 
witness  his  defence  of  himself  against  an  Indian 
before  Montreal,  by  seizing  a  British  officer  for  a 
shield,  and  holding  him  before  him : — 

The  officer  I  capitulated  with,  then  directed  me 
and  my  party  to  advance  towards  him,  which  was 
done  ;  I  handed  him  my  sword,  and  in  half  a  mi- 
nute after,  a  savage,  part  of  whose  head  was  shaved, 
being  almost  naked  and  painted,  with  feathers  in- 
termixed with  the  hair  of  the  other  side  of  his  head, 
came  running  to  me  with  an  incredible  swiftness ;  he 
seemed  to  advance  with  more  than  mortal  speed;  as 
he  approached  near  me,  his  hellish  visage  was  be- 
yond all  description  ;  snake's  eyes  appear  innocent 
in  comparison  to  his;  his  features  extorted;  malice, 
death,  murder,  and  the  wrath  of  devils  and  damned 
spirits  are  the  emblems  of  his  countenance  ;  and  in 
less  than  twelve  feet  of  me,  presented  his  firelock; 
at  the  instant  of  his  present,  I  twitched  the  officer, 
to  whom  1  gave  my  sword,  between  nro  and  the 
savage  ;  but  lie  flew  round  with  great  fury,  trying  to 
single  me  out  to  shoot  me  without  killing  the  officer; 
but  by  this  time  I  was  nearly  as  nimble  as  he,  keep- 
ing the  officer  in  such  a  position  that  his  danger  was 
my  defence  ;  but,  in  less  than  half  a  minute,  I  was 
attacked  by  just  such  another  imp  of  hell :  Then  I 
made  the  officer  fiy  around  with  incredible  velocity, 
for  a  few  seconds  of  time,  when  I  perceived  a  Cana- 
dian, who  had  lost  one  eye,  as  appeared  afterwards, 
taking  my  part  against  the  savages;  and  in  an  in- 
stant an  Irishman  came  to  my  assistance  with  a  fixed 
bayonet,  and  drove  away  the  fiends,  swearing  by 


ETHAN  ALLEN. 


207 


he  would  kill  them.  This  tragic  scene  compos- 
ed my  mind.  The  escaping  from  so  awful  a  death 
made  even  imprisonment  happy ;  the  more  so  as  my 
conquerors  0:1  the  field  treated  me  with  great  civili- 
ty and  politeness. 

We  hardly  need  his  assurance,  that  while  con- 
fined on  hoard  the  Gaspee  schooner  in  irons,  he 
was  "  obliged  to  throw  out  plenty  of  extravagant 
language,  which  answered  certain  purposes  at  that 
time,  better  than  to  grace  a  history."  The  non- 
chalant humor  of  the  man  was  defiant  even  of 
death.  "  The  cause,"  says  he,  "  I  was  engaged  in 
I  ever  viewed  worthy  hazarding  my  life  for,  nor 
was  I,  in  the  most  critical  moments  of  trouble, 
sorry  that  I  engaged  in  it ;  and,  as  to  the  world 
of  spirits,  though  I  knew  nothing  of  the  mode  and 
manner  of  it,  I  expected  nevertheless,  when  I 
should  arrive  at  such  a  world,  that  I  should  be  as 
well  treated  as  other  gentlemen  of  my  merit." 
His  characters  of  those  about  him  show  a  subtle 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  as  this  hint  at  a  fool 
in  authority  :  "  I  now  found  myself  under  a  worse 
captain  than  Symonds,  for  Montague  was  loaded 
with  prejudices  against  every  body  and  every 
thing  that  was  not  stamped  with  royalty ;  and 
being  by  nature  underwitted,  his  wrath  was  hea- 
vier than  the  others ;  or  at  least  his  mind  was  in  no 
instance  liable  to  be  directed  by  good  sense,  humor, 
or  bravery,  of  which  Symonds  was  by  turns  sus- 
ceptible." His  account  of  Loring,  the  British 
commissary  of  prisoners  in  the  days  of  prison- 
ships  at  New  York,  is  in  his  strongest  manner. 

This  Loring  is  a  monster ! — There  is  not  his  like 
in  human  shape.  He  exhibits  a  smiling  countenance, 
seems  to  wear  a  phiz  of  humanity,  but  has  been  in- 
strumentally  capable  of  the  most  consummate  acts  of 
wickedness,  which  were  first  projected  by  an  aban- 
doned British  council  clothe  I  with  the  authority  of 
a  Howe,  murdering  premeditatedly,  in  cold  biood, 
near  or  quiLe  two  thousand  helpless  prisoners,  and 
that  in  the  most  clandestine,  mean,  and  shameful 
manner,  at  New  York.  He  is  the  most  mean  spirit- 
ed, cowardly,  deceitful,  and  destructive  animal  in 
God's  creation  below,  and  regions  of  infernal  devils, 
with  all  their  tremendous  horrors,  are  impatiently 
ready  to  receive  Howe  and  him,  with  all  their  detes- 
table accomplices,  into  the  most  exquisite  agonies  of 
the  hottest  region  of  hell  tire. 

Probably  the  British  were  as  glad  to  part  with 
a  gentleman  who  could  employ  his  tongue  as  pow- 
erfully as  Ids  sword,  when  he  was  denied  the  lat- 
ter weapon,  as  Allen  was  to  be  released  by  Elias 
Boudinot,  sent  by  Congress  for  the  service,  and 
fall  into  the  open  arms  of  General  Washington, 
at  Valley  Forge,  "with  peculiar  marks  of  his 
approbation  and  esteem."  It  is  told  of  one  of 
Allen's  word  encounters  with  a  British  officer, 
that  the  latter  replied  to  his  challenge,  to  pro- 
duce another  woman  who  had  seven  such  sons  as 
his  mother — that  Mary  Magdalene  was  a  case  in 
point,  who  was  also  delivered  of  seven  devils. 

His  interview  with  Bivington,  the  pleasure- 
loving  king's  printer  at  New  York,  during  his 
parole,  is  characteristic  of  both  parties.  Biving- 
ton had  offended  him  by  his  allusions,  and  Allen 
swore  "  he  would  lick  him  the  very  first  opportu- 
nity he  had."  The  sequel  is  told  by  Bivington 
himself.  "  I  was  sitting,"  says  he,  "  after  a  good 
dinner,  alone,  with  my  bottle  of  Madeira  before 


me,  when  I  heard  an  unusual  noise  in  the  street, 
and  a  huzza  from  the  boys.  I  was  in  the  second 
story,  and,  stepping  to  the  window,  saw  a  tall 
figure  in  tarnished  regimentals,  with  a  large 
cocked  hat  and  an  enormous  long  sword,  followed 
by  a  crowd  of  boys,  who  occasionally  cheered  him 
with  huzzas,  of  which  he  seemed  insensible.  He 
came  up  to  my  door  and  stopped.  1  could 
see  no  more.  My  heart  told  me  it  was  Ethan 
Allen.  I  shut  my  window  and  retired  behind 
my  table  and  my  bottle.  I  was  certain  the  hour 
of  reckoning  had  come.  There  was  no  retreat. 
Mr.  Staples,  my  clerk,  came  in  paler  than  ever, 
and,  clasping  his  hands,  said,  "  Ma  ter,  he  has 
come!"  "I  know  it."  "He  entered  the  store 
and  asked  'if  James  Bivington  lived  there?'  I 
answered,  'Yes,  sir.'  'Is  he  at  home?'  'I  will 
go  and  see,  sir,'  I  said ;  and  now,  master,  what  is 
to  be  done?  There  he  is  in  the  store,  and  the 
boys  peeping  at  him  from  the  street."  I  had 
made  up  my  mind.  I  Linked  at  the  Madeira — 
possibly  took  a  glass.  "Show  him  up,"  said  I; 
"and  if  such  Madeira  cannot  mollify  him,  ho 
must  be  harder  than  adamant."  There  was  a 
fearful  moment  of  suspense.  I  heard  him  on  the 
stairs,  his  long  sword  clanking  at  every  step.  In 
he  stalked.  "Is  your  name  James  Bivington?" 
"It  is,  sir,  and  no  man  could  be  more  happy  than 
I  am  to  see  Colonel  Ethan  Allen."  "Sir,  I  have 
come "  "  Not  another  word,  my  dear  colo- 
nel, until  you  have  taken  a  seat  and  a  gla~s  of 
old  Madeira."     "But,  sir,  I  don't  think  it  proper 

"     "Not  another  word,  colonel.     Taste  this 

wine.  I  have  had  it  in  glass  for  ten  year.?.  Old 
wine,  you  know,  unless  it  is  originally  sound, 
never  improves  by  age."  He  took  the  glass, 
swallowed  the  wine,  smacked  his  lips,  and  shook 

his  head  approvingly.     "  Sir,  I  come "    "Not 

another  word  until  you  have  taken  another  glass, 
and  then,  my  dear  colonel,  we  will  talk  of  old 
affairs,  and  I  have  some  queer  events  to  detail." 
In  short,  wo  finished  two  bottles  of  Madeira,  and 
parted  as  good  friends  as  if  we  had  never  had 
cause  to  be  otherwise."* 

After  his  captivity,  Allen  returned  to  Vermont, 
where  he  was  received  with  a  hearty  welcome  at 
Bennington.  He  again  identified  himself  with 
the  history  of  the  independence  of  Vermont  both 
against  England  and  the  neighboring  states,  and 
after  that  was  secured  in  1791,  lived  mostly  in 
retirement,  composing  his  infidel  work,  Reason 
the  only  Oracle  o/Manjt  which  appeared  in  1784. 


*  Dc  Puy's  Ethan  Allen,  p.  2f2. 

t  Reason  the  only  Oracle  of  Man.  or  a  compendious  system 
of  natural  religion,  alternately  adorned  with  confutations  of  a 
variety  of  doctrines  incompatible  to  it;  deduced  from  the 
most  exalted  ideas  which  we  are  able  to  form  of  the  Divine 
and  Unman  diameters,  and  from  the  universe  in  general. 
Svo.  pp.  477.  Bennington.  Vt.  17S4.  As  the  greater  portion  of 
tiiis  edition  was  destroyed  by  fire  in  its  printing  office,  and  it  lias 
not  been  reprinted  entire,  this  is  now  a  very  scarce  volume. 
A  mutilated  edition  appeared  about  1849  in  New  York. 

When  Graydon  was  a  prisoner  in  New  York  in  1777,  after 
the  hiss  of  Fort  Washington,  he  met  Allen,  and  has  left  in  his 
Memoirs  a  striking  account  of  his  impressions  of  the  man. 
"  His  figure  was  that  of  a  robust,  large-framed  man,  worn 
down  by  confinement  and  hard  fare ;  but  he  was  now  recover- 
ing his  flesh  and  spirits  ;  and  a  suit  of  blue  clothes,  with  a  gold 
laced  hat  that  had  been  presented  to  him  by  the  gentlemen  of 
Cork,  enabled  him  to  make  a  very  passable  appearance  for  a 
rebel  Colonel.  He  used  to  show  a  fracture  in  one  of  his  teeth, 
occasioned  bv  his  twisting  off  with  it.  in  a  fit  of  anger,  the  nail 
which  fastened  the  bar  of  his  handcuffs ;  and  which  drew  from 
one  of  the  astonished  spectators  the  exclamation  of  "Damn 


208 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Of  this  book,  Dr.  Dwight,  in  his  Travels,  has 
remarked  that  "  it  was  the  first  formal  publication 
in  the  United  States,  openly  directed  against  the 
Christian  religion.  When  it  came  out,  I  read  as 
much  of  it  as  I  could  summon  patience  to  read. 
Decent  nonsense  may  possibly  amuse  an  idle  hour ; 
but  brutal  nonsense  can  only  be  read  as  an  inflic- 
tion of  penal  justice."* 

The  story  of  Allen's  second  marriage,  illus- 
trating these  opinions,  is  told  by  his  latest  bio- 
grapher, De  Pay,  in  his  interesting  and  valuable 
contribution  to  the  history  of  Vermont.t 

"  General  Allen,  who  had  at  various  times 
resided  at  Bennington,  Arlington,  and  Tinmouth, 
at  last  took  up  his  residence  on  the  "Winooski. 
During  a  session  of  the  court  at  Westminster,  he 
appeared  with  a  magnificent  pair  of  horses  and  a 
black  driver.  Chief  Justice  Robinson  and  Stephen 
R.  Bradley,  an  eminent  lawyer,  were  there,  and  I 
as  their  breakfast  was  on  the  table,  they  asked 
Allen  to  join  them.  He  replied  that  he  had 
breakfasted,  and  while  they  were  at  the  table,  he 
would  go  in  and  see  Mrs.  Buchanan,  a  handsome 
widow  who  was  at  the  house.  He  entered  the 
sitting-room,  and  at  once  said  to  Mrs.  Buchanan, 
'  Well,  Fanny,  if  we  are  to  be  married,  let  us  be 
about  it.'  '  Very  well,'  she  promptly  replied, 
'  give  me  time  to  fix  up.'  In  a  few  minutes  she 
was  ready,  and  Judge  Robinson  was  at  once  I 
called  upon  by  them  to  perform  the  customary 
ceremony.  Said  Allen,  'Judge,  Mrs.  Buchanan 
and  I  have  concluded  to  be  married ;  I  don't  care 
much  about  the  ceremony,  and  as  near  as  I  can 
find  out,  Fanny  cares  as  little  for  it  a.s  I  do ;  but  as 
a  decent  respect  for  the  customs  of  society  requires 
it  of  us,  we  are  willing  to  have  the  ceremony 
performed.'  The  gentlemen  present  were  much 
surprised,  and  Judge  Robinson  replied,  '  General 
Allen,  this  is  an  important  matter;  have  you 
thought  seriously  of  it  ? '  '  Yes,  yes,'  exclaimed 
Allen,  looking  at  Mrs.  Buchanan;  'but  it  don't 
require  much  thought.'  Judge  Robinson  then  rose 
from  his  seat  and  said,  '  Join  your  hands  together. 
Ethan  Allen,  you  take  this  woman  to  be  your 
lawful  and  wedded  wife  :  you  promise  to  love  and 

protect  her  according  to  the  law  of  God  and ' 

'  Stop,  stop,  Judge.  The  law  of  God,'  said  Allen, 
looking  forth  upon  the  fields,  '  all  nature  is  full  of 
it.     Yes,  go  on.     My  team  is  at  the  door.'     As 


him,  can  lie  cat  iron  ["  *  *  *  TTis  style  was  a  singular  com- 
pound of  local  barbarisms,  scriptural  phrases,  and  oriental 
wildness;  and  though  uuclassic  and  sometimes  ungrammatical, 
it  was  highly  animated  and  forcible.  In  the  following  sentence 
of  his  narrative,  though  it  is  not  perhaps  strictly  correct  in  its 
construction,  there  is  to  me,  a  flash  of  moral  pathos  not 
unworthy  a  Robertson.  l  When  the  fleet,'  says  he,  '  consisting 
of  about  forty-five  sail,  including  five  men-of-war,  sailed  from 
the  cove  (of  Cork)  with  a  fresh  breeze,  the  appearance  was 
beautiful,  abstracted  from  the  unjust  and  bloody  designs  they 
had  in  view.'  Notwithstanding  that  Allen  might  have  had 
something  of  the  insubordinate,  lawless  frontier  spirit  in  his 
composition,  having  been  in  a  state  of  hostility  with  the 
government  of  New  York  before  the  war  of  the  revolution,  he 
appeared  to  me  to  be  a  man  of  generosity  and  honor;  several 
instances  of  which  occur  in  his  publication,  and  one  not 
equivocally  came  under  my  own  observation.  General  Wash- 
ington, speaking  of  him  in  an  official  letter  of  May  the  12th, 
1783,  observes,  with  a  just  discrimination,  that  there  was  an 
original  something  in  him  which  commanded  admiration," — 
Gravdon's  Memoirs,  243. 

*  II.  4(16. 

t  Kthan  Allen  and  the  Green  Mountain  Heroes  of  '76,  with  a 
sketch  of  the  Early  History  of  Vermont,  by  Henry  W.  De 
Puy,  author  of  "Louis  Napoleon  and  his  Times,"  "Kossuth," 
&c.    Buffalo.    Phinney  &  Co.,  1S53. 


soon  as  the  ceremony  was  ended,  General  Allen 
and  his  bride  entered  his  carriage  and  drove  off." 

Two  anecdotes  of  Allen  show  the  best  nature 
of  the  man.  He  once  gave  a  note  to  a  citizen  of 
Boston,  who  put  it  in  collection  in  Vermont. 
Judgment  was  about  being  taken,  when  Allen 
employed  a  lawyer  to  stay  proceedings.  To  his 
surprise,  he  heard,  from  a  distant  part  of  the 
court-house,  his  lawyer  deny  the  signature;  upon 
which  he  rushed  forward,  and  in  a  loud,  indignant 

tone,  confronted  him :  "  Mr. ,  I  didn't  hire 

you  to  come  here  and  lie.  That  is  a  true  note. 
I  signed  it ;  I'll  swear  to  it ;  and  I'll  pay  it !  I 
want  no  shuffling.  I  want  time.  What  I  em- 
ployed you  for,  was  to  get  this  business  put  over 
to  the  next  court ;  not  to  come  here  and  lie  and 
juggle  about  it."*  This  proves  his  honor; 
another  instance  shows  his  humanity.  When  two 
children,  daughters  of  a  settler,  were  once  lost  in 
the  woods  of  Vermont,  search  was  made  for 
them  by  the  townspeople  and  given  up.  Allen 
mounted  a  stump,  made  an  eloquent,  pathetic 
appeal,  rallied  the  company  for  a  new  expedition, 
and  the  children  were  restored  to  their  parents. 
Another  anecdote  is  somewhat  ludicrous,  but 
energetic.  While  at  Tinmouth,  he  was  one  day 
in  the  house  of  the  village  physician  when  a  lady 
was  present  for  the  purpose  of  having  a  tooth 
drawn.  As  often  as  the  doctor  was  ready,  the 
lady's  timidity  baulked  his  operations.  Allen's 
big  nature  grew  restive  at  the  sight.  "Here, 
Doctor,  take  out  one  of  my  teeth."  "  But  your 
teeth  are  all  sound."  "  Never  mind.  Do  as  I 
direct  you."  Out  came  a  tooth.  "  Now,  madam," 
says  Allen  to  the  lady,  "  take  courage  from  the 
example."  He  once  threatened  to  apply  the 
airgumcntum  ad  liominem  in  this  novel  form  on  a 
somewhat  larger  scale.  A  man  had  been  con- 
victed of  supplying  the  British  with  provisions, 
and  been  sentenced  by  a  jury  of  six  to  be  hung. 
A  lawyer  interposed  for  a  new  trial,  as  twelve 
must  constitute  a  legal  jury.  The  public  was  dis- 
appointed at  the  reprieve.  Allen  addressed  them 
with  an  oath,  advising  to  wait  for  the  day  next 
appointed,  promising-^"  You  shall  see  somebody 
hung  at  all  events ;  for  if  Redding  is  not  then 
hung,  I  will  be  hung  myself.''t 

It  was  not  long  after  the  time  of  these  stories, 
in  the  full  possession  of  his  powers,  at  the  age 
of  fifty,  he  was  cut  off  suddenly  by  apoplexy,  at 
Burlington,  Vermont,  February  12,  1789. 

A  brother  of  Ethan  Allen,  Ira  Allen,  wrote  the 
Natural  and  Political  History  of  the  State  of 
Vermont,  published  in  an  octavo  volume  in  1798. 

CONQUEST  OF  TICONDEEOGA. 

Ever  since  I  arrived  at  the  state  of  manhood,  and 
acquainted  myself  with  the  general  history  of  man- 
kind, I  have  felt  a  sincere  passion  for  liberty.  The 
history  of  nations,  doomed  to  perpetual  slavery,  in 
consequence  of  yielding  up  to  tyrants  their  natural- 
born  liberties,  I  read  with  a  sort  of  philosophical 
horror;  so  that  the  first  systematical  and  bloody 
attempt,  at  Lexington,  to  enslave  America, 
thoroughly   electrified   my  mind,  and  fully  deter- 


*  Lossing's  Field  Book,  i.  180. 

t  De  Puy,  p.  392,  who  vouches  for  the  authenticity  of  tho 
two  last  stories.  He  shows  reason  to  doubt  the  common  story 
of  the  message  sent  by  Aliens  daughter  to  him  on  her  death- 
bed. 


FRANCIS  HOPKINSON. 


209 


mined  me  to  take  part  with  my  country.  And, 
while  I  was  wishing  for  an  opportunity  to  signalize 
myself  in  its  behalf,  directions  were  privately  sent 
to  me  from  the  then  colony  (now  state)  of  Connecti- 
cut, to  raise  the  Green-Mountain  Boys,  and,  if  possi- 
ble, with  them  to  surprise  and  take  the  fortress  of 
Ticonderoga.  This  enterprise  I  cheerfully  undertook ; 
and,  after  tirst  guarding  all  the  several  passes  that 
led  thither,  to  cut  off  all  intelligence  between  the 
garrison  and  the  country,  made  a  forced  march  from 
Bennington,  and  arrived  at  the  lake  opposite  to 
Ticonderoga,  on  the  evening  of  the  ninth  day  of  May, 
1775,  with  two  hundred  and  thirty  valiant  Green- 
Mountain  Boys;  and  it  was  with  the  utmost  diffi- 
culty that  I  procured  boats  to  cross  the  lake.  How- 
ever, I  landed  eighty-three  men  near  the  garrison, 
and  sent  the  boats  ha:k  for  the  rear-guard,  com- 
manded by  Col.  Seth  Warner,  but  the  day  began  to 
dawn,  and  I  found  myself  under  the  necessity  to 
attack  the  fort,  before  the  rear  could  cross  the  lake; 
and,  as  it  was  viewed  hazardous,  I  harangued  the 
officers  and  soldiers  in  the  manner  following; — 

"  Friends  ami  fellow  soldiers — You  have  for  a  num- 
ber of  years  past  been  a  scourge  and  terror  to 
arbitrary  power.  Your  valor  has  been  famed  abroad, 
and  acknowledged,  as  appears  by  the  advice  and 
orders  to  me,  from  the  General  Assembly  of  Con- 
necticut, to  surprise  and  take  the  garrison  now 
before  us.  I  now  propose  to  advance  before  you, 
and,  in  person,  conduct  you  through  the  wicket- 
gate;  for  we  must  this  morning  either  quit  our  pre- 
tensions to  valor,  or  possess  ourselves  of  this  fortress 
in  a  few  minutes;  and,  inasmuch  as  it  is  a  desperate 
attempt,  which  none  but  the  bravest  of  men  dare 
undertake,  I  do  not  urge  it  on  any  contrary  to  his 
wilL  You  that  will  undertake  voluntarily,  poise 
your  firelocks." 

The  men  being,  at  this  time,  drawn  up  in  three 
ranks,  each  poised  his  firelock.  I  ordered  them  to 
face  to  the  right,  and  at  the  iiead  of  the  centre-file, 
marched  them  immediately  to  the  wicket-gate  afore- 
said, where  I  found  a  sentry  posted,  who  instantly 
snapped  his  fusee  at  me  ;  I  ran  immediately  towards 
him,  and  he  retreated  through  the  covered  way  into 
the  parade  within  the  garrison,  gave  a  halloo,  and 
ran  under  a  bomb-proof.  My  party,  who  followed 
me  into  the  fort,  I  formed  on  the  parade  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  face  the  two  barracks  which  faced 
each  other. 

The  garrison  being  asleep,  except  the  sentries,  we 
gave  three  huzzas  which  greatly  surprised  them. 
One  of  the  sentries  made  a  pass  at  one  of  my  offi- 
cers with  a  charge'l  bayonet,  and  slightly  wounded 
him:  My  first  thought  was  to  kill  him  with  my 
sword;  but,  in  an  instant,  I  altered  the  design  and 
fury  of  tin'  blow  to  a  slight  cut  on  the  side  of  the 
head,  upon  which  he  dropped  his  gun,  and  asked 
quarter, -which  I  readily  granted  him,  and  demanded 
of  him  the  place  where  the  commanding  officer  kept; 
he  shewed  me  a  pair  of  stairs  in  the  front  of  a  bar- 
rack, on  the  west  part  of  the  garrison,  which  led  up 
to  a  second  story  m  said  barrack,  to  which  I  imme- 
diately repaired,  and  ordered  the  commander,  Capt. 
De  la  Place,  to  come  forth  instantly,  or  I  would 
sacrifice  the  whole  garrison ;  at  which  the  Capt. 
came  immediately  to  the  door,  with  his  breeches  in 
his  hand;  when  I  ordered  him  to  deliver  me  the  fort 
instantly;  he  asked  me  by  what  authority  I 
demanded  it:  I  answered  him,  "In  the  name  of  the 
Great  Jehovah,  and  the  Continental  Congress."  The 
authority  of  the  Congress  being  very  little  known 
at  that  time,  he  began  to  speak  again ;  but  I  inter- 
rupted him,  and  with  my  drawn  sword  over  his 
head,  again  demanded  an  immediate  surrender  of 
the    garrison:    with  which  he  then    complied,  and 

vol.  I. — 14 


ordered  his  men  to  be  forthwith  paraded  without 
arms,  as  he  had  given  up  the  garrison.  In  the  mean 
time  some  of  my  officers  had  given  orders,  and  in 
consequence  thereof,  sundry  of  the  barrack  doors 
were  beat  down,  and  about  one  third  of  the  garri- 
son imprisoned,  which  consisted  of  the  said  com- 
mander, a  Lieut.  Feltlmm,  a  conductor  of  artillery, 
a  gunner,  two  Serjeants,  and  forty-four  rank  and  file; 
about  one  hundred  pieces  of  cannon,  one  thirteen 
inch  mortar,  and  a  number  of  swivels.  This  sur- 
prise was  carried  into  execution  in  the  grey  of  the 
morning  of  the  tenth  of  May,  1775.  The  sun  seemed 
to  rise  that  morning  with  a  superior  lustre;  and 
Ticonderoga  and  its  dependencies  smiled  to  its  con- 
querors, who  tossed  about  the  flowing  bowl,  and 
wished  success  to  Congress,  and  the  liberty  and  free 
dom  of  America. 

FEAMCIS  nOPKINSOX. 
Hopkixsox,  the  author  of  The  Pretty  Story, 
and  the  famous  ballad,  The  Battle  of  the  Kerjn, 
was  one  of  the  prime  wits  of  the  Revolution,  and 
may  be  ranked  alongside  of  Trumbull  for  his  effi- 
ciency in  the  cause.  The  genius  of  the  two  men 
may  be  readily  distinguished.  They  had  wit  and 
humor  in  different  combinations.  The  author  of 
MTiiigal  had  more  of  the  power,  Hopkinson  a 
larger  proportion  of  that  gentle  quality  whicli 
plays  around  the  heart.  The  one  had  the  advan- 
tage in  verse,  the  other  in  prose.  The  works  of 
both  remain  eminent  ornaments  of  the  literature 
of  their  country.  We  have  had  nothing  better  in 
their  way  since. 


aSc^LcYi    ^SZ^CTi. 


^<> 


Francis  Hopkinson  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in 
1738.  His  father,  Thomas,  was  an  Englishman, 
wlio  emigrated  to  that  city,  having  secured,  it  is 
said,  government  patronage  through  his  marriage 
with  the  niece  of  the  Bishop  of  Worcester.  He 
assisted  Franklin  in  his  discoveries  in  electricity, 
and  actively  promoted  the  liberal  improvements 
of  the  day.  Upon  his  death  his  widow  directed 
the  education  of  the  son  who  was  sent  to  the  Col- 
lege, since  the  University  of  Pennsylvania.  He 
afterwards  studied  law.  In  1701  he  served  as 
secretary  in  a  conference  held  on  the  banks  of  the 
Lehigh,  between  the  government  of  Pennsylvania 
and  several  Indian  nations.     One  of  his  former 


210 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  Treaty,  celebrates  the  event.  In  17G5  he 
was  in  England,  remaining  there  two  years,  and 
passing  his  time  between  town  and  country.  On 
his  return  to  America  he  resided  at  Bordentown, 
New  Jersey,  where  he  married  Miss  Ann  Borden 
of  that  place.  His  Pretty  Story,  written  in 
the  fashion  of  Arbuthnot's  John  Bull,  though  in  a 
milder  vein,  was  published  with  great  success  in 
a  pamphlet  in  1774.  It  represents  England  as  a 
nobleman,  possessed  of  a  valuable  farm,  and  with 
a  great  number  of  children  and  grandchildren,  for 
the  government  of  whom  he  had  entered  into 
various  compacts.  Parliament  is  represented  as 
his  wife,  chosen  for  him  every  seven  years  by  the 
family.  The  fortunes  of  the  American  settlers  are 
depicted,  and  the  encroachments  of  parliament 
none  the  less  forcibly  presented  in  the  humorous 
description.  The  chapters  end  with  a  br>  'ken  pro- 
phetic sentence :  "  These  harsh  and  unconstitu- 
tional proceedings  of  the  overseer  so  highly  irri- 
tated Jack,  and  the  other  families  of  the  new  farm, 
that******.  Cetera  desunt."  The  author's  "  Pro- 
phecy," in  1776,  and  "Political  Catechism"  in 
1777,  helped  to  work  out  the  sequel.  The  latter 
is  a  set  of  queries  and  answers  respecting  Lord 
North  and  the  conduct  of  the  war,  ending  with  a 
tribute  to  "Washington.  "  Who  has  the  chief 
command  of  the  American  army?"  "  His  Excel- 
lency General  Washington!"  "  What  is  his  cha- 
racter?" "To  him  the  title  of  Excellency  is 
applied  with  peculiar  propriety.  He  is  the  best 
and  the  greatest  man  the  world  ever  knew.  In 
private  life  lie  wins  the  hearts  and  wears  the  love 
of  all  who  are  so  happy  as  to  fall  within  the  circle 
of  his  acquaintance.  In  his  public  character  he 
commands  universal  respect  and  admiration. 
Conscious  that  the  principles  on  which  he  acts  are 
indeed  founded  in  virtue  and  truth,  he  steadily 
.pursues  the  arduous  work  with  a  mind  neither 
depressed  by  disappointment  and  difficulties,  nor 
elated  with  temporary  success.  He  retreats  like 
a  General,  and  attacks  like  a  Hero.  Had  he  lived 
in  the  days  of  idolatry  he  had  been  worshipped  as 
a  God.  One  age  cannot  do  justice  to  his  merit; 
but  a  grateful  posterity  shall,  for  a  succession  of 
ages,  remember  the  great  deliverer  of  his  coun- 
try." Hopkinson  represented  New  Jersey  in  the 
general  Congress  of  1770,  and  signed  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence.  His  Battle  of  the  Kegs, 
written  about  this  time,  and  celebrating  an  actual 
incident,  has  been  the  most  popular  of  American 
Revolutionary  ballads.  His  humorous  handling 
of  Rivington,  the  royal  printer  at  New  York,  is 
among  his  best  political  squibs. 

When  the  war  was  concluded,  a  new  general 
government  was  to  be  established  and  local  diffi- 
culties overcome.  Hopkinson 's  pen  here  achieved 
some  of  its  greatest  triumphs  in  exposing  the  dis- 
sensions and  absurdities  of  state  politicians.  His 
New  Roof,  an  allegory,  containing  in  substance 
the  arguments  of  the  debate  in  the  Convention 
of  Pennsylvania  in  1787,  met  to  consider  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States,  is  a  masterly 
production,  and  his  song  on  the  subject  has  hap- 
pily preserved  its  spirit  in  verse. 

His  sharp  raillery  in  his  essays  did  much  to  miti- 
gate the  excessive  litigation  and  newspaper  con- 
troversies of  the  day.  In  his  Typographical  Mode 
of  Conducting  a  Quarrel  lie  anticipated  Southey's 
tiidiion  of  telling  his  Bear  story  in  the  Doctor, 


by  gradations  of  type.  The  paper  made  two 
belligerents  of  the  day,  a  merchant  and  a  lawyer, 
who  were  oppressing  the  public  in  the  newspapers, 
ridiculous.  It  proposed  a  new  style  of  printing  for 
different  degrees  of  abuse  and  invective — various 
t3*pe,  from  five  line  pica  to  minion,  through 
French  canon  downwards.  "  There  is  no  look- 
ing," says  he,  "at  the  first  page  of  the  Daily  Ad- 
vertiser, without  imagining  a  number  of  people 
hollowing  and  bawling  to  j-ou  to  buy  their  goods 
or  lands,  to  charter  their  ship's,  or  to  inform  you 
that  a  servant  or  a  horse  hath  strayed  away. 
For  my  part,  I  am  so  possessed  with  this  idea, 
that  as  soon  as  I  take  up  the  paper  of  the  da}-,  I 
turn  over  to  articles  of  intelligence  as  quick  as 
possible,  lest  my  eyes  should  be  stunned  by  the 
ocular  uproar  of  the  first  page."  His  Tlioughts 
on  the  hisease  of  the  Mind  ;  with  a  scheme  for 
purging  the  moral  faculties  of  the  good  people  of 
Pennsylvania,  proposes  that  a  weekly  and  daily 
newspaper  should  be  expressly  set  apart  and  ac- 
knowledged as  receptacles  for  all  the  filth  and 
scandal  of  the  town.  The  treatment  is  rather 
Swiftian,  in  occasional  coarseness,  but  the  satire 
is  truthful.  He  compares  the  humors  of  the 
mind  to  the  secretions  of  the  body:  "A  sarcasm 
is  nothing  more  than  spitting, — and  so  it  is  usual 
to  say,  'he  has  spit  his  spite.'  A  crude  attempt 
at  humor  is  parallel  with  blowing  one's  nose,  for 
such  humors  are  apt  to  collect  in  cold  constitu- 
tions ;  and  a  young  poetaster  may  be  put  into  a 
considerable  perspiration  by  the  scorching  flames 
of  love."  Hopkinson  was  a  reformer  in  the  cause 
of  education,  and  wrote  various  papers  laughing 
at  its  grammatical,  metaphysical,  and  scientific 
perplexities.  His  Modern  Learning :  exemplified 
by  a  spiecimen  of  a  collegiate  examination,  in 
which  a  salt-box  is  put  through  the  various  cate- 
gories of  the  sciences,  is  the  best  of  his  papers 
of  this  class.  In  his  sketches  of  the  minor 
morals  and  manners  of  the  day,  he  was  equally 
happy.  His  Essay  on  White-Washing  was  mis- 
taken for  the  composition  of  Franklin,  and  pub- 
lished among  his  writings.  His  friend,  Dr.  Push, 
was  a  great  admirer  of  his  genius  in  these  pro- 
ductions. 

Hopkinson  took  pride  in  his  share  in  planning 
the  grand  Fourth  of  July  Federal  Procession 
at  Philadelphia,  in  1788;  a  minute  account  of 
which  he  prepared  and  has  left  in  his  writings. 
In  1779  he  was  made  Judge  of  the  Admiralty  of 
Pennsylvania.  His  decisions  while  in  office  were 
collected  by  him  for  the  edition  of  his  writings. 
In  1790  he  was  appointed  by  the  President, 
Judgeof  the  District  Court.  He  died  the  follow- 
ing year,  May  9,  of  an  apoplectic  fit.  Before  his 
death  he  had  prepared  the  carefully  arranged 
collection  of  his  literary  productions  for  the  press, 
which  was  published  by  Dobson  in  Philadelphia, 
"in  the  dress  in  which  he  left  them,"  in  three 
octavo  volumes  in  1792,  hearing  the  title:  The 
Miscellaneous  Essays  and  Occasional  Writings 
of  Francis  Hopkinson,  Esq.  A  more  finbhed  and 
:  accomplished  work  has  never  issued  from  the 
American  press. 

The  prose  of  Hopkinson  is  quite  unique  and 
original ;  simple  in  style,  and  ingenious  in  thought 
and  invention  ;  always  neat  and  elegant  in  expres- 
sion, and  perfect  in  its  gentle  playfulness.  His 
poetry  is  of  an  agreeable  turn,  his  I?  Allegro  and 


FRANCIS  HOPKINSON. 


211 


11  Penseroso  being  familiar  adaptations  of  Mil- 
ton. Ili.s  constant  sensibility  frequently  becomes 
eloquent ;  and  las  verses  have  many  ingenious 
passages.  Many  of  his  poems  are  occasional  ad- 
dresses to  the  fair,  in  which  the  charms  of  Delia 
and  Rosalinda  have  every  attention  paid  to  them. 

In  person,  Eopkinson  is  described  as  a  lively 
man,  a  little  below  the  common  size,  with  small 
but  animated  features.*  He  had  many  general 
accomplishments,  in  music,  painting,  and  conver- 
sation. As  a  kindly  trait  of  his  character,  it  is 
told  that  he  had  a  pet  mouse  which  would  come 
to  him  at  table,  and  that  his  familiar  pigeons  were 
quite  famous.T  He  corresponded  on  novelties  in 
science,  for  which  he  had  a  decided  taste,  with 
Franklin  and  Jefferson.  His  portrait,  from  which 
our  vignette  is  taken,  is  painted  by  Pine. 

His  son,  Joseph  Hopkinson,  wrote  the  song, 
Hail  Columbia. 

A   LETTER  FROM  A  GENTLEMAN  IN  AMERICA,  TO   IIIS  FRIEND   IN 
EUROPE,   ON  WHITE-WASHING. 

Dear  Sir. — The  peculiar  customs  of  every  country 
appear  to  strangers  awkward  and  absurd,  but  the  in- 
habitants consider  them  as  very  proper  and  even 
necessary.  Long  habit  imposes  ou  the  understand- 
ing, and  reconciles  it  to  any  thing  that  is  not  mani- 
festly pernicious  or  immediately  destructive. 

The  religion  of  a  country  is  scarcely  held  in 
greater  veneration  than  its  established  customs: 
and  it  is  almost  as  difficult  to  produce  an  alteration 
in  the  o.ie  as  in  the  other.  Any  interference  of 
government  for  the  reformation  of  national  customs, 
however  trivial  and  absurd  they  may  be,  never  fails 
to  produce  the  greatest  discontent,  and  sometimes 
dangerous  convulsions.  Of  this  there  are  frequent 
instances  in  history.  Bad  habits  are  most  safely 
remove  1  by  the  same  means  that  established  them, 
via.  by  imperceptible  gradations,  and  the  constant 
example  and  influence  of  the  higher  class  of  the 
people/ 

We  are  apt  to  conclude  that  the  fashions  ami  man- 
ners of  our  own  country  are  most  rational  and  pro- 
per, because  the  eye  and  the  understanding  have 
long  since  been  reconciled  to  them,  and  we  ridicule 
or  condemn  those  of  other  nations  on  account  of 
their  novelty:  yet  the  foreigner  will  defend  ins 
national  habits  with  at  least  as  much  plausibility  as 
we  can  our  own.  The  truth  is,  that  reason  has 
little  to  do  in  the  matter.  Customs  are  for  the 
most  part  arbitrary,  and  one  nation  has  as  good  a 
right  to  fix  its  peculiarities  as  another.  It  is  of  no 
purpose  to  talk  of  convenience  as  a  standard  : 
every  thing  becomes  convenient  by  practice  and 
habit. 

1  have  read  somewhere  of  a  nation  (in  Africa,  I 
think)  which  is  governed  by  twelve  counsellors. 
When  these  counsellors  are  to  meet  on  public  busi- 
ness, twelve  large  earthen  jars  are  set  in  two  rows, 
and  filled  with  water.  The  counsellors  enter  the 
apartment  one  after  another,  stark  naked,  and  each 


*  "  At  Mr.  Peale's  painter's  room  I  met  Mr.  Francis  Hop- 
kinson, late  a  Mandamus  Counsellor  of  New  Jersey,  now  a 
member  of  the  Continental  Congress,  who.  it  seems,  is  a  native 
el'  Philadelphia;  a  son  of  a  protnonotary  of  this  country,  who 
was  a  person  much  respected.  The  son  was  liberally  educated, 
and  is  a  painter  and  a  poe,t.  I  have  a  curiosity  to  penetrate 
a  little  deeper  into  the  bosom  of  this  curious  gentleman.  He  is 
one  of  your  pretty,  little,  curious,  ingenious  men.  His  head  is 
not  bigger  than  a  large  apple,  less  than  our  friend  Pemberton, 
or  Doctor  Simon  Tufts.  I  have  not  met  with  anything  in 
natural  history  more  amusing  and  entertaining  than  his  per- 
sonal appearance — yet  he  is  genteel  and  well  bred,  and  is  very 
Social." — John  Adams  to  his  wife.     Phila.  Aug.  21,  1776. 

t  Delaplaine's  Repository,  Art.  Hopkinson. 


leaps  into  a  jar,  where  he  sits  up  to  the  chin  in 
water.  When  the  jars  are  all  filled  witli  counsellors, 
they  proceed  to  deliberate  on  the  great  concerns  of 
the  nation.  This,  to  be  sure,  forms  a  very  grotesque 
scene;  but  the  object  is  to  transact  the  public  busi- 
ness: they  have  been  accustomed  to  do  it  in  this 
way,  and  therefore  it  appears  to  them  the  most 
rational  and  convenient  way.  Indeed,  if  we  con- 
sider it  impartially,  there  seems  to  be  no  reason 
why  a  counsellor  may  not  be  as  wise  in  an  earthen 
jar  as  in  an  elbow  chair ;  or  why  the  good  of  the 
people  may  not  be  as  maturely  considered  in  the 
one  as  in  the  other.  , 

The  established  manners  of  every  country  are  the 
standards  of  propriety  with  the  people  who  have 
adopted  them ;  and  every  nation  assumes  the  right 
,   of  considering  all  deviations    therefrom   as   barba- 
risms and  absurdities. 

The  Chinese  have  retained  their  laws  and  customs 
for  ages  immemorial:  and  although  they  have  long 
had  a  commercial  intercourse  with  European  na- 
j  tions,  and  are  well  acquainted  with  their  improve- 
ments in  the  arts,  and  their  modes  of  civilization, 
yet  they  are  so  far  from  being  convinced  of  any 
superiority  in  the  European  manners,  that  their 
government  takes  the  most  serious  measures  to  pre- 
vent the  customs  of  foreigners  taking  root  amongst 
them.  It  employs  their  utmost  vigilance  to  enjoy 
the  benefits  of  commerce,  and  at  the  same  time  guard 
against  innovations  that  might  affect  the  charac- 
teristic manners  of  the  people. 

Since  the  discovery  of  the  Sandwich  islands  in  the 
South-Sea,  they  have  been  visited  by  ships  from 
several  nations  ;  yet  the  natives  have  shown  no  in- 
clination to  prefer  the  dress  and  maimers  of  the  visi- 
tors to  their  own.  It  is  even  probable  that  they 
pity  the  ignorance  of  the  Europeans  they  have 
6een,  as  far  removed  from  civilization;  and  value 
themselves  on  the  propriety  and' advantage  of  their 
own  customs. 

There  is  nothing  new  in  these  observations,  and  I 
had  no  intention  of  making  them  when  I  sat  down 
to  write,  but  they  obtruded  themselves  upon  me. 
My  intention  was  to  give  you  some  account  of  the 
people  of  these  new  states  ;  but  I  am  not  sufficiently 
informed  for  the  purpose,  having,  as  yet,  seen  little 
more  than  the  cities  of  New-York  and  Philadelphia. 
I  have  discovered  but  few  national  singularities 
amongst  them.  Their  customs  and  manners  are 
nearly  the  same  with  those  of  England,  which  they 
have  long  been  used  to  copy.  For,  previous  to  the 
late  revolution,  the  Americans  were  taught  from 
their  infancy  to  look  up  to  the  English  as  the  pat- 
terns of  perfection  in  all  things. 

I  have,  however,  observed  one  custom,  which,  for 
aught  I  know,  is  peculiar  to  this  country.  An  ac- 
count of  it  will  serve  to  fill  up  the  remainder  of  this 
sheet,  and  mny  afford  you  some  amusement. 

When  a  young  couple  are  about  to  enter  on  the 
matrimonial  state,  a  never-failing  article  in  the  mar- 
riage treaty  is,  that  the  lady  shall  have  and  enjoy 
the  free  and  unmolested  exercise  of  the  rights  of 
white-washing,  with  all  its  ceremonials,  privileges, 
and  appurtenances.  You  will  wonder  what  this 
privijege  of  white-wasthing  is.  I  will  endeavor  to 
give  you  an  idea  of  the  ceremony,  as  I  have  seen  il 
performed. 

There  is  no  season  of  the  year  in  which  the  lady 
may  not,  if  she  pleases,  claim  her  privilege;  butthr 
latter  end  of  May  is  generally  fixed  upon  for  th  ■■ 
purpose.  The  attentive  husband  may  judge,  by  cer- 
tain prognostics,  wdien  the  storm  is  nigh  at  hand.  II 
the  lady  grows  uncommonly  fretful,  finds  fault  wit! 
the  servants,  is  discontented  with  the  children,  an 
complains  much  of  the  nastiness  of  every  thing  abou 


212 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


her:  these  are  symptoms  -which  ought  not  to  be 
neglected,  yet  they  sometimes  go  off  without  any 
further  effect.  But  if,  when  the  husband  rises  in 
the  morning,  he  should  observe  in  the  yard,  a  wheel- 
barrow, with  a  quantity  of  lime  in  it,  or  should  see 
certain  buckets  rilled  with  a  solution  of  lime  in  wa- 
ter, there  is  no  time  for  hesitation.  He  immediately 
locks  up  the  apartment  or  closet  where  his  papers 
and  private  property  are  kept,  and  putting  the  key 
.in  his  pocket,  betakes  himself  to  flight.  A  husband, 
however  beloved,  becomes  a  perfect  nuisance  during 
this  season  of  female  rage.  His  authority  is  super- 
seded, his  commission  suspended,  and  the  very 
scullion  who  cleans  the  brasses  in  the  kitchen  be- 
comes of  more  importance  than  him.  He  has 
nothing  for  it  but  to  abdicate,  for  a  time,  and  run 
from  an  evil  which  he  can  neither  prevent  nortnollify. 
The  husband  gone,  the  ceremony  begins.  The 
walls  are  stripped  of  their  furniture — paintings, 
prints,  and  looking-glasses  lie  huddled  in  heaps 
about  the  floors ;  the  curtains  are  torn  from  their 
testers,  the  beds  crammed  into  windows,  chairs  and 
tables,  bedsteads  and  cradles  crowd  the  .yard;  and 
the  garden  fence  bends  beneath  the  weight  of  car- 
pets, blankets,  cloth  cloaks,  old  coats,  under  petti- 
coats, and  ragged  breeches.  Here  may  be  seen  the 
lumber  of  the  kitchen,  forming  a  dark  and  confused 
mass  for  the  foreground  of  the  picture  ;  gridirons  and 
frying-pans,  rusty  shovels  and  broken  tongs,  joint 
stools,  and  the  fractured  remains  of  rush-bottomed 
chairs.  There  a  closet  has  disgorged  its  bowels — 
riveted  plates  »and  dishes,  halves  of  china  bowls, 
cracked  tumblers,  broken  wine-glasses,  phials  of  for- 
gotten physic,  papers  of  unknown  powders,  seeds 
and  dried  herbs,  tops  of  tea-pots,  and  stoppers  of 
departed  decanters — from  the  rag-hole  in  the  garret, 
to  the  rat-hole  in  the  cellar,  no  place  escapes  un- 
rummaged.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  day  of  general 
doom  was  come,  and  the  utensils  of  the  house  were 
dragged  forth  to  judgment.  In  tins  tempest,  the 
words  of  King  Lear  unavoidably  present  themselves, 
and  might  with  little  alteration  be  made  strictly  ap- 
plicable. 


-Let  the  great  gods 


That  keep  this  dreadful  pother  o'er  our  heads 
Find  out  their  enemies  now.    Tremble  thou  wretch 
That  hast  within  thee  undivulged  crimes 
Unwhipt  of  jnstice- 


-Close  pent  up  guilt, 


Rive  your  concealing  continents,  and  ask 
These  dreadful  summoners  grace." 

This  ceremony  completed,  and  the  house  tho- 
roughly evacuated,  the  next  operation  is  to  smear 
the  walls  and  ceilings  with  brushes,  dipped  into  a 
solution  of  lime  called  white- wasu;  to  pour  buckets 
of  water  over  every  floor,  and  scratch  all  the  par- 
titions and  wainscots  with  hard  brushes,  charged 
with  soft  soap  and  stone-cutter's  sand. 

The  windows  by  no  means  escape  the  general 
deluge.  A  servant  scrambles  out  upon  the  pent- 
house, at  the  risk  of  her  neck,  and  with  a  mug 
in  her  hand,  and  a  bucket  within  reach,'  dashes 
innumerable  gallons  of  water  against  the  glass 
panes,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  passengers  in  the 
street. 

I  have  been  told  that  an  action  at  law  was  once 
brought  against  one  of  these  water  nymphs,  by  a 
person  who  had  a  new  suit  of  clothes  spoiled  by 
this  operation:  but  after  long  argument  it  was  de- 
termined that  no  damages  could  be  awarded  ;  inas- 
much as  the  defendant  was  in  the  exercise  of  a  legal 
right,  and  not  answerable  for  the  consequences. 
And  so  the  poor  gentleman  was  doubly  nonsuited ; 
for  he  lost  both  his  suit  of  clothes  and  his  suit  at 
law 


These  smearings  and  seratchings,  these  washings 
and  dashings,  being  duly  performed,  the  next  cere- 
monial is  to  cleanse  and  replace  the  distracted  furni- 
ture. You  may  have  seen  a  house-raising,  or  a  ship- 
launch — recollect,  if  you  can,  the  hurry,  bustle,  con- 
fusion, and  noise  of  such  a  scene,  and  you  will  have 
some  idea  of  this  cleansing  match.  Ihe  misfortune 
is,  that  the  sole  object  is  to  make  things  clean.  It 
matters  not  how  many  useful,  ornamental,  or  valua- 
ble articles  suffer  mutilation  or  death  under  the  ope- 
ration. A  mahogany  chair  and  a  carved  frame  un- 
dergo the  same  discipline  ;  they  are  to  be  made  clean 
at  all  events;  but  their  preservation  is  not  worthy 
of  attention.  For  instance:  a  fine  large  engraving 
is  laid  flat  upon  the  floor;  a  number  of  smaller 
prints  are  piled  upon  it,  until  the  super-incumbent 
wreight  cracks  the  lower  glass — but  this  is  of  no  im- 
portance. A  valuable  picture  is  placed  leaning 
against  the  sharp  corner  of  a  table;  others  are  made 
to  lean  against  that,  till  the  pressure  of  the  whole 
forces  the  corner  of  the  table  through  the  canvas  of 
the  first.  The  frame  and  glass  of  a  fine  print  are  to 
be  cleaned ;  the  spirit  and  oil  used  on  this  occasion 
are  suffered  to  leak  through  and  deface  the  en- 
graving— no  matter!  If  the  glass  is  clean  and  the 
frame  shines  it  is  sufficient — the  rest  is  not  worthy 
of  consideration.  An  able  arithmetician  hath  made 
a  calculation,  founded  on  long  exerience,  and  proved 
that  the  losses  and  destruction  incident  to  two 
white-washings  are  equal  to  one  removal,  and  three 
removals  equal  to  one  fire. 

This  cleansing  frolic  over,  matters  begin  to  resume 
their  pristine  appearance:  the  storm  abates,  and  all 
would  be  well  again :  but  it  is  impossible  that  so 
great  a  convulsion  in  so  small  a  community  should 
pass  over  without  producing  some  consequences. 
For  two  or  three  weeks  after  the  operation,  the 
family  are  usually  afflicted  with  sore  eyes,  sore 
throats,  or  severe  colds,  occasioned  by  exhalations 
from  wet  floors  and  damp  walls. 

I  know  a  gentleman  here  who  is  fond  of  account- 
ing for  every  thing  in  a  philosophical  way.  He 
considers  this,  what  I  call  a  custom,  as  a  real,  period- 
ical disease,  peculiar  to  the  climate.  His  train  of 
reasoning  is  whimsical  and  ingenious,  but  I  am  not 
at  leisure  to  give  you  the  detail.  The  result  was, 
that  he  found  the  distemper  to  be  incut  able;  but 
after  much  study,  he  thought  he  had  discoveted  a 
method  to  divert  the  evil  he  could  not  subdue.  For 
this  purpose,  he  caused  a  small  building,  about 
twelve  feet  square,  to  be  erected  in  his  garden,  and 
furnished  with  some  ordinary  chairs  and  tables,  and 
a  few  prints  of  the  cheapest  sort.  His  ho]  e  was, 
that  when  the  white-washing  frenzy  seized  Ihe 
females  of  his  family,  they  might  repair  to  1his 
apartment,  and  scrub,  and  scour,  and  smear  lo  their 
hearts'  content;  and  so  spend  the  violence  of  the 
disease  in  this  out-post,  whilst  he  enjoyed  himself  in 
quiet  at  head-quarters.  But  the  experiment  did 
not  answer  his  expectation.  It  was  impossible  it 
should,  since  a  principal  part  of  the  gratification 
consists  in  the  lady's  having  an  uncontrolled  right 
to  torment  her  husband,  at  least  once  in  every  year; 
to  turn  him  out  of  doors,  and  take  the  reins  of  go- 
vernment into  her  own  hands. 

There  is  a  much  better  contrivance  4han  this  of 
the  philosopher's:  which  is,  to  cover  the  walls  of 
the  house  with  paper.  This  is  generally  done.  And 
though  it  does  not  abolish,  it  .at  least  shortens  the 
period  of  female  dominion.  This  paper  is  decorated 
with  various  fancies,  and  made  so  ornamental  that 
the  women  have  admitted  the  fashion  without  per- 
ceiving the  design. 

There  is  also  another  alleviation  of  the  husband's 
distress.      He  generally  has  the  sole  use  of  a  small 


FRANCIS  IIO?KL\SOX. 


213 


room  or  closet  for  liis  books  and  papers,  the  key  of 
which  ho  is  allowed  to  keep.  This  is  considered  as 
a  privileged  place,  even  in  the  white-washing  sea- 
son, and  stands  like  the  land  of  Goshen  amidst  the 
plagues  of  Egypt.  But  then  he  must  be  extremely 
cautious,  and  ever  upon  his  guard  ;  for  should  he  in- 
advertently go  abroad,  and  leave  the  key  in  his 
door,  the  house-maid,  who  is  alwa)Ts  on  the  watdi 
for  such  an  opportunity,  immediately  enters  in  tri- 
umph with  buckets,  brooms,  and  brushes — takes 
possession  of  the  premises,  and  forthwith  puts  all 
his  books  and  papers  to  rights,  to  his  utter  con- 
fusion, and  sometimes  serious  detriment.  I  can  give 
you  an  instance. 

A  gentleman  was  sued  at  law,  by  the  executors  of 
a  mechanic,  on  a  charge  found  against  him  on  the 
deceased's  books  to  the  amount  of  £30.  The  de- 
fendant was  strongly  impresse  1  witli  a  belief  that 
he  had  discharged  the  debt  and  taken  a  receipt ; 
but  as  the  transaction  was  of  long  standing,  he 
knew  not  where  to  find  the  receipt.  The  suit  went 
on  in  course,  and  the  time  approached  when  judg- 
ment should  be  obtained  against  him.  He  then  sat 
down  seriously  to  examine  a  large  bundle  of  old 
papers,  which  he  had  untied  and  displayed  on  a 
table  for  the  purpose.  In  the  midst  of  his  search  he 
was  suddenly  called  away  on  business  of  impor- 
tance. He  forgot  to  lock  the  door  of  his  room.  The 
house-maid,  who  had  been  long  looking  for  sueh  an 
opportunity,  immediately  entered  with  the  usual 
implements,  and  with  great  alacrity  fell  to  cleaning 
the  room  and  putting  things  to  rights.  One  of  the 
first  objects  that  struck  her  eye  was  the  confused 
situation  of  the  papers  on  the  table.  These,  without 
delay,  she  huddled  together  like  so  many  dirty 
knives  and  forks;  but  in  the  action,  a  small  piece 
of  paper  fell  unnoticed  on  the  floor,  which  uu-' 
fortunately  happened  to  be  the  very  receipt  in 
question.  As  it  had  no  very  respectable  appear- 
ance, it  was  soon  after  swept  out  with  the  common 
dirt  of  the  room,  and  carried  in  a  dust-pan  to  the 
j-ard.  The  tradesman  had  neglected  to  enter  the 
credit  in  his  books.  The  defendant  could  find 
nothing  to  obviate  the*  charge,  and  so  judgment 
went  against  him  for  debt  and  costs.  A  fortnight 
after  the  whole  was  settled,  and  the  money  paid, 
one  of  the  children  found  the  receipt  amongst  the 
dirt  in  the  yard. 

There  is  also  another  custom,  peculiar  to  the  city 
of  Philadelphia,  and  nearly  allied  with  the  former. 
I  mean  that  of  washing  the  pavements  before  the 
doors  every  Saturday  evening.  I  at  first  supposed 
this  to  be  a  regulation  of  the  police;  but,  on  further 
inquiry,  I  find  it  is  a  religious  rite  preparatory  to 
the  Sabbath  :  and  it  is,  I  believe,  the  only  religious 
rite  in  which  the  numerous  sectaries  of  this  large 
city  perfectly  agree.  The  ceremony  begins  about 
sunset  and  continues  till  ten  or  eleven  at  night.  It 
is  very  difficult  for  a  stranger  to  walk  the  streets  on 
those  evenings.  He  runs  a  continual  risk  of  having 
a  bucket  of  dirty  water  dashed  against  his  legs;  but 
a  Philadelphian  born  is  so  much  accustomed  to  the 
danger  that  he  avoids  it  with  surprising  dexterity. 
It  is  from  this  circumstance  that  a  Philadelphian 
may  be  known  any  where  by  a  certain  skip  in  his 
gait.  The  streets  of  New  York  are  paved  with 
rough  stones.  Tliese,  indeed,  are  not  washed,  but 
the  dirt  is  so  thoroughly  swept  from  between  them 
that  they  stand  up  sharp  and  prominent,  to  the 
great  annoyance  of  those  who  are  not  accustomed 
to  so  rough  a  path.  But  habit  reconciles  every 
thing.  It  is  diverting  enough  to  see  a  Philadelphian 
at  New  York.  He  walks  the  street  with  as  much 
painful  caution  as  if  his  toes  were  covered  with 
torns,  or  his  feet  lamed*  by  the  gout;  whilst  a  New 


Yorker,  as  little  approving  the  plain  masonry  of 
Philadelphia,  shuffies  along  the  pavement  like  a 
parrot  upon  a  mahogany  table. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  ablutions  I 
have  mentioned  are  attended  with  no  small  incon- 
venience; yet  the  women  would  not  be  induced  by 
any  consideration  to  resign  their  privilege. 

Notwithstanding  this  singularity,  I  can  give  you 
the  strongest  assurances  that  the  women  of  America 
make  the  most  faithful  wives,  and  the  most  attentive 
mothers  in  the  world.  And  I  don't  doubt  but  you 
will  join  me  in  opinion,  that  if  a  married  man  is 
made  miserable  only  for  one  week  in  a  whole  year, 
he  will  have  no  great  cause  to  complain  of  the 
matrimonial  bond. 

This  letter  has  run  on  to  a  length  I  did  not  ex- 
pect ;  I  therefore  hasten  to  assure  you  that  I  am  as 
ever, 

June.  1785.  Your,  (fee.  <fec.  (fee. 


MODERN    LEARNING  :   EXEMPLIFIED   BY    A    SPECIMEN   OF  A  COL- 
LEGIATE EXAMINATION. 

Metaphysics. 

*  Pkof.  What  is  a  salt-box  ? 

Stu.   It  is  a  box  made  to  contain  salt. 

Prof.  How  is  it  divided  ? 

Stu.  Into  a  salt-box,  and  a  box  of  salt. 

Phof.  Very  welll — show  the  distinction? 

Stu.  A  salt-box  may  be  where  there  is  no  salt; 
but  salt  is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  existence  of  a 
box  of  salt. 

Prof.  Are  not  salt-boxes  otherwise  divided  ? 

Stu.  Yes :    by  a  partition. 

Prof.  What  is  the  use  of  this  partition  '< 

Sru.  To  separate  the  coarse  salt  from  the  fine. 

Prof.  How  ? — think  a  little. 

Stu.  To  separate  the  fine  salt  from  the  coarse. 

Prof.  To  be  sure : — it  is  to  separate  the  fine  from 
I  the  coarse:  but  are  not  salt-boxes  yet  otherwise 
distinguished  ? 

Stu.  Yes :    into  possible,  probable,  and  positive. 

Prof.  Define  these  several  kinds  of  salt-boxes. 

Stu.  A  possible  salt-box  is  a  salt-box  yet  unsold 
in  the  hands  of  the  joiner. 

Pkof.  Why  so? 

Stu.  Because  it  hath  never  yet  become  a  salt-box 
in  fact,  having  never  had  any  salt  in  it;  and  it  may 
possibly  be  applied  to  some  other  use. 

Prof.  Very  true : — for  a  salt-box  which  never  had, 
hath  not  now,  and  perhaps  never  may  have,  auy 
salt  in  it,  can  only  be  termed  a  possible  salt-box. 
What  is  a  probable  salt-box? 

Stu.  It  is  a  salt-box  in  the  hand  of  one  going  to 
a  shop  to  buy  salt,  and  who  hath  six-pence  in  his 
pocket  to  pay  the  grocer :  and  a  positive  salt-box  is 
one  which  hath  actually  ami  bona  fide  got  salt  in  it. 

Peof.  Very  good  : — but  is  there  no  instance  of  a 
positive  salt-box  which  hath  no  salt  in  it  ? 

Stu.  I  know  of  none. 

Prof.  Yes:  there  is  one  mentioned  bv  some  authors: 
it  is  where  a  box  hath  by  long  use  been  so  impreg- 
nated with  salt,  that  although  all  the  salt  hath  been 
long  since  emptied  out,  it  may  yet  be  called  a  salt- 
box,  with  the  same  propriety  that  we  say  a  salt 
herring,  salt  beef,  (fee.  And  in  this  sense  any  box 
that  may  have  accidentally,  or  otherwise,  been  long 
steeped  in  brine,  may  be  termed  positively  a  salt- 
box,  although  never  designed  for  the  purpose  of 
keeping  salt.  But  tell  me,  what  other  division  of 
salt-boxes  do  you  recollect  ? 

Stu.  They  are  further  divided  into  substantive  and 


*  Prof,  professor;  Stu.  student;  Gov.  governor  of  the  insti- 
tution. 


214 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  -LITERATURE 


pendant :  a  substantive  salt-box  is  that  which  stands 
by  itself  on  the  table  or  dresser ;  and  a  pendant  is 
that  which  hangs  upon  a  nail  against  the  wall. 

Prof.  What  is  the  idea  of  a  salt-box? 

Stu.  It  is  that  image  which  the  mind  conceives 
of  a  salt-box,  when  no  salt-box  is  present. 

Prof.  What  is  the  abstract  idea  of  a  salt-box  ? 

Stu.  It  is  the  idea  of  a  salt-box,  abstracted  from 
the  idea  of  a  box,  or  of  salt,  or  of  a  salt-box,  or  of  a 
box  of  salt. 

Peof.  Very  right: — and  by  these  means  you  ac- 
quire a  most  perfect  knowledge  of  a  salt-box :  but 
tell  me,  is  the  idea  of  a  salt-box  a  salt  idea  ? 

Stu.  Not  unless  the  ideal  box  hath  ideal  salt  in  it. 

Peof.  True: — and  therefore  an  abstract  idea  can- 
not be  either  salt  or  fresh  ;  round  or  square ;  long  or 
short :  for  a  true  abstract  idea  must  be  entirely  free 
of  all  adjuncts.  And  this  shows  the  difference  be- 
tween a  salt  idea,  and  an  idea  of  salt. — Is  an  apti- 
tude to  hold  salt  an  essential  or  an  accidental  pro- 
perty of  a  salt-box  ? 

Stu.  It  is  essential;  but  if  there  should  be  a  crack 
in  the  bottom  of  the  box,  the  aptitude  to  spill  salt 
would  be  termed  an  accidental  property  of  that  salt- 
box. 

Prof.  Very  well !  very  well  indeed ! — What  is  the 
salt  called  with  respect  to  the  box? 

Stu.  It  is  called  its  contents. 

Peof.  And  why  so  ? 

Stu.  Because  the  cook  is  content  quoad  hoc  to 
find  plenty  of  salt  in  the  box. 

Peof.  You  are  very  right: — I  see  you  have  not 
misspent  your  time:  let  us  now  proceed  to 

Logic. 

Peof.  How  many  parts  are  there  in  a  salt-box  ? 

Stu.  Three.     Bottom,  top,  and  sides. 

Prof.  How  many  modes  are  there  in  salt-boxes  ? 

Stu.  Four.  The  formal,  the  substantial,  the  acci- 
dental, and  the  topsey-turvey. 

Peof.  Define  these  several  modes. 

Stu.  The /ormaZ  respects  the  figure  or  shape  of 
the  box,  such  as  round,  square,  oblong,  and  so  forth  ; 
the  substantial  respects  the  work  of  the  joiner;  and 
the  accidental  depends  upon  the  string  by  which  the 
box  is  hung  against  the  wall. 

Peof.  Very  well. — And  what  are  the  consequences 
of  the  accidental  mode? 

Stu.  If  the  string  should  break  the  box  would  fall, 
the  salt  be  spilt,  the  salt-box  broken,  and  the  cook 
in  a  bitter  passion  :  and  this  is  the  accidental  mode 
with  its  consequences. 

Peof.  How  do  you  distinguish  between  the  top 
and  bottom  of  a  salt-box? 

Stu.  The  top  of  the  box  is  that  part  which  is 
uppermost,  and  the  bottom  that  part  which  is  lowest 
in  all  positions. 

Peof.  You  should  rather  sny  the  lowest  part  is 
the  bottom,  and  the  uppermost  part  is  the  top. — How 
is  it  then  if  the  bottom  should  be  the  uppermost  ? 

Stu.  The  top  would  then  be  the  lowermost;  and 
so  the  bottom  would  become  the  top,  and  the  top 
would  become  the  bottom :  and  this  is  called  the  top- 
sey-turvey mode,  which  is  nearly  allied  to  the  acciden- 
tal, and  frequently  arises  from  it. 

Peof.  Very  good. — But  are  not  salt-boxes  some- 
times single  and  sometimes  double  ? 

Stu.  Yes. 

Peof.  Well,  then  mention  the  several  combina- 
tions of  salt-boxes  with  respect  to  their  having  salt 
or  not. 

Stu.  They  are  divided  into  single  salt-boxes 
having  salt;  single  salt-boxes  having  no  salt;  double 
salt-boxes  having  salt ;  double  salt^boxes  having  no 


salt ;  and  single  double  salt-boxes  having  salt  and 
no  salt. 

Prof.  Hold !    hold ! — you  are  going  too  far. 

Gov.  We  cannot  allow  further  time  for  logic, 
proceed  if  you  please  to 

Natural  Philosophy. 

Peof.  Pray,  Sir,  what  is  a  salt-box? 

Stu.  It  is  a  combination  of  matter,  fitted,  framed, 
and  joined  by  the  hands  of  a  workman  in  the  form 
of  a  box,  and  adapted  to  the  purpose  of  receiving, 
containing,  and  retaining  salt. 

Peof.  Very  good. — What  are  the  mechanical 
powers  concerned  in  the  construction  of  a  salt-box? 

Stu.   The  ax,  the  saw,  the  plane,  and  the  hammer. 

Peof.  How  are  these  powers  applied  to  the  pur- 
pose intended  ? 

Stu.  The  ax  to  fell  the  tree,  the  saw  to  split  the 
timber. 

Prof.  Consider.  Is  it  the  property  of  the  mall 
and  wedge  to  split? 

Stu.  The  saw  to  slit  the  timber,  the  plane  to 
smooth  and  thin  the  boards. 

Prof.  How  !  Take  time  !  Take  time  ! 

Stu.  To  thin  and  smooth  the  boards. 

Peof.  To  be  sure — the  boards  are  first  thinned 
and  then  smoothed — go  on — 

Stu.  The  plane  to  thin  and  smooth  the  boards, 
and  the  hammer  to  drive  the  nails. 

Peof.  Or  rather  tacks. — Have  not  some  philoso- 
phers considered  glue  as  one  of  the  mechanical 
powers  ? 

Stu.  Yes ;  and  it  is  still  so  considered,  but  it  is 
called  an  inverse  mechanical  power :  because,  where- 
as it  is  the  property  of  the  direct  mechanical  powers 
to  generate  motion,  and  separate  parts ;  glue,  on  the 
contrary,  prevents  motion,  and  keeps  the  parts  to 
which  it  is  applied'fixed  to  each  other. 

Prof.  Very  true. — What  is  the  mechanical  law  of 
the  saw  ? 

Stu.  The  power  is  to  the  resistance,  as  the  num- 
ber of  teeth  and  force  impressed  multiplied  by  the 
number  of  strokes  in  a  given  time. 

Peof.  Is  the  saw  only  used  in  slitting  timber  into 
boards  ? 

Stu.  Yes,  it  is  also  employed  in  cutting  boards 
into  lengths. 

Peof.  Not  lengths :  a  thing  cannot  properly  be 
said  to  have  been  cut  into  lengths. 

Stu.  Into  shortnesses. 

Prof.  Certainly — into  shortnesses.  Well,  what 
are  the  mechanical  laws  of  the  hammer  ? 

Gov.  The  time  wastes  fast;  pass  on  to  another 
science. 

Mathematics. 

Peof.  What  is  a  salt-box  ? 

Stu.  It  is  a  figure  composed  of  lines  and  surfaces. 

Prof.  What  are  the  external  figures  of  a  salt-box? 

Stu.  Four  parallelograms  and  two  squares. 

Prof.  How  are  these  disposed? 

Stu.  The  four  parallelograms  are  thus  disposed : 
The  superior,  or  top  ;  the  anterior,  or  front ;  the  in- 
ferior, or  bottom;  and  the  posterior,  or  "back;  and 
the  two  squares  form  the  two  ends. 

Peof.  Very  good. — Let  us  now  consider  one  of  the 
squares  at  the  end  of  the  salt-box.  Suppose  then  a 
diagonal  line  to  be  drawn  from  one  of  the  angles  of 
this  square  to  the  opposite  angle  of  the  same,  what 
will  be  the  consequence  ? 

Stu.  It  will  divide  the  square  into  two  equal  and 
similar  triangles. 

Peof.  Very  true. — But  can  you  demonstrate  that 
these  two  equal  and  similar  triangles  are  equal  to 
each  other  ? 


FRANCIS  HOPKINSON. 


215 


Stu.  I  draw  the  square  ABCD,  whose  sides  are 
■  B  all  equal,  and  the  contained  an- 
gles, all  right  angles.  I  then 
draw  the  diagonal  B  G,  dividing 
the  square  into  two  equal  parts. 
Then  I  say,  that  one  of  those 
equal  parts,  viz.  the  triangle 
A  B  C  is  equal  to  the  other  equal 
D  part  or  triangle  BCD;  and  fur- 
ther, that  those  two  triangles  are  not  only  equal 
but  similar.  For  by  the  105th  proposition  of  the 
49th  Book  of  Euclid,  if  in  two  triangles,  all  the 
lines  and  angles  of  the  one,  are  equal  to  all  the 
corresponding  lines  and  angles  of  the  other,  those 
two  triangles  will  be  equal  and  similar.  But  the  leg 
A  B  of  the  triangle  A  B  C,  is  equal  to  the  leg  C  I) 
of  the  triangle  B  C  D,  because  they  are  two  of  the 
sides  of  the  square  ABCD,  equal  by  construction  : 
and.  the  leg  A  C  is  equal  to  the  leg  B  D  for  the  same 
reason ;  and  because  the  hypothenuse  B  C  is  com- 
mon to  both  triangles,  therefore  the  hypothenuse  of 
the  triangle  A  B  C  is  equal  to  the  hypothenuse  of 
the  triangle  BCD.  Now,  because  by  the  115th 
proposition  of  the  same  book,  equal  legs  subtend 
equal  angles  of  the  same  radii ;  it  follows,  that  all 
the  angles  of  the  triangle  ABC  are  equal  to  the 
corresponding  angles  of  the  triangle  B  D  C  :  ergo, 
those  two  triangles  are  equal  aud  similar :  and  ergo, 
if  a  square  be  cut  by  a  diagonal  line  into  two  equal 
parts,  those  parts  will  be  equal.  Q  E  D. 

Prof.  Very  well !  very  well  indeed ! — Suppose 
now  a  right  line  to  be  let  fall  from  a  given  point 
above  a  salt-box,  till  it  shall  touch  the  superior  pa- 
rallelogram, and  another  right  line  to  be  let  fall  from 
the  same  point  till  it  should  touch  the  inferior  pa- 
rallelogram of  the  same  salt-box,  can  you  demon- 
strate that  these  two  lines  must  be  unequal :  or,  in 
other  words,  can  you  prove  that  a  line  of  12  iuches 
is  shorter  than  a  line  of  18  inches  in  length  ? 

Stu.  If  two  lines — 

Gov.  We  have  just  received  intelligence  that 
dinner  is  almost  ready  ;  aud  as  the  medical  class  is 
yet  to  be  examined,  we  cannot  afford-  time  for  this 
demonstration.  Let  the  medical  gentlemen  come 
forward. 

Anatomy. 

Prof.  What  is  a  salt-box? 

Stu.  It  is  a  body  composed  of  wood,  glue,  nails, 
and  hinges. 

Prof.  How  is  this  body  divided  ? 

Stu.  Into  external  and  internal. 

Prof.  Very  good — external  and  internal — very 
proper  indeed. — Aud  what  are  the  external  parts  of 
a  salt-box? 

Stu.  One  fundamental,  four  laterals,  and  one 
superlateral. 

Prof.  And  how  do  you  find  the  internal  parts  of  a 
salt-box? 

Stu.  Divided  by  a  vertical  membrane  or  partition 
into  two  large  cavities  or  sinuses. 

Prof.   Are  these  cavities  always  equal? 

Stu.  They  used  to  be  so  formerly  ;  but  modern 
joiners  have  thought  it  best  to  have  them  unequal,  for 
the  more  convenient  accommodation  of  the  viscera 
or  contents ;  the  larger  cavity  for  the  reception  of 
the  coarser  viscera,  and  the  smaller  for  the  tine. 

Prof.  Very  true — thus  have  modern  joiners,  by 
their  improvements,  excelled  the  first  maker  of  salt- 
boxes. — Tell  me  now  what  peculiarity  do  you  ob- 
serve in  the  superlateral  member  of  n  salt- box? 

Stu.  Whereas  all  the  other  members  are  fixed  and 
stationary  with  respect  to  each  other,  the  superla- 
teral is  moveable  on  a  pair  of  hinges. 

Prof.  To  what  purpose  is  it  bo  constructed?    ' 


Stu.  For  the  admission,  retention,  and  emission  of 
the  saline  particles. 

Gov.  This  is  sufficient — our  time  is  short — dinner 
must  not  wait — let  us  now  proceed  to 

Surgery,  and  Vie  Practize  of  Physic. 

Prof.  Mention  a  few  of  the  principal  disorders 
to  which  a  salt-box  is  liable  ? 

Stu.  A  cracked  and  leaky  fundamental ;  a  gaping 
of  the  joint  in  the  laterals  ;  luxation  of  the  hinges : 
and  an  accession  and  concretion  of  filth  and  foulness 
external  and  internal. 

Prof.  Very  well. — How  would  you  treat  those 
disorders  ? — begin  with  the  first. 

Stu.  I  would  caulk  the  leak  fundamental  with 
pledgets  of  tow,  which  I  would  secure  in  the  fissure 
by  a  strip  of  linen  or  paper  pasted  over.  For  the 
starting  of  the  lateral  joints,  I  would  administer 
powerful  astringents,  such  as  the  gluten  corneum ; 
and  would  bind  the  parts  together  by  triple  bandages 
until  the  joints  should  knit. 

Prof.  Would  you  not  assist  with  chalybeates  ? 

Stu.  Yes — I  would  at — tack  the  disease  with  pre- 
pared iron,  in  doses  proportioned  to  the  strength  of 
the  parts. 

Prof.  How  would  you  manage  the  luxation  of  the 
hinge  ? 

Stu.  I  would  first  examine  whether  it  was  oc- 
casioned by  the  starting  of  the  points  which  annex 
the  processes  to  the  superlateral  or  its  antagonist,  or 
to  a  loss  of  the  fulcrum,  or  to  an  absolute  fracture 
of  the  sutures.  In  the  first  case,  I  would  secure  the 
process  by  a  screw  ;  in  the  second,  I  would  bring  the 
sutures  together,  and  introduce  the  fulcrum ;  and  in 
the  last,  I  would  entirely  remove  the  fractured 
hinge,  and  supply  its  place,  pro  tempore,  with  one 
of  leather. 

Prof.  Very  well,  sir ! — very  well ! — now  for  your 
treatment  in  case  of  accumulated  foulness,  external 
and  internal — but  first  tell  me,  how  is  this  foulness 
contracted  ? 

Stu.  Externally,  by  the  greasy  hands  of  the  cook ; 
and  internally,  by  the  solution  aud  adhesion  of  the 
saline  particles. 

Prof.  True. — And  now  for  the  cure. 

Stu.  I  would  first  evacuate  the  abominable  vessel, 
through  the  prima  via.  I  would  then  exhibit  deter- 
gents and  diluents  ;  such  as  the  saponaceous  pre- 
paration, with  great  plenty  of  aquafontana. 

Prof.  Would  not  aqua  coslestis  do  better  ? 

Stu.  Yes — plenty  oiaqita  coslestis  with  the  marine 
sand.  I  would  also  apply  the  friction  brush,  with 
a  brisk  and  strong  hand,  until  the  excrementitious 
concrete  should  be  totally  dissolved  and  removed. 

Prof.   Very  proper. — What  next  ? 

Stu.  I  would  recommend  the  cold  bath,  by  means 
of  a  common  pump ;  and  then  apply  lintal  absorb- 
ents; and  finally,  exsiccate  the  body  by  exposition 
either  in  the  sun,  or  before  the  kitchen  fire. 

Prof.  In  what  situation  would  you  leave  the 
superlateral  valve  during  the  exsiccating  operation  ? 

Stu.  I  would  leave  it  open  to  the  extent,  in  order 
that  the  rarefied  humidities  might  freely  exhale  from 
the  abominable  cavities  or  sinuses. 

Chemistry. 

Prof.  You  have  mentioned  the  saponaceous  pre- 
paration— pray,  how  is  that  procured  ? 

Stu.  By  the  action  of  a  vegetable  alkaline  salt 
upon  a  pinguidinous  or  unctuous  substance. 

Prof.  What  is  salt? 

Stu.  It  is  a  substance  sui  generis,  pungent  to  the 
taste,  of  an  antiseptic  quality,  and  is  produced  by 
crystallization  on  the  evaporation  of  the  fluid  in 
which  it  is  suspended. 


216 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Prof.  How  many  kinds  of  salt  occur  in  a  salt- 
box? 

Stu.  Two — coarse  and  fine. 

Pkof.  You  have  said  that  the  saponaceous  prepa- 
ration is  produced  by  the  action  of  a  vegetable  alka- 
line salt  on  a  pinguidinous  or  unctuous  substance — 
describe  the  process ! 

Stu.  If  a  great  quantity  of  strong  lie  be  procured 
by  passing  water  through  wood  ashes,  and  if  a  very 
large  body  of  a  pinguidinous  habit  should  be  im- 
mersed in  this  lie,  and  exposed  to  a  considerable 
heat,  the  action  of  the  lie,  or  rather  the  salts  with 
which  it  abounds,  upon  the  jjinguidinous  bod}*, 
would  cause  the  mixture  to  coagulate  and — [Here 
the  examiner  looked  very  sour,  for  he  was  very  fat. .] 

At  this  instant  a  servant  announced  that  dinner 
was  on  the  table — the  examination  was  concluded, 
and  the  parties  separated — one  rejoicing  in  the  an- 
ticipation of  a  feast,  and  the  examined  happy  in  find- 
ing the  fiery  trial  over. 

May,  1784 

DIALOGUE    OX    THE    ADDRESS    OF    THE    PHILOSOPHICAL   SOCIETY 
TO  DR.   FRANKLIN. 

[For  the  Pennsylvania  Packet.] 
I  have  perused  with  some  attention  the  several 
addresses  made  to  the  venerable  Doctor  Franklin, 
by  public  bodies  and  private  societies  on  his  arrival 
in  this  city.  So  far  as  they  express  a  sense  of  grati- 
tude and  esteem  for  his  integrity  and  abilities  as  a 
public  agent  and  a  philosopher,  they  have  my  hearty 
concurrence  and  approbation :  but  they  also  afford 
some  literary  amusement,  when  considered  merely 
as  compositions,  with  a  design  of  observing  the 
various  forms  which  the  same  subject  matter  may 
assume,  in  passing  through  the  varied  machinery  of 
different  pericraniums. 

Talking  on  this  subject  with  Mr.  B.  the  address 
of  the  American  Philosophical  Society  engaged  our 
attention,  as  distinguished  from  all  the  others  by  a 
dearth  of  sentiment,  awkwardness  of  style,  and  ob- 
scurity of  expression.  I  am  surprised,  said  I — but 
it  will  be  better  to  give  it  in  the  way  of  dialogue, 
to  avoid  the  number  of  said  /'.5  and  said  Ac's. 

■A.  I  am  surprised  that  our  Philosophical  Society, 
from  whom  we  might  expect,  on  such  an  occasion, 
at  least  ease  and  propriety,  if  not  something  more, 
should  exhibit  so  barren,  so  stiff,  and  costive  a  per- 
formance, as  their  address  seems  to  be :  it  must  cer- 
tainly have  been  seethed  too  long  in  the  author's 
brain,  and  so  become  hard  like  an  over-boiled  egg. 

B.  I  perceive,  sir,  you  are  not  a  member  of  the 
Philosophical  Society. 

A.  So,  sir;  I  have  not  that  honor. 

B.  So  I  thought  by  your  mentioning  brains.  Why, 
sir,  vre  never  make  use  of  any  in  writing  letters,  or 
drawing  addresses :  we  manage  these  things  in  quite 
a  different  way.  How  do  you  imagine  our  address 
was  produced  ? 

A.  Some  member,  I  suppose,  was  appointed  to 
draft  the  address,  which  was  afterwards  read  before 
the  society;  and  being  corrected,  was  finally  aj>- 
proved  of,  and  so  delivered. 

B.  "When  you  shall  become  a  philosopher  you  will 
know  better:  no,  sir,  we  conduct  all  our  business  by 
ballot,  as  they  choose  magistrates — according  to  the 
spirit  of  our  excellent  constitution. 

A.  No  doubt,  when  new  members,  or  officers  of 
the  institution  are  to  be  elected ;  but  how  an  address 
can  be  composed  by  ballot,  I  confess,  I  cannot  com- 
prehend. 

B.  Well,  I  will  inform  you.  You  must  know  we 
have  four  boxes :  in  one  are  put  a  number  of  sub- 
stantives, the  best  the  dictionary  affords;  in  the 
second,  an  equal  number  of  adjectives ;  in  the  third, 


a  great  number  of  verbs,  with  their  participles,  ge- 
runds, etc. ;  and  in  the  fourth,  a  still  greater  number 
of  pronouns,  articles,  and  particles,  with  all  the  small 
ware  of  the  syntax.  The  secretary  shakes  these 
boxes  for  a  considerable  time,  and  then  places  them 
side  by  side  on  a  table,  each  bearing  its  proper  label 
of  distinction.  This  done,  the  members  proceed  to 
ballot  for  the  composition,  whatever  it  may  be ; 
each  member  taking  out  one  substantive,  one  ad- 
jective, two  verbs,  and  four  particles  from  the  boxes 
respectively ;  and  so  they  proceed,  repeating  the 
operation,  until  thej-  have  drawn  the  number  of 
words,  of  which,  according  to  a  previous  determina- 
tion, the  composition  is  to  consist.  Some  ingenious 
member  is  then  requested  to  take  all  the  ballots  or 
words  so  obtained,  aud  arrange  them  in  the  best  or- 
der he  can.  In  the  present  case,  this  task  fell  to 
***** .  an j  yOU  cail  gc,e  },ow  ue  ]ias  worked  up  the 
materials  which  chance  threw  in  his  way. 

A.  If  this  is  your  method  it  will  sufficiently  ac- 
count for  the  short  broken  sentences,  the  harshness 
of  the  periods,  and  general  obscurity  which  distin- 
guish your  address. 

B.  What  do  you  mean  by  obscurity  t  I  am  sure 
our  address,  if  not  elegant,  is  at  least  intelligible. 

A.  Pray,  inform  me,  then,  what  is  meant  by  this 
paragraph  : — "  The  high  consideration  and  esteem 
in  which  we  hold  your  character,  so  intimately  com- 
bine with  our  regard  for  the  public  welfare,  that 
we  participate  eminently  in  the  general  satisfaction 
which  your  return  to  America  produces:" — and  of 
this — "  We  derive  encouragement  and  extraordinary 
felicity  from  an  assemblage  of  recent  memorable 
events :  and  while  we  boast  in  a  most  pleasing  equa- 
lity, permanently  ascertained,"  &c,  (fee. 

B.  The  meaning  of  your  first  quotation  is,  that 
our  high  consideration  for  the  doctor,  combining 
and  intimately  mixing  with  our  regard  for  the  pub- 
lic welfare,  occasion  .a  kind  of  chymical  solution  or 
effervescence  in  our  minds,  producing  a  tertium  quid, 
which  causes  us  to  participate  eminently,  and  so  on ; 
if  you  know  anything  of  ehymistry,  you  would  have 
understood  it  well  enough. 

A.  Well !  it  appears  to  me  something  very  like 
nonsense ;  but,  I  confess,  I  am  no  philosopher. 

B.  As  to  the  other  passage  you  mentioned — the 
truth  is,  we  were  a  little  unlucky — it  would  have 
been  the  most  elegant  paragraph  in  the  whole  com- 
position but  for  an  unfortunate  accident.  You  must 
know,  that  whilst  *****  was  arranging  the  ballots, 
a  puff  of  wind  blew  away  a  number  of  excellent  ex- 
planatory words,  and  carried  them  out  of  the  win- 
dow ;  the  whole  sentence  had  like  to  have  gone :  a 
careful  search  was  made  in  the  street,  but  no  more 
could  be  recovered  than  what  you  see.  It  was, 
indeed,  proposed  to  ballot  over  again  for  as  many 
words  as  had  been  lost:  but  some  members  were 
of  opinion  that  this  miglit  prove  a  dangerous  pre- 
cedent, and  so  the  passage  was  suffered  to  pass  as  it 
now  stands. 

A.  I  observe  further,  that  you  mention  "  the 
growth  of  sciences  and  arts;''  would  it  not  have 
read  better,  "the  growth  of  arts  and  sciences;"  ac- 
cording to  the  usual  mode  of  expression  ?  which  has 
this  to  justify  it,  that  arts  were  known  and  practised 
before  sciences  were  investigated ;  and  besides,  the 
expression  is  more  musical  aud  pleasing  to  the  ear. 

B.  We  had  a  long  debate  upon  this  subject;  and 
the  very  reasons  you  uow  give  were  urged  in  favor 
of  the  common  way  of  placing  those  words ;  but  the 
learned  compositor  insisted,  that  as  the  sciences  were 
more  abstruse,  and  more  eminent  in  dignity  than 
the  arts,  they  ought  to  be  mentioned  first,  especially 
bv  a  philosophical  society. 

A.  This  reminds  me  of  what  the  town-el  erk  savs 


FRANCIS  HOPKINSON. 


air 


in  Shakespeare's  Much  Ado  About  Nothing : — "  To. 
CI.  Write  down  that  they  hope  they  serve  God: 
and  be  sure  to  write  God  first ;  for  God  defend,  but 
God  should  go  before  such  villains." 

B.  It  is  in  vain  to  attempt  explanation  to  a  mind 
so  prejudiced  as  your's.  I  perceive  you  are  deter- 
mined to  find  fault,  and  so  let  us  drop  the  subject. 

A.  Why,  do  you  imagine  I  believe  one  word  of 
your  boxes  and  your  ballots  ?  You  are  either  ridi- 
culing, or  endeavoring  to  excuse  a  performance, 
which  would,  indeed,  disgrace  a  schoolboy. 

When  I  compare  this  address  with  the  president's 
short  but  elegant  reply,  I  cannot  but  observe,  how 
strongly  the  difference  is  marked  between  an  author 
who  sits  down  to  think  what  he  shall  write,  and  one 
who  only  sits  down  to  write  what  he  thinks. 

VERSES 

"Wrote  in  a  blank  bonk  whieb  once  belonsretj  to  Mr.  SJ&nstone 
the  poet,  and  was  given  by  the  Lord  Bis/top  of  Worcester. 

Come  little  book,  the  giver's  hand, 

Shall  add  such  worth  to  mine, 
That  I  will  hold  thee  highly  priz'd, 

And  joy  to  call  thee  mine. 

Come  little  book ;  nor  in  my  care, 

An  humbler  lot  refuse, 
Tho'  Worcester  own'd  thee  once,  tho'  once 

Design'd  for  Shcnstone's  muse. 

Had  Shenstone  in  thy  spotless  page 

In  glowing  numbers  plac'd, 
All  that  is  pleasing,  great,  and  good, 

With  ev'ry  virtue  grac'd: 

Fill'd  thee  with  gentleness  and  love, 

With  piety  and  truth  ; 
The  wisdom  of  experieue'd  years, 

The  brilliant  powers  of  youth ; 

With  all  the  eondeseending.ease 

Of  manners  most  refin'd,  ■ 
Then  liadst  thou  been  an  emblem  fit, 

Of  Worcester's  generous  mind. 

Come  little  book ;  and  let  me  boast 

No  small,  no  common  fame, 
That  in  thy  once  so  honour'd  page, 

I  write  my  humble  name. 
IlarUebury  Castle,  in  Worcestershire,  1767. 

DESCRIPTION  OF  A  CUUECII. 

As  late  beneath  the  hallow'd  roof  I  trod, 
Where  saints  in  holy  rapture  seek  their  God; 
Where  heart-stung  sinners  smug  Heav'n  for  grace, 
With  tears  repentant  consecrate  the  place. 
Oh !  how  my  soul  was  struck  with  what  I  saw, 
And  shrunk  within  me  in  religious  awe: 

The  massy  walls,  which  seem'd  to  scorn  the  rage 
Of  battering  tempests  and  of  mouldering  age  : 
In  long  perspective  stretched,  till  breadth  and  height 
Were  almost  lost  in  distance  from  the  sight; 
With  monumental  decorations  hung. 
They  spoke  mortality  with  silent  tongue. 
There,  sorrowing  seraphs  heav'uward  lift  their  eyes, 
And  little  cherubs  weep  soft  elegies. 
I  trod — and  started  at  the  mighty  noise  ; 
The  hollow  pavement  lifted  up  its  voice  ; 
The  swelling  arch  receiv'd  the  rising  sound, 
Responsive  to  the  stroke  the  walls  around, 
And  sent  it  murm'ring  to  the  vaults  around, 
Thro'  lengthen'd  aisles  prolong'd  the  solemn  sound. 

Far  in  the  west,  and  noble  to  the  sight. 
The  gilded  organ  rears  its  tow'ring  height  : 
And  hark  !   methinks  I  from  its  bosom  hear, 
Soft  issuing  sounds  that  steal  upon  the  ear 
And  float  serenely  on  the  liquid  air. 


Now  by  degrees  more  bold  and  broad  they  grow, 
And  riot  loosely  thro'  the  aisles  below ; 
Till  the  full  organ  lifts  its  utmost  voice, 
And  my  heart  shudders  at  the  powerful  noise : 
Like  the  last  trump,  one  note  is  heard  to  sound 
That  all  the  massy  pillars  tremble  round : 
The  firm  fixt  building  shivers  on  its  base, 
And  vast  vibration  tills  th'  astonish'd  place: 
The  marble  pavements  seem  to  feel  their  doom, 
And  the  bones  rattle  in  each  hollow  tomb. 

But  now  the  blast  harmonious  dies  away, 
And  tapers  gently  in  a  fine  decay : 
The  melting  sounds  on  higher  pinions  fly, 
And  seem  to  fall  soft  oozing  from  on  high; 
Like  evening  dew  they  gently  spread  around 
And  shed  the  sweetness  of  heart-thrilling  sound; 
'Till  grown  too  soft,  too  fine  for  mortal  ear, 
The  dying  strains  dissolve  in  distant  air. 
Methought  I  heard  a  flight  of  angels  rise, 
Most  sweetly  ehaunting  as  they  gain'd  the  skies: 
Methought  I  heard  their  lessening  sound  decay 
And  fade  and  melt  and  vanish  quite  away. 

Hail  heav'n  born  music !  by  thy  pow'r  we  raise 
Th'  uplifted  soul  to  acts  of  highest  praise ; 
Oh !  I  would  die  with  music  melting  round, 
And  float  to  bliss  upon  a  sea  of  sound. 

A   MORNING    IIY.UN. 

Once  more  the  rising  source  of  day, 
Pours  on  the  earth  his  genial  ray: 
Withdraws  the  starry  veil  of  night, 
And  smiles  on  ev'ry  mountain  height. 

Once  more  my  soul,  thy  song  prepare, 
Thy  God  approach  in  praise  and  pray'r 
With  early  voice  salute  the  skies, 
And  on  the  lark's  fleet  pinions  rise. 

This  hand  did  me  from  danger  keep 
When  nature  lay  entrane'd  in  sleep: 
When  ev'ry  sense  forsook  its  post, 
And  reason's  guardian  pow'r  was  lost. 

Soon  as  dark  night  o'erspreads  the  skies, 
Cold  mists  and  drowsy  dampj  arise : 
Contagious  streams  their  confines  break, 
And  slumber  o'er  the  sluggish  lake. 

Loud  shrieks  the  melancholy  owl, 
And  prowling  wolves  through  deserts  howl 
The  fancied  spectre  glides  the  green, 
And  midnight  murder  walks  unseen. 

Forlorn  the  wearied  wand'rer  strays, 
Lost  in  a  labyriuthian  maze  ; 
Where'er  he  treads,  is  danger  there, 
And  his  soul  sickens  in  despair. 

Whilst  slumbers  soft  my  eye-lids  close, 
And  golden  dreams  and  sweet  repose, 
.Wear  the  sad  hours  of  night  away, 
And  hasten  on  the  cheerful  day. 

My  God  !  shall  not  such  goodness  move 
My  soul  to  gratitude  and  love? 
Or  shall  my  heart  forget  to  raise, 
Her  loud  hosannahs  to  thy  praise? 

When  shall  my  eager  spirit  rise, 
And  soar  above  these  floating  skies  ? 
Oh !  when  with  hosts  seraphic  join, 
To  sing  thy  majesty  divine? 

In  realms  where  no  returns  of  night, 
Shall  e'er  the  tim'rous  soul  affright? 
But  one  eternal  blaze  of  day, 
Shines  forth  with  unremitting  ray  ? 


218 


CYCLOPEDIA  Off  AMERICAN-  LITERATURE. 


AN  EVENING  IirMN. 

At  length  the  busy  day  is  done, 
And  yon  bright  orb,  the  glorious  sun, 
Deep  in  the  west  reclines  his  head, 
Where  misty  curtains  shroud  his  bed. 

Oh!  God  of  hosts!   with  this  day's  close, 
How  many  sleep  in  death's  repose  ? 
And  with  the  sinking  sun's  decline, 
To  thee  their  fleeting  souls  resign. 

Hark !  'tis  the  tolling  bell  I  hear, 
And  slow  and  dull  it  strikes  mine  ear: 
E'en  whilst  I  tune  my  pensive  song, 
The  solemn  fun'ral  moves  along. 

He  whom  this  night  th'  expecting  tomb, 
Shall  wrap  within  its  dreary  gloom, 
At  yester-morn,  devoid  of  care. 
Up  rose  and  breath'd  the  healthful  air. 

Gay  Hope  o'erlook'd  the  present  day, 
Prospects  of  years  before  him  lay  ; 
He  hasten'd  distant  joys  to  meet, 
Nor  saw  the  grave  yawn  at  his  feet. 
Ambition,  stop  thy  mad  career, 
Look  on  that  corse  and  drop  a  tear; 
E'en  when  thy  hand  would  grasp  the  prize, 
The  stroke  is  giv'n,  and  glory  dies. 

Let  Av'rice,  feeble,  grey  and  old, 
Whilst  his  broad  palm  protects  his  gold, 
Lift  up  his  eyes,  and  sighing  say, 
Death  is  a  debt  we  all  must  pay. 

Let  thoughtless  youth,  too  often  found, 
In  sensual  jot/s  enchanting  round, 
Behold,  and  as  he  trembling  stands, 
Let  Pleasure's  cup  fall  from  his  hands. 

And  thou,  my  soul,  thy  thoughts  employ. 
On  God  thy  glory,  wealth  and  joy  : 
"Virtue  alone  is  stable  here, 
Nought  but  religion  is  sincere. 

When  mortal  pangs  his  frame  shall  seize, 
And  the  chill'd  blood  begins  to  freeze; 
When  my  fixt  eyes  must  roll  no  more, 
And  life  escapes  thro'  ev'ry  pore. 

Ah !  what  shall  cheer  my  drooping  heart  \ 
Shall  worldly  honours  joy  impart? 
Can  sensual  pleasure  sweeten  death, 
Or  wealth  redeem  one  parting  breath  8 

Therefore,  my  soul,  thy. thoughts  employ, 
On  God,  thy  Glory,  wealth  and  joy : 
Virtue  alone  is  stable  here, 
Nought  but  religion  is  sincere. 

AN   EPITAPH  FOR  AN  INFANT. 

Sleep  on,  sweet  babe !   no  dreams  annoy  thy  rest, 
Thy  spirit  flew  unsullied  from  thy  breast : 
Sleep  on,  sweet  innocent!    nor  shalt  thou  dread 
The  passing  storm  that  thunders  o'er  thy  head : 
Thro'  the  bright  regions  of  yon  azure  sky, 
A  winged  seraph,  now  she  soars  on  high; 
Or,  on  the  bosom  of  a  cloud  reclin'd, 
She  rides  triumphant  on  the  rapid  wind  ; 
Or  from  its  source  pursues  the  radiant  day ; 
Or  on  a  sun-beam,  smoothly  glides  away; 
Or  mounts  aerial  to  her  blest  abode, 
And  sings,  inspir'd,  the  praises  of  her  God: 
Unveiled  thence,  to  her  extensive  eye, 
Nature,  and  Nature's  Laws,  expanded  lie: 
Death,  in  one  moment,  taught  this  infant  mora 
Than  years  or  ages  ever  taught  before. 

A  CAMP-BALLAD. 

Make  room,  oh!  ye  kingdoms  in  hist'ry  renowned 
Whose  arms  have  in  battle  with  glory  been  crown'd, 


I   Make  room  for  America,  another  great  nation, 
Arises  to  claim  in  your  council  a  station. 

Her   sons   fought   for  -  freedom,   and  by  their  own 

brav'ry 
Have   rescued    themselves    from    the   shackles   of 

slav'ry, 
America's  free,  and  tho'  Britain  abhor'd  it, 
Yet  fame  a  new  volume  prepares  to  record  it. 

Fair  freedom  in  Britain  her  throne  had  erected, 
But  her  sons  growing  venal,  and  she  disrespected; 
The  goddess  offended  forsook  the  base  nation, 
And  fix'd  on  our  mountains  a  more  honour'd  station. 

With  glory  immortal  she  here  sits  enthron'd, 
Nor  fears  the  vain  vengeance  of  Britain  disown'd, 
Whilst  Washington   guards   her   with   heroes    sur- 
rounded, 
Her  foes  shall  with  shameful  defeat  be  confounded. 

To  arms  then,  to  arms,  'tis  fair  freedom  invites  us ; 
The  trumpet  shrill  sounding  to  battle  excites  us  ; 
The  banners  of  virtue  imfurl'd,  shall  wave  o'er  us. 
Our  hero  lead  on,  and  the  foe  fly  before  us. 

On  Heav'n  and  Washington  placing  reliance, 
We'll  meet  the  bold  Briton,  and  bid  him  defiance. 
Our  cause  we'll  support,  for  'tis  just  and  'tis  glorious 
When  men   fight   for  freedom  they  must  be  vic- 
torious. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  KEGS.* 

Gallants  attend  and  hear  a  friend, 

Trill  forth  harmonious  ditty, 
Strange  things  I'll  tell  which  late  bci'cl 

In  Philadelphia  city. 

'Twas  early  day,  as  poets  say, 

Just  when  the  sun  was  rising, 
A  soldier  stood  on  a  log  of  wood, 

And  saw  a  thing  surprising. 

As  in  amaze  he  stood  to  gaze, 

The  truth  can't  be  denied,  sir, 
He  spied  a  score  of  kegs  or  more 

Come  floating  down  the  tide,  sir. 

A  sailor  too  in  jerkin  blue, 

This  strange  appearance  viewing, 

First  damn'd  his  eyes,  in  great  surprise, 
Then  said,  "  Some  mischief 's  brewing. 

"  These  kegs,  I'm  told,  the  rebels  hold, 
Paek'd  up  like  pickled  herring ; 
And  they're  come  down  t'  attack  the  town, 
In  this  new  way  of  ferrying." 

The  soldier  flew,  the  sailor  too, 

And  scar'd  almost  to  death,  sir, 
Wore  out  their  shoes,  to  spread  the  news, 

And  ran  till  out  of  breath,  sir. 

Now  up  and  down  throughout  the  town, 

Most  frantic  scenes  were  acted  ; 
And  some  ran  here,  and  others  there, 

Like  men  almost  distracted. 

Some  fire  ery'd,  which  some  denied, 

But  said  the  earth  had  quaked  ; 
And  girls  and  boys,  with  hideous  noise, 

Ran  thro'  the  streets  half  naked. 


*  This  ballad  was  occasioned  by  a  real  incident  Certain 
machine?,  in  the  form  of  kesrs.  charged  with  gunpowder,  were 
sent  rlowD  the  rivei-  to  annoy  the  British  shipping  then  at  Phi- 
ladelphia. The  danger  of  these  machines  being  discovered, 
the  British  manned  the  wharfe  and  shipping,  and  discharged 
their  small  arms  and  cannons  at  every  thiner  they  saw  floating 
in  the  river  during  the  ebb  tide. — Author's  Rote. 


JACOB  DUCHE. 


219 


Sir  William  he,  snug  as  a  flea, 

Lay  all  this  time  a  snoring, 
Nor  dream'd  of  harm  as  he  lay  "warm, 

In  bed  with  Mrs.  Loring. 

Now  in  a  fright,  he  starts  upright, 

Awak'd  by  such  a  clatter  ; 
He  rubs  both  eyes,  and  boldly  cries. 

For  God's  sake,  what's  the  matter  '. 

At  his  bed-side  he  then  espy'd, 

Sir  Erskine  at  command,  sir, 
Upon  one  foot,  he  had  one  boot, 

And.th'  other  in  his  hand,  sir. 

"Arise,  arise,"  Sir  Erskine  cries, 
"  The  rebels — more's  the  pity," 
Without  a  boat  are  all  afloat, 
And  rang'd  before  the  city. 

"  The  motly  crew,  in  vessels  new, 
With  Satan  for  their  guide,  sir, 
Pack'd  up  in  bags,  or  wooden  kegs, 
Come  driving  down  the  tide,  sir. 

"  Therefore  prepare  for  bloody  war, 
These  kegs  must  all  be  routed,    * 
Or  surely  we  despised  shall  be, 
And  British  courage  doubted." 

The  royal  band  now  ready  stand 

All  rang'd  in  dread  array,  sir, 
With  stomach  stout  to  see  it  out, 

And  make  a  bloody  day,  sir. 

The  cannons  roar  from  shore  to  shore, 
The  small  arms  make  a  rattle ; 

Since  wars  began  I'm  sure  no  man 
E'er  saw  so  strange  a  battle. 

The  rebel  dales,  the  rebel  vales, 

With  rebel  trees  surrounded  ; 
The  distant  woods,  the  lulls  and  floods, 

With  rebel  echoes  sounded. 

The  fish  below  swam  to  and  fro, 

Attack'd  from  ev'ry  quarter ; 
Why  sure,  thought  they,  the  devil's  to  pay, 

'JMongst  folks  above  the  water. 

The  kegs,  'tis  said,  tho'  strongly  made. 

Of  rebel  staves  and  hoops,  sir, 
Could  not  oppose  their  powerful  foes, 

The  conq'ring  British  troops,  sir. 

From  morn  to  night  these  men  of  might 

Display'd  amazing  courage; 
And  when  the  sun  was  fairly  down, 

Ketir'd  to  sup  their  porrage 

An  hundred  men  with  each  a  pen, 

Or  more  upon  my  word,  sir, 
It  is  most  true  would  be  too  few, 

Their  valour  to  record,  sir. 

Such  feats  did  they  perform  that  day, 
Against  these  wicked  kegs,  sir, 

That  years  to  come,  if  they  get  home, 
They'll  make  their  boasts  and  brags,  sir. 

THE  NEW  EOOF:   A  SONG  FOE  FEDERAL    MECHANICS. 


Come  muster,  my  lads,  your  mechanical  tools, 
Your  saws  and  your  axes,  your  hammers  and  rules; 
Bring  your  mallets  and  planes,  your  level  and  line, 
And  plenty  of  pins  of  American  pine: 
For  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
Our  government  firm,  and  our  citizens  free. 

ii. 
Come  up  with  the  plates,  lay  them  firm  on  the  wall, 
Like  the  people  at  large,  they're  the  ground-work 
of  all ; 


Examine  them  well,  and  see  that  they're  sound, 
Let  no  rotten  part  in  our  building  be  found : 
For  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
A  government  firm,  and  our  citizens  free. 


Now  hand  up  the  girders,  lay  each  in  its  place, 
Between  them  the  joists,  must  divide  all  the  space  ; 
Like  assembly -men  these  should  lie  level  along, 
Like  girders,  our  senate  prove  loyal  and  strong: 
For  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
A  government  firm  over  citizens  free. 


The  rafters  now  frame  ;  your  king-posts  and  braces. 
And  drive  your  pins   home,   to   keep   all  in  their 

places ; 
Let  wisdom  and  strength  in  the  fabric  combine, 
And  your  pins  be  all  made  of  American  pine : 
For  our  roof  ice  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
A  government  firm  over  citizens  free. 


Our  king-posts  are  judges  ;  how  upright  they  stand, 

Supporting  the  braces ;  the  laws  of  the  land: 

The   laws   of  the   land,   which   divide   right   from 

wrong 
And  strengthen  the  weak,  by  weak'ning  the  strong: 
For  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
Laws  equal  and  just,  for  a  people  that's  free. 


Up !  up ! .  with  the  rafters  ;  each  frame  is  a  state  : 
How  nobly  they  rise  !  their  span,  too,  how  great  I 
From  the  north  to  the  south,  o'er  the  whole  they 

extend, 
And  rest  on  the  walls,  whilst  the  walls  they  defend  : 
For  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
Combined  in  strength,  yet  as  citizens  free. 


Now  enter  the  purlins,  and  drive  your  pins  through. 
And  see  that  your  joints  are  drawn  home  and  all 

true, 
The  purlins  will  bind  all  the  rafters  together : 
The   strength   of  the  whole   shall   defy  wind   and 

weather : 
For  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
United  as  states,  but  as  citizens  free. 


Come,  raise  up  the  turret :  our  glory  and  pride  : 
In  the  centre  it  stands,  o'er  the  whole  to  preside: 
The  sons  of  Columbia  shall  view  with  delight 
Its  pillars  and  arches,  and  tow'ring  height: 
Our  roof  is  now  raised,  and  our  song  still  shctll  be, 
A  federal  head  o'er  a  people  that's  free. 


Huzza!  my  brave-boys,  our  work  is  complete; 
The  world  shall  admire  Columbia's  fair  feat ; 
Its  strength  against  tempest  and  time  shall  be  proof, 
And  thousands  shall  come  to  dwell  under  our  roof: 
Whilst  we  drain  the  deep  bowl,  our  toast  still  shall 

be, 
Our  government  firm,  and  our  citizens  free. 

JACOB  DUCHE, 
Who,  at  the  suggestion  of  Samuel  Adams,  opened 
the  old  Continental  Congress  of  1774  with  prayer, 
was  for  a.  time  Chaplain  to  the  Congress  of  1776, 
and  was  much  admired  for  his  ease  and  elegance 
as  a  preacher  in  his  day  ;  was  also  a  writer  of 
some  pretensions.     Of  Huguenot  descent,  he  was 


220 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


a  native  of  Philadelphia,  born  about  1738.  He  j 
took  orders  in  England,  and  became  a  rector  of 
the  Episcopal  church  in  his  native  city.  In  1771 
appeared  from  his  pen  the  Letters  of  Tamoc  Cas- 
pipina,  an  acrostic  on  his  designation  as  Assistant 
Minister  of  Christ's  Church,  and  St.  Peters,  in 
Philadelphia,  in  North  America*  They  have 
reference  to  the  English  politics  of  the  times. 
One  of  them  has  an  allusion  to  Sir  William  Dra- 
per, who  was  about  that  time  in  America,  urging 
him  to  a  fresh  encounter  with  his  antagonist  Ju- 
nius, "the knight  of  the  polished  armour.''t  The 
letters  are  addressed  by  Tamoc  Caspipina  to  Plight 
Hon.  Viscounts,  Lady  Carolines,  Lord  Bishops, 
&c. ;  and  give  an  easy  account,  with  not  too  much 
matter,  of  some  of  the  institutions  of  Philadel- 
phia, a  few  trite  moralities  of  religion,  two  or 
three  feeble  poems, 

Soon,  Myrtilla,  must  thy  friend 
Hasten  to  a  distant  shore,  <fec, 

and  a  passing  mention  of  the  volumes  of  Godfrey 
and  Evans.  In  one  of  the  letters  there  is  a  con- 
templation of  the  rising  greatness  of  America, 
which  is  expressed  in  a  flowing  style — probably  a " 
very  good  specimen  of  the  author's  rhetorical 
maimer  in  his  sermons,  which,  joined  to  a  good  de- 
livery, might  readily  produce  the  effect  assigned 
to  Duche's  pulpit  eloquence.  This  collection  was 
several  times  reprinted.  In  an  elegant  edition,  in 
two  small  volumes,  published  at  Bath  in  England 
in  1777,  there  is  an  allusion  to  two  prior  ones; 
and  there  is  one  still  later,  published  at  London  in 
1791.  To  the  Bath  edition  is  appended,  A  Brief 
Account  of  the  Life  of  William  Perm,  Esq.,  Pro- 
prietor and  Governor  of  Pennsylvania  ;  in  which 
his  settlement  of  that  Province  is  included,  and 
to  which  u  added  his  Character. 

The  incidents  of  Duche's  first  services  in  the 
Continental  Congress  were  striking.  John  Adams 
has  given  an  account  of  the  scene  in  a  letter  to 
his  wife  dated  September  16,  1774.  Duche  ap- 
peared "with  his  clerk  and  his  pontificals,  and 
read  several  prayers  in  the  established  form,  and 
then  read  the  collect  (psalter)  for  the  seventh  day 
of  September,  which  was  the  thirty-fifth  psalm. 
You  must  remember  this  was  the  next  morning 
after  we  heard  the  horrible  rumor  of  the  cannon- 
ade of  Boston.  I  never  saw  a  greater  effect  upon 
an  audience.  It  seems  as  if  Heaven  had  or- 
dained that  psalm  to  be  read  on  that  morning. 
After  this  Mr.  Duche,  unexpectedly  to  everybody, 
struck  out  into  an  extemporary  prayer,  which 
filled  the  bosom  of  every  man  present.  I  must 
confess  I  never  heard  a  better  prayer,  or  one  so 
well  pronounced.  Episcopalian  as  he  is,  Dr. 
Cooper  himself  never  prayed  with  such  fervor, 
such  ardor,  such  earnestness  and  pathos,  and  in 
language  so  elegant  and  sublime — for  America, 
for  the  Congress,  for  the  Province  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay,  and  especially  the  town  of  Boston.  It 
has  had  an  excellent  effect  upon  everj'body  here. 
I  must  beg  you  to  read  that  psalm.  If  there  was 
any  faith  in  the  Sortes  Virgilianas  or  Sortes  Ho- 


*  Caspipina"s  Letters.  Observations  on  a  variety  of  subjects, 
literary,  moral,  and  religious:  in  a  Eeries  of  original  letters, 
written  by  a  gentleman  of  foreign  extraction  who  residedsome 
time  in  Philadelphia.    Philadelphia.    1774 

t  Graydon's  Memoirs.    Littell's  Ed.,  p.  98. 


mericaD,  or  especially  in  the  Sortes  BiblicEe,  it  would 
be  thought  providential.  Mr.  Duche  is  one  of  the 
most  ingenious  men,  and  best  characters,  and 
greatest  orators  in  the  Episcopal  order  upon  this 
continent — yet  a  zealous  friend  of  liberty  and  his 
country." 

He  published  two  revolutionary  sermons,  a  fast 
sermon  before  Congress,  and  another  address  to 
the  militia.  The  Duty  of  Standing  Fast  in  our 
Spiritual  and  Temporal  Liberties,  was  the  title 
of  his  discourse  preached  in  Christ  church,  July 
1,  1775,  before  the  First  Battalion  of  the  city. 
He  addressed  his  audience  from  the  text,  Stand 
fast,  therefore,  in  the  Liberty  wherewith  Christ 
hath  made  us  free,  as  freemen  both  in  the  spirit- 
ual and  temporal  sense.  It  is  temperate  to  Eng- 
land, but  animated  for  independence.  In  one  sen- 
tence he  indulges  in  a  bit  of  sarcasm.  "  We  wish 
not  to  possess  the  golden  groves  of  Asia,  to  sparkle 
in  the  public  eye  with  jewels  torn  from  the  brows 
of  weeping  nabobs,  or  to  riot  on  the  spoil  of  plun- 
dered provinces." 

The  American  Line,  was  his  fast-day  sermon, 
delivered  before  the  honorable  Continental  Con- 
gress the  same  month,  in  which  he  looks  to  the 
past  prosperity  of  the_  country  and  invokes  its 
continuance.  He  gave  the  pay  of  his  chaplaincy  to 
the  families  of  the  Whigs  slain  in  battle.  Though 
a  man  of  conscientious  views,  and  a  lover  of  right, 
his  judgment  unfortunately  wavered  from  timid- 
ity or  the  pressure  of  society  around  him  on  the 
British  occupation  of  Philadelphia,  and  he  felt 
himself  called  upon  to  write  an  unfortunate  letter 
to  General  Washington,*  urging  him  to  abandon 
the  cause  of  Independence,  which  Washington 
prudently  laid  before  Congress,  and  which  Du- 
che's brother-in-law,  Francis  Hbpldnson,  replied 
to  with  great  spirit  and  directness.t  This  action 
caused  his  retirement  from  the  country.  He  was 
well  received  in  England,  where  he  published  two 
volumes  of  sermons  in  1780,  and  a  sermon  before 
the  Humane  Society  in  1781.  After  the  war  he 
returned  to  Philadelphia  in  1790,  where  he  died 
in  1794. 

FEOM  CASPIPrNA'S  LETTERS. 

To  the  Right  Honorable  Lord  Viscount  P ,  Queen  Street, 

Westminster. 

*  *  *  My  attachment  to  America,  I  am  apt  to 
think,  in  a  great  measure  proceeds  from  the  prospect 
of  its  growing  greatness,  to  which  every  day  seems 
more  or  less  to  contribute.  In  Europe,  the  several 
arts  and  sciences  are  almost  arrived  at  their  meri- 
dian of  perfection ;  at  least,  new  discoveries  are  less 
frequent  now  than  heretofore.  Architecture,  gar- 
dening, agriculture,  mechanics  are  at  a  stand.  The 
eye  is  weary  with  a  repetition  of  scenes,  in  which  it 
discovers  a  perpetual  sameness,  though  heightened 
by  all  the  refinements  of  taste.  Excellency  itself,  in 
works  of  human  art,  cloys  the  faculties,  if  the  mind 
is  not  now  and  then  ralieved  by  objects  of  inferior 
beauty.  After  roving  over  the  magnificence  of 
churches  and  palaces,  we  are  glad  to  fix  a  while 
upon  a  simple  farm-house,  or  straw-built  cottage. 
We  feel  a  particular  delight  in  tracing  the  windings 
of  a  beautiful  river  from  its  first  springs  till  it  emp- 
ties itself  into  the  vast  ocean.  The  mind  pursues  it 
through  an  immense  tract  of  variegated  country,  and 


*  October  8, 177T. 

t  This  letter  was  thought  of  importance  enough  to  be  pub- 
lished in  England,  in  Bath,  1777,  in  4to. 


HENRY  CRUGER. 


221 


seems  to  flow  and  increase  and  widen  along  with  it, 
till  it  loses  itself  in  the  abyss  of  waters. 

The  objects  of  art,  as  well  as  those  of  nature,  in 
this  new  world,  are  at  present  in  such  a  state,  as 
affords  the  highest  entertainment  to  these  faculties 
of  the  mind.  The  progression  is  begun:  here  and 
there,  in  the  midst  of  venerable  woods,  which, 
scarce  a  century  ago,  were  the  uncultivated  haunts 
of  roaming  savages,  the  power  of  cultivation  pre- 
sents itself  to  the  traveller's  view,  in  opening  lawns, 
covered  with  the  richest  verdure,  fields  of  corn,  or- 
chards, gardens,  and  meadows  fertilized  by  well 
directed  streams.  Hamlets,  villages,  and  even  popu- 
lous cities,  with  their  towering  spires,  excite  our 
admiration.  We  are  struck  with  the  charm  of  no- 
velty wherever  we  go.  The  comparison  is  always 
at  hand — for,  within  the  compass  of  a  short  mile,  we 
may  behold  at  once,  nature  in  her  original  rusticity, 
and  art  rising  by  rapid  advances  to  perfection. 

The  progress  of  the  human  mind  may  here  like- 
wise be  observed  to  keep  equal  pace  with  the  exter- 
nal improvements:  the  gradual  polish  of  manners, 
from  awkwardness  itself  even  to  courtly  civility; 
from  superstitious  notions,  and  bigoted  religious  at- 
tachments, to  genuine  spiritual  devotion,  may  very 
readily  be  traced  by  a  thoughtful  and  inquisitive 
mind.  All  the  powers  of  nature  seem  to  be  upon 
the  stretch,  as  if  the}'  were  in  pursuit  of  something 
higher  still,  in  science,  in  manners,  in  religion  itself, 
than  the  mother  country  can  afford. 

Indeed,  my  Lord,  I  feel  my  heart  expand  at  the 
immense  prospect  that  irresistibly  opens  upon  me. 
I  see  new  kingdoms  and  empires  rushing  forth  from 
their  embryo  state,  eager  to  disclose  their  latent 
powers;  whilst  the  old  ones  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  "  hide  their  diminished  heads,"  lost  in  a 
superior  lustre.  I  see  learning  stripped  of  all  scho- 
lastic pedantry,  and  religion  restored  to  gospel  pu- 
rity. I  see  the  last  efforts  of  a  powerful  Providence 
exerted  in  order  to  reclaim  our  wandering  race  from 
the  paths  of  ignorance  and  error.  I  see  the  setting 
rays  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  shining  forth  with 
seven-fold  lustre  to  the  utmost  bourn  of  this  Western 
Continent. 

Wonder  not  then,  my  Lord,  at  my  attachment  to 
this  favoured  spot.  I  tread  the  hallowed  soil  with 
far  higher  pleasures  from  anticipation  than  your 
classic  enthusiasts  feel  from  reflection,  whilst  they 
kiss  the  floor  of  Tasculvm,  or  walk  the  "  Eternal 
Jlint  by  Consuls  trod." 

There  is  one  thought,  indeed,  that  throws  a  damp 
upon  that  ardour  of  joy,  which  such  speculations 
generally  produce  in  my  breast.  From  the  strange 
pi'opensity  of  human  nature  to  abuse  the  richest 
gifts  of  Providence,  (of  which  history  as  well  as  ex- 
perience affords  us  so  many  sad  examples)  I  fear,  lest 
the  old  leaven  of  wickedness  should  insinuate  itself 
again  by  degrees,  till  it  has  corrupted  the  whole 
mass ;  lest  the  melancholy  scenes  we  have  beheld  in 
the  kingdoms  and  churches  of  the  East  should  be 
acted  over  again  in  the  West;  and  the  declension  of 
sound  knowledge  and  virtuous  practice,  should  be 
more  rapid  than  their  increase  and  advancement. 

Your  lordship  has  seen  the  works  of  the  divine 
Herbert.  You  may  remember  how  excessively  fond 
Dr.  R— — y  was  of  his  poems,  and  how  earnestly  he 
would  recommend  his  excellent  little  treatise,  called 
The  Country  Parson,  to  all  his  pupils  who  were  to 
be  candidates  for  holy  orders.  Lest  you  should  not 
have  the  book  by  you,  I  must  beg  leave  to  tran- 
scribe a  very  remarkable  passage  from  a  poem  en- 
titled The  Church  Militant,  which,  as  it  relates 
wholly  to  America,  ami  breathes  a  kind  of  prophetic 
spirit,  has  generally  been  called  "  Herbert's  Pro- 
phecy."    The  language  is  uncouth  and  the  measure 


far  from  harmonious — but  there  is  something  very 
striking  and  animated  in  the  sentiment : — 

Religion  stands  on  tip-toe  in  our  land 
Beady  to  pass  to  thu  American  strand,  &c.* 

You  see,  my  Lord,  from  the  short  sketches  which  I 
have  given  you,  that  Herbert's  Prophecy,  if  it  may 
be  so  called  (though  it  is  no  more  than  what  our 
schoolmen  have  styled  reading  from  analogy),  is  ful- 
filling fast.  Arts  and  religion  still  keep  pace  with 
each  other ;  and  'tis  not  impossible,  as  he  conjec- 
tures, that  their  return  to  the  East  will  be  the  "time 
and  place  where  judgement  shall  appear." 

HENRY  CRUGER. 

Henry  Cruger  was  the  first  American  who 
sat  in  the  British  House  of  Commons.  He  was  a 
member  of  a  leading  family  in  the  society  and 
politics  of  the  colony  and  city  of  New  York,  and 
a  nephew  of  John  Cruger,  mayor  of  New  York, 
and  speaker  of  the  Colonial  Assembly  at  the  time 
of  the  passage  of  the  stamp  act,  and  a  proposer, 
and  afterwards  prominent  member  of  the  first 
Provincial  Congress  held  in  New  York,  in  1765. 
_  The  "  Declaration  of  Rights"  issued  by  that  body 
'  was  written  by  him.  Henry  Cruger  was  born  in 
New  York,  in  1739,  and  on  arriving  at  manhood 
became  connected  in  business  with  his  father,  who 
had  established  himself  at  Bristol,  which  then  held 
a  position,  in  reference  to  American  commerce, 
similar  to  that  of  Liverpool  at  the  present  day, 
and  was  elected  mayor  of  the  city.  The  father's 
popularity  seems  to  have  been  shared  by  the  son, 
as  lie  was  also  chosen  mayor,  and  in  1774  one  of 
the  two  representatives  of  the  city,  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  his  colleague  being  Edmund  Burke. 


The  election  was  a  sharply  contested  one.  Burke 
was  introduced  on  the  hustings  by  Cruger,  and 
made  a  brief  speech,  at  the  conclusion  of  which, 

a  Mr.  C is  reported  in  the  newspapers  of  the 

day  to  have  exclaimed,  "  I  say  ditto  to  Mr.  Burke." 
The  story  has  passed  into  the  jest  books,  and 
been  fastened  upon  Cruger,  who,  as  he  had  just 
before  spoken,  is  not  likely  to  have  spoken  again; 
or  if  he  did,  would  not,  as  his  future  career 
:  shows,  have  expressed  himself  so  briefly.  The 
i  true  author  of  this  famous  speech  was  a  Mr.  Car- 
rington. 

Cruger  made  his  maiden  speech  December  16, 
1774-,  in  the  debate  on  the  Army  Estimates. 
Josiah  Quincy,  Jun.,  was  present  in  the  gallery, 
and  mentions  the  circumstance  in  one  of  his  let- 
I  ters.  A  New  York  clergyman,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Vardell,  of  Trinity  Church,  was  also  an  auditor, 
and  wrote  home  the  following  enthusiastic  ac- 
count of  the  new  member,  in  a  letter,  which 
we  find  printed  in  the  Memoirs  of  Peter  Van 
Schaick  : — 

Mr.  Cruger's  fame  has,  I  suppose,  by  this  time 
reached  his  native  shore.  His  applause  has  been 
universally  sounded  in  this  country.     Adminislra- 

*  See  Art.  Berkeley,  ante,  p.  183. 


222 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Hon  applauds  him  for  his  moderation ;  Opposition 
for  the  just  line  he  has  drawn,  and  all  men  tor  his 
modest  eloquence  and  graceful  delivery.  His  ene- 
mies are  silenced  by  the  strongest  confutation  of 
their  charges  against  him  of  illiberal  invective 
against  the  people  of  England,  by  his  manly  defence 
of  his  country,  and  honorable  approbation  of  his  op- 
ponents wherever  he  thought  them  justifiable.  I 
was  in  the  house  on  the  debate.  It  was  remarkably 
crowded  with  members,  and  the  galleries  were  filled 
with  peers  and  persons  of  distinction.  When  Mr. 
Cruger  rose,  there  was  a  deep  silence.  He  faltered 
a  little  at  first,  but,  as  he  proceeded,  the  cry  of  "  Hear 
him!  hear  him  1"  animated  him  with  resolution. 
Hood,  the  Irish  orator,  sat  behind  me.  He  asked, 
"Who  is  that?  who  is  that?  A  young  speaker? 
"Whoever  he  is,  he  speaks  more  eloquently  than  any 
man  I  have  yet  heard  in  the  house."  I  took  gre.it 
pains  to  learn  people's  sentiments,  and  found  them 
all  in  his  favor.  Mr.  Garriek,  a  few  days  after,  in 
a  discussion  on  the  subject,  said,  "  he  never  saw  hu- 
man nature  more  amiably  displayed  than  in  the 
modest  manner  of  address,  pathos  of  affection  for 
his  country,  and  graceful  gesture,  exhibited  by  Mr. 
Cruger  in  his  speech."  I  am  thus  particular  because 
you  must  be  curious  to  know  what  reception  the 
first  American  member  met  with  in  the  most  august 
assembly  in  Europe.  My  heart  beat  high  with 
anxiety;  I  trembled  when  he  arose  with  the  most 
awful  and  affecting  jealousy  for  the  honor  of  my 
country.  When  "Hear  him!  hear  him!"  echoed 
through  the  house,  joy  rushed  through  every  vein, 
and  1  seemed  to  glory  in  being  a  New-Yorker. 

In  this  speech,  while  he  dissents  from  many  of 
the  measures  pursued  by  the  Americans,  he 
praises  them  for  their  love  of  liberty  ;  dwells  on 
the  importance  of  the  colonial  trade  to  Great 
Britain ;  urges  the  necessity  of  conciliation,  and 
the  uselessness  of  coercion. 

Even  should  coercive  measures  reduce  them  to  an 
acknowledgment  of  the  equity  of  Parliamentary 
taxation,  what  are  the  advantages  that  will  result 
from  it?  Can  it  be  believed  that  Americans  will  be 
dragooned  into  a  conviction  of  this  right?  Will 
severities  increase  their  affection  and  make  them 
more  desirous  of  a  connection  with,  and  dependence 
on  Great  Britain  ?  Is  it  not,  on  the  contrary,  rea- 
sonable to  conclude  that  the  effect  will  be  an  increase 
of  jealousy  and  discontent?  That  they  will  seek  all 
occasions  of  evading  laws  imposed  on  them  by  vio- 
lence ?  That  they  will  be  restless  under  the  yoke 
and  think  themselves  happy  in  any  opportunity  of 
flying  to  the  protection  of  some  other  power,  from 
the  subjection  of  a  mother  whom  they  consider  cruel 
and  vindictive? 

I  would  not  be  understood,  sir,  to  deny  alto- 
gether the  good  intentions  of  administration.  The 
abilities  of  the  minister,*  it  seems,  are  universally 
acknowledged.  But,  sir,  I  must  add  the  maxim  of 
"  hicmanuvi  est  errarc."  And  though  an  American, 
I  must  applaud  his  zeal  for  the  dignity  of  parlia- 
ment, and  must  think  the  impolicy  and  inexpediency 
of  the  late  measures  may  reasonably  be  imputed  to 
the  difficulty  and  embarrassments  of  the  occasion, 
and  the  unsettled  and  undefined  nature  of  the  de- 
pendence of  the  Colonies  on  the  mother  country. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  candor  must  admit  the  same 
apology  for  any  violence  or  mistakes  of  the  Ameri- 
cans. 

But,  sir,  since  these  measures  have  been  found,  by 
sad  experience,  to  be  totally  inexpedient;  since  they 

*  Lord  Xorth. 


have  served  only  to  widen  the  breach  instead  of 
closing  it — have  diminished  the  obedience  of  the 
Colonies  instead  of  confirming  it — have  increased 
their  tuibulence  and  opposition  instead  of  allaying 
them — it  may  well  be  hoped  that  a  different  course 
of  conduct  and  of  treatment  may  be  pursued  ;  and 
some  firm,  enlightened,  and  liberal  constitution  be 
adopted  by  the  wisdom  of  this  House,  which  may 
secure  the  Colonists  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  liber- 
ties, while  it  maintains  the  just  supremacy  of  par- 
liament. 

In  the  debate  on  the  Disturbances  in  North 
America,  Feb.  2,  1775,  Colonel  Grant  remarked, 
"  That  he  knew  the  Americans  well,  and  was  cer- 
tain they  would  not  light,"  and  was  responded  to 
so  warmly  by  Cruger,  that  the  latter  was  called 
to  order  by  the  Speaker.  Cruger  also  spoke  in 
the  debate  on  the  Representation  and  remon- 
strance of  the  General  Assembly  of  New  York, 
May  15,  1775,  and  in  that  on  Mr.  Fox's  motion 
for  an  Enquirj'  into  the  cause  of  the  ill-success  of 
the  British  Arms  in  North  America,  February  20, 
1776.  We  quote  the  conclusion  of  this,  which  is 
one  of  his  most  successful  efforts. 

Admitting  for  the  present,  sir,  that  a  force  suffi- 
cient to  subdue  the  colonies  can  be  sent  out — admit- 
ting that  this  country  will  patiently  bear  the  enor- 
mous weight  of  accumulated  taxes,  which  so  distant 
and  unequal  a  war  will  require — admitting  that 
foreign  powers  (the  natural  enemies  of  Britain)  will, 
with  composure  and  self-denial,  neglec-t  so  favorable 
an  opportunity  of  distressing  their  rivals — admitting 
that  your  fleets,  unopposed,  shall  level  to  the  ground 
those  cities  which  rose  under  your  protection,  be- 
came the  pillars  of  your  commerce,  and  your  na- 
tion's boast — admitting  that  foreign  mercenaries 
spread  desolation,  that  thousands  fall  before  them, 
and  that,  humbled  under  the  combined  woes  of 
poverty,  anarchy,  want,  and  defeat,  the  exhausted 
colonies  fall  suppliant  at  the  feet  of  their  conquerors 
— admitting  all  this  will  be  the  case,  (which  cannot 
well  be  expected  from  the  past,)  there  necessarily 
follows  a  most  momentous  question  ;  What  are  the 
great  advantages  that  Great  Britain  is  to  receive  in 
exchange  for  the  blessings  of  peace  and  a  lucrative 
commerce,  for  the  affection  and  loyalty,  for  the  pros- 
perity, for  the  lives  of  so  many  of  its  useful  subjects 
sacrificed  ?  Would  the  bare  acknowledgment  of  a 
right  in  Parliament  to  tax  them,  compensate  for  the 
millions  expended,  the  dangers  incurred,  the  mise- 
ries entailed,  the  destruction  of  human  happiness 
and  of  life  that  must  ensue  from  a  war  with  our 
colonies,  united  as  they  are  in  one  common  cause, 
and  fired  to  desperate  enthusiasm  by  apprehensions 
of  impending  slavery  ?  Or  can  you  be  so  absurd  as 
to  imagine  that  concessions  extorted  in  a  time  of 
danger  and  of  urgent  misery,  will  form  a  bond  of 
lasting  union  ?  Impoverished  and  undone  by  their 
exertions,  and  the  calamities  of  war,  instead  of  being 
able  to  repay  the  expenses  of  this  country,  or  to 
supply  a  revenue,  they  would  stand  in  need  of  your 
earliest  assistance  to  revive  depressed  and  almost 
extinguished  commerce,  as  well  as  to  renew  and  up- 
hold their  necessary  civil  establishments. 

I  am  well  aware,  sir,  that  it  is  said  we  must 
maintain  the  dignity  of  Parliament.  Let  me  ask 
what  dignity  is  that  which  will  not  descend  to  make 
millions  happy — which  will  sacrifice  the  treasures 
and  best  blood  of  the  nation  to  extort  submissions, 
fruitless  submissions,  that  will  be  disavowed  and 
disregarded  the  moment  the  compulsory,  oppressive 
force  is  removed?  What  dignity  is  that  which,  to 
enforce  a  disputed  mode  of  obtaining  a  revenue, 


WILLIAM  BAETEAM. 


223 


■will  destroy  commerce,  spread  poverty  and  desola- 
tion, and  dry  up  every  channel,  every  source,  from 
which  either  revenue  or  any  real  substantial  benefit 
can  be  expected  i 

Is  it  not  high  time  then,  Mr.  Speaker,  to  examine 
the  full  extent  of  our  danger,  to  pause  and  marl;  the 
paths  which  have  misled  us,  and  the  wretched,  be- 
wildered guides  who  have  brought  us  into  our 
present  difficulties  ?  Let  us  seek  out  the  destroying 
angel,  and  stop  his  course,  while  we  have  yet  any- 
thing valuable  to  preserve.  The  breach  is  not  yet 
irreparable,  and  permit  me,  with  all  deference,  to 
say,  I  have  not  a  doubt  but  that  liberal  and  explicit 
terms  of  reconciliation,  with  a  full  and  firm  security 
against  any  unjust  or  oppressive  exercise  of  parlia- 
mentary taxation,  if  held  out  to  the  colonies  before 
the  war  takes  a  wider  and  more  destructive  course, 
will  lead  speedily  to  a  settlement,  and  recall  the  for- 
mer years  of  peace,  when  the  affections  and  inte- 
rests of  Great  Britain  and  America  were  one. 

But,  sir,  if,  on  the  contrary,  we  are  to  plunge 
deeper  into  this  sea  of  blood;  if  we  are  to  sacrifice 
the  means  and  materials  of  revenue  for  unjust  dis- 
tinctions about  the  modes  of  raising  it;  if  the  laurels 
we  can  gain,  and  the  dignity  of  Parliament  we  are 
to  establish,  can  be  purchased  only  by  the  miseries 
of  our  fellow-subjects,  whose  losses  are  our  own  ;  if 
the  event  is  precarious,  and  the  cause,  alien  to  the 
spirit  and  humanity  of  Englishmen;  if  the  injury  is 
certain,  and  the  object  of  success  unsubstantial  and 
insecure,  how  little  soever  the  influence  my  poor 
opinion  and  arguments  can  have  on  this  House,  I 
shall  at  least  free  my  conscience  by  having  expli- 
citly condemned  all  such  impolitic,  unjust,  inade- 
quate, injudicious  measures,  and  by  giving  to  this 
motion  my  most  hearty  concurrence  and  support, 

In  the  debate  on  Mr.  Wilkes's  motion  for  the 
Repeal  of  the  American  Declaratory  Act,  Decem- 
ber 10,  1777,  Cruger  says :  "  From  my  connec- 
tions in  America  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of 
collecting  the  sentiments  of  men  of  all  orders  and 
parties,  and  have  reason  to  believe  that  inde- 
pendency is  not  vet  the  great  object  of  the  major- 
ity of  the  people."  On  the  5th  of  May,  1780,  in 
the  debate  on  General  Conway's  lull  for  quieting 
the  troubles  in  America,  "Mr.  Cruger  contended 
that  the  bill  by  no  means  went  far  enough.  He 
said  the  American  war,  the  real  source  of  all  our 
distresses  and  burdens,  should  be  put  an  end  to  at 
all  events ;  in  order  to  do  this,  the  independency 
must  be  allowed,  and  the  thirteen  provinces 
treated  as  free  states."  This  is  the  last  mention 
of  his  name  in  Hansard's  Reports.  He  spoke 
only  on  American  affairs,  and  was  evidently  not 
desirous  of  a  separation  between  the  colonies  and 
the  mother  country,  but  when  such  a  step  became 
inevitable,  acquiesced.  Had  he  lived  in  America, 
he  would  no  doubt  have  been  prominent  on  the 
side  of  independence. 

It  is  characteristic  of  the  manner  in  which 
families  were  divided  in  political  opinions,  du- 
ring the  Revolution,  that  while  Henry  Cruger 
was  in  parliament,  one  of  his  two  brothers  in 
America'  was  a  colonel  in  the  royal  army,  and 
employed  in  the  southern  campaign,  while  the 
other,  a  New  York  merchant,  trading- with  the 
West  Indies,  though  taking  no  active  part  in  the 
contest,  was  identified  with  the  Whig  side,  and  a 
friend  of  General  Washington. 

Henry  Cruger  returned  to  New  York  after  the 
war,  and  was  elected  to  the  state  senate,  while 
still  a  member  of  the  British  House  of  Commons, 


his  term  of  service  not  having  expired,  ne  does 
not  appear  to  have  taken  any  active  part  in  the 
Legislature,  nor  in  any  public  affairs  after  the 
expiration  of  his  term  of  office.  He  died  in  New 
York  on  the  24th  day  of  April,  1827. 

He  was  noted  throughout  his  career  for  his 
frank,  and  at  the  same  time  polished  manners; 
qualities  which,  combined  with  a  handsome 
figure,  no  doubt  contributed  their  share  to  his 
great  personal  popularity  in  Bristol,  and  his  high 
social  position  in  his  native  city.  He  was  not 
forgotten  after  resuming  his  residence  in  New 
York,  by  his  old  constituents  on  the  other  side 
of  the  water;  a  spirited  election  ballad  of  1812 
referring  to  past  triumphs  under  his  leadership, 
as  an  incitement  to  exertion  in  favor  of  a  distin- 
guished successor,  Romilly.  Wo  quote  its  open- 
ing stanzas : 

THE  GOLDEN  DATS  OF  HARRY  CRUGER. 

Eight-and-thirty  years  ago,*  by  a  resolute  exertion, 
Bristol's    independent  sons   broke   the   fetters   of 

coercion ; 
And  so  glorious  was  the  triumph,  that  it  gain'd  the 

approbation 
Of  ev'ry  liberal-minded  man  throughout  the  British 

nation. 
Chorus — 

O  the  golden  days  of  honest  Harry  Cruger  ! 

With  pleasure  we   reflect  upon  the  days  of 
Harry  Crugee. 

Then  the  minions  of  corruption,  and  the  weight  of 
their  long  purses, 

Were  scarcely  more  regarded  than  their  promises  or 
curses : 

Each  freeman  was  impelled  by  disinterested  prin- 
ciple— 

A  stimulus  that  renders  every  honest  cause  invin- 
cible. 

0  the  golden  days,  <fec. 

The  patriot-five  that  warm'd  the  heart  on  such  a 

bright  occasion, 
Requires  no  more  at  present  than  a  little  renovation ; 
What  freemen  did  in  seventy-four,  to  rid  themselves 

of  slavery, 
They  very  well  may  do  in  twelve,  'gainst  arrogance 

and  knavery. 

0  the  golden  days,  &c. 

WILLIAM  BAETEAM. 
Coleridge,  whose  love  of  universal  knowledge 
and  constant  desire  to  gratify  the  imagination, 
led  him  to  be  a  diligent  reader  of  the  reports  of 
travellers,  particularly  those  who  made  original 
observations  in  regions  of  adventure  and  disco- 
very, of  the  fidelit}7  and  essential  value  of  whose 
narratives  he  was  a  most  discriminating  judge, 
said  of  these  productions,  "the  latest  book  of 
travels  I  know,  written  in  the  spirit  of  the  old  tra- 
vellers, is  Bartram's  account  of  his  tour  in  the  Flo- 
ridas.  It  is  a  work  of  high  merit  every  way."t 
The  author,  who  was  the  honored  subject  of  this 
eulogy,  was  William  Bartram,  who  printed  in 
Philadelphia  in  1791,  in  an  octavo  volume,  his 
Travels  through  North  and  South  Carolina,, 
Georgia,  East  anal    West  Florida,  the   Cherokee 


*  Thirty-eight  Tears  before  Mr.  Cruzer  was  first  chosen 
Member  of  Parliament. 

t  Specimens  of  the  Table  Talk  of  the  late  Samuel  Tayloj 
Coleridge,  March  12, 1827.     . 


224 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Country,  the  Extensive  Territories  of  the  Musco- 
gulges  or  Creek  Confederacy,  and  the  Country 
of  the  Choctaics.  Containing  an  account  of  the 
soil  and  natural  productions  of  those  regions; 
together  with  observations  on  the  manners  of  the 
Indians.  The  style  of  this  work  is  distinguished 
by  its  simple  love  of  nature  and  vivacity.  It 
breathes  of  the  freshness  of  a  new  land :  every 
sensation  is  pleasurable,  welcomed  by  health. 
The  writer  lived  before  that  stage  of  the  civiliza- 
tion of  great  cities  which  silences  the  voice  of 
natural  emotion  raised  in  the  expression  of  grati- 
tude to  Heaven  or  affection  to  man.  Perhaps 
the  simple  life  and  pure  tastes  of  the  Quaker 
facilitated  his  lively  gratification  of  the  senses  and 
emotions.  All  his  faculties  are  alive  in  his  book, 
whether  he  describes  a  tree,  a  fish,  a  bird,  beast, 
Indian,  or  hospitable  planter.  He  detects  fra- 
grance, vitality,  and  health  everywhere  in  the 
animal  world. 


^>„  °n- 


\j$<&rd~*. 


"William  Bartram  came  naturally  by  his  tastes 
in  these  pursuits.  He  was  the  fourth  son  of  John 
Bartram — born  in  Pennsylvania  in  1699 — the  ear- 
liest of  American  botanists,  and  the  founder  of  the 
first  Botanical  Garden  in  the  country.  His  ac- 
quaintance with  medicine  and  occupation  as  a 
farmer  had  led  him  to  the  study  of  plants.  The 
specimens  which  he  collected  were  sent  to  Lon- 
don, and  secured  him  the  correspondence  of  Peter 
Collinson,  the  Quaker  lover  of  science  and  the 
friend  of  Franklin.  He  was  a  great  traveller  in 
search  of  his  favorite  objects  in  natural  history  in 
the  old  provinces,  making  his  way  to  the  head 
waters  of  the  lakes  and  rivers  of  New  York  and 
Pennsylvania,  through  what  was  then  a  wilder- 
ness, and  accomplishing,  when  he  was  nearly 
seventy,  a  full  exploration  of  the  St.* John's  river 
in  Florida.  In  1751  some  observations  made  by 
Bartram  on  his  travels  from  Pennsylvania  to 
Lake  Ontario,  and  communicated  to  his  friends 
in  London,  were  published  by  them  in  a  thin 
octavo,  with  an  appendix  containing  the  account 
of  Niagara  by  the  Swedish  traveller  Kalm.* 
The  style  of  Bartram  is  crude,  but  his  observa- 
tions show  the  genius  of  the  naturalist. 

Of  his  southern  journey  an  account  was  pub- 
lished in  1766-t  It  consists  of  a  description  of  the 
country  in  its  main  features  of  climate,  soil,  natu- 
ral productions,  and  opportunities  for  cultivation, 


*  Observations  on  the  Inhabitants,  Climate,  Soil,  Pavers, 
Productions,  Animals,  and  other  matters  worthy  of  notice, 
made  by  Mr.  John  Bartram,  in  his  Travels  from  Pennsylvania 
to  Onondago,  Oswego  and  the  Lake  Ontario,  in  Canada.  To 
which  is  annexed  a  curious  account  of  the  Cataracts  at  Niagara, 
by  Mr.  Peter  Kalm,  a  Swedish  gentleman  who  travelled  there. 
London.  J.  Whiston  &  White,  1751.  Svo.  pp.  94.  Kalm  was  a 
pupil  of  Linnaeus  at  Upsal.  and  came  to  America  a'  his  insti- 
gation. From  1748-51  he  was  in  America,  where  he  was  inti- 
mate with  Golden,  Logan,  Franklin,  and  Bartram.  His  three 
volumes  of  travels  in  this  country  were  translated  from  the 
Swedish  into  German,  and  thence  into  English  by  J.  Eeinoid 
Forster,  in  1771.    Kalm  died  in  1779. 

t  A  Description  of  East-Florida,  with  a  journal,  kept  by  John 
Bartram,  of  Philadelphia.  Botanist  to  His  Majesty  for  the  Flo- 
ridas;  upon  a  journey  from  St.  Augustine'  up'  the  river  St. 
John's,  as  far  as  the  Lakes.  With  explanatory  botanical  notes. 
Illustrated  with  an  accurate  Map  of  East  Florida,  and  two 
plans,  one  of  St.  Augustine,  and  the.  other  of  the  Bay  of  Espi- 
litu  Santo.    The  third  edition,  much  enlarged  and  improved. 


with  a  journal  appended  of  actual  observations 
(Dec.  9,'l765,  Feb.  11,  1766).  These  are  intro- 
duced in  the  edition  before  us  by  a  dedication 
and  recommendation  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  AVilliam 
Stork,  who  had  the  settlement  of  the  country  at 
heart.  Bartram's  observations  are  plainly  set 
down,  and  his  tract  has  the  interest  of  most 
original  notices  of  the  kind.  His  mention  of  the 
staple  productions  of  the  several  colonies  in  1766, 
is  a  point  from  which  to  measure  the  develop- 
ment of  the  country: — "Since  every  colony  in 
America  seems  to  have,  as  it  were,  a  staple  com- 
modity peculiar  to  itself,  as  Canada  the  fur; 
Massachusetts  Bay,  fish ;  Connecticut,  lumber ; 
New  York  and  Pennsylvania,  wheat;  Virginia 
and  Maryland,  tobacco ;  North  Carolina,  pitch 
and  tar ;  South  Carolina,  rice  and  indigo ;  Geor- 
gia, rice  and  silk." 

■In  a  letter  to  Jared  Eliot,  dated  Philadelphia, 
Sept.  1,  1775,  introducing  John  Bartram,  Frank- 
lin writes,  "  I  believe  you  will  find  him  to  be  at 
least  twenty  folio  pages,  large  paper,  well  filled, 
on  the  subjects  of  botany,  fos:-ils,  husbandry,  and 
the  first  creation."  Hector  St.  John,  in  his  Let- 
ters of  an  American  Farmer,  has  a  long  descrip- 
tion of  an  alleged  visit  paid  by  a  Russian  gentle- 
man to  John  Bartram,  which  is  evidently  an 
ticcount  of  his  own  observations  of  the  amiable 
naturalist.  He  mentions  an  inscription  over  the 
door  of  his  greenhouse, 

Slave  to  no  sect,  who  takes  no  private  road, 
But  looks  through  nature  up  to  nature's  God. 

The  character  of  John  Bartram  was  marked 
by  its  strength  and  simplicity,  and  by  his  love  for 
the  moral  precepts  of  the  Bible.  Born  and  educat- 
ed a  Quaker,  he  did  .not  escape  some  imputations 
of  imperfect  orthodoxy.  His  natural  piety  was 
witnessed  by  the  inscription  engraved  by  his  own 
hands  upon  a  stone  placed  on  the  outside  of  his 
house,  over  the  front  window  of  his  study — 

'Tis  God  alone,  Almighty  Lord, 
The  Holy  one,  by  me  adored. 
Joun  Baeteam,  1770. 

He  died  September  21,  1777. 

It  was  at  the  Botanic  Garden  on  the  banks  of 
the  Schuylkill,  which  the  father  founded,  and  in 
the  house  also  built  by  his  own  hands,  that  Wil- 
liam Bartram,  the  son,  was  born,  February  9, 
1739.  He  had  for  his  tutor  Charles  Thomson, 
subsequently  the  honest  and  spirited  republican 
of  the  old  Continental  Congress.  He  had  an  early 
talent  for  drawing,  which  led  him  to  think  of  the 
congenial  pursuits  of  printing  and  engraving ;  but 
he  adopted  the  life  of  a  merchant,  which  he  soon 
abandoned ;  for  before  he  was  thirty  years  of  age 


Hie  Segetes,  illic  veniuut  felieins  nvae 
Arborei  Fructus  alibi,  atque  injussa  viresennt 
Gramina  Nonne  vides  croceos  ut  Tmolus  Odores, 
India  mittet  Ebur,  molles  sua  Tliura  Sabtei  ? 

Yiryil,  Georgia. 

London ;  sold  by  W.  Nicoll,  at  No.  51  St.  Paul's  Church  Yard; 

and  T.  Jefferies,"  at  Chariug-Cross,  Geographer  to  his  Majesty. 

MDCCLXIX. 


WILLIAM  BARTKAM. 


225 


we  find  him  accompanying  his  father  on  his  Flo- 
rida tour,  and  engaging  in  the  cultivation  of  in- 
digo.   His  own  travels  in  that  region  were  corn- 


tram's  IIoUSC. 


menced  in  1772,  at  the  request  of  Dr.  Fothergill, 
the  distinguished  botanist  and  liberal  and  benevo- 
lent friend  of  science,  and  he  occupied  live  years 
in  his  natural  history  pursuits  in  Georgia,  South 
Carolina,  and  the  Floridas.  On  his  "return  to 
Philadelphia  he  quietly  passed  his  time  in  scien- 
tific occupations,  residing  at  the  old  Botanic  Gar- 
den at  Kingsessing,  never  marrying,  though  oc- 
casionally rallied  on  the  subject  by  his  London 
friend  Collinson.  In  1782  he  was  elected  Pro- 
fessor of  Botany  in  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, but  did  not  accept  the  position  on  account 
of  his  health.  lie  assisted  Wilson  in  his  Ameri- 
can Ornithology.  His  friend  Barton  was  indebt- 
ed to  his  pencil  for  drawings  of  the  plates  of  his 
Elements  of  Botany.  In  1789  he  wrote  a  reply 
to  a  series  of  questions  proposed  to  him  on  the 
condition  of  the  Creek  and  Cherokee  Indians,  of 
whose  manners  he  had  been  a  diligent  and  curi- 
ous observer,  which  has  been  lately  reprinted 
from  the  original  manuscript  in  the  Transactions 
of  the  American  Ethnological  Society.  The  name 
of  his  correspondent  in  this  work  has  been  lost, 
but  the  probability  rests  with  Dr.  B.  S.  Barton, 
who  refers  in  his  Memoir  on  the  Origin  of  the 
American  Nations,  to  a  MS.  of  Bartram  on  these 
subjects  iu  his  possession.*  His  views  of  the 
character  of  the  Southern  Indians  in  this  sketch, 
as  well  as  in  his  Travels,  place  them  in  a  very 
favorable  light,  for  their  possession  of  many  ho- 
norable personal  qualities. 

In  May,  1797,  he  was  visited  by  Dunlap,  in 
company  with  Brockden  Brown,  at  the  Botanic 
Garden,  and  the  curious  historiographer  and 
painter  has  left  a  sketch  of  his  appearance: — 
'■  Arrived  at  the  botanist's  garden,  we  approached 
an  old  man,  who,  with  a  rake  in  his  hand,  was 
breaking  the  clods  of  earth  in  a  tulip  bed.  His 
hat  was  old  and  Happed  over  his  face ;  his  coarse 
shirt  was  seen  near  his  neck,  as  he  wore  no  cra- 
vat or  kerchief;  his  waistcoat  and  breeches  were 
both  of  leather,  and  his  shoes  were  tied  with  lea- 
ther strings.  We  approached  and  accosted  him. 
He  ceased  his  work,  and  entered  into  conver- 
sation with  the  ease  and  politeness  of  nature's 
nobleman.    His  'countenance  was  expressive  of 


benignity  and  happiness.  Tins  was  the  botanist, 
traveller,  and  philosopher  we  had  come  to  see. 
He  had  pointed  out  many  curious  plants."* 

Bartram  appears  to  have  been  engaged  in  these 
friendly  pursuits  of  science  to  the  last,  for  it  is 
recorded  he  wrote  an  article  on  the  natural  his- 
tory of  a  plant,  a  few  minutes  before  his  death, 
which  happened  suddenly,  by  the  rupture  of  a 
bloodvessel  in  the  lungs,  July  22,  1823,  in  the 
eighty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  The  correspondence 
of  the  Bartrams  and  Humphry  Marshall,  who 
was  the  cousin  of  John  Bartram  and  author  of  a 
valuable  Treatise  on  the  Forest  Trees  of  North 
America,  with  their  scientific  friends  in  Europe 
and  at  home,  is  of  interest  for  its  simple,  unaffect- 
ed character,  and  the  curiosity  and  information 
of  many  of  its  details.  This  correspondence  was 
published  in  1849,  with  many  other  interesting 
memorials,  by  William  Darlington.t 


ErnEMERA. 

Leaving  Picolata,  I  continued  to  ascend  the  river. 
I  observed  this  day,  during  my  progress  up  the 
river,  incredible  numbers  of  small  flying  insects,  of 
the  genus  termed  by  naturalists  Ephemera,  continu- 
ally emerging  from  the  shallow  water  near  shore, 
some  of  them  immediately  taking  their  flight  to  the 
land,  whilst  myriads  crept  up  the  grass  and  her- 
bage, where  remaining  for  a  short  time,  as  they  ac- 
quired sufficient  strength,  they  took  their  flight 
also,  following  their  kindred  to  the  main  land. 
Tins  resurrection  from  the  deep,  if  I  may  so  express 
it,  commences  early  in  the  morning,  and  ceases  after 
the  sun  is  up.  At  evening  they  are  seen  in  clouds 
of  innumerable  millions,  swarming  and  wantoning 
in  the  still  air,  gradually  drawing  near  the  river. 
They  descend  upon  its  surface,  and  there  quickly 
end  their  day,  after  committing  their  eggs  to  the 
deep ;  which  being  for  a  little  while  tossed  about, 
enveloped  in  a  viscid  scum,  are  hatched,  and  the 
little  Larvae  descend  into  their  secure  and  dark  habi- 
tation, in  the  oozy  bed  beneath,  where  they  remain 
j  gradually  increasing  in  size,  until  the  returning 
|  spring ;  they  then  change  to  a  Nymph,  when  the 
j  genial  heat  brings  them,  as  it  were,  into  existence, 
j  and  they  again  arise  into  the  world.  This  fly  seems 
to  be  delicious  food  for  birds,  frogs,  and  fish.  In  the 
morning,  when  they  arise,  and  in  the  evening,  when 
they  return,  the  tumult  is  great  indeed,  and  the  sur- 
face of  the  water  along  shore  broken  into  bubbles, 
or  spirted  into  the  air,  by  the  contending  aquatic 
tribes;  and  such  is  the  avidity  of  the  fish  and  frogs, 
that  they  spring  into  the  air  after  this  delicious 

f"'e>'-       . 

Early  in  the  evening,  after  a  pleasant  day's  voy- 
age, I  made  a  convenient  and  safe  harbor,  in  a  little 
lagoon,  under  an  elevated  bank,  on  the  West  shore 
of  the  river ;  where  I  shall  entreat  the  reader's  pa- 
tience, whilst  wc  behold  the  closing  scene  of  the 
short-lived  Ephemera,  and  communicate  to  each  other 
the  reflections  which  so  singular  an  exhibition  might 
rationally  suggest  to  an  inquisitive  mind.  Our 
place  of  observation  is  happily  situated  under  the 
protecting  shade  of  majestic  Live  Oaks,  glorious 
Magnolias,  and  the  fragrant  Orange,  open  to  the 
view  of  the  great  river  and  the  still  waters  of  the 
lagoon  just  before  us. 


*  Prefatory  note?,  by  E.  G.  Squier,  to  Observations  on  the 
Creek  and  Cherokee  Indians,  by  William  Bartram.— Transac- 
tions Am.  Etb.  aoc.  vol.  iii.  pt.  1. 
vol..   I. — 15 


*  Hist.  Am.  Theatre,  170. 

t  Memorials  of  John  Bartram  and  Humphry  Marshall,  with 
Notices  of  their  Botanical  Contemporaries,  by  William  Dar- 
lington, 1849. 


226 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


At  the  cool  eye's  approach,  the  sweet  enchanting 
melody  of  the  feathered  songsters  gradually  ceases, 
and  they  betake  themselves  to  their  leafy  coverts  for 
security  and  repose. 

Solemnly  and  slowly  move  onward,  to  the  river's 
shore,  the  rustling  crowds  of  the  Ephemera.  How 
awful  the  procession !  innumerable  millions  of 
winged  beings,  voluntarily  verging  on  to  destruc- 
tion, to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  where  they  behold 
bands  of  their  enemies  with  wide  open  jaws,  ready 
to  receive  them.  But  as  if  insensible  of  their  dan- 
ger, gay  and  tranquil  each  meets  his  beloved  mate 
iu  the  still  air,  inimitably  bedecked  in  their  new 
nuptial  robes.  What  eye  can  trace  them,  in  their 
varied  wanton  amorous  chases,  bounding  and  flut- 
tering on  the  odoriferous  air!  With  what  peace, 
love,  and  joy,  do  they  end  the  last  moments  of  their 
existence  ? 

I  think  we  may  assert,  without  any  fear  of  exag- 
geration, that  there  are  annually  of  these  beautiful 
winged  beings,  which  rise  into  existence,  and  for  a 
few  moments  take  a  transient  view  of  the  glory  of 
the  Creator's  works,  a  number  greater  than  the 
whole  race  of  mankind  that  have  ever  existed  since 
the  creation ;  and  that,  only  from  the  shores  of  this 
river.  How  many  then  must  have  been  produced 
since  the  creation,  when  we  consider  the  number  of 
large  rivers  in  America,  in  comparison  with  which, 
this  river  is  but  a  brook  or  rivulet ! 

The  importance  of  the  existence  of  these  beautiful 
and  delicately  formed  little  creatures,  whose  frame 
and  organization  are  equally  wonderful,  more  deli- 
cate, and  perhaps  as  complicated  as  those  of  the 
most  perfect  human  being,  is  well  worth  a  few  mo- 
ments' contemplation ;  1  mean  particularly  when 
they  appear  iu  the  fly  state.  And  if  we  consider 
the  very  short  period  of  that  stage  of  existence, 
which  we  may  reasonably  suppose  to  be  the  only 
space  of  their  life  that  admits  of  pleasure  and  enjoy- 
ment, what  a  lesson  doth  it  not  afford  us  of  the 
vanity  of  our  own  pursuits! 

Their  whole  existence  in  this  world  is  but  one 
complete  year  ;  and  at  least  three  hundred  and  sixty 
days  of  that  time  they  are  in  the  form  of  an  ugly 
grub,  buried  in  mud,  eighteen  inches  under  water, 
and  in  this  condition  scarcely  locomotive,  as  each 
larva  or  grub  has  but  its  own  narrow  solitary  cell, 
from  which  it  never  travels  or  moves,  but  in  a  per- 
pendicular progression  of  a  few  inches,  up  and  down, 
from  the  bottom  to  the  surface  of  the  mud,  in  order 
to  intercept  the  passing  atoms  for  its  food,  and  get  a 
momentary  respiration  of  fresh  air;  and  even  hero 
it  must  be  perpetually  on  its  guard,  in  order  to  es- 
cape the  troops  of  fish  and  shrimps  watching  to 
catch  it,  and  from  whom  it  ha3  no  escape,  but  by 
instantly  retreating  back  into  its  cell.  One  would 
be  npt  almost  to  imagine  them  created  merely  for 
the  food  of  fish  and  other  animals. 

CEOCODILES  ON  TnE  ST.  JOnN'S. 

The  evening  was  temperately  cool  and  calm. 
The  crocodiles  began  to  roar  and  appear  in  uncom- 
mon numbers  along  the  shores  and  in  the  river.  I 
fixed  my  camp  in  an-  open  plain,  near  the  utmost 
projection  of  the  promontory,  under  the  shelter  of  a 
large  live  oak,  winch  stood  on  the  highest  part  of 
the  ground,  and  but  a  few  yards  from  my  boat. 
From  this  open,  high  situation,  I  had  a  free  prospect 
of  the  river,  which  was  a  matter  of  no  trivial  con- 
sideration to  me,  having  good  reason  to  dread  the 
subtle  attacks  of  the  alligators,  who  were  crowding 
about  my  harbour.  Having  collected  a  good 
quantity  of  wood  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  up  a 
light  ami  smoke  during  the  night,  I  began  to  think 
of  preparing  my  supper,  when,  upon  examining  my 


stores,  I  found  but  a  scanty  provision.  I  thereupon 
determined,  as  the  most  expeditious  way  of  supply- 
ing my  necessities,  to  take  my  bob  and  try  for  some 
trout.  About  one  hundred  yards  above  my  harbour 
began  a  cove  or  bay  of  the  river,  out  of  which 
opened  a  large  lagoon.  The  mouth  or  entrance 
from  the  river  to  it  was  narrow,  but  the  waters 
soon  after  spread  and  formed  a  little  lake,  extending 
into  the  marshes :  its  entrance  and  shores  within  I 
observed  to  be  verged  with  floating  lawns  of  the 
pistia  and  nymphea  and  other  aquatic  plants;  these 
I  knew  were  excellent  haunts  for  trout. 

The  verges  and  islets  of  the  lagoon  were  elegantly 
embellished  with  flowering  plants  and  shrubs;  the 
laughing  coots  with  wings  half  spread  were  tripping 
over  the  little  coves,  and  hiding  themselves  in  the 
tufts  of  grass;  young  broods  of  the  painted  summer 
teal,  skimming  the  still  surface  of  the  waters,  and 
following  the  watchful  parent  unconscious  of  dan- 
ger, were  frequently  surprised  by  the  voracious 
trout ;  and  he,  in  turn,  as  often  by  the  subtle 
greedy  alligator.  Behold  him  rushii.g  forth  from 
the  flags  and  reeds.  His  enormous  body  swells. 
His  plaited  tail,  brandished  high,  floats  upon  the 
lake.  The  waters  like  a  cataract  descend  fiom  his 
opening  jaws.  Clouds  of  smoke  issue  from  his  di- 
lated nostrils.  The  earth  trembles  with  his  thunder. 
When  immediately  from  the  opposite  coast  of  the 
lagoon,  emerges  from  the  deep  his  rival  champion. 
They  suddenly  dart  upon  each  other.  The  boiling 
surface  of  the  lake  marks  their  rapid  course,  and 
a  terrific  conflict  commences.  They  now  sink  to 
the  bottom  folded  together  in  horrid  wreaths.  The 
water  becomes  thick  and  discoloured.  Again  they 
rise,  their  jaws  clap  together,  re-echoing  through 
the  deep  surrounding  forests.  Again  they  sink, 
when  the  contest  ends  at  the  muddy  bottom  of  the 
lake,  and  the  vanquished  makes  a  hazardous  es- 
cape, hiding  himself  in  the  muddy  turbulent  waters 
and  sedge  on  a  distant  shore.  The  proud  victor  ex- 
ulting returns  to  the  place  of  action.  The  shores 
and  forests  resound  his  dreadful  roar,  together  with 
the  triumphing  shouts  of  the  plaited  tribes  aiound, 
witnesses  of  the  horrid  combat. 

My  apprehensions  were  highly  alarmed  after 
being  a  spectator  of  so  dreadful  a  battle.  It  was 
obvious  that  every  delay  would  but  tend  to  in- 
crease my  dangers  and  difficulties,  as  the  sun  was 
near  setting,  and  the  alligators  gathered  around  my 
harbour  from  all  quarters.  From  these  considera- 
tions I  concluded  to  be  expeditious  in  my  trip  to  the 
lagoon,  in  order  to  take  some  fish.  Not  thinking  it 
prudent  to  take  my  fusee  with  me,  lest  I  might  lose 
it  overboard  in  case  of  a  battle,  which  I  had  every 
reason  to  dread  before  my  return,  I  therefore  fur- 
nished myself  with  a  club  for  my  defence,  went  on 
board,  and  penetrating  the  first  line  of  those  which 
surrounded  my  harbour,  they  gave  way;  but  being 
pursued  by  several  very  large  ones,  I  kept  strictly  on 
the  watch,  and  paddled  with  all  my  might  towards  the 
entrance  of  the  lagoon,  hoping  to  be  sheltered  there 
from  the  multitude  of  my  assailants;  but  ere  I  had 
half-way  reached  the  place,  I  was  attacked  on  all 
sides,  several  endeavouring  to  overset  the  canoe. 
My  situation  now  became  precarious  to  the  Inst  de- 
gree: two  very  large  ones  attacked  me  closely,  at 
the  same  instant,  rushing  up  with  their  heads  and 
part  of  their  bodies  above  the  water,  roaring  terri- 
bly aud  belching  floods  of  water  over  me.  They 
struck  their  jaws  together  so  close  to  my  ears,  as  al- 
most to  stun  me,  and  I  expected  every  moment  to  be 
dragged  out  of  the  boat  and  instantly  devoured. 
But  I  applied  my  weapons  so  effectually  about  me, 
though  at  random,  that  I  was  so  successful  as  to 
beat  them  off  a  little;  when  finding  that  they  de- 


WILLIAM  BAETRAM. 


227 


signed  to  renew  the  battle,  I  made  for  the  shore,  as 
the  only  means  left  me  for  my  preservation  ;  for,  by 
keeping  close  to  it,  I  should  have  my  enemies  on 
one  side  of  me  only,  whereas  I  was  before  sur- 
rounded by  them ;  and  there  was  a  probability,  if 
pursued  to  the  last  extremity,  of  saving  myself  by 
jumping  out  of  the  canoe  on  shore,  as  it  is  easy  to 
outwalk  them  on  land,  although  comparatively  as 
swift  as  lightning  in  the  water.  I  found  this  last 
experiment  alone  could  fully  answer  my  expectations, 
for  as  soon  as  I  gained  the  shore,  they  drew  off  and 
kept  aloof.  This  was  a  happy  relief,  as  my  confi- 
dence was,  in  some  degree,  recovered  by  it.  On 
recollecting  myself,  I  discovered  that  I  had  almost 
reached  the  entrance  of  the  lagoon,  and  determined 
to  venture  in,  if  possible,  to  take  a  few  fish,  and  then 
return  to  my  harbour,  while  daylight  continued ; 
for  I  could  now,  with  caution  and  resolution,  make 
my  way  with  safety  along  shore  ;  and  indeed  there 
was  no  other  way  to  regain  my  camp,  without  leav- 
'  ing  my  boat  and  making  my  retreat  through  the 
marshes  and  reeds,  which,  if  I  could  even  effect, 
would  have  been  in  a  manner  throwing  myself 
away,  for  then  there  would  have  been  no  hopes  of 
ever  recovering  my  bark,  and  returning  in  safety  to 
any  settlements  of  men.  I  accordingly  proceeded, 
and  made  good  my  entrance  into  the  lagoon,  though 
not  without  opposition  from  the  alligators,  who 
formed  a  line  across  the  entrance,  but  did  not  pur- 
sue me  into  it,  nor  was  I  molested  by  any  there, 
though  there  were  some  very  large  ones  in  a  cove  at 
the  upper  end.  I  soon  caught  more  trout  than  I 
had  present  occasion  for,  and  the  air  was  too  hot 
and  sultry  to  admit  of  their  being  kept  for  many 
hours,  even  though  salted  or  barbecued.  I  now 
prepared  for  my  return  to  camp,  which  I  succeeded 
in  with  but  little  trouble,  by  keeping  close  to  the 
shore  ;  yet  I  was  opposed  upon  re-entering  the  river 
out  of  the  lagoon,  and  pursued  near  to  my  landing 
(though  not  closely  attacked),  particularly  by  an 
old  daring  one,  about  twelve  feet  in  length,  who 
kept  close  after  me;  and  when  I  stepped  on  shore 
and  turned  about,  in  order  to  draw  up  my  canoe,  he 
rushed  up  near  my  feet,  and  lay  there  for  some 
time,  looking  me  in  the  face,  his  head  and  shoulders 
out  of  water.  I  resolved  he  should  pay  for  his 
temerity,  and  having  a  heavy  load  in  my  fusee,  I 
ran  to  my  camp,  and  returning  with  my  piece, 
found  him  with  his  foot  on  the  gunwale  of  the  boat, 
in  search  of  fish.  On  my  coming  up  lie  withdrew 
sullenly  and  slowly  into  the  water,  but  soon  re- 
turned and  placed  himself  in  his  former  position, 
looking  at  me,  and  seeming  neither  fearful  nor  any 
way  disturbed.  I  soon  dispatched  him  by  lodging 
the  contents  of  my  gun  in  his  head,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  cleanse  and  prepare  my  fish  for  supper: 
and  accordingly  took  them  out  of  the  boat,  laid 
them  down  on  the  sand  close  to  the  water,  and 
began  to  scale  them  :  when,  raising  my  head,  I  saw 
before  me,  through  the  clear  water,  the  head  and 
shoulders  of  a  very  large  alligator,  moving  slowly 
towards  me.  I  instantly  stepped  back,  when,  with 
a  sweep  of  iiis  tail,  he  brushed  off  several  of  my  fish. 
It  was  certainly  most  providential  that  I  looked  up 
at  that  instant,  as  the  monster  would  probably,  in 
less  than  a  minute,  have  seized  and  dragged  me  into 
the  river.  This  incredible  boldness  of  the  animal 
disturbed  me  greatly,  supposing  there  could  now  be 
no  reasonable  safety  for  me  during  the  night,  but  by 
keeping  constantly  on  the  watch  ;  I  therefore,  as 
soon  as  I  had  prepared  the  fish,  proceeded  to  secure 
myself  and  effects  in  the  best  manner  I  could.  In 
the  first  place,  I  hauled  my  bark  upon  the  shore, 
almost  clear  out  of  the  water,  to  prevent  their  over- 
setting or  sinking  her;  after  this,  every  moveable 


was  taken  out  and  carried  to  my  camp,  which  was 
but  a  few  yards  off;  then  ranging  some  dry  wood 
in  such  order  as  was  the  most  convenient,  I  cleared 
the  ground  round  about  it,  that  there  might  be  no 
impediment  in  my  way,  in  case  of  an  attack  in  the 
night,  cither  from  the  water  or  the  land  ;  for  I  dis- 
covered by  this  time,  that  this  small  isthmus,  from 
its  remote  situation  and  fruitfulness,  was  resorted  to 
by  bears  and  wolves.  Having  prepared  myself  in 
the  best  manner  I  could,  I  charged  my  gun,  and 
proceeded  to  reconnoitre  my  camp  and  the  adjacent 
grounds ;  when  I  discovered  that  the  peninsula  and 
grove,  at  the  distance  of  about  two  hundred  yards 
from  my  encampment,  on  the  land  side,  were  in- 
vested by  a  cypress  swamp,  covered  with  water, 
which  below  was  joined  to  the  shore  of  the  little 
lake,  and  above  to  the  marshes  surrounding  the  la- 
goon; so  that  I  wasconfined  to  an  island  exceedingly 
circumscribed,  and  I  found  there  was  no  other  re- 
treat for  me,  in  case  of  an  attack,  but  by  either  as- 
cending one  of  the  large  oaks,  or  pushing  off  with 
my  boat, 

It  was  by  this  time  dusk,  and  the  alligators  had 
nearly  ceased  their  roar,  when  I  was  again  alarmed 
by  a  tumultuous  noise  that  seemed  to  be  in  my  har- 
bour, and  therefore  engaged  my  immediate  attention. 
Returning  to  my  camp,  I  found  it  undisturbed,  and 
then  continued  on  to  the  extreme  point  of  the  pro- 
montory, where  I  saw  a  scene,  new  and  surprising, 
which  at  first  threw  my  senses  into  such  a  tumult, 
that  it  was  some  time  before  I  could  comprehend 
wrhat  was  the  matter;  however,  I  soon  accounted 
for  this  prodigious  assemblage  of  crocodiles  at  this 
place,  which  exceeded  everything  of  the  kind  I  had 
ever  heard  of. 

How  shall  I  express  myself  so  as  to  convey  an  ade- 
quate idea  of  it  to  the  reader,  and  at  the  same  time 
avoid  raising  suspicions  of  my  veracity  ?  Should  I 
say,  that  the  river  (in  this  place)  from  shore  to 
shore,  and  perhaps  near  half  a  mile  above  and  below 
me.  appeared -to  be  one  solid  bank  offish,  of  various 
kinds,  pushing  through  this  narrow  pass  of  St.  Juan's 
into  the  little  lake,  on  their  return  down  the  river, 
and  that  the  alligators  were  in  such  incredible  num- 
bers, and  so  close  together  from  shore  to  shore,  that 
it  would  have  been  easy  to  have  walked  across  on 
their  heads,  had  the  animals  been  harmless!  What 
expressions  can  sufficiently  declare  the  shocking  scene 
that  for  some  minutes  continued,  while  this  mighty 
army  of  fish  were  forcing  the  pass  ?  During  this  at- 
tempt, thousands,  I  may  say  hundreds  of  thousands, 
of  them  were  caught  and  swallowed  by  the  devour- 
ing alligators.  I  have  seen  an  alligator  take  up  out 
of  the  water  several  great  fish  at  a  time,  and  just 
squeeze  them  betwixt  his  jaws,  while  the  tails  of  the 
great  trout  flapped  about  his  eyes  and  lips,  ere  he 
had  swallowed  them.  The  horrid  noise  of  their 
closing  jaws,  their  plunging  amidst  the  broken 
banks  of  fish,  and  rising  with  their  prey  some  feet 
upright  above  the  water,  the  floods  of  water  and 
blood  rushing  out  of  their  mouths,  and  the  clouds  of 
vapour  issuing  from  their  wide  nostrils,  were  truly 
frightful,  Thisseeue  continued  at  intervals  during  the 
night,  as  the  fish  came  to  the  pass.  After  this  Bight, 
shocking  and  tremendous  as  it  was,  I  found  myself 
somewhat  easier  and  more  reconciled  to  my  situa- 
tion ;  being  convinced  that  their  extraordinary  as- 
semblage here  was  owing  to  this  annual  feast  of 
fish  ;  and  that  they  were  so  well  employed  in  their 
own  element,  that  I  had  little  occasion  to  fear  their 
paying  me  a  visit. 

It  being  now  almost  night,  I  returned  to  my  camp, 
where  I  had  left  my  fish  boiling,  and  my  kettle  of 
rice  stewing;  and  having  with  me  oil,  pepper,  and 
salt,  and  excellent  oranges  hanging  in  abundance 


22S 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMEEICAN  LITERATURE 


over  my  head  (a  valuable  substitute  for  vinegar),  I 
sat  down  and  regaled  myself  cheerfully.  Having 
finished  my  repast,  I  rekindled  nry  fire  for  light  and 
whilst  I  was  revising  the  notes  of  my  past  day's 
journey,  I  was  suddenly  roused  with  a  noise  behind 
me  toward  the  main  land.  I  sprang  up  on  my  feet, 
and  listening,  I  distinctly  heard  some  creature 
wading  in  the  water  of  the  isthmus.  I  seized  my 
gun  and  went  cautiously  from  my  camp,  directing 
my  steps  towards  the  noise :  when  I  had  advanced 
about  thirty  yards,  I  halted  behind  a  coppice  of 
orange  trees,  and  soon  perceived  two  very  large 
bears,  which  had  made  their  way  through  the 
water,  and  had  landed  in  the  grove,  about  one  hun- 
dred yards'  distance  from  me,  and  were  advancing 
towards  me.  I  waited  until  they  were  within 
thirty  yards  of  me:  they  there  began  to  snutf  and 
look  towards  my  camp:  I  snapped  my  piece  hut  it 
flashed,  on  which  they  both  turned  about  and  gal- 
loped off,  plunging  through  the  water  and  swamp, 
never  halting,  as  I  suppose,  until  they  reached 
fast  land,  as  1  could  hear  them  leaping  and  plunging 
a  long  time.  They  did  not  presume  to  return 
again,  nor  was  I  molested  by  any  other  creatures 
except  being  occasionally  awakened  by  the  whoop- 
ing of  owls,  screaming  of  bitterns,  or  the  wood-rats 
running  ampngst  the  leaves. 


EVENING  SCENE  IN  FLOEIDA. 


We  approached  the  savanna  at  the  south  end  by 
a  narrow  isthmus  of  level  ground,  open  to  the  light 
of  day,  and  clear  of  trees  or  bushes,  and  not  greatlv 
elevated  above  the  common  level,  having  on  our 
right  a  spacious  meadow,  embellished  with  a  little 
lake,  one  verge  of  which  was  not  very  distant  from 
us;  its  shore  is  a  moderately  high,  circular  bank, 
partly  encircling  a  cove  of  the  pond,  in  the  form  of 
a  half  moon;  the  water  is  clear  and  deep,  and,  at 
(he  distance  of  some  hundred  yards,  was  a  large 
floating  field  (if  I  may  so  express  myself)  of  the 
Nymphaea  nelumbo,  with  their  golden  blossoms 
waving  to  and  fro  on  their  lofty  stems.  Beyond 
these  fields  of  Nympham  were  spacious  plains,  en- 
compassed by  dark  groves,  opening  to  extensive 
pine  forests,  other  plains  still  appearing  beyond 
them. 

This  little  lake  and  surrounding  meadows  would 
have  been  alone  sufficient  to  surprise  and  delight 
the  traveller ;  but  being  placed  so  near  the  great  sa- 
vanna, the  attention  is  quickly  drawn  off,  and  wholly 
engaged  in  the  contemplation  of  the  unlimited,  va- 
ried, and  truly  astonishing  native  wild  scenes  of 
landscape  and  perspective,  there  exhibited  :  how 
is  the  mind  agitated  and  bewildered,  at  being  thus, 
as  it  were,  placed  on  the  borders  of  a  new  world! 
On  the  first  view  of  such  an  amazing  display  of  the 
wisdom  and  power  of  the  supreme  author  of  nature, 
the  mind  for  a  moment  seems  suspended,  and  im- 
pressed with  awe. 

This  isthmus  being  the  common  avenue  or  road 
of  Indian  travellers,  we  pitched  our  camp  at  a  small 
distance  from  it,  on  a  rising  knoll  near  the  verge  of 
the  savanna,  under  some  spreading  Live  Oaks;  this 
situation  was  open  and  airy,  and  gave  us  an  un- 
bounded prospect  over  the  .adjacent  plains.  Dewy 
evening  now  came  on ;  the  animating  breezes, 
which  cooled  and  tempered  the  meridian  hours 
of  this  sultry  season,  now  gently  ceased  ;  the  glori- 
ous sovereign  of  the  day,  calling  in  his  bright  beam- 
ing emanations,  left  us  in  his  absence  to  the  milder 
government  and  protection  of  the  silver  queen  of 
night,  attended  by  millions  of  brilliant  luminaries. 
The  thundering  alligator  had  ended  his  horrifying 
roar;  the  silver  plumed  gannet  and  stork,  the  sage 
and  solitary  pelican  of  the  wilderness,  had  already 


retired  to  their  silent  nocturnal  habitations,  in  the 
neighbouring  forests;  the  sonorous  savanna  cranes, 
in  well-disciplined  squadrons,  now  rising  from  the 
earth,  mounted  aloft  in  spiral  circles,  far  above  the 
dense  atmosphere  of  the  humid  plain ;  they  again 
viewed  the  glorious  sun,  and  the  light  of  day  still 
gleaming  on  their  polished  feathers,  they  sung 
their  evening  hymn,  then  in  a  straight  line  majesti- 
cally descended,  and  alighted  on  the  towering 
Palms  or  lofty  Pines,  their  secure  and  peaceful 
lodging  places.  All  around  being  still  and  silent, 
we  repaired  to  rest. 

EDWAED  BANCEOTT. 
Of  this  political  writer,  who  figured  in  England 
during  the  Revolution,  we  find  an  account  in  the 
Autobiography  of  John  Adams,*  from  which  it 
appears  that  he  was  a  native  of  Massachusetts 
Bay,  in  the  town  of  Suffield;  that  he  had  been 
a  pupil  of  Silas  Deane,  when  that  negotiator  was 
a  schoolmaster  ;  that  after  "  some  education"  he 
had  been  apprenticed  to  a  trade,  from  which  he 
ran  away  and  went  to  sea,  in  debt  to  his  master ; 
that  he  was  successful  in  his  adventures,  and  re- 
turned to  his  native  town  to  make  honorable 
compensation  to  his  employer :  after  this  that  he 
"went  to  sea  again,"  reappearing  in  England, 
where  he  took  up  his  residence  and  published  his 
Natural  History  of  Guiana,  "  a  work,  considering 
the  advantages  of  the  author,  of  great  merit;" 
that  in  addition  he  wrote  in  England  the  History 
of  Sir  Charles  Wentworth,  "  a  novel  which  no 
doubt  was  recommended  to  many  readers,  and 
procured  a  considerably  better  sale,  by  the  plen- 
tiful abuse  and  vilification  of  Christianity  which 
he  had  taken  care  to  insert  into  it ;"  that  '■  he  had 
also  been  in  the  intimacy  and  confidence  of  Dr. 
Franklin,  who  had  recommended  him  to  the  edi- 
tors and  proprietors  of  the  Monthly  Retiew,  in 
which  his  standing  share  was  to  review  all  publi- 
cations relative  to  America."  Adams  adds  that 
he  had  this  latter  information  from  Franklin  him- 
self, and  says — "  I  understood  this  very  well,  as  I 
thought — to  wit  that  Bancroft  was  the  ostensible 
reviewer,  but  that  Franklin  was  always  consulted 
before  the  publication."  The  other  details  given 
by  Adams  are  curious.  "  Bancroft,"  he  goes  on 
to  sav  from  information  given  by  the  personage 
himself,  "  was  a  meddler  in  the  stocks  as  well  as 
reviews,  and  frequently  went  into  the  alley,  and 
into  the  deepest  and  darke-t  retirements  and  re- 
cesses of  the  brokers  and  jobbers,  Jews  as  well 
as  Christians,  and  found  amusement  as  well  per- 
haps as  profit,  by  listening  to  all  the  news  and 
anecdotes,  true  or  false,  that  were  there  whis- 
pered or  more  boldly  pronounced."  Bancroft 
became  afterwards  "  a  confidential  associate  of 
Franklin  in  Paris."  "  He  had,"  continues  Adams, 
"  a  clear  head  and  a  good  pen.  He  wrote  some 
things  relative  to  the  connection  between  France 
and  America,  with  the  assistance  of  Franklin  and 
Deane  as  I  presume,  which  were  translated  into 
French  by  SI.  Turgot  or  the  Duke  de  la  Rochefou- 
cauld, I  forget  which,  and  printed  in  a  publication 
called  Affaires  de  V  Angleterre  et  de  VAmerique, 
and  which  were  very  well  done.  After  the  peace 
he  obtained  a  patent  in  France  for  the  exclusive 
importation  of  the  bark  of  the  yellow  oak  for  the 

*  Works,  iii.  141. 


BENJAMIN  CHURCH. 


229 


dyers,  and  then  he  went  to  England  and  procured 
a  similar  patent  there,  by  both  of  which  together 
he  is  said  to  have  realized  an  income  of  eight 
hundred  a  year." 

The  work  on  Guiana  alluded  to,  was  published 
in  London  in  1769.*  It  is  in  the  form  of  letters 
addressed  to  his  brother  from  River  Demerary, 
in  1766,  and  is  dedicated  to  Dr.  William  Pitcairn, 
Fellow  of  the  Royal  College  of  Physicians  in 
London,  Bancroft  was  a  member  of  this  society, 
as  also  a  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society.  In  his 
book  are  described  the  wourali  poison,  and  other 
novelties  for  that  time,  of  the  country.  It  is  a 
readable  account  mainly  of  the  savages  and  ani- 
mals in  a  picturesque  region.  In  the  same  year 
he  published  a  volume  in  support  of  American 
Colonial  Rights,  entitled  Remarks  on  the  Review 
of  the  Controversy  between  Great  Britain  and 
her  Colonies,  the  author  of  the  review  in  question 
being  William  Knox,  Under-Secretary  of  State.t 

When  Bancroft  went  to  Paris,  as  stated  by  Ad- 
ams, it  was  to  meet  Deane  and  render  assistance  to 
the  American  cause.  He  is  also  remembered  as  the 
authority,  with  Priestley,  for  the  story  of  Frank- 
lin's having  worn  the  Court  suit  of  "  spotted 
Manchester  velvet,"  in  which  he  was  dressed  at 
the  Privy  Council  •  meeting  with  Wedderburn, 
again  at  the  signing  of  the  treaty  with  France. 
Bancroft  was  present  at  the  Privy  Council  scene, 
and  subsequently  gave  an  account  of  the  whole 
aftair  to  William  Temple  Franklin.];  His  name 
appears  occasionally  in  the  Franklin  Correspon- 
dence. 

In  1794,  Bancroft  published  the  first  volume 
of  a  work  entitled  Experimental  Researches  con- 
cerning the  Philosophy  of  Permanent  Colors,  and 
the  best  means  of  producing  them  by  dyeing,  calico 
printing,  &c,  followed  by  a  second  in  1813. 

He  never  returned  to  America.  His  death  oc- 
curred in  1821.§ 

BENJAMIN  CHURCH.' 

Benjamix  CrroRcri  was  born  at  Newport,  Rhode 
Island,  August  24,  1734.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
deacon  of  the  same  name  in  Dr.  Byles's  Church  in 
Boston,  and  entered  the  Latin  school  of  that  city 
in  1745.  In  1754  he  was  graduated  at  Harvard. 
His  first  poetical  production,  The  Choice,  a  poem, 
after  the  manner  of  Mr.  Pomfret,  by  a  young 
Gentleman,  was  composed  while  he  was  at  col- 


*  An  Essay  on  the  Natural  History  of  Guiana  in  South  Ame- 
rica, containing  a  description  of  many  curious  Productions  in 
the  Animal  and  Vegetable  Systems  of  that  Country.  Together 
with  an  Account  of  the  Religion,  Manners,  and  Customs,  of 
several  tribes  of  its  Indian  inhabitants,  interspersed  with  a 
variety  of  Literary  and  Medical  Observations;  in  several  let- 
ters from  a  gentleman  of  the  Medical  Faculty  (luring  his  resi- 
dence in  that  country.    Loudon:  Becket.    1769.    8vo. pp. 402. 

T  Remarks  on  the  Review  of  the  Controversy  between 
Great  Britain  and  her  Colonies,  in  which  the  Errors  of  its 
Author  are  exposed,  and  the  Claims  of  the  Colonies  vindicated, 
upon  the  evidence  of  Historical  Facts  and  authentic  records, 
to  which  is  subjoined  a  proposal  for  terminating  the  present 
unhappy  dispute  with  the  Colonies;  recovering  their  Com- 
merce; reconciliating  their  Affection;  securing  their  rights; 
and  establishing  their  dependence  on  a  just  and  permanent 
basis.  Huiubiy  submitted  to  the  consideration  of  the  British 
Legislature.     By  Edward  Bancroft. 

Consiiia  qui  dant  prava  cautis  hominibus, 
Et  perdunt  operain  et  deridentur  turpiter. 

Phced.  Fab.  xxv. 
London:  Printed  in  the  year  17R9.    New-London,  in  New  Eng- 
land: Reprinted  and  Sold  bv  T.  Green.     1771.     b'vo.  pp.  ISO. 
.     X  Sparks's  Franklin,  iv.  483. 

§  Rose,  Biog.  Diet. 


lege.*  It  is  smoothly  written,  and  among  the 
best  of  the  many  imitations  of  that  pleasant  cas- 
tle in  the  air. 

In  this  poem  the  author  warms  with  his  favor- 
ite tastes  in  book<,  for  rural  and  domestic  life. 
In  the  first  he  shows  his  attachment  to  the  ruling 
poet  of  the  day,  "  unequalled  Pope."  His  choice 
in  a  wife  and  a  country-seat  is  to  be  commended. 
With  Freneau  he  has  the  honor  of  helping 
Campbell  with  a  line  and  an  idea.  Noticing  the 
physician  Boerhaave,  he  writes  of  his  death  — 

At  length,  fatigu'd  with  life,  he  bravely  fell, 
And  Health,  with  Boerhaave,  bade  the  world  fare- 
well ; 

which  will  recall  the  lines  in  the  Pleasures  of 
Hope,  written  nearly  hah'  a  century  later,  where 

Hope  for  a  season  bade  the  world  farewell, 
And  Freedom  shriek'd  as  Kosciusko  fell. 

The  coincidence  is  creditable  to  Benjamin  Church 
at  the  age  of  eighteen. 

He  appears  to  have  next  studied  medicine  in 
London,  and  while  in  England  married  Miss 
Hannah  Hill  of  Ross  (Pope's  Ross,).  He  returned 
to  Boston,  where  he  established  himself  in  the 
practice  of  his  profession.  He  contributed  one 
or  two  English  poems  to  the  Piefas  et  Gratulatio, 
a  volume  of  congratulatory  verses  in  Latin,  Greek, 
and  English,  addressed  to  George  III.  on  his 
accession,  by  members  of  Harvard  College.  In 
1765  lie  published  The  Times,  a  poem  by  an  Ame- 
rican, in  an  anonymous  pamphlet  of  sixteen  pa- 
ges. It  was  written  soon  after  the  passage  of  the 
stamp  act,  and  its  satire  is  chiefly  directed  against 
that  measure  and  its  abettors.  In  1766  he  wrote 
an  Elegy  on  the  death  of  Dr.  Mayhew,  which  is 
characterized  by  much  more  than  the  ordinary 
vigor  sufficient  for  such  productions.  His  in- 
troduction invoking  the  spirit  of  truth  over  the 
ashes  of  the  dead,  has  such  fines  as  these : — ■ 

Great  is  the  task  and  glorious  is  the  end, 
When  the  chaste  Muse  in  Virtue's  cause  engage; 
Tis  Iter's  to  patronize,  protect,  defend, 
And  hold  th'  exemplars  to  a  distant  age. 

Deep  into  times  rolled  by — to  dart  her  ken, 
At  the  tribunal  of  her  lowly  mind, 
T'  arraign  the  conduct  of  the  mightiest  men, 
Acquit,  or  doom  the  Nimrods  of  mankind: 

and  in  1769  An  Address  to  a  Provincial  BasJiaw. 
By  a  Son  of  Liberty.  Printed  in  (the  Tyrannic 
Administration  of  St.  Francisco*)  1769.  Like 
The  Times,  it  is  full  of  the  warmest  expressions 
of  sympathy  with  the  popular  cause,  of  which 
the  author  was  now  one  of  the  recognised  leaders. 
In  1770  he  examined  the  body  of  Crispus  Attucks, 
the  mulatto  slain  in  the  Boston  massacre,  and  Ins 
depo.sition  appears  in  the  narrative  published  by 
the  town.  In  1773  he  delivered  an  oration  on 
the  fourth  anniversary  of  the  contest  in  the  Old 
South  church,  which  was  so  densely  crowded 
that  the  orator  and  moderator  of  the  meeting, 
John  Hancock,  had  to  be  introduced  through  a 
window.  Public  expectation  was  not  disap- 
pointed, the  address  being  received  with  "  univer- 


*  It  is  so  stated  in  a  reprint  of  the  poem  in  1S02,  by  Isaiah 
Thomas. 
t  Governor  Bernard. 


230 


CYCLOPiEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  OH  South  Church. 

sal  applause,"  and  soon  after  printed  by  request. 
It  maintains  its  place  in  public  estimation  as  one 
of  tbe  best  of  the  Boston  Massacre  orations.  In 
addition  to  these  productions  Church  wrote  An 
Elegy  to  the  memory  of  that  pious  and  eminent 
Servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  ike  Reverend  Mr.  George 
Whitefield,  on  his  death  September  30,  1770,  and 
was  a  frequent  contributor  of  pulitiral  essays  and 
popular  songs  to  the  periodicals  of  the  day.  He 
was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Massachusetts  Legis- 
lature and  of  the  Provincial  Congress  in  1774, 
and  in  the  same  year  physician-general  to  the 
American  army. 

Church  resided  in  an  elegant  mansion  at  Bayn- 
ham,  on  Nippenickett  pond,  near  Boston,  which 
he  had  erected  about  the  year  1768,  and  where 
he  appears  to  have  led  an  extravagant  and  licen- 
tious life.  "Want  of  money  to  support  wasteful 
expenditure  seems,  as  in  the  case  of  Arnold,  to 
have  led  to  the  treason  which  suddenly  changed 
a  career  of  honor  to  one  of  infamy.  In  1774 
Church  was  found  to  have  written  parodies  of 
popular  songs  composed  by  himself  in  favor  of 
liberty,  for  the  Tory  journals.  It  was  also  noticed 
that  his  articles  in  defence  of  the  American  cause 
were  followed  by  ably  written  answers  in  the 
government  journals.  General  Gage  was  also 
found  to  be  constantly  informed  in  relation  to 
the  patriot  movements.  Soon  after  the  battle  of 
Lexington  in  1775  further  suspicion  was  excited 
by  a  visit  which  Church  made  to  Boston  on  the 
pretext  of  obtaining  medicines  for  the  use  of  the 
army.  He  stated  on  his  return  that  he  was  ar- 
rested on  crossing  the  lines  and  taken  before 
General  Gage,  who  examined  him ;  but  on  the  sub- 
sequent testimony  of  Deacon  Caleb  Davis,  who 
happened  to  call  at  Gage's  house  at  the  same  time, 
he  appears  to  have  visited  Gage  more  as  a  friend 
than  a  prisoner.  The  charge  of  treasonable  con- 
duct seems  to  be  further  established  by  the  testi- 
mony of  "  a  gentleman  who  studied  with  Church," 
who  stated  to  Paul  Revere,  of  Boston,  a  year  or 
two  after,  that  he  knew  for  certain  that,  a  short 
time  before  the  Battle  of  Lexington — for  he  then 


lived  with  him  and  took  care  of  his  business  and 
books — he  had  no  money  by  him,  and  was  much 
drove  for  money ;  that  all  at  once  he  had  several 
hundred  new  British  guineas. 

This  double  dealing  was  soon  to  be  closed.  On 
the  fifth  of  October  of  the  same  year  Washington 
writes  to  Hancock :  "  I  Lave  now  a  painful, 
though  necessary  duty  to  perform,  respecting  Dr. 
Church,  director-general  of  the  hospital.  About 
a  week  ago,  Mr.  Secretary  Ward  of  Providence, 
sent  up  to  me  one  Wainwood,  an  inhabitant  of 
Newport,  with  a  letter  directed  to  Major  Cane  in 
Boston,  in  characters ;  which  he  said,  had  been 
left  with  Wainwood  some  time  ago,  by  a  woman 
who  was  kept  by  Dr.  Church.  She  had  before 
pressed  Wainwood  to  take  her  to  Capt.  Wallace, 
at  Newport,  Mr.  Dudley  the  collector,  or  George 
Eowe,  which  he  declined.  She  then  gave  him  a 
letter,  with  a  strict  charge  to  deliver  it  to  either 
of  those  gentlemen.  He  suspecting  some  im- 
proper correspondence,  kept  the  letter,  and  after 
soine  time  opened  it;  but  not  being  able  to  read 
it,  laid  it  up,  where  it  remained  until  he  received 
an  obscure  letter  from  the  woman,  expressing  an 
anxiety  after  the  original  letter.  He  then  com- 
municated the  whole  matter  to  Mr.  Ward,  who 
sent  him  up  with  the  papers  to  me.  I  immedi- 
ately secured  the  woman  ;  Tjut  for  a  long  time  she 
was  proof  against  every  threat  and  persuasion  to 
discover  the  author.  However,  at  length  she 
was  brought  to  a  confession,  and  named  Dr. 
Church.  I  then  immediately  secured  him,  and 
all  his  papers.  Upon  his  first  examination,  he 
readily  acknowledged  the  letter;  said  it  was  de- 
signed for  his  brother  Fleming,  and  when  deci- 
phered would  be  found  to  contain  nothing  crimi- 
nal. He  acknowledged  his  never  having  commu- 
nicated the  correspondence  to  any  person  here 
but  the  girl,  and  made  many  protestations  of  the 
purity  of  his  intentions.  Baving  found  a  person 
capable  of  deciphering  the  letter,  I,  in  the  mean- 
time, had  all  his  papers  searched,  but  found 
nothing  criminal  among  them.  But  it  appeared, 
on  inquiry,  that  a  confidant  -had  been  among 
the  papers  before  my  messenger  arrived." 

Church  was  convicted,  by  the  General  Court, 
notwithstanding  an  eloquent  defence  made  by 
himself,  in  which  he  endeavored  to  prove  that 
his  communications  to  the  enemy  were  designed 
to  impress  them  with  "a  high  opinion  of  the 
strength  of  the  Americans,  in  order  that  the  medi- 
tated attack  might  be  delayed  till  the  continental 
army  was  stringer,''*  and  to  obtain  information 
from  the  royalist  forces  which  he  had  imparted 
to  the  American  leaders  and  used  for  the  benefit 
of  his  country.!  He  was  expelled  from  the 
House  of  Representatives  of  the  State,  and  con- 
victed by  a  court-martial  at  which  Washington 
presided.  His  sentence  was  referred  to  Congress, 
and  that  body  resolved  that  he  be  closely  confined 
in  some  secure  jail  in  Connecticut,,  without  the 
use  of  pen,  ink,  and  paper ;  and  that  no  person 
be  allowed  to  converse  with  him  except  in  the 
presence  and  hearing  of  a  magistrate,  or  the  sheriff 
of  the  county. I  He  was  consequently  imprisoned 
in  Norwich  jail,  but  his  health  failing,  was  re- 


*  Kettel!,  i.  147. 

t  Church's  Defence  is  published  in  the  Mass.  Hist.  Coil 

X  Itolines's  Aunals,  ii.  235. 


BENJAMIN  CHURCH. 


231 


leased  in  May,  1776,  and  permitted  to  leave  the 
country.  He  sailed  from  Boston*  for  the  West 
Indies  in  a  vessel  which  was  never  afterwards 
heard  from.  His  family  received  a  pension  from 
the  English  crown. 

THE    CHOICE — A  TOEM. 

If  youthful  fancy  might  it's  Choice  pursue, 
And  act  as  natural  reason  prompts  it  to ; 
If  inclination  could  dispose  our  state, 
And  human  will  might  govern  future  fate  ; 
Remote  from  grandeur,  I'd  be  humbly  wise, 
And  all  the  glitter  of  a  court  despise: 
Dnskil'd  the  proud,  or  vicious  to  commend, 
To  cringe  to  insolence,  or  fools  attend ; 
Within  myself  contented  and  secure, 
Above  what  mean  ambition  can  endure  ; 
Nor  yet  so  anxious  to  obtain  a  name. 
To  bleed,  for  honour  on  the  fields  of  fame  ; 
Empty  parade,  is  all  that  heroes  know, 
Unless  fair  Virtue  hover  in  the  show. 

But  in  these  walls,  where  Heav'n  has  fix'd  my  stay, 

One  half  of  life  I'd  wish  to  breathe  away : 

The  fall  and  winter  of  each  future  year 

I'd  humbly  hope  to  spend  contented  here ; 

'Mid  the  fierce  ravage  of  a  wintry  storm, 

Kind  friends  to  cheer  me,  moderate  wine  to  warm, 

Securely  happy  we'd  delude  the  day, 

And  smile  the  seasons  cheerfully  away, 

No  needless  show  my  modest  dome  should  claim, 

Neat  and  genteel  without,  within  the  same: 

Decently  furnish'd  to  content  and  please, 

Sufficient  for  necessity  and  ease; 

Vain  is  the  pomp  of  prodigal  expense, 

Frugality  denotes  the  man  of  sense; 

My  doors  the  needy  stranger  should  befriend, 

And  hospitality  my  board  attend  ; 

With  frugal  plenty  be  my  table  spread, 

Those,  and  those  only,  whom  I  love  be  fed: 

The  meek  and  indigent  my  banquet  share, 

Who  love  the  master,  and  approve  the  fare; 

Thy  mellow  vintage,  Lisbon!  should  abound, 

Pouring  a  mirthful  inspiration  round; 

While  laughing  Bacchus  bathes  within  the  bowl, 

Love,  mirth,  and  friendship  swallow  up  the  soul. 

I'd  have  few  friends,  and  those  by  nature  true, 
Sacred  to  friendship,  and  to  virtue  too; 
Tho'  but  to  few  an  intimate  protest, 
I'd  be  no  foe,  nor  useless  to  the  rest : 
Each  friend  belov'd  requires  a  friendly  care, 
His  griefs,  dejections,  and  his  fate  to  shnre  ; 
For  this  rny  choice  should  be  to  bounds  coufiu'd, 
Nor  with  a  burst  of  passion  flood  mankind. 

Above  the  rest,  one  dear  selected  friend, 
Kind  to  advise,  and  cautious  to  offend  ; 
To  malice,  envy,  and  to  pride  unknown, 
Nor  apt  to  censure  foibles,  but  his  own  ; 
Firm  in  religion,  in  his  morals  just, 
Wise  in  discerning,  and  advising  best ; 
Learn'd  without  pedantry,  in  temper  kind. 
Soft  in  his  manners,  happy  in  his  mind  ; 
Is  there  in  whom  these  social  virtues  blend, 
The  Muse  lisps  Pollio,  and  she  calls  him  friend : 
To  him,  when  flnsh'd  with  transport  I'd  repair, 
His  faithful  bosom  should  my  solace  share ; 


*  Tho  authorities  differ  both  as  to  the  birth-place  of  Dr. 
Church  and  the  port  from  which  he  finally  left  his  country; 
Boston  being  assigned  as  the  scene  of  both  exploits  by  some, 
and  Newport  by  others.  We  have  followed  in  both  cases  the 
narrative  of  Mr.  Lorinu,  in  the  Hundred  Boston  Orators, 
which  he  states  to  be  derived  from  a  descendant  of  Hannah, 
the  daughter  of  Dr.  Church,  and  wife  of  William  Kirkby,  a 
merchant  of  London. 


To  him  I'd  fly  when  sorrows  prove  too  great, 
To  him  discover  all  the  stings  of  fate: 
His  social  soul  should  all  my  pangs  allay, 
Tune  every  nerve  and  charm  my  griefs  away. 
0  how  I  wish  to  join  the  friendly  throng, 
Elude  the  hours,  and  harmonize  the  song  ; 
Eacli  generous  soul  still  sedulous  to  please, 
With  calm  good  temper,  and  with  mutual  ease  ; 
Glad  to  receive  and  give,  the  keen  reply, 
Nor  approbation  to  the  jest  deny. 

But  at  a  decent  hour  with  social  heart, 

In  love  and  humour  should  my  friends  depart : 

Then  to  my  study,  eager  I'd  repair, 

And  feast  my  miud  with  new  refreshment  there  ; 

There  plung'd  in  tho't  my  active  mind  should  tread, 

Through  all  the  labours  of  the  learned  dead ; 

Homer,  great  parent  of  heroiek  strains, 

Virgil,  whose  genius  was  improv'dwith  pains; 

Horace,  in  whom  the  Avit  and  courtier  join'd, 

Ovid,  the  tender,  amorous  and  refin'd  ; 

Keen  Juvenal,  whose  all-correcting  page, 

Lasli'd  daring  vice,  and  shain'd  an  impious  age  ; 

Expressive  Luean  who  politely  sung, 

With  hum'rous  Martial  tickling  as  he  stung  ; 

Elaborate  Terence,  studious  where  he  smil'd, 

Familiar  Plautus,  regularly  wild  ; 

With  frequent  visit  these  I  would  survey, 

And  read,  and  meditate  the  hours  away. 

Nor  these  alone  should  on  my  shelves  recline, 
But  awful  Pope!  majestically  shine, 
Unequal'd  bard!    Who  durst  thy  praise  engage? 
Not  yet  grown  reverend  with  the  rust  of  age; 
Sure  Heav'n  alone  thy  art  unrival'd  taught, 
To  think  so  well,  so  well  express  the  thought ; 
What  villain  hears  thee,  but  regrets  the  smart  ? 
But  tears  the  lurking  demon  from  his  heart? 
A^irtue  attends  thee  with  the  best  applause, 
Conscious  desert !  great  victor  in  her  cause, 
She  faithful  to  thy  worth,  thy  name  shall  grace, 
Beyond  all  period,  and  beyond  all  space: 
Go,  shine  a  seraph  and  thy  notes  prolong 
For  angels  only  merit  such  a  song ! 

Hail  Briton's  genius,  Milton!   deathless  name! 

Blest  with  a  full  satiety  of  fame: 

Who  durst  attempt  impertinence  of  praise  ? 

Or  sap  insidious  thy  eternal  bays? 

For  greater  song,  or  more  exalted  fame, 

Exceeds  humanity  to  make,  or  claim. 

These  to  peruse,  I'd  oft  forget  to  dine, 

And  suck  refection  from  each  mighty  line. 

Next  Addison's  great  labours  should' be  join'd, 

Prais'd  by  all  tongues  and  known  to  all  mankind  : 

With  Littleton  the  tender  and  correct, 

And  copious  Dryden,  glorious  in  defect; 

Nor  would  I  leave  the  great  and  pious  Young, 

Divinely  fir'd,  and  sublime  in  song. 

Next  would  I  add  the  unaffected  Gay, 

And  gentle  Waller,  with  his  flowing  lay  ; 

Last  nature-limning  Thomson  should  appear, 

Who  link'd  eternity  within  his  year. 

These  for  diversion,  with  the  comic  throng, 

Should  raise  my  fancy,  and  improve  my  song ; 

Extend  my  view,  'till  opening  visions  roll, 

And  all  Piaeria  burets  upon  my  souL 

But  to  inform  the  mind,  and  mend  the  heart, 
j    Great  Tillotson  and  Butler,  light  impart ; 
;   Sagacious  Newton,  with  all  science  blest, 

And  Locke,  who  always  thought  and  reason'd  best 

But  lo!  for  real  worth,  and  true  desert, 
Exhaustless  science,  and  extensive  art, 
Boerhaave  superior  stands  ;  in  whom  we  find 
The  other  Saviour  of  diseas'd  mankind : 


232 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAS"  LITERATURE. 


Whose  skilful  hand  could  almost  life  create, 
And  make  us  leap  the  very  bounds  of  fate ; 
Death,  tyrant  death,  beholding  his  decline, 
That  Boerhaave  would  his  kingdom  undermine, 
Arm'd  with  his  surest  shafts  attaek'd  this  foe, 
Who  long  eluded  the  repeated  throw, 
At  length  fatigu'd  with  life,  he  bravely  fell, 
And  health  with  Boerhaave  bade  the  world  farewell. 
Thus  'till  the  year  recedes,  I'd  be  employed, 
Ease,  health  and  friendship  happily  enjoy'd; 
But  when  the  vernal  sun  revolves  its  ray, 
Melting  hoar  winter  with  her  rage  away, 
When  vocal  groves  a  gay  perspective  yield, 
And  a  new  verdure  springs  from  field  to  field: 
With  the  first  larks  I'd  to  the  plains  retire, 
For  rural  pleasures  are  my  chief  desire. 

Ah  doubly  blest!  on  native  verdure  laid, 

Whose  fields  support  him,  and  whose  arbours  shade ; 

In  his  own  hermitage  in  peace  resides, 

Faun'd  by  his  breeze,  and  slumb'ring  by  his  tides: 

Who  drinks  a  fragrance  from  paternal  groves, 

Nor  lives  ungrateful  for  the.  life  he  loves. 

I'd  have  a  handsome  seat  not  far  from  town, 
The  prospect  beauteous,  and  the  taste  my  own; 
The  fabrick  modern,  faultless  the  design, 
Not  large,  nor  yet  immoderately  fine ; 
But  neat  economy  my  mansion  boast, 
Nor  should  convenience  be  in  beauty  lost: 
Each  part  should  speak  superior  skill  and  care, 
And  all  the  artist  be  distinguish'd  there. 
On  some  small  elevation  should  it  stand, 
And  a  free  prospect  to  the  South  command ; 
Where  safe  from  damps  I'd  snuff  the  wholesome  gale, 
And  life  and  vigour  thro'  the  lungs  inhale  ; 
Eastward  my  moderate   fields   should  wave   with 

grain, 
Southward  the  verdure  of  a  broad  champaign ; 
Where  gamesome  flocks,  and  rampant  herds  might 

play, 
To  the  warm  sunshine  of  the  vernal  day ; 
Northward,  a  garden  on  a  slope  should  Me, 
Finely  adjusted  to  the  nicest  e}'e ; 
In  midst  of  this  should  stand  a  cherry  grove, 
A  breezy,  blooming  canopy  of  love ! 
Whose  blossom'd  boughs  the  tuneful  choir  should 

cheer, 
And  pour  regalement  on  the  eye  and  ear : 
A  gay  parterre  the  vivid  box  should  bound, 
To  waft  a  fragrance  thro'  the  fields  around ; 
Where  blushing  fruits  might  tempt  another  Eve, 
Without  another  serpent  to  deceive. 
Westward,  I'd  have  a  thick-set  forest  grow, 
Thro'  which  the  bounded  sight  should  scarcely  go  ; 
Confus'dly  rude,  the  scenery  should  impart, 
A  view  of  nature  unimprov'd  by  art. — 

Rapt  in  the  soft  retreat,  my  anxious  breast 
Pants  eager  still  for  something  unpossess'd  ; 
Whence  springs  this  sudden  hope,  this  warm  desire  ? 
To  what  enjoyment  would  my  soul  aspire? 
"Pis  love!  extend  my  wishes,  and  my  care, 
Eden  was  tasteless  'till  an  Eve  was  there: 
Almighty  love!  I  own  thy  powerful  swav, 
Resign  my  soul,  and  willingly  obey. 

Grant  me,  kind  heav'n,  the  nymph  still  forrn'd  to 

please,      ' 
Impassiouate  as  infants  when  at  ease ; 
Fair  as  the  op'ning  rose ;  her  person  small, 
Artless  as  parent  Eve  before  her  fall; 
Courteous  as  angels,  unre'serv'dlv  kind,     • 
Of  modest  carriage,  and  the  chastest  mind ; 
Her  temper  sweet,  her  conversation  keen, 
Not  wildly  gay,  but  soberly  serene ; 


Not  talkative,  nor  apt  to  take  offence. 
With  female  softness  join'd  to  manly  sense ; 
Her  dress  and  language  elegantly  plain. 
Not  sluttish,  forward,  prodigal,  or  vain  ; 
Not  proud  of  beauty,  nor  elate  with  praise, 
Not  fond  to  govern,  but  by  choice  obeys; 
True  to  my  arms  in  body  and  in  soul, 
As  the  touch'd  needle  to  th'  attractive  pole. 
Caution,  oppos'd  to  charms  like  these  were  vain. 
And  man  would  glory  in  the  silken  chain  ; 
Unlike  the  sensual  wish  that  burns  and  stains, 
But  where  the  purest  admiration  reigns ; 
Give  me,  0  give  me !  such  superior  love, 
Before  the  nectar  of  the  gods  above  ; 
Then  time  on  downy  wings  would  steal  away, 
And  love  still  be  the  business  of  the  day. 

While  sporting  flocks  in  fond  rotations  court, 

And  to  the  thicket  pair  by  pair  resort; 

While  tuneful  birds  in  tender  murmurings  plead, 

Chanting  their  amorous  carols  thro'  the  mead: 

Link'd  arm  in  arm  we'd  search  the  twilight  grove. 

Where  all  inspires  with  harmony  and  love: 

Ye  boughs,  your  friendly  umbrage  wide  extend! 

Guard  from  rude  eyes,  and  from  the  sun  defend :    . 

Ye  wanton  gales!  pant  gently  on  my  fair, 

Thou  love-inspiring  goddess  meet  us  there! 

While  soft  invited,  and  with  joy  obey'd, 

We  press  the  herbage,  and  improve  the  shade. 

But  is  th'  Almighty  ever  bound  to  please? 
Rul'd  by  my  wish,  or  studious  of  my  ease? 
Shall  I  determine  where  his  frowns  shall  fall? 
And  fence  my  grotto  from  the  lot  of  all! 
Prostrate,  his  sovereign  wisdom  I  adore, 
Intreat  his  mercy,  but  I  dare  no  more: 
No  constant  joys  mortality  attend, 
But  sorrows  violate,  and  cares  offend ; 
Heav'n  wisely  mixt  our  pleasures  with  alloy. 
And  gilds  our  sorrows  with  a  ray  of  joy ; 
Life  without  storms  a  stagnant  pool  appeare--, 
And  grows  offensive  with  unruffled  years. 
An  active  state  is  virtue's  proper  sphere, 
To  do,  and  suffer  is  our  duty  here : 
Foes  to  encounter,  vices  to  disdain, 
Pleasures  to  shun,  and  passions  to  restrain; 
To  fly  temptation's  open,  flow'ry  road, 
And  labour  to  be  obstinately  good. 

Then,  blest  is  he  who  takes  a  calm  survey, 
Of  all  th'  events  that  paint  the  checquer'd  day  ; 
Content,  that  blessing  makes  the  balance  evan, 
And  poises  fortune,  by  the  scale  of  heav'n. 

I'll  let  no  future  ill  my  peace  destroy, 
Or  cloud  the  aspect  of  apresent  joy ; 
He  who  directed  and  dispens'd  the  past, 
O'errules  the  present,  and  shall  guide  the  last, 
If  Providence  a  present  good  has  giv'n, 
I  clasp  the  boon  in  gratitude  to  heav'n: 
May  resignation  fortify  my  mind, 
He  cannot  be  unhappy  that's  resign'd. 
Guard  my  repose,  thou  Lord  of  all  within  ! 
An  equal  temper,  and  a  soul  serene , 

0 !  teach  me  patience  when  oppos'd  to  wrong. 

Restrain  the  mad'ning  heart,  and  curb  the  tongn"  ; 

May  prudence  govern,  piety  control, 

All' slander,  rage,  and  bitterness  of  soul: 

Peace,  plenty,  health  and  innocence  be  made. 

The  blissful  tenants  of  my  tranquil  shade. 

0  let  me  not  maliciously  comply, 

To  that  curst  action  that  shall  raise  a  sigh  : 

I   Or  cause  the  wretched  orphan  to  complain. 

I   Or  see  the  widow's  tears,  and  see  in  vain  : 
From  a  remorseless  soul  0  set  me  free, 

j   And  prompt  a  pang  for  every  wretoh  I  see. 


ELIZABETH  FERGUSON". 


233 


Whatever  station  be  for  me  design'd, 
May  virtue  be  the  mistress  of  my  mind: 
May  I  despise  th'  abandou'd  and  the  base, 
Tho'  opulent,  or  dignified  with  place  ; 
And  spurn  the  wretch,  who,  meanly  lost  to  shame, 
Thinks  wealth  or  place,  a  substitute  for  fame : 
If  wisdom,  wealth,  or  honour,  heav'n  lend, 
Teach  me  those  talents  happily  to  spend; 
Nor  make  so  blest,  as  I  would  wish  to  live, 
Beyond  those  moments  Heav'n  is  pleas'd  to  give ; 
Then  when  life  trembles  on  the  verge  of  rest, 
And  brings  expended  minutes  to  the  test ; 
Absolve  me  conscience,  thou  imperial  power! 
O  bless  me  with  a  self-approving  hour. 

ELIZABETH  FERGUSON". 
Elizabeth,  the  youngest  child  of  Dr.  Thomas 
Graeme,  a  distinguished  physician  of  Philadel- 
phia, and  a  grand-daughter  on  the  mother's  side 
of  Sir  William  Keith,  Governor  of  Pennsylvania, 
was  horn  in  the  year  1739.  Her  early  years  were 
passed  at  Graeme  Park,  the  country  seat  of  her 
father,  about  twenty  miles  from  Philadelphia,  a 
place  celebrated  alike  for  its  cultivated  beauties 
and  the  hospitalities  of  its  host ;  where  she  enjoyed 
the  society  of  a  numerous  and  refined  circle  of 
persons.  In  her  seventeenth  year  she  became 
engaged  to  a  young  gentleman.  The  marriage  was 
to  be  celebrated  after  his  return  from  a  residence 
in  London,  for  the  completion  of  his  legal  studies. 
The  match  was  for  unexplained  reasons  broken 
off,  an  event  productive  of  much  mental  suffering 
to  Miss  Graeme.  To  divert  her  mind  by  occupa- 
tion, she  commenced  and  completed  a  translation 
of  Fenelon,«  Telcmaqw  in  English  blank  verse. 
It  has  never  been  published,  but  the  MS.  has 
been  deposited  in  tho  Philadelphia  Library.  She 
devoted  herself  so  closely  to  this  task  that  her 
health  was  impaired,  ami  a  voyage  to  Europe  be- 
came necessary,  as  a  means  of  restoration.  Her 
mother  urged  her  departure  not  only  from  solici- 
tude for  tlie  daughter's  health,  but  from  astrange 
wish  that  her  mind  might  not  be  distracted  from 
spiritual  contemplation  by  her  daughter's  presence 
at  her  anticipated  speedy  dissolution. 

The  daughter  departed,  and  the  mother  died, 
as  she  had  anticipated,  during  her  absence. 

Miss  Graeme  was  accompanied  in  her  visit  to 
England  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Richard  Peters,  of  Phi- 
ladelphia, by  whom  she  was  introduced  to  many 
of  the  leading  literary  men  of  the  day.  Acciden- 
tally taking  a  seat  at  the  York  races,  next  to 
Lawrence  Sterne,  her  remark  on  betting  a  small 
sum  on  one  of  the  horses  in  the  rear  at  the  outset, 
that  "  the  race  was  not  always  to  the  swift  nor  the 
battle  to  the  strong,"  attracted  his  notice,  and  turn- 
ing to  her  he  requested  the  honor  of  her  acquain- 
tance. The  incident  was  followed  by  a  long  ami 
agreeable  conversation. 

She  was  much  visited  on  her  return,  and  a 
Journal  which  she  had  prepared  of  her  travels, 
was  much  sought  after.  She  was  urged  to  pub- 
lish it,  but  declined.  Her  society  was  eagerly 
sought,  and  on  Saturday  evenings,  when  she  re- 
mained at  home  to  receive  her  friends,  her  father's 
house  was  thronged  by  delighted  guests. 

One  of  these  Saturday  evening  visitors  was 
Mr.  Hugh  Henry  Ferguson,  a  handsome  young 
Scotchman,  who  was  so  charmed  by  his  hostess, 
that,  though  ten  years  her  junior,  he  offered  her 
his  hand.     He  was  accepted,  and  in  a  few  months 


married.  They  settled  at  Graeme  Park,  which, 
by  the  death  of  her  father,  had  become  Mrs.  Fer- 
guson's property,  where  they  resided  until  the 
outbreak  of  the  Revolution  in  1775  ;  when  the 
husband  took  the  side  of  the  Crown,  and  the  pair 
separated,  and  were  not  again  united.  Mrs.  Fer- 
guson remained  at  her  country  residence,  where 
she  performed  in  an  unostentatious  manner  many 
acts  of  benevolence,  among  which  are  recorded 
the  gift  of  a  large  quantity  of  linen  to  the  Ameri- 
can prisoners  taken  at  the  battle  of  Germautown, 
and  the  gift  of  twenty  .dollars,  the  eighth  part  of 
her  income  at  the  time,  to  a  ruined  merchant 
thrown  into  jail  by  his  creditors.  She  refused  to 
give  her  name  to  the  beneficiary,  and  the  good 
deed  was  only  discovered  by  his  description  of  her 
person  being  identified. 

Mrs.  Ferguson  figures  in  the  history  of  the  Re- 
volution as  the  bearer,  immediately  after  the 
British  occupation  of  Philadelphia,  of  an  offensive 
letter  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Duehe  to  Washington. 
The  General  sent  the  letter  to  Congress,  and  hint- 
ed to  Mrs.  Ferguson,  that  he  "  highly  disapproved 
the  intercourse  she  seemed  to  have  been  carrying 
on,  and  expected  it  would  be  discontinued."  She 
does  not  seem  to  have  profited  by  this,  as  Ave  soon 
after  find  her  mixed  up  in  the  proposal  of  Gover- 
nor Johnstone  to  offer  Joseph  Reed  "  ten  thou- 
sand guineas  and  the  best  post  in  the  government" 
to  exert  his  influence  with  Washington,  and  in 
other  directions,  "  to  settle  the  contest,"  the  only 
result  of  which  was  the  memorable  reply  of  Reed 
reported  by  Mrs.  Ferguson  in  a  narrative  of  the 
transaction,  which  she  afterwards  published  in  her 
own  defence.  "My  influence  is  but  small,  but 
were  it  as  great  as  Governor  Johnstone  would  in- 
sinuate, the  king  of  Great  Britain  has  nothing 
within  his  gift  that  would  tempt  me."*  ' 

Mrs.  Ferguson's  correspondence  is  spoken  of  as 
exerting  a  wide  influence,  and  evidencing  high 
intellectual  power.  Several  of  her  letters  have 
been  printed  in  the  Port  Folio.  Her  social  influ- 
ence was  also  great  and  beneficial  :  under  her 
care  her  nephew,  John  Young,  when  a  hoy  of 
twelve,  is  said  to  have  been  strangely  imbued  with 
a  taste  for  literature  by  being  locked  up  for  twen- 
ty-four hours  for  some  offence  by  his  aunt  in  her 
father's  library,  where  he,  to  relieve  his  imprison- 
ment, took  up  a  book  and  became  so  interested  in 
its  contents  that  he  not  only  read  other  books  un- 
der more  favorable  circumstances,  but  in  due  time 
made  a  contribution  to  literature  by  translating 
D'Argent's  Ancient  Geography.  He  died  a  Lieu- 
tenant in  the  British  army.  The  copy  of  his 
translation  in  the  Philadelphia  library  contains  a 
tribute  to  his  memory  by  Mrs.  Ferguson. 

Although  nearly  ruined  in  consequence  of  the 
war,  Mrs.  Ferguson  steadily  refused  to  receive  any 
of  the  pecuniary  aid  pressed  upon  her  by  her 
friends;  her  simple  mode  of  life  rendering  her  in- 
dependent. She  took  much  interest  in  theology; 
and  to  impress  the  Bible  more  firmly  on  her  me- 
mory, transcribed  its  entire  contents. 

During  the  latter  part  of  her  life,  she  suffered 
severe  pain  from  sickness.  She  died  on  the  twen- 
ty-third day  of  February,  1601,  at  the  house  of  a 
Quaker,  Seneca  Lukens,  near  Graeme  Park,  and 
was  interred,  in  accordance  with  her  previously 

*  Life  of  Joseph  Eeed,  by  Win.  B.  Reed.  i.  887. 


234 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


expressed  request,  beside  her  parents  in  the  grave- 
yard of  Christ  Church,  Philadelphia.* 

The  poems  of  Evans  contain  a  poetical  corres- 
pondence between  Miss  Graeme,  under  the  name 
of  Laura,  and  himself,  growing  out  of  a  passage  in 
Pope,  which  presents  a  pleasant  specimen  of  the 
lady's  early  versification,  We  extract  the  whole, 
as  the  individual  portions  mutually  illustrate  each 
other;  and  the  Rev.  Nathaniel  Evans  being  but 
a  few  years  the  lady's  junior,  is  soon  to  be  in  due 
course  presented  to  the  reader. 

60ME  LINES  OUT  OF  ME.  POPE'S  ELOI5E  TO  AEET.AKO. 

How  happy  is  the  blameless  vestal's  lot  ? 
The  world  forgetting,  by  the  world  forgot; 
Eternal  sunshine  of  the  spotless  mind ; 
Each  prayer  accepted  and  each  wish  resign'd : 
Labour  and  rest,  that  equal  periods  keep ; 
Obedient  slumbers,  that  can  wake  and  weep ; 
Desires  compos'd,  affections  ever  even ; 
Tears  that  delight,  and  sighs  that  waft  to  heaven. 
Grace  shines  arouDd  her  with  serenest  beams. 
And  whisp'ring  angels  prompt  her  golden  dream;. 
For  her  the  spouse  prepares  the  bridal  ring, 
For  her  white  virgins  hymeneals  sing; 
For  her  th'  unfading  rose  of  Eden  blooms, 
And  wings  of  seraphs  shed  divine  perfumes; 
To  sounds  of  heav'nly  harps'she  dies  away, 
And  melts  in  visions  of  eternal  day. 

A  PAEODY  ON  TnE  FOREGOING  LINES  BY  A  LADY  ASSEMTNG  THE 
NA.ME  OF  LAUKA. 

How  happy  is  the  country  Parson's  lot  ? 
Forgetting  Bishops,  as  by  them  forgot ; 
Tranquil  of  spirit,  with  an  easy  mind. 
To  all  his  Vestry's  votes  he  sits  resign'd : 
Of  manners  gentle,  and  of  temper  even, 
He  jogs  his  flocks,  with  easy  pace,  to  heaven. 
In  Greek  and  Latin,  pious  books  he  keeps; 
And, while  his  clerk  sings  psalms,  he — soundly  sleeps. 
His  garden  fronts  the  sun's  sweet  orient  beams, 
And  fat  church-wardens  prompt  his  golden  dreams. 
The  earliest  fruit,  in  his  fair  orchard,  blooms  ; 
And  cleanly  pipes  pour  out  tobacco's  fumes. 
From  rustic  bridegroom  oft  he  takes  the  ring ; 
And  hears  the  milk-maid  plaintive  ballads  sing. 
Back-gammon  cheats  whole  winter  nights  away, 
And  Pilgrim's  Progress  helps  a  rainy  day. 

N.  B.  The  foregoing  Parody  occasioned  the  following  epis- 
tolary contest,  and  poetical  Raillery,  between  our  Author  and 
Laura. 

AN  EPISTLE  TO  LATTEA,   ON  HEP.  PAEODY. 

I  lately  saw.  no  matter  where, 
A  parody  by  Laura  fair ; 
In  which  beyond  dispute,  'tis  clear, 
She  means  her  country  friend  to  jeer; 
For,  well  she  knows,  her  pleasing  lays, 
(Whether  they  banter  me  or  praise, 
Whatever  merry  mood  they  take) 
Are  welcome  for  their  author's  sake. 

Tobacco  vile,  I  never  smoak, 
(Tho'  Laura  loves  her  friend  to  joke) 
Nor  leave  my  flock  all  in  the  lurch, 
By  being  lullaby'd  in  church  ; 
But,  change  tho  word  from  clerk  to  priest, 
Perhaps  I  lull  my  sheep  to  rest. 

As  for  the  table  of  "Back-gammon, 
'Tis  far  beyond  the  reach  of  Damon  : 
But,  place  right  gammon  on  a  table, 
And  then  to  play  a  knife — I'm  able. 

*  The  Portfolio,  quoted  in  Hazard's  Pennsylvania  P.egister, 
iii.  394. 


" How  happy  is  my  lot''  yon  say, 
Because  from  Bishops  far  away ! 
Happy  I  am,  I'll  not  deny, 
But  then  it  is  when  you  are  nigh  : 
Or  gently  rushes  o'er  my  mind 
Th'  idea  of  the  nymph  refin'd ; 
In  whom  each  grace  and  virtue  meet, " 
That  render  woman-kind  complete; 
The  sense,  the  taste,  the  lovely  mien 
OS  Stella,  pride  of  Patrick's  Bean. 

0  Laura !  when  I  think  of  this, 
And  call  you  friend — 'tis  greater  bliss, 
Than  all  the  "fat  church-wardens'  schemes." 
Which  rarely  "  prompt  my  golden  dreams;"- 
Yet,  if  the  happiness,  fair  maid, 
That  sooths  me  in  the  silent  shade, 
Should,  in  your  eye,  appear  too  great, 
Come,  take  it  all — and  share  my  fate ! 

lauea's  answee. 
Latjea  to  Damon  health  doth  send, 
And  thus  salutes  her  saucy  friend. 

Because  you  would  exert  your  wit, 
You  take  the  cap  ne'er  made  to  fit ; 
And  then  your  sprightly  verse  display, 
To  prove  me  out  in  every  way — 
But  I'll  proceed,  nor  care  one  farthing ; 
Nor  shall  you  make  me  sue  for  pardon, 
Nor  once  recant  what  I  asserted, 
Tho'  from  my  pen  in  haste  it  flirted. 

Truly,  because  you  do  inherit 
Some  portion  of  the  Bean's  queer  spirit, 
You  want  to  prove,  in  wondrous  haste, 
That  Laura  too  has  Stella's  taste; 
As  if  it  must  directly  follow, 
Since  you  are  favour'd  by  Apollo, 
That  he  his  choicest  gifts  must  send. 
To  ev'ry  scribbling  female  friend. 
I  thank  you,  sir — you're  wond'rous  kind ! 
But  think  me  not  so  vain  or  blind, 
As  to  believe  the  pretty  things, 
Your  muse,  with  ease,  at  Laura  flings. 

'Tis  true,  the  moments  I  beffuil'd, 
And  at  a  country  piarson  smil'd  ; 
Unhappy  me!  who  ne'er  could  dream, 
That  you  should  think  yourself  the  theme : 
Unless  my  muse,  thro'  rank  ill-nature, 
Had  turn'd  wh:it  follows  into  satyr — 

"  A  manner  frank  and  debonnair, 
A  heart  that's  open  and  sincere, 
Plain  sense,  stript  of  pedantic  rules, 
And  formal  precepts,  hateh'd  in  schools: 
Firm  honesty  without  parade, 
Simplicity  in  truth  array'd ; 
A  sprightly  vein  of  humour  too, 
Known  only  by  a  favour'd  few." 

Had  Madam  Muse,  in  spleen  or  spight, 
Plac'd  all  those  graces  in  a  light, 
To  make  us  laugh,  more  than  admire — 
Then  Damon  might  have  taken  fire, 
And  said — 'tis  past  dispnte  and  clear, 
Imeant  my  country  friend  to  jeer. 

Yet,  e'er  I  close — allow  me  time, 
But  just  to  add  another  rhyme. 
Since  I  esteem  your  bliss  so  great, 
In  penance  you  will  ehuse  a  mate, 
And  tell  me — "  I  may  share  your  fate !' 
The  scheme  is  good,  I  must  confess, 
If  you  have  blis*?,  to  make  it  less ! 
Yet  take  a  hint,  before  resolv'd, 
And  in  the  dragging  chain  involv'd. 
While  youthful  joys  around  you  shine, 


JAMES  ALLEN. 


235 


Haste  not  to  bend  at  Hymen's  shrine  ; 
Let  friendship,  gen'rous  friendship,  be 
The  bond  to  fetter  you  and  me, 
Vestal,  Platonic — what  you  will, 
So  virtue  reigns  with  freedom  still. 
But  if,  in  matrimonial  noose, 
You  must  be  bound — :and  have  a  spouse  ; 
The  faithful  rib  that  lieav'n  shall  send, 
I'll  fondly  greet,  and  call  her  friend. 

TO  LAtJRA  ;  IN  KEPLT  TO  TnE  ABOVE. 

Laura,  for  once  excuse,  I  pray, 
The  pertness  of  a  rural  lay: 
And  I  will  ne'er  again  offend, 
Or  need  the  name  of  saucy  friend ; 

Stella,  (for  now  I  see  it  clearly, 
Who  loves  a  little  mischief  dearly) 
Resolv'd  to  carry  a  gay  farce  on, 
Told  me  I  was  the  country  parson, 
Described  in  your  melodious  strain  : 
To  which  I  uow  return  again. 

I,  like  my  namesake  without*  guile, 
Thought  in  my  turn  that  I  might  smile, 
So  seis'd  my  pen,  in  a  brisk  sally, 
Determiu'd  to  pay  off  the  tally  ; 
And,  in  a  fit  of  warm  regard, 
Dropt  a  few  words — quite  off  my  guard ; 
For  which  I  Laura's  mercy  crave, 
And  shall  remain  her  humble  slave — 
She's  pleas'd  to  say,  that  "  I  inherit, 
Some  portion  of  the  Dean's  queer  spirit." 
If  aught  in  me  was  ever  seen. 
Resembling  Patrick's  boasted  Dean: 
It  was  his  faults,  I  fear — rank  pride, 
Which,  for  my  life,  I  cannot  hide, 
And  one  less  vain  than  Swift — or  me, 
Miglit  e'en  both  proud  and  saucy  be, 
When  such  fine  things  of  him  are  said 
By  Laura,  the  harmonious  maid; 
Yet  still  her  compliments,  I  fear, 
Are  only  sent  her  friend  to  jeer, 
Or  sugar  o'er  a  little  smart. 
And  close  the  bleedings  of  a  heart — 
Thus,  without  cause,  when  children  cry, 
And  put  their  finger  in  their  eye, 
Kind  mamma  gives  them  aught  that's  handy, 
Cakes,  marmalade,  or  sugar-candy. 

Fair  Laura  hints — the  hint  I  take, 
And  honour  for  its  mistress'  sake — 
Yet  when  great  Cupid  is  inclin'd, 
To  fix  his  empire  o'er  my  mind, 
A  silken  cord,  no  "  dragging  chain," 
Shall  lead  me  to  his  sacred  fane ; 
For  none,  I  trust,  shall  e'er  discover, 
In  me  aught  like  the  whimp'ring  lover: 
The  fault'ring  voice,  the  sigh  of  care, 
The  languid  look,  the  dying  air. 
When  abject  thus  behaves  the  muse, 
May  I  kind  Laura's  friendship  lose, 
That  friendship  which  I  dearer  hold, 
Than  silver  heaps  or  shining  gold. 

And  now,  farewell ! — may  ev'ry  hour 
Fresh  happiness  on  Laura  pour — 
Whether  in  sacred  wedlock  joiu'd, 
Or  to  the  Vestal  state  inclin'd  ; 
May  constant  joys  before  her  rise, 
Till,  for  low  earth,  she  gains  the  skies ! 


*  Nathaniel. 


JAMES  ALLEN. 

James  Allen,  the  son  of  a  wealthy  merchant  of 
Boston,  was  born  in  that  city,  July  24th,  1739. 
He  entered  Harvard  College,  but  owing  to  his  in- 
dolent habits  and  a  supposed  want  of  orthodoxy, 
left  the  institution  at  the  end  of  the  third  year  of 
his  course.  He  resided,  after  this,  in  Boston, 
occasionally  amusing  himself  by  writing  essays  or 
verses,  but  without  any  serious  devotion  to  literary 
or  professional  pursuits.  He  died,  a  bachelor,  in 
1808. 

The  publication  of  his  chief  production,  Lines 
on  the  Massacre,  is  due  more  to  accident  than 
design.  It  was  written  at  the  request  of  Dr.  War- 
Ten,  to  accompany  the  oration  on  the  same  sub- 
ject, which  the  doctor  had  been  appointed  to 
deliver.  The  poem  was  submitted  to  the  com- 
mittee having  the  matter  in  hand,  who  decided 
that  it  should  be  printed  with  the  oration,  but 
afterwards,  owing  to  suspicions  as  to  the  writer's 
political  faith,  it  was  suppressed.  Allen,  with  his 
usual  indolence,  gave  himself  no  trouble  about 
the  matter,  but  his  friends,  indignant  at  the  treat- 
ment the  poet  had  received,  procured  a  copy 
from  him,  and  published  it,  with  ■  extracts  from 
The  Retrospect,  another  poem  by  the  same  hand, 
which  they  accompanied  by  a  commentary  by 
themselves,  exhibiting  the  author's  political  sound- 
ness and  poetical  merits.* 

Allen  also  wrote  a  patriotic  epic,  entitled 
Bit  nicer  Hill,  but  after  making  arrangements  f;r 
its  publication,  was  too  listless  to  proceed  further, 
and  the  manuscript  is  now  supposed  to  be  lost. 
These,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  slight  maga- 
zine pieces,  form  the  whole  of  his  writings. 

FROM  THE  POEM  ON  THE  MASSACRE. 

From  realms  of  bondage,  and  a  tyrant's  reign, 

Our  godlike  fathers  bore  no' slavish  chain. 

To  Pharaoh's  face  the  inspired  patriarchs  stood, 

To  seal  their  virtue,  with  a  martyr's  blood ; 

But  lives  so  precious,  such  a  sacred  seed, 

The  source  of  empires,  heaven's  high  will  decreed; 

He  snatch'd  the  saints  from  Pharaoh's  impious  hand, 

And  bid  his  chosen  seek  this  distant  land: 

Thus  to  these  climes  the  illustrious  exiles  sped, 

'T  was  freedom  prompted,  and  the  Godhead  led. 

Eternal  woods  the  virgin  soil  defaced, 

A  dreary  desert,  and  a  howling  waste; 

The  haunt  of  tribes  no  pity  taught  to  spare, 

And  they  opposed  them  with  remorseless  war. 

But' heaven's  right  arm  led  forth  the  faithful  train, 

The  guardian  Godhead  swept  the  insidious  plain, 

Till  the  scour'd  thicket  amicable  stood, 

Nor  dastard  ambush  trench'd  the  dusky  wood : 

Our  sires  then  earn'd  no  more  precarious  bread, 

Nor  'midst  alarms  their  frugal  meals  were  spread. 

Fair  boding  hopes  inured  their  hands  to  toil, 

And  patriot  virtue  nursed  the  thriving  soil, 

Nor  scarce  two  ages  have  their  periods  run, 

Since  o'er  their  culture  smiled  the  genial  sun; 

And  now  what  states  extend  their  fair  domains, 

O'er  fleecy  mountains,  and  luxuriant  plains  1 

Where  happy  millions  their  own  fields  possess, 

No  tyrant  awes  them,  and  no  lords  oppress; 

The  hand  of  rule,  divine  discretion  guides, 

And  white-robed  virtue  o'er  her  path  presides, 

Each  policed  order  venerates  the  laws, 


*  The  Pnom  which  the  committee  of  the  town  of  Boston 
had  voted  unanimously  to  be  published  with  the  late  oration. 
Boston,  E.  Russell,  1772.    Pp.  80. 


236 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


And  each,  ingenuous,  speaks  in  freedom's  cause ; 
Not  Spartan  spirit,  nor  the  Roman  name, 
The  patriot's  pride,  shall  rival  these  in  fame; 
Here  all  the  sweets  that  social  life  can  know, 
From  the  full  fount  of  civil  sapience  flow ; 
Here  golden  Ceres  clothes  th'  autumnal  plain, 
And  art's  fair  empress  holds  her  new  domain ; 
Here  angel  Science  spreads  her  lucid  wing, 
And  hark,  how  sweet  the  new-born  muses  sing; 
Here  generous  Commerce  spreads  her  liberal  hand, 
And  scatters  foreign  blessings  round  the  land. 
Shall  meagre  mammon,  or  proud  lust  of  sway, 
Reverse  these  scenes — will  heaven  permit  the  day? 
Shall  in  this  era  all  our  hopes  expire, 
And  weeping  freedom  from  her  fanes  retire  ? 
Here  shall  the  tyrant  still  our  peace  pursue, 
From  the  pain'd  eyebrow  drink  the  vital  dew  ? 
Not  nature's  barrier  wards  our  father's  foe, 
Seas  roll  in  vain,  and  boundless  oceans  flow. 

ST.  GEOEGE  TUCKEE. 
Judge  TrcKEn,  of  Virginia,  was  born  in  the 
island  of  Bermuda,  June  29,  1752  O.  S.,  went 
to  college  at  William  and  Mary,  in  Williamsburg, 
and  in  1778  married  Mrs.  Randolph,  the  mother 
of   John  Randolph   of   Roanoke.      He  became 


W^^) 


Judge  of  the  Court  of  Appeals  in  1803,  on  the 
death  of  Edmund  Pendleton.  He  published  an 
essay  on  the  question,  How  far  the  Common  Law 
of  England  is  the  Common  Law  of  the  United 
States ;  a  treatise  on  Slavery,  in  1796 ;  a  letter  on 
the  Alien  and  Sedition  Laws,  1799,  and  an  anno- 
tated edition  of  Blackstone.  He  died  in  Nelson 
county,  Virginia,  in  November,  1827.  He  was  a, 
man  of  literary  taste,  great  amiability,  and 
thorough  patriotism  in  the  revolutionary  struggle. 
These  fugitive  stanzas,  attributed  to  his  pen,  are 
much  admired : — 


Days  of  my  youth,  ye  have  glided  away ; 
Hairs  of  my  youth,  ye  are  frosted  and  grey; 
Eyes  of  my  youth,  your  keen  sight  is  no  more ; 
Cheeks  of  my  youth,  ye  are  furrowed  all  o'er ; 
Strength  of  my  youth,  all  your  vigor  is  gone ; 
Thoughts  of  my  youth,  your  gay  visions  are  flown. 

Days  of  my  youth,  I  wish  not  your  recall ; 
Hairs  of  my  youth,  I'm  content  ye  should  fall : 
Eyes  of  my  youth,  you  much  evil  have  seen ; 
Cheeks  of  my  youth,  bathed  in  tears  have  you  been ; 
Thoughts  of  my  youth,  ye  have  led  me  astray: 
Strength  of  my  youth,  why  lament  your  decay. 

Days  of  my  age,  ye  will  shortly  be  past; 
Pains  of  my  age,  yet  awhile  ye  can  last ; 
Joys  of  my  age,  in  true  wisdom  delight: 
Eyes  of  my  age,  be  religion  your  light; 
Thoughts  of  my  age,  dread  ye  not  the  cold  sod  ; 
Hopes  of  my  age,  be  ye  fixed  on  your  God. 

ELIAS  BOtTDLNOT. 

Elias  BoTTDrxoT,  of  one  of  the  numerous  Hugue- 
not families  which,  taking  refuge  in  America  from 


persecutions  in  France,  made  its  return  in  patri- 
otic efforts  when  America  was  to  be  defended, 
was  born  in  Philadelphia,  May  2d,  1740.  He 
studied  law  with  Richard  Stockton,  and  his  first 
wife  was  a  sister  of  that  distinguished  statesman. 
He  married,  afterwards,  a  lady  of  New  York,  of 
the  Beekman  family,  who  survived  him. 

Boudinot  became  distinguished  as  a  member  of 
Congress,  of  which  bod}-  he  was  President  in  1782, 
and  was  rewarded  by  Washington  with  the  ap- 
pointment of  Director  of  the  Mint,  as  the  succes- 
sor of  Rittenhouse,  in  1796.  He  was  the  first  pre- 
sident of  the  American  Bible  Society,  on  its  crea- 
tion in  1816.  He  took  great  interest  in  the  cause 
of  missions,  particularly  with  reference  to  the  In- 
dians, the  question  of  whose  descent  he  endeavored 
to  solve  in  his  elaborate  volume,  A  Star  in  the 
West;  or  a  hwrible  attempt  to  discover  the  long 
lost  ten  tribes  of  Israel,  preparatory  to  their 
return  to  their  beloved  city,  Jerusalem.  This  he 
published  at  Trenton,  in  New  Jersey,  in  1816.  It 
is  a  curious  work,  which  displays  considerable 
diligence  in  the  collection  of  facts  and  conjectures, 
and  is  written  with  an  unaffected  tone  of  sincerity, 
The  writer  evidently  regarded  the  work  as  a 
religious  duty.  From  his  study  of  the  sacred 
writing?,  his  own  observations  of  the  Indian 
character,  and  the  writings  of  Adair  (who  had 
taken  this  view),  Colden,  Brainerd,  and  others 
furnishing  facts  exhibiting  similarity  of  customs, 
he  established  himself  in  the  conclusion  that  the 
American  Indians  were  the  descendants  of  the 
lost  tribes. 

He  also  published,  in  1790,  The  Aye  of  Reve- 
lation ;  or  the  Age  of  Reason  an  Age  of  Infidelity  ; 
an  oration  before  the  Society  of  Cincinnati,  1793  ; 
and  The  Second  Advent  of  the  Messiah,  1815. 
He  was  generous  and  public-spirited,  giving  the 
Bible  Society  on  one  occasion  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  founding  in  his  lifetime  a  costly  cabinet 
of  natural  history  at  Princeton.  He  left  nu- 
merous liberal  legacies  at  his  death,  for  charitable 
uses. 

THEODOEIC  BLAND.    EICHAED  BLAND. 

Col.  Theodoeic  Bland  was  of  an  old  Virginia 
family,  and  the  uncle  of  John  Randolph.  He  was 
born  in  1742.  He  was  educated  in  Great  Britain, 
at  Wakefield,  in  Yorkshire,  at  a  school  to  which 
Richard  Henry  Lee  had  been  sent,  and  at  Edin- 


burgh, where  he  received  his  Doctor's  degree.  In 
1764  or  '5,  he  returned  to  America,  and  practised 
medicine  in  Virginia.  At  the  outbreak  of  the 
Revolution  he  celebrated  the  Battle  of  Lexington, 
in  some  verses,  and  took  part  in  the  struggle  as  a 
captain  of  Virginia  cavalry.  Col.  Bland  was 
present  at  the  Battle  of  Brandywine,  and  enjoyed 
the  respect  and  confidence  of  Washington,  who 
frequently  corresponded  with  him.  He  was  a 
member  of  Congress  from  1779  to  1783,  and  was 
again  elected  to  the  new  Congress,  in  attendance 
upon  which,  at  New  York,  he  died  June  1,  1790. 
Col.  Bland  held  a  correspondence  with  the 
leading  actors  of  the  Revolution,  which  he  pre-, 
served  with  care,  but  which  was  exposed  to  the 


NATHANIEL  EVANS. 


237 


disaster  of  two  fires.  What  escape  J  those  injuries 
was  nearly  lost  by '  negligence,  a  negro  man  on 
one  occasion  offering  eggs  for  sale  in  a  basket 
lined  with  the  manuscripts  of  Washington,  picked 
from  the  damaged  remnants  of  the  collection  in  a 
cellar.  John  Randolph  in  vain  endeavored  to 
get  possession  of  the  papers.  The  remnants  were 
at  last  secured  by  a  Virginia  gentleman  of  anti- 
quarian tastes,  Mr.  Charles  Campbell,  by  whom 
thev  were  published  as  The  Bland  Papers,  in 
1840  and  1843* 

Mr.  Campbell  lias  preserved  in  his  memoir  por- 
tions of  the  verses,  the  manuscript  of  which  was 
considerably  broken.     This  is  the  close  : — 

Shall  Brunswick's  line,  exalted  high, 
And  freely  placed  on  Britain's  throne. 

See  hapless  freedom  prostrate  lie, 

And  trampled  on  by  Brunswick's  son. 

Ye  nobles  great,  ye  barons  bold, 

Remember  glorious  Rutmymede,- 
Your  ancestors,  nor  bought  nor  sold, 

Stood  ready  for  their  rights  to  bleed. ' 

Then  spurn  the  proffered  bribe  with  scorn — 
The  chartered  rights  your  sires  have  won 

Purely  transmit  to  those  unborn — 
Let  not  the  sire  [enslave]  the  son. 

Your  brothers  free  in  distant  climes, 

With  noble  ardor  on  you  call. 
Prepared  to  meet  tempestuous  times, 

And  prop  the  fabric  ere  it  fall. 

The  collection  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
memorials  of  our  Revolutionary  History,  with  its 
notices  of  old  Virginia  manners,  and  the  public 
events  of  the  times.  Besides  Col.  Bland's  own 
letters,  the  correspondence  includes  letters  of 
Henry  St.  George  Tucker,  Arthur  Lee,  Jefferson, 
anil  others. 

Col.  Theodoric  Bland  is  not  to  be  confounded 
with  his  partial  contemporary,  Richard   Bland, 

"  the  Virginia  Antiquary,"  who  bore  a  prominent 
part  as  a  political  writer  in  the  Revolution.  He 
published  in  1767,  An  Inquiry  into  the  Eights 
of  the  British  Colonies,  after  the  House  of  Bur- 
gesses had  declared  the  independence  of  the 
people  of  Virginia  of  the  Parliament  of  Great 
Britain  in  matters  of  taxation.!  Wirt,  in  a  note 
to  the  Life  of  Patrick  Henry,  commemorates  him 
as  "  one  of  the  most  enlightened  men  in  the 
colony ;  a  man  of  finished  education,  and  of  the 
most  unbending  habits  of  application.  His  per- 
fect mastery  of  every  fact  connected  with  the 
settlement  and  progress  of  the  colony,  had  given 
him  the  name  of  the  Virginia  Antiquary.     He 


*  The  Bland  Papers,  being  a  selection  from  the  MSS.  of  Col. 
Theodoric  Bland,  Jr.,  of  Prince  George  County,  Va.,  to  which 
are  prefixed  an  Introduction  and  a'Memoir' of  Col.  Bland. 
Edited  by  Charles  Campbell.  Petersburg:  Edmund  and  Julian 
C.  Euffin.     18*1-3. 

t  Jefferson's  Notes  on  Va.,  Qy.  xxiii.,  where  another  revolu- 
tionary pamphlet,  The  Monitor's  Letters,  by  Arthur  Lee,  1769 
is  mentioned. 


was  a  politician  of  the  first  class,  a  profound 
logician,"  and  was  also  considered  as  the  first 
writer  in  the  colony."     He  died  in  1778. 

NATHANIEL  EVANS. 

Natitaotel  Evans  was  born  in  Philadelphia, 
June  S,  1742.  He  was  educated  at  the  Academy 
of  that  city,  and  then  apprenticed  to  a  merchant. 
At  the  expiration  of  his  indentures  he  entered 
the  college,  which  had  in  the  meantime  been 
established.  At  the  Commencement  in  1765  he 
received  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts,  although 
he  had  not  taken  that  of  Bachelor,  in  consequence 
of  the  interruption  in  his  studies.  He  immedi- 
ately after  left  for  England,  for  the  purpose  of 
being  ordained,  and  returned  in  December  of  the 
same  year,  having  passed  a  highly  successful  ex- 
amination as  one  of  the  missionaries  of  the  So- 
ciety for  Propagating  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts, 
and  was  stationed  in  Gloucester  county,  New 
Jersey,  where  he  remained,  occupied  with  the 
duties  of  his  profession,  until  his  death,  October 
29,  1767. 

One  of  his  fellow-passengers  on  his  return  voy- 
age from  England  was  Miss  Elizabeth  Graeme, 
afterwards  Mrs.  Ferguson.  The  acquaintance 
formed  on  shipboard  ripened  into  a  friendship 
which  was  only  interrupted  by  his  death.  Seve- 
ral of  his  poems  are  addressed  to  her  as  Laura ; 

the  title  of  his  Ode  written  at  G -me  Parle, 

shows  that  he  visited  at  her  family  country-seat ; 
and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Smith  acknowledges  her  aid  in 
the  preparation  of  the  collection  of  her  friend's 
poems,*  which  he  published,  with  a  brief  memoir, 
in  1772.  This  volume  contains,  in  addition  to 
the  pieces  already  mentioned,  and  a  brief  poeti- 
cal correspondence  between  Laura  and  himself,  a 
few  fugitive  verses  on  contemporary  topics,  in- 
cluding an  Ode  to  the  Memory  of  General  Wolfe, 
and  a  similar  composition  on  the  Peace,  with  an 
Imitation  of  Borace  addressed  to  Thomas  God- 
frey, and  an  Elegy  to  the  memory  of  the  same 
friend,  with  paraphrases  of  a  few  of  the  Psalms, 
and  two  or  three  pastorals.  One  of  his  poems  is 
addressed  to  Benjamin  Franklin,  Esq.,  LL.D., 
occasioned  by  hearing  him  play  on  the  harmonica. 

His  verses  are  smoothly  written  in  the  taste  of 
the  period,  but  do  not  possess  high  literary  merit. 
The  lines  which  we  select  are  a  version  of  a  Latin 
poem,  also  by  the  author,  addressed  to  a  friend. 

AD  GULEELMUM  LAHDEKr/M,  r.P. 

Caseus  ptnguis,  pyra,  mala,  nectar 
Te  manent  mecum,  Gulielme,  sextam 
Occidens  quum  Sol  properabit  horam 
Axe  fugaci. 

Diligit  pullos  nitidumque  nidum 
Uxor,  at  tecum  gradiatur  audax: 
Filio  quisquam  nee  erit  venusto 

Gratior  umbra. 
Risus  et  musre  comitentur  almoo, 
Iunocens  et  te  jocus  et  leporcs  : 
Linque  sed  curas,  et  amara  vitre 

Linque  severffi. 


*  Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  with  some  other  Composi- 
tions. By  Nathaniel  Evans,  A.M.,  late  Missionary  (appointed 
by  the  Society  for  Promoting  the  Gospel)  for  Gloucester 
county,  in  New  Jersey,  and  Chaplain  to  the  Lord  Viscount 
Kilmorey.  of  the  Kingdom  of  Ireland.    Philadelphia,  1772. 


238 


CYCLOPiEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Hano  mornm  nigis  sapiens  futuris 
Poiiito :  quamvis  viridem  senectani 
Cautus  arceto,  reraorare  vitas 

Gaudia  blandie. 

Vive  mine :  setas  fugit  impotentis 
Fluniinis  ritu,  voluerisve  veuti: 
Vis  stitit  nulla,  et  revocavit  horns 

Nulla  volantes. 

Umbra  seu  pulvis  fumus,  aut  inanis 
Fumus,  et  uostrum  remauebit  olim 
Kil  nisi  virtus,  nionumenta  sacra 

Ingeniique. 

TO  WILLIAM  LATJDEE,  P.P. 

Pears,  apples,  cheese,  dear  Will,  and  wine, 
If  thou  wilt  grace  mine  house,  are  thine 

(For  these  are  in  my  pow'r). 
When  the  last  ray  of  yon  bright  sun, 
Shall  round  its  whirling  axle  run, 

Ami  hasten  the  sixth  hour. 

Thy  wife  delights  in  her  neat  home 
And  babes,  but  let  her  boldly  come, 

Provided  she's  at  leisure. 
Thy  beauteous  boy  shall  also  find, 
Although  unask'd,  a  welcome  kind, 

And  be  receiv'd  with  pleasure. 

And  with  thee  haste  the  virgin  Muse, 
And  jest  that  laughter  shall  diffuse, 

And  mirth  that  cheers  the  soul: 
Banish  afar  corroding  care, 
Severity  with  gloomy  air, 

That  might  our  joys  control. 

More  wisely  thou  procrastinate 
These  evils  to  a  wrinkled  state, 

When  life's  no  more  inviting : 
E'er  age  comes  on,  while  yet  thy  blood 
Flows  in  a  sprightly  vig'rous  flood, 

Be  cheerful  and  delighting. 

Live!  live,  my  Will,  for  now's  the  day  ; 
Time,  like  a  current,  glides  away, 

Or  th'  evanescent  wind  ; 
TJnstaid  by  stout  Herculean  force, 
Nought  can  protract  its  rapid  course, 

And  fleeting  moments  bind. 

Shadows  we  are,  or  empty  dust, 
And  vapor-like  dissolve  we  must, 

Nor  are  we  more  secure ; 
Nought  can  escape  the  dreary  pit 
But  virtue  and  immortal  wit, 

Which  endless  shall  endure. 


WILLIAM  HEXEY  DRAYTON. 

This  eminent  political  leader  was  burn  in  South 
.Carolina  in  1742.  He  was  educated  in  England, 
at  Westminster  School  and  at  the  University  of 
Oxford.  -He  was  appointed  in  1771  Privy  Coun- 
cillor for  the  Province,  and  in  1774  Assistant 
Judge  ;  distinguishing  himself  by  his  maintenance 
of  the  rights  of  the  colonists.  On  the  eve  of  the 
meeting  of  the  Continental  Congress  he  published 
a  pamphlet  under  the  signature  of  "  Freeman," 
in  which  he  marked  out  the  line  to  be  pursued, 
and1  submitted  a  "bill  of  American  rights."  In 
consequence  of  this  publication  he  lost  his  place 
in  the  colonial  judiciary.  In  1775  he  became 
president  of  the  Provincial  Congress,  and  was  soon 
appointed  by  that  body  Chief  Justice  of  the  Co- 
lony, when  he  delivered  his  celebrated  political 
charge  to  the  Grand  Jury  of  Charleston,  April 


23, 177?,  on  the  Necessity  of  Independence.  It  is 
one  of  the  masterly  state  papers  of  the  Pievolu- 
tion*  Its  enumeration  of  royal  grievances  gave 
something  more  than  a  hint  to  Jefferson  for  his 
draft  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  The 
address  was  an  assertion  of  the  rights  of  the 
people  of  South  Carolina  in  forming  the  admi- 
nistration under  which  he  acted.  Its  language 
was  direct,  and  its  line  of  argument  legal  and  con- 
vincing. "  I  proceed  to  lay  before  you,"  said  he, 
"  the  principal  causes  leading  to  the  late  revolu- 
tion of  our  government,  the  law  upon  the  point, 
and  the  benefits  resulting  from  that  happy  and 
necessary  establishment.  The  importance  of  the 
transaction  deserves  such  a  statement,  the  occa- 
sion demands,  and  our  future  welfare  requires  it. 
I  will  expound  to  you  the  constitution  of  your 
country."  He  thus  directly  states  the  precedent 
of  the  revolutionary  course  which  had  been  pur- 
sued : — 

The  house  of  Brunswick  was  vet  scarcely  settled 
in  the  British  throne,  to  which  it  had  been  called  by 
a  free  people,  when  in  the  year  1719,  our  ancestors 
in  this  country,  finding  that  the  government  of  the 
lords  proprietors  operated  to  their  ruin,  exercised 
the  rights  transmitted  to  them  by  their  forefathers 
of  England ;  and  casting  off  the  proprietary  author- 
ity, culled  upon  the  house  of  Brunswick  to  rule  over 
them — a  house  elevated  to  ro}-al  dominion,  for  no 
other  purpose  than  to  preserve  to  a  people  their 
unalienable  rights.  The  King  accepted  the  invita- 
tion ;  and  thereby  indisputably  admitted  the  legality 
of  that  revolution.  And,  in  so  doing,  by  his  own 
act,  he  vested  in  them  our  forefathers,  and  in  us  their 
posterity,  a  clear  right  to  effect  another  revolution, 
if  ever  the  government  of  the  house  of  Brunswick 
should  operate  to  the  ruin  of  the  people.  "  So  the 
excellent  Roman  Emperor  Trajan  delivered  a  sword 
to  Saburanus,  his  captain  of  the  Pretorian  guard, 
with  this  admired  sentence,  "  Receive  this  sword, 
and  use  it  to  defend  me  if  I  govern  well,  but  against 
me  if  I  behave  ill." 

He  then  proceeds  to  draw  out  the  legal  argu- 
ment of  the  Revolution  of  1C88,  and  closes  with  a 
review  of  the  conditions  of  accommodation  with 
England,  which  he  summed  up  in  this  vigorous 
phrase : — 

In  short,  I  think  it  my  duty  to  declare  in  the 
awful  seat  of  justice,  and  before  Almighty  God,  that, 
in  my  opinion,  the  Americans  can  have  no  safety  but 
by  the  Divine  favor,  their  own  virtue,  and  their 
being  so  prudent  as  not  to  leave  it  in  the  'power  of 
their  British  rulers  to  injure  them.  Indeed  the  ruin- 
ous and  deadly  injuries  received  on  our  side,  and 
the  jealousies  entertained,  and  which,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  must  daily  increase  against  us  on  the 
other;  demonstrate  to  a  mind,  in  the  least  given  to 
reflection  upon  the  rise  and  fall  of  empires,  that  true1 
reconcilement  never  can  exist  between  Great  Britain 
and  America,  the  latter  being  in  subjection  to  the 
former.  The  Almighty  created  America  to  be  inde- 
pendent of  Britain.  Let  us  beware  of  the  impiety 
of  being  bark  ward  to  act  as  instruments  in  the  Al- 
mighty hand,  now  extended  to  accomplish  his  pur- 
pose ;  and  by  the  completion  of  which  alone,  Ame- 
rica, in  the  nature  of  human  affairs,  can  be  secure 
against  the  craft  and  insidious  designs  of  her  ene- 
mies who  think  her  prosperity  and  power  already 


*  It  is  mentioned  by  Paine  in  the  third  number  of  the  Crisis, 
as  "  of  the  first  rank  iu  America." 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON'. 


239 


by  far  too  great.  In  a  word  our  piety  and  political 
safety  are  so  blended,  that,  to  refuse  our  labors  in 
this  divine  work  is  to  refuse  to  be  a  great,  a  free,  a 
pious,  and  a  happy  people. 

And  now,  having  left  the  important  alternative, 
political  happiness  or  wretchedness,  under  God,  in  a 
great  degree  in  your  own  hands;  1  pray  the  Su- 
preme Arbiter  of  the  affairs  of  men,  so  to  direct  your 
judgment,  as  that  you  mny  act  agreeably  to  what 
seems  to  be  his  will,  revealed  in  his  miraculous 
works  in  behalf  of  America,  bleeding  at  the  altar  of 
liberty. 

Drayton  also  published  a  pamphlet  in  opposi- 
tion to  Lord  Howe's  plan  of  reconciliation  with 
the  mother  country.  In  1777  he  was  made  Pre- 
sident of  South  Carolina,  and  the  next  year  took 
his  seat  in  the  Continental  Congress  at  Philadel- 
phia ;  and  while  connected  with  this  body,  died 
suddenly  in  that  city  at  the  early  age  of  thirty- 
six*  In  addition  to  his  political  pamphlets  he 
prepared  a  large  body  of  materials  for  a  history 
of  the  American  Revolution,  which  were  put  into 
shape  by  his  son  John  Drayton  and  published  in 
two  volumes  in  1821-t  John  Drayton  had  previ- 
ously published,  in  1802,  an  Historical  View  of 
South  Carolina.  He  died  in  Charleston  in  1822 
at  the  age  of  sixty,  holding  the  office  of  District 
Judge  of  the  United  States. 

THOMAS   JEFFERSON, 

The  author  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
was  bora  on  his  father's  estate  at  Shadwell, 
Albemarle  county,  Virginia,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Mouticello,  April  2,  1743.  On  the  father's 
side  his  ancestry  was  Welsh,  "from  near  the 
mountain  of  Snowdon,"  he  notices  in  his  Auto- 
biography, and  adils,  "  the  highest  in  Great  Bri- 
tain." His  grandfather,  who  was  settled  in  Vir- 
ginia, left  three  sons,  of  whom  the  youngest, 
Peter,  married  Jane  Randolph  of  Goochland  in 
the  state,  and  of  Scottish  descent.  Of  eight  chil- 
dren by  this  marriage  Thomas  was  the  first  born. 
The  father  was  a  man  of  "a  strong  mind  and 
sound  judgment,  and  eager  after  information,"  as 
his  son  afterwards  described  him,  whose  neglected 
education  in  youth  did  not  prevent  his  accom- 
plishing himself  sufficiently  to  be  employed  on  a 
boundary  survey  between  Virginia  and  North 
Carolina,  and  making  the  first  actual  map  of  the 
state  on  record.  He  died  when  his  son  was  in 
his  fifteenth  year,  having  placed  him  on  the  track 
of  a  liberal  education — under  the  instruction  of 
Mr.  Douglass,  a  clergyman  from  Scotland,  who 
taught  him  French  with  the  elements  of  Greek 
and  Latin.  On  the  death  of  his  father,  he  was 
educated  by  the  Reverend  Mr.  Maury,  "a  correct 
classical  scholar,"  for  two  years,  when  in  1760  he 
entered  William  and  Mary  College,  where  he  also 
remained  two  years.  At  the  college  his  intellec- 
tual habits  were  greatly  formed  by  the  lectures 
and  personal  friendship  of  Dr.  William  Small,  the 
Professor  of  Philosophy,  from  Scotland,  a  man  of 
an  active  and  liberal  mind,  who  had  a  happy  art 
of  communicating  his  information  on  science, 
ethics,  and  the  belles-lettres.  uThis  acquaintance- 
ship," says  Jefferson,  looking  back  to  these  early 
years,  when  he  commenced  his  Autobiography  at 


*  Eamsav's  Ilist.  Eev.  S.  C.  i.  94.    Hist.  S.  C.  ii.  4iL 
t  Memoirs  of  tbc  American  Revolution. 


the  age  of  seventy-seven,  "was  my  great  good 
fortune,  and  probably  fixed  the  destinies  of  my  life." 
The  Professor  introduced  him  to  George  Wythe, 
the  able  lawyer  and  patriot,  with  whom  he  studied 
law.  The  Autobiography  recalls  the  partie  car- 
rce  which  these  three  friends  formed,  in  company 
with  Governor  Fauquier  at  his  table,  where  con- 
versation never  lacked  intelligence.  Small  re- 
turned to  Scotland  in  1762. 

Jefferson  has  left  the  warmest  acknowledg- 
ments in  his  Correspondence  and  Autobiography, 
of  his  obligations  to  Wythe,  who  led  him  into 
business  at  the  bar,  and  lived  for  forty  years  his 
friend.* 

At  the  age  of  twenty-six,  he  entered  public  life 
as  member  of  the  legislature  from  his  native 
county.  In  1772  he  married  a  widow  Jady  of  the 
age  of  twenty-three,  the  daughter  of  John  Wayles, 
a  lawyer  of  position  and  attractive  personal  quali- 
ties, a  share  of  whose  property  on  his  death  in 
1773,  doubled  the  fortunes  of  the  pair.  Jefferson 
had  inherited  from  his  father  the  land  on  which 


*  In  bis  notes  for  a  biography  of  Wythe,  prepared  in  1S20, 
Jefferson  thus  draws  his  character.  uj^o  man  ever  left 
behind  him  a  character  more  venerated  than  George 
Wytiie.  His  virtue  was  of  the  purest  tint;  bis  integrity  in- 
flexible and  his  justice  exact;  of  warm  patriotism,  and  devot- 
ed as  lie  was  to  liberty,  and  the  natural  and  equal  rights  of 
man,  he  might  truly  be  called  the  Cato  of  his  country,  without 
the  avarice  of  the  Roman;  for  a  more  disinterested  person 
never  lived.  Temperance  and  regularity  in  all  his  habits  gave 
him  general  good  health,  and  his  unaffected  modesty  and 
suavity  of  mauners  endeared  him  to  every  one.  He  was  of 
easy  elocution,  his  language  chaste,  methodical  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  his  matter,  learned  and  logical  in  the  use  of  it.  and  of 
great  urbanity  in  debate;  not  quick  of  apprehension,  but  with 
a  little  time,  profound  in  peuetration  and  sound  conclusion. 
In  his  philosophy  lie  was  firm,  and  neither  troubling,  nor  per- 
haps trusting,  any  one  with  his  religious  creed,  he  left  the 
world  to  the  conclusion,  that  that  religion  must  be  good  which 
could  produce  a  life  of  exemplary  virtue.  His  stature  was  of 
the  middle  size,  well  formed  and  proportioned,  and  the  fea- 
tures of  hi*  face  vrere  manly,  comely,  and  engaging.  Such  was 
George  Wythe,  the  lienor  of  bis  own,  and  the  model  of  future 
times.'' 


240 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


lie  was  born,  and  the  adjacent-  grounds  of  Mon- 
tioello. 

His  early  opposition  to  the  British  colonial 
policy  is  well  known.  The  details  belong  to 
political  rather  than  literary  history.  Uis  views 
on  the  position  of  the  country  were  expressed  in 
a  draft  of  instructions  which  he  prepared  for 
delegates  to  a  general  Congress,  to  be  sent  from 
the  convention  at  Williamsburg,  in  1774.  The 
paper  was  read  by  the  members,  and  not  brought 
up  to  be  adopted,  but  it  was  published  in  a  pam- 
phlet form  with  the  title  A  Summary  View  of  the 
Eigh  ts  of  British  America.  Edmund  Burke,  when 
it  reached  London,  interpolated  some  passages 
in  it,  in  which  form  it  passed  through  several 
editions*  In  1775,  Jefferson  succeeded  Peyton 
Randolph  in  his  seat  in  Congress  at  Philadelphia. 
He  was  thirty-two  years  of  age,  and  the  youngest 
man  but  one  in  that  body.  He  was  immediately 
engaged  in  its  affairs,  his  legal  and  literary  abili- 
ties t  being  called  for  to  assist  the  committee  to 
prepare  a  declaration  of  the  causes  of  taking  up 
arms.  The  draft  which  Jefferson  prepared  was 
too  ardent  for  his  colleague,  Dickinson,  and  the 
latter  substituted  a  statement  in  milder  form. 
When  the  consideration  of  the  question  of  Inde- 
pendence arose,  Jefferson  was  appointed  chairman 
of  the  Committee  of  Adams,  Franklin,  Sherman, 
and  Livingston,  to  prepare  a  Declaration.  "  The 
committee,"  he  says,  in  his  Autobiography,  '•'  de- 
sired me  to  do  it :  it  was  accordingly  done."  A 
few  verbal  corrections  appear  in  the  fac-siinile  of 
the  original  draft  in  the  hand-writing  of  Frank- 
lin and  Adams.  The  paper  was  reported  on 
Friday,  2Sth  June,  1776,  laid  on  the  table,  and  on 
Monday  referred  to  a  committee  of  the  whole, 
discussed  for  the  three  following  days,  abridged 
of  several  superfluous  phrases  and  some  passages 
bearing  severely  upon  Great  Britain  and  affecting 
the  question  of  slavery.  On  the  evening  of  the 
memorable  Fourth  it  was  adopted  in  its  present 
form. 

A  discussion  has  arisen  with  respect  to  the 
authorship  of  several  striking  phrases  of  this 
document,  alleged  to  have  been  anticipated  by 
the  Mecklenburg  North  Carolina  Resolutions  of 
May  20,  1775.  In  the  last  mentioned  paper  the 
following  language  occurs:  "That  we,  the  citizens 
of  Mecklenburg  county,  do  hereby  disaol/oethe  po- 
litical hands  which  have  connected  us  with  the 
mother  c<  nintry,  and  hereby  absolve  ourselves  from 
all  allegiance  to  the  British  crown,  and  abjure  all 
political  connexion,  contract,  or  association  with 
that  nation.  *  *  *  That  we  do  hereby  declare 
ourselves  a  free  and  independent  people;  are,  and 
of  right  ought  to  be,  a  sovereign  and  self-govern- 
ing association,  under  the  control  of  no  person, 
other  than  that  of  our  God,  and  the  general 
government  of  Congress ;  to  the  maintenance  of 
which  independence,  we  solemnly  pledge  to  each 
other,  our  mutual  co-operation,  our  Ures,  our  for- 
tunes, and  our  most  sacred  honor."  The  lines 
which  we  have  marked  in  italics  suggest  plagia- 
rism from  one  quarter  or  the  other.     The  com- 


*  Autobiography,  Works,  i.  7.  Ed.  If30. 

t  "Mr.  Jefferson  came  into'  Congress  in  June,  1775,  nod 
brought  with  him  a  reputation  for  literature,  science,  and  a 
happy  talent  of  composition.  Writings  of  his  were  handed 
about,  remarkable  for  the  peculiar  felicity  of  expression.1' — 
John  Adams's  Letter  to  Timothy  Pickering,  Aug.  6, 1&22. 


parison  between  the  two  was  brought  up  in  a 
letter  from  John  Adams  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  dated 
June,  1819.  Jefferson  in  reply,  at  the  age  of 
seventy-six,  when  he  may  have  forgotten  the  con- 
temporary report  of  the  affair,  doubted  the  authen- 
ticity of  the  paper.  The  fact  of  the  declaration 
at  Mecklenburg  and  the  words  of  the  Resolutions 
were  maintained  afterwards  by  a  report  of  the 
legislature  of  North  Carolina,  which  investigated 
the  evidence.  Professor  Tucker,  in  his  Life  of 
Jefferson,  published  in  1837,  admits  the  agree- 
ment and  the  plagiarism  lying  between  the  two, 
and  does  not  question  the  fact  that  a  declaration 
was  made  at  Mecklenburg,  but  argues  that  the 
Jeffersonian  phrases  were  -  interpolated  subse- 
quently from  the  Declaration  of  Congress* 

But  whatever  coincidences  of  expression  may 
be  noticed  by  the  curious  students  of  such  mat- 
ters, in  the  language  of  Webster  on  the  solemn 
occasion  of  the  funeral  eulogy  of  Adams  and 
Jefferson,  "as  a  composition,  the  Declaration  is 
Mr.  Jefferson's.  It  is  the  production  of  his  mind, 
and  the  high  honor  of  it  belongs  to  him,  clearly 
and  absolutely.  To  say  that  he  performed  his 
work  well  would  be  doing  him  injustice.  To  say 
that  he  did  excellently  well,  admirably  well, 
would  be  inadequate  and  halting  praise.  Let  us 
rather  say,  that  lie  so  discharged  the  duty  assigned 
him,  that  all  Americans  may  well  rejoice  that  the 
work  of  drawing  the  title-deed  of  their  liberties 
devolved  upon  him.''t 

Leaving  Congress  in  September  after  the  De- 
claration, Jefferson's  faculties  were  employed  in 
legal  reforms  in  the  legislative  of  his  state,  of 
which  he  became  Governor  in  1779,  retain- 
ing the  office  till  1781,  when  he  resigned  it, 
thinking  a  man  of  military  education  was  required 
for  the  conduct  of  affairs.  He  was  offered  several 
foreign  appointments,  to  negotiate  treaties  in 
Europe,  and   finally   embarked  from   Boston   in 

1784,  to  join  Franklin  and  Adams  in  Paris  for 
this  purpose.  When  Adams  was  appointed  mi- 
nister to  London,  and  Franklin  returned  home  in 

1785,  Jefferson  was  left  minister  in  Paris.  He 
remained  in  that  situation,  travelling  in  France 
and  visiting  Holland  and  Piedmont  till  1789, 
when  he  returned  to  America.  On  his  arrival  in 
Virginia  he  was  met  by  the  appointment  from 
Washington  of  Secretary  of  State,  which  office  he 
entered  upon  in  New  York,  retaining  it  tdl  the 
clo=e  of  1793.  He  then  passed  three  years  in 
retirement,  'from  which  the  Vice-Presidency 
withdrew  him,  succeeded  at  the  end  of  the  term 
in  1801  by  his  election  to  the  Presidency.  After 
eight  years,  he  retired  to  Monticello  for  the  re- 
mainder of  his  career,  and  lived  the  life  of  a  plan- 
ter and  student,  nis  interest  in  education  led 
him  to  be  appointed  chairman  of  the  commission 
which  formed  the  University  at  Charlottesville, 
in  his  vicinity,  of  which  he  became  the  rector. 

In  1815,  his  pecuniary  circumstances  having 
become  straitened,  he  sold  his  library  of  about 
seven  thousand  volumes  to  Congress,  for  which 
he  received  twenty-three  thousand  dollars.  It 
was  arranged  by  him  on  the  Baconian  plan  of 


*  Art.  on  Tucker's  Life  of  Jefferson,  New  York  Review,  No. 
I.  March,  1837.  The  Mecklenburg  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, a  lecture  by  the  Ucv.  Francis  L.  Ilawks  before  the 
N.  Y.  Historical  Society,  Dec.  10, 1S52. 

+  Works,  i.  126. 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 


241 


a  division  under  Memory,  Reason  or  Judgment, 
and  the  Imagination.  The  departments  showed, 
a  liberal  range  of  study  on  science  and  literature, 
including  an  allowance  of  the  Fine  Arts.  In  the 
fire  in  the  Library  Room  in  1852,  most  of  these 
books  were  destroyed. 

Jefferson's  last  days  were  passed  in  the  rural 
enjoyments  of  Monticello,  and  with  unimpaired 
mental  pleasures.  He  died  on  the  fourth  of  July, 
1826,  on  the  completion  of  fifty  years  from  the 
date  of  his  signing  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. 

Jefferson's  popular  literary  reputation  'will 
mainly  rest  on  the  stirring  sentences  of  this  De- 
claration. There  is  abundant  material  in  the 
nine  octavo  volumes  of  his  writings,*  but  little  of 
it  is  coined  for  current  circulation.  The  auto- 
biography, written  in  extreme  age,  has  nothing 
of  the  repose  and  relish  of  Franklin's ;  the  reports, 
messages,  and  other ■  political  writings  may  be 
sometimes  referred  to,  but  will  seldom  be  perused; 
while  the  Correspondence,  when  perfectly  ar- 
ranged and  annotated,  will  remain  the  best  and 
most  agreeable  picture  of  the  man. 

The  Notes  on  the  State  of  Virginia  were  writ- 
ten at  the  suggestion  of  M.  Marbois  of  the  French 
legation  in  Philadelphia,  who  in  1781,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  wishes  of  his  government  for  infor- 
mation, proposed  to  Jefferson  a  set  of  queries. 
As  the  latter  had  always  been  in  the  habit  of 
jotting  down  memoranda  of  statistical  and  useful 
matters  relating  to  the  country,  lie  took  this 
opportunity  of  arranging  them  in  order.  Copies 
were  in  request  among  the  author's  friends,  and 
for  their  satisfaction  the  work  was  privately 
printed,  an  edition  of  two  hundred  copies  in 
Paris,  in  178 1,  and  distributed  abroad  and  in 
America.  One  of  the  European  copies,  on  the 
death  of  its  owner,  was  obtained  by  a  bookseller, 
who  had  it  bunglingly  translated  by  the  Abbe 
Morellet  into  French,  the  author  hearing  of  it  in 
time  to  make  some  corrections  and  changes,  when 
it  appeared — Observations  sur  la  Virginie,  par 
M.  ,/***,  tradiutes  de  V  Anglois,  8vo.  Paris, 
1786.  The  next  year,  Jefferson  gave  the  original 
to  an  English  publisher.! 

The  correspondence  of  Jefferson,  as  published 
by  his  grandson,}  contains  the  finest  specimens  of 
his  literary  powers.  Many  of  the  letters  are 
written  with  a  care  that  smells  of  the  lamp. 
There  is  scarcely  one  of  them  which  does  not  con- 
tain something  suggestive  or  useful.  During  his 
residence  in  France  he  was  very  industrious  as  a 
correspondent,  and  his  letters  on  the  political 
affairs  of  the  country,  during  the  early  period  of 
the  Revolution,  addressed  to  Washington,  Jay, 
and  others,  are  valuable  for  their  observation 
anil  sagacity.  Madison  is  his  chosen  correspon- 
dent on  American  political  ideas.  He  addresses 
John  Adams  on  *tate  affairs  in  France,  and  when 
they  both  become  veterans,  in  retirement  from 
public  life,  Braintree  and  Monticello  exchange 
notes  on  topics  of  ethics   and  religion.     He  inte- 


*  This  is  the  new  edition  edited  by  IT.  A.  Washington,  pre- 
pared from  the  IIS.  bequeathed  to  Thomas  Jefferson  Ran- 
dolph, his  grandson,  and  purchased  by  Congress  in  1S4S. 

i  Autobiographical  Memoir,  p.  50. 

t  Memoir,  Correspondence,  and  Miscellanies,  from  the  pa- 
pers of  Thomas*  Jefferson.    Edited  by  Thomas  Jefferson  Ran- 
dolph. 4  vols.  8vo. 
VOL.    I. — 16 


rests  himself  while  in  Europe,  in  all  the  liberal 
pursuits  of  his  friends.  He  writes  to  Ritten- 
house  on  points  raised  in  the  Notes  on,  Virginia; 
to  Francis  Hopkinson  concerning  his  musical  im- 
provements and  inventions,  and  asks  (in  1786) 
"what  is  become  of  the  lunarium  for  the  king?" 
He  is  solicitous  for  Houdon  the  sculptor,  Tom 
Paine's  iron  bridge  and  its  mathematical  princi- 
ples, the  ethnological  promises  of  Ledyards  tra- 
vels, his  friend  Button's  museum,  that  it  be  fur- 
nished with  American  specimens,  and  cheerfully 
fills  the  duties  of  a  Paris  commissioner  in  supply- 
ing the  libraries  of' his  friends  at  home  with 
foreign  books.  His  letters  to  his  nephew  Peter 
Carr  show  the  warmth  of  his  family  attachments, 
and  his  zealous  study  of  the  nature  of  a  practical 
education  for  mind  and  body  ;  and  the  politician 
and  philosopher  can  gaily  unbend  from  graver 
studies  to  compliment  his  lady  correspondents 
with  his  refinements  of  expression.  To  Mrs. 
Cosway  he  addresses  the  fine  dialogue  between 
Head  and  Heart  on  American  nature,  and  dis- 
courses very  prettily  to  Mrs.  Bingham  on  the 
fopperies  of  Parisian  life. 

In  1787,  on  the  28th  February,  suffering  from 
a  dislocated  wrist,  Jefferson  set  out,  by  advice  of 
his  physician,  on  a  tour  to  the  mineral  waters  of 
Aix.  By  the  time  he  returned  to  Paris,  in  June, 
he  had  passed  through  the  heart  of  the  country, 
and  traversed  the  boundaries  of  France  on  the  south 
and  west,  advancing  in  Italy  along  the  Mediter- 
ranean as  far  as  Genoa.  He  was  greatly  impressed 
with  the  architecture  of  that  noble  relic  of  anti- 
quity, the  Maisan  Qaarr.'e,  at  Nismes.  He  writes  to 
Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Tesse,  on  the  beauties  of 
a  statue ;  to  La  Fayette,  calling  upon  him  to  make  ' 
the  same  journey, — "  and  to  do  it  most  effectually, 
you  must  be  absolutely  incognito,  you  must  ferret 
the  people  out  of  their  hovels  as  I  have  done, 
look  into  their  kettles,  eat  their  bread,  loll  on 
their  beds,  under  pretence  of  resting  yourself,  but 
in  fact  to  find  if  they  are  soft.  You  will  feel  a 
sublime  pleasure  in  the  course  of  this  investiga- 
tion, and  a  sublimer  one  hereafter,  when  you 
shall  be  able  to  apply  your  knowledge  to  the 
softening  of  their  beds,  or  the  throwing  a  morsel 
of  meat  into  their  kettle  of  vegetables."  His . 
memoranda  apply  to  the  wines  of  Burgundy,  the 
agriculture  and  labor  of  the  Rhone  districts,  the 
mode  of  living  of  the  peasantry,  the  agricultural 
improvements ; — the  itinerary  of  an  useful,  intelli- 
gent, and  active-minded  tourist.  Approaching  the 
close  of  life,  in  1816,  he  writes  to  John  Adams, — 
"  You  ask,  if  I  would  agree  to  live  my  seventy,  or 
rather  seventy-three  years  over  again  ?  To  which  I 
say,  yea.  I  think  with  you,  that  it  is  a  good  world 
on  the  whole  ;  that  it  has  been  framed  on  a  prin- 
ciple of  benevolence,  and  more  pleasure  than  pain 
dealt  out  to  us.  *  *  My  temperament  is  sanguine. 
I  steer  my  bark  with  Hope  in  the  head,  leaving 
Fear  astern.  My  hopes,  indeed,  sometimes  fail ; 
but  not  o'ftener  than  the  forebodings  of  the 
gloomy." 

Tins  was  the  cheerful  close  of  a  life  of  activity. 
His  intellectual  habits  were  those  which  wear 
well ;  keen,  subtle,  sagacious  in  thinking  and 
acting  as  a  politician,  he  was  neat  in  composition, 
skilful  in  statement,  curious  and  philosophical  in 
speculation.  Quick,  active,  versatile,  he  exer- 
cised the  ingenuity  of  a  man  of  talent,  rather  than 


242 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


the  unconscious  instinct  of  a  man  of  genius.  His 
mind  was  clear  on  objects  which  admitted  of 
being  presented  in  a  transparent  light  and  pro- 
found on  material  issues.  Politics  he  made  an 
art,  and  was  sensitive  to  every  fibre  of  the.  web 
of  political  intrigue.  He  was  not  an  orator  or  a 
great  debater,  but  a  good  talker,  an  artful  writer, 
master  of  that  cunning  instrument  the  pen — and 
an  adept  in  personal  management.  In  politics 
and  philosophy  what  force  he  employed  was 
rectilinear  and  progressive.  His  writings  hick 
weight  for  the  man  of  deep  thought  or  feeling. 
They  are  agreeable  studies  for  the  philosophical 
amateur,  and  profitable  ones  for  the  politician 
wiio  follows  out  in  action  his  far-sighted  specu- 
lations, 

DIALOGUE  BETWEEN   I1EAD  AND   HEART. 

In  a  Letter  to  Mrs.  Cosway,  Paris,  Oct.  12, 17S6. 

My  Sear  Madam, — Having  performed  the  last  sad 
office  of  banding  you  into  your  carriage,  at  the^a- 
villon  de  St.  Denis,  and  seen  the  wheels  get  actually 
into  motion,  I  turned  on  my  heel  and  walked,  more 
dead  than  alive,  to  the  opposite  door,  where  my 
own  was  awaiting  me.  Mr.  Danquerville  was  miss- 
ing. He  was  sought  for,  found,  and  dragged  down 
stairs.  We  were  crammed  into  the  carriage,  like 
recruits  for  the  Bastille,  and  not  having  soul  enough 
to  give  orders  to  the  coachman,  he  presumed  Paris 
our  destination,  and  drove  off.  After  a  considerable 
interval,  silence  was  broke,  with  a  "  Je  auis  vraiment 
afilige  du  depart  de  ces  bons  gens."  This  was  a  sig- 
nal for  mutual  confession  of  distress.  We  began  im- 
mediately to  talk  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Coswaj^,  of  their 
goodness,  their  talents,  their  amiability ;  and  though 
we  spoke  of  nothing  else,  we  seemed  hardty  to  have 
entered  into  the  matter,  when  the  coachman  an- 
nounced the  rue  St.  Denis,  and  that  we  were  oppo- 
site Mr.  Danquerville's.  He  insisted  on  descending 
there,  and  traversing  a  short  passage  to  his  lodgings. 
I  was  carried  home.  Seated  by  my  fireside,  solitary 
and  sad,  the  following  dialogue  took  place  between 
my  Head  and  my  Heart. 

Head.  Well,  friend,  you  seem,  to  be  in  a  pretty 
trim. 

Heart.  I  am  indeed  the  most  wretched  of  all 
earthly  beings.  Overwhelmed  with  grief,  every 
fibre  of  my  frame  distended  beyond  its  natural 
powers  to  bear,  I  would  willingly  meet  whatever 
catastrophe  should  leave  me  no  more  to  feel,  or  to 
fear. 

Head.  These  are  the  eternal  consequences  of  your 
warmth  and  precipitation.  This  is  one  of  the  scrapes 
into  which  you  are  ever  leading  us.  You  confess 
your  follies,  indeed;  but  still  you  hug  and  cherish 
them;  and  no  reformation  can  be  hoped  where  there 
is  no  repentance. 

Heart.  Oh,  my  friend!  this  is  r.o  moment  to  up- 
braid my  foibles.  1  am  rent  into  fragments  by  the 
force  of  my  grief!  If  you  have  any  balm,  pour  it 
into  my  wounds;  if  none,  do  not  harrow  them  by 
new  torments.  Spare  me  in  this  awful  moment! 
At  any  other,  I  will  attend  with  patience  to  your 
admonitions. 

Head.  On  the  contrary,  I  never  found  that  the 
moment  of  triumph,  with  3-ou,  was  the  moment  of 
attention  to  my  admonitions.  While  suffering  un- 
der your  follies,  you  may  perhaps  be  made  sensible 
of  them  ;  but,  the  paroxysm  over,  you  fancy  it  can 
never  return.  Harsh,  therefore,  as  the  medicine 
may  be,  it  is  my  office  to  administer  it.  You  will 
be  pleased  to  remember,  that  when  our  friend  Trum- 
bull used  to  be  telling  us  of  the  merits  and  talents 


of  these  good  people,  I  never  ceased  whisperii-g  to 
you  that  we  had  no  occasion  for  new  acquaintances ; 
that  the  greater  their  merit  and  talents,  the  more 
dangerous  their  friendship  to  our  tranquillity,  be- 
cause the  regret  at  parting  would  be  greater. 

Heart.  Accordingly,  Sir,  this  acquaintance  was 
not  the  consequence  of  my  doings.  It  was  one  of 
your  projects  which  threw  us  in  the  way  of  it.  It 
was  you,  remember,  and  not  I,  who  desired  the 
meeting  at  Legrand  and  Motinos.  I  never  trouble 
myself  with  domes  nor  arches.  The  Halle  au  ules 
might  have  rotted  down,  before  I  should  have  gone 
to  see  it.  But  you,  forsooth,  who  are  eternally  get- 
ting us  to  sleep  with  your  diagrams  and  crotchets, 
must  go  and  examine  this  wonderful  piece  of  archi-  ■ 
tecture  ;  and  when  you  had  seen  it,  oh !  it  was  the 
most  superb  thing  on  earth !  What  you  had  seen 
there  was  worth  all  you  had  yet  seen  in  Paris!  I 
thought  so  too.  But  I  meant  it  of  the  lady  and 
gentleman  to  whom  we  had  been  presented;  and 
not  of  a  parcel  of  sticks  and  chips  put  together  in 
pens.  .  You  then,  Sir,  and  not  I,  have  been  the  cause 
of  the  present  distress. 

Head.  It  would  have  been  happy  for  you,  if  my  dia- 
grams and  crotchets  had  gotten  you  to  sleep  on  that 
■day,  as  you  are  pleased  to  say  they  eternally  do.  My 
visit  to  Legrand  and  Motinos  had  public  utility  for 
its  object.  A  market  is  to  be  built  in  Richmond. 
What  a  commodious  plan  is  that  of  Legrand  and 
Motinos  ;  especially,  if  we  rait  on  it  the  noble  dome 
of  the  Halle  au  blcs.  If  such  a  bridge  as  they 
showed  us  can  be  thrown  across  the  Schuylkill,  at 
Philadelphia,  the  floating  bridges  taken  up,  and  the 
navigation  of  that  river  opened,  what  a  copious  re- 
source will  be  added,  of  wood  and  provisions,  to 
warm  and  feed  the  poor  of  that  city?  While  I  was 
occupied  with  these  objects,  3*ou  were  dilatii  g  with 
your  new  acquaintances,  and  contriving  how  to  pre- 
vent a  separation  from  them.  Every  soul  of  you 
had  an  engagement  for  the  day.  Yet  all  these  were 
to  be  sacrificed  that  you  might  dine  together.  Ly- 
ing messengers  were  to  be  despatched  into  every 
quarter  of  the  city,  with  apologies  for  your  breach 
of  engagement.  You,  particularly,  had  the  effron- 
tery to  send  word  to  the  Duchess  Danville,  that  on 
the  moment  we  were  setting  out  to  dine  with  her, 
despatches  came  to  hand  which  required  immediate 
attention.  You  wanted  me  to  invent  a  more  ii;ge-" 
nious  excuse ;  but  I  knew  you  were  getting  into  a 
scrape,  and  I  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
Well;  after  dinner  from  St.  Cloud,  from  St.  Cloud 
to  Ruggieri's,  from  Ruggieri's  to  Krumfoltz;  and  if 
the  day  had  been  as  long  as  a  Lapland  summer  day, 
you  would  still  have  contrived  means  among  you  to 
have  filled  it. 

Heart.  Oh!  my  dear  friend,  how  you  have  revived 
me,  by  recalling  to  mind  the  transactions  of  that 
day!  How  well  I  remember  them  all,  and  that 
when  I  came  home  at  night,  and  looked  back  to  the 
morning,  it  seemed  to  have  been  a  month  agone. 
Go  on,  then,  like  a  kind  comforter,  and  paint  tome  the 
day  we  went  to  St.  Germains.  How  beautiful  was 
every  object!  the  Port  de  Hcuilly,  the  hills  along 
the  Seine,  the  rainbows  of  the  machine  of  Marly,  the  ■ 
terras  of  St.  Germains,  the  chateaux,  the  gardens, 
the  statues  of  Marly,  the  pavilion  of  Lucienne.  Re- 
collect, too,  Madrid,  Bagatelle,  the  King's  garden, 
the  Desert.  How  grand  the  idea  excited  by  the  re- 
mains of  such  a  column.  The  spiral  staircase,  too, 
was  beautiful.  Every  moment  was  filled  with  some- 
thing agreeable.  The  wheels  of  time  moved  on  with 
a  rapidity  of  which  those  of  our  carriage  gave  but  a 
faint  idea  And  yet,  in  the  evening,  when  one  took 
a  retrospect  of  the  day,  what  a  mass  of  happiness 
had  we  travelled  over !     Retrace  all  those  scenes  to 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 


243 


rne,  my  good  companion,  and  I  will  forgive  the  un- 
kindness  with  which  you  were  chiding  me.  The 
day  we  went  to  St.  Germains  was  a  little  too  warm, 
I  tliink  ;.  was  it  not? 

Head.  Tliou  art  the  most  incorrigible  of  all  the 
beings  that  ever  sinned!  I  reminded  you  of  the 
follies  of  the  first  day,  intending  to  deduce  from 
thence  some  useful  lessons  for  you ;  but  instead  of 
listening  to  them,  you  kindle  at  the  recollection,  you 
retrace  the  whole  series  with  a  fondness,  which 
shows  you  want  nothing  but  the  opportunity  to  act 
it  over  again.  I  often  told  you,  during  its  course, 
that  you  were  imprudently  engaging  your  affec- 
tions, under  circumstances  that  must  cost  you  a 
great  deal  of  pain;  that  the  persons,  indeed,  were 
of  the  greatest  merit,  possessing  good  sense,  good 
humor,  honest  hearts,  honest  manners,  and  eminence 
in  a  lovely  art;  that  the  lady  had,  moreover,  qualities 
and  accomplishments  belonging  to  her  sex,  which 
might  form  a  chapter  apart  for  her  ;  such  as  music, 
modesty,  beauty,  and  that  softness  of  disposition 
which  is  the  ornament  of  her  sex,  and  charm  of  ours : 
but  that  all  these  considerations  would  increase  the 
pang  of  separation  ;  that  their  stay  here  was  to  be 
short;  that  you  rack  our  whole  system  when  you 
are  parted  from  those  you  love,  complaining  that 
such  a  separation  is  worse  than  death,  inasmuch  as 
this  ends  our  sufferings,  whereas  that  only  begins 
them;  and  that  the  separation  would,  in  this  in- 
stance, be  the  more  severe,  as  you  would  probably 
never  see  them  again. 

Heart.  But  they  told  me  thejf  would  come  back 
again  the  next  year. 

Head.  But,  in  the  mean  time,  see  what  you  suffer: 
and  their  return,  too,  depends  on  so  many  circum- 
stances, that  if  you  had  a  grain  of  prudence,  you 
would  not  count  upon  it.  Upon  the  whole,  it  is  im- 
probable, and  therefore  you  should  abandon  the  idea 
of  ever  seeing  them  again. 

Heart.  May  Heaven  abandon  me,  if  I  do! 

Head.  Very  well.  Suppose,  then,  tliey  come  back. 
They  are  to  stay  two  months,  and  when  these  are 
expired  what  is  to  follow?  Perhaps  you  flatter 
yourself  they  may  come  to  America  ? 

Heart.  God  only  knows  what  is  to  happen.  I  see 
nothing  impossible  in  that  supposition ;  and  I  see 
things  wonderfully  contrived  sometimes  to  make  us 
happy.  Where  could  they  find  such  objects  as  in 
America  for  the  exercise  of  their  enchanting  art; 
especially  the  lady  who  paints  landscapes  so  inimi- 
tably? She  wants  only  subjects  worthy  of  immor- 
tality to  render  her  pencil  immortal.  The  Falling 
Spring,  the  Cascade  of  Niagara,  the  Passage  of  the 
Potomac  through  the  Blue  Mountains,  the  Natural 
Bridge  ;  it  is  worth  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  to 
Bee  these  objects;  much  more  to  paint  and  make 
them,  and  thereby  ourselves,  known  to  all  ages. 
And  our  own  dear  Monticello ;  where  has  nature  I 
spread  so  rich  a  mantle  under  the  eye? — mountains,  i 
forests,  rocks,  rivers.  With  what  majesty  do  we  i 
there  ride  above  the  storms!  How  sublime  to  look  j 
down  into  the  workhouse  of  nature,  to  see  her  clouds,  ! 
hail,  snow,  rain,  thunder,  all  fabricate'!  at  our  feet ! 
and  the  glorious  sun  when  rising  as  if  out  of  a  dis- 
tant water,  just  gilding  the  tops  of  the  mountains, 
and  giving  life  to  all  nature!  I  hope  in  God,  no 
circumstance  may  ever  make  either  seek  an  asylum 
from  grief!  With  what  sincere  sympathy  I  would 
open  every  cell  of  my  composition  to  receive  the 
effusion  of  their  woes!  I  would  pour  my  tears  into 
their  wounds  ;  and  if  a  drop  of  balm  could  be  found 
on  the  top  of  the  Cordilleras,  or  at  the  remotest 
sources  of  the  Missouri,  I  would  go  thither  myself 
to  seek  and  to  bring  it.  Deeply  practised  in  the 
school  of  affliction,  the  human  heart  knows  no  joy 


which  I  have  not  lost,  no  sorrow  of  which  I  had  not 
drank!  Fortune  can  present  no  grief  of  unknown 
form  to  me  !  Who,  then,  can  so  softly  bind  up  the 
wound  of  another,  as  he  who  has  felt  the  same 
wound  himself?  But  Heaven  forbid  they  should 
ever  know  a  sorrow !  Let  us  turu  over  another  leaf, 
for  this  has  distracted  me. 

Head.  Well.  Let  us  put  this  possibility  to  trial, 
then,  on  another  point.  When  you  consider  the 
character  which  is  given  of  our  country  by  the  lying 
newspapers  of  London,  and  their  credulous  copyers 
in  other  countries;  when  you  reflect  that  all  Europe 
is  made  to  believe  we  are  a  lawless  banditti,  in  a 
state  of  absolute  anarchy,  cutting  one  another's 
throats,  and  plundering  without  distinction,  how 
could  you  expect  that  any  reasonable  creature  would 
venture  among  us? 

Heart.  But  you  and  I  know  that  all  this  is  false : 
that  there  is  not  a  country  on  earth  where  there  is 
greater  tranquillity  ;  where  the  laws  are  milder,  or 
better-  obeyed  ;  where  every  one  is  more  attentive 
to  his  own  business,  or  meddles  less  with  that  of 
others  ;  where  strangers  are  better  received,  more 
hospitably  treated,  and  with  a  more  sacred  respect. 

Head.  True,  you  and  I  know  this,  but  your  friends 
do  not  know  it. 

Heart.  But  they  are  sensible  people,  who  think 
for  themselves.  They  will  ask  of  impartial  foreign- 
ers, who  have  been  among  us,  whether  they  saw  or 
heard  on  the  Bpot  any  instance  of  anarchy.  They 
will  judge,  too,  that  a  people  occupied,  as  we  are,  in 
opening  rivers,  digging  navigable  canals,  making 
roads,  building  public  schools,  establishing  acade- 
mies, erecting  busts  and  statues  to  our  great  men, 
protecting  religious  freedom,  abolishing  sanguinary 
punishments,  reforming  and  improving  our  laws  in 
general;  they  will  judge,  I  say,  for  themselves, 
whether  these  are  not  the  occupations  of  a  people 
at  their  ease  ;  whether  this  is  not  better  evidence 
of  our  true  state  than  a  London  newspaper,  hired  to 
lie,  and  from  which  no  truth  can  ever  be  extracted, 
but  by  reversing  every  thing  it  says. 

Head.  I  did  not  begin  this  lecture,  my  friend,  with 
a  view  to  learn  from  you  what  America  is  doing. 
Let  us  return,  then,  to  our  point.  I  wish  to  make 
you  sensible  how  imprudent  it  is  to  place  your 
affections  without  reserve  on  objects  you  must  so 
soon  lose,  and  whose  loss,  when  it  comes,  must  cost 
you  such  severe  pangs.  Remember  the  last  night. 
You  knew  your  friends  were  to  leave  Paris  to-day. 
This  was  enough  to  throw  you  into  agonies.  All 
night  you  tossed  us  from  one  side  of  the  bed  to  the 
other ;  no  sleep,  no  rest.  The  poor  crippled  wrist, 
too,  never  left  one  moment  in  the  same  position ; 
now  up,  now  down,  now  here,  now  there  ;  was  it  to 
be  wondered  at  if  its  pains  returned  ?  The  surgeon 
then  was  to  be  called,  and  to  be  rated  as  an  igno- 
ramus, beeause  he  could  not  divine  the  cause  of  this 
extraordinary  change.  In  fine,  my  friend,  you  must 
mend  your  manners.  This  is  not  a  world  to  live  at 
random  in,  as  you  do.  To  avoid  those  eternal  dis- 
tresses, to  which  you  are  for  ever  exposing  us,  you 
must  learn  to  look  forward  before  you  take  a  step 
which  may  interest  our  peace.  Every  thing  in  this 
world  is  matter  of  calculation.  Advance,  then,  with 
caution,  the  balance  in  your  hand.  Put  into  one 
scale  the  pleasures  which  any  object  may  offer;  but 
put  fairly  into  the  other  the  pains  which  are  to  fol- 
low, and  see  which  preponderates.  The  making  an 
acquaintance  is  not  a  matter  of  indifference.  When 
a  new  one  is  proposed  to  you  view  it  all  round. 
Consider  what  advantages  it  presents,  and  to  what 
inconveniences  it  may  expose  you.  Do  not  bite  at 
the  bait  of  pleasure  till  you  know  there  is  no  hook 
beneath  it     The  art  of  life  is  the  art  of  avoiding 


241 


CYCLOP.EDU  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


pain ;  and  lie  is  the  best  pilot  who  steers  clearest  of 
the  rocks  and  slioals  with  which  it  is  beset.  Plea- 
sure is  always  before  us ;  but  misfortune  is  at  our 
side;  while  running  after  that,  this  arrests  us.  The 
most  effectual  means  of  being  secure  against  pain  is 
to  retire  within  ourselves,  and  to  suffice  for  our  own 
happiness.  Those  which  depend  on  ourselves  are 
the  only  pleasures  a  wise  man,  will  count  on ; 
for  nothing  is  ours  which  another  may  deprive  us 
of.  Hence  the  inestimable  value  of  intellectual 
pleasures.  Ever  in  our  power,  always  leading  us  to 
something  new,  never  cloying,  we  ride  serene  and 
sublime  above  the  concerns  of  this  mortal  world, 
contemplating  truth  and  nature,  matter  and  motion, 
the  laws  which  bind  up  their  existence,  and  that 
Eternal  Being  who  made  and  bound  them  up  by 
those  laws.  Let  this  be  our  employ.  Leave  the 
bustle -and  tumult  of  society  to  those  who  have  not 
talents  to  occupy  themselves  without  them.  Friend- 
ship is  but  another  name  for  an  alliance  with  the 
follies  and  the  misfortunes  of  others.  Our  own  share 
of  miseries  is  sufficient ;  why  enter  then  as  volunteers 
into  those  of  another?  Is  there  so  little  gall  poured 
into  our  cup  that  we  must  need  help  to  drink  that 
of  our  neighbor?  A  friend  dies,  or  leaves  us:  we 
feel  as  if  a  limb  was  cut  off.  He  is  sick:  we  must 
watch  over  him,  and  participate  of  his  pains.  His 
fortune  is  shipwrecked :  ours  must  be  laid  under 
contribution.  He  loses  a  child,  a  parent,  or  a  part- 
ner: we  must  mourn  the  loss  as  if  it  were  our  own. 
Heart.  And  what  more  sublime  delight  than  to 
mingle  tears  with  one  whom  the  hand  of  Heaven 
hath  smitten !  to  watch  over  the  bed  of  sickness, 
and  to  beguile  its  tedious  and  its  painful  moments! 
to  share  our  bread  with  one  to  whom  misfortune  has 
left  none !  This  world  abounds  indeed  with  misery : 
to  lighten  its  burthen  we  must  divide  it  with  one 
another.  But  let  us  now  try  the  virtue  of  your 
mathematical  balance,  and  as  you  have  put  into  one 
scale  the  burthens  of  friendship,  let  me  put  its  com- 
forts into  the  other.  "When  languishing,  then,  under 
disease,  how  grateful  is  the  solace  of  our  friends! 
how  are  we  penetrated  with  their  assiduities  and 
attentions !  how  much  are  we  supported  by  their 
encouragements  and  kind  offices!  "When  Heaven 
has  taken  from  us  some  object  of  our  love,  how 
sweet  is  it  to  have  a  bosom  whereon  to  recline  our 
heads,  and  into  which  we  may  pour  the  torrent  of 
our  tears!  Grief,  with  such  a  comfort,  is  almost  a 
luxury  !  In  a  life  where  we  are  perpetually  expos- 
ed to  want  and  accident,  yours  is  a  wonderful  pro- 
position, to  insulate  ourselves,  to  retire  from  all  aid, 
and  to  wrap  ourselves  in  the  mantle  of  self-suffi- 
ciency! For  assuredly  nobody  will  care  for  him,  I 
who  cares  for  nobody.  But  friendship  is  precious, 
not  only  in  the  shade,  but  in  the  sunshine  of  life ; 
and  thanks  to  a  benevolent  arrangement  of  things, 
the  greater  part  of  life  is  sunshine.  I  will  recur  for 
proof  to  the  days  we  have  lately  passed.  On  these,  • 
indeed,  the  sun  shone  brightly]  How  gay  did  the 
face  of  nature  appear!  Hills,  valleys^  chateaux, 
gardens,  rivers,  every  object  wore  its  liveliest  hue ! 
Whence  did  they  borrow  it?  From  the  presence  of 
our  charming  companion.  They  were  pleasing,  be- 
cause she  seemed  pleased.  Alone,  the  .scene  would 
have  been  dull  and  insipid :  the  participation  of  it 
with  her  gave  it  relish.  Let  the  gloomy  monk,  se- 
questered from  the  world,  seek  unsocial  pleasures  in 
the  bottom  of  his  cell !  Let  the  sublimated  philoso- 
pher grasp  visionary  happiness  while  pursuing  pban- 
toms  dressed  in  the  garb  of  truth !  Their  supreme 
wisdom  is  supreme  folly  :  and  they  mistake  for  hap- 
piness the  mere  absence  of  pain.  Had  they  ever  , 
felt  the  solid  pleasure  of  one  generous  spasm'of  the 
heart,  they  would   exchange  for  it  all  the   frigid 


speculations  of  their  lives, 'which  you  have  been 
vaunting  in  such  elevated  terms.  Believe  me,  then, 
my  friend,  that  that  is  a  miserable  arithmetic,  winch 
could  estimate  friendship  at  nothi:  g,  or  at  less  than 
nothing.  Respect  for  you  has  induced  me  to  enter  into 
this  discussion,  and  to  hear  principles  uttered,  which 
I  detest  and  abjure.  Respect  for  myself  now  obliges 
me  to  recall  you  into  the  proper  limits  of  your  office. 
"When  nature  .assigned  us  the  same  habitation,  she 
gave  us  over  it  a  divided  empire.  To  you  she  al- 
lotted the  field  of  science;  to  me  that  of  morals. 
"When  the  circle  is  to  be  squared,  or  the  oibit  of  a 
comet  to  be  traced ;  when  the  arch  of  greatest 
strength,  or  the  solid  of  least  resistance  is  to  be  in- 
vestigated, take  up  the  problem ;  it  is  yours;  nature 
has  given  me  no  cognizance  of  it.  In  like  manner, 
in  denying  to  you  the  feelings  of  sympathy,  of  be- 
nevolence, of  gratitude,  of  justice,  of  love,  of  friend- 
ship, she  has  excluded  you  from  their  control.  To 
these  she  has  adapted  the  mechanism  of  the  heart. 
Morals  were  too  essential  to  the  happiness  of  man 
to  be  risked  on  the  uncertain  combinations  of  the 
head.  She  laid  their  foundation,  therefore,  in  senti- 
ment, not  in  science.  That  she  gave  to  all  as  neces- 
sary to  all :  this  to  a  few  only,  as  sufficing  with  a 
few.  I  know,  indeed,  that  you  pretend  authority 
to  the  sovereign  control  of  our  conduct,  in  all  rte 
parts:  and  a  respect  for  your  grave  saws  and  max- 
ims, a  desire  to  do  what  is  right,  has  sometimes  in- 
duced me  to  conform  to  your  counsels.  A  few  facts, 
however,  which  I  can  readily  recall  to  your  memory, 
will  suffice  to  prove  to  you  that  nature  has  not  or- 
ganized you  for  our  moral  direction.  "When  the 
poor  wearied  soldier,  whom  we  overtook  at  Chicka- 
hominy,  with  his  pack  on  his  back,  begged  us  to  let 
him  get  up  behind  our  chariot,  yon  began  to  calcu- 
late that  the  road  was  full  of  soldiers,  and  that  if  all 
should  be  taken  up,  our  horses  would  fail  in  their 
journey.  AVe  drove  on,  therefore.  But  soon  be- 
coming sensible  you  had  made  me  do  wrong,  that 
though  we  cannot  relieve  all  the  distressed,  we 
should  relieve  as  many  as  we  can,  I  turned  about  to 
take  up  the  soldier;  but  he  had  entered  a  by-path, 
and  was  no  more  to  be  found :  and  from  that  mo- 
ment to  this,  I  could  never  find  him  out  to  ask  his 
forgiveness.  Again,  when  the  poor  woman  came  to 
ask  a  charity  in  Philadelphia,  you  whispered,  that 
she  looked  like  a  drunkard,  and  that  half  a  dollar 
was  enough  to  give  her  for  the  ale-house.  Those 
wdio  want  the  dispositions  to  give,  easily  find  rea- 
sons why  they  ought  not  to  give.  When  I  sought 
her  out  afterwards,  and  did  what  I  should  have 
done  at  first,  you  know,  that  she  employed  the  mo- 
ney immediately  towards  placing  her  child  at  school. 
If  our  country,  when  pressed  with  wrongs  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet,  had  been  governed  by  its 
heads  instead  of  its  hearts,  where  should  we  have 
been  now?  Hanging  on  a  gallows  as  high  as  Ha- 
inan's. You  began  to  calculate,  and  to  compare 
wealth  and  numbers:  we  threw  up  a  few  pulsa- 
tions of  our  blood;  we  supplied  enthusiasm  against 
wealth  and  numbers ;  we  put  our  existence  to  the 
hazard,  when  the  hazard  seemed  against  us,  and  we 
saved  our  country:  justifying,  at  the  same  time,  the 
ways  of  Providence,  whose  precept  is  to  do  always 
what  is  right,  and  leave  the  issue  to  him.  In  short, 
my  friend,  as  far  as  my  recollection  serves  me,  I  do 
not  know  that  I  ever  did  a  good  thing  on  your  sug- 
gestion, or  a  dirty  one  without  it.  I  do  for  ever, 
then,  disclaim  your  interference  in  my  province. 
Fill  paper  as  you  please  with  triangles  and  squares: 
try  how  many  ways  you  can  hang  and  combine 
them  together.  I  shall  never  envy  nor  control  your 
sublime  delights.  But  leave  me  to  decide  when 
and  where  friendships  are  to  be  contracted.     You 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 


215 


say  I  contract  them  at  random.  So  you  said  the 
woman  at  Philadelphia  was  a  drunkard.  I  receive 
none  into  my  esteem  till  I  know  they  are  worthy  of 
it.  Wealth,  title,  office,  are  no  recommendations  to 
my  friendship.  On  the  contrary,  great  good  quali- 
ties are  requisite  to  make  amends  for  their  having 
wealth,  title,  and  office.  Yoa  confess,  that,  in  the 
present  case,  I  could  not  have  made  a  worthier 
choice.  Yon  o  dy  object  that  I  was  so  soon  to  lose 
them.  "We  are  not  immortal  ourselves,  my  friends; 
how  can  we  expect  our  enjoyments  to  be  so  ?  "We 
have  no  rose  withont  its  thorn  ;  no  pleasure  without 
alloy.  It  is  the  law  of  our  existence ;  and  we  must 
acquiesce.  It  is  the  condition  annexed  to  all  our 
ple'tsures,  not  by  us  who  receive,  but  by  him  who 
gives  them.  True,  this  condition  is  pressing  cruelly 
on  in;  at  this  moment  I  feel  more  fit  for  death 
than  life.  Bit  when  I  look  buck  on  the  pleasures 
of  which  it  is  the  consequence,  I  am  conscious  they 
were  worth  the  price  I  am  paying.  Notwithstand- 
ing your,  endeavors.  t:io,  to  damp  my  hopes,  I  com- 
fort myself  with  expectations  of  their  promised  re- 
turn. Hope  is  sweeter  than  despair;  and  they 
were  too  giol  to  me  in  to  deceive  me.  "In  the 
sum  ner,"  said  the  gentleman  ;  hut  "  In  4he  spring," 
6aid  the  lady;  and  I  should  love  her  for  ever,  were 
it  o  ily  for  that!  Know,  then,  my  friend,  that  I  have 
taken  these  good  people  into  my  bosom  ;  that  I  have 
lodged  the  n  in  the  warmest  cell  I  could  find  ;  that 
I  love  them,  a  id  will  continue  to  love, them  through 
life;  that  if  fortune  should  dispose  them  on  one  side 
the  globe,  and  me  on  the  other,  my  affections  shall 
pervale  its  whole  mass  to  reach  them.  Knowing, 
then,  my  determination,  attempt  not  to  disturb  it. 
If  you  can  at  a  ly  time  furnish  matter  for  their 
amusement,  it  will  be  the  office  of  a  gool  neighbor 
to  do  it.  I  will,  in  like  manner,  seize  any  occasion 
which  may  offer,  to  do  the  like  good  turn  for  you 
with  Condoroet,  Rittenhouse,  Madison,  La  Cretelle, 
or  a  iy  other  of  those  worthy  sons  of  science,  whom 
you  so  justly  prize. 

I  thought  this  a  favorable  proposition  whereon  to 
rest  the  issue  of  the  dialogue.  So  I  put  an  end  to 
it  by  calling  for"  my  nightcap.  Methinks,  I  hear 
you  wish  to  Heaven  I  had  called  a  little  sooner,  and 
so  spared  you  the  ennui  of  such  a  sermon.  I  did 
not  interrupt  them  sooner,  because  I  was  in  a  mood 
for  he  iriug  sermons.  You,  too,  were  the  subject ; 
and  on  such  a  thesis  I  never  think  the  theme  long  ; 
not  even  if  I  am  to  write  it,  and  that  slowly  and 
awkwardly,  as  now,  with  the  left  hand. 

CHARACTER  OF  WASHINGTON. 

To  Dr.  Walter  Jonsz,  Moniieello,  Jan.  1S14. 

I  think  I  knew  General  Washington  intimately 
and  thoroughly  ;  and  were  I  called  on  to  delineate 
his  character,  it  sho  lid  be'in  terms  like  these  : — 

His  mind  was  groat  and  powerful,  without 
being  of  the  very  first  order;  his  penetration 
stro  ig,  though  not  so  acute  as  that  of  a  Newton, 
Bacon,  or  Loeke;  and  as  far  as  he  saw,  no  judg- 
ment was  ever  sounder.  It  was  slow  in  opera- 
tin  i,  being  little  aided  by  invention  or  imagina- 
tio  i,  but  sure  in  conclusion.  Hence  the  common  re- 
mirk  of  his  officers,  of  the  advantage  he  derived 
from  councils  of  war,  where,  hearing  all  suggestions, 
he  selected  whatever  was  best;  and  certainly  no 
general  ever  planned  his  battles  more  judiciously. 
But  if  deranged  during  the  course  of  the  action,  if 
any  member  of  his  plan  was  disloented  by  sudden 
circumstances,  he  was  slow  in  a  re-adjustment.  The 
consequence  was,  that  he  often  failed  in  the  field, 
and  rarely  against  an  enemy  in  station,  as  at  Boston 
and  York.     He  was  incapable  of  fear,  meeting  per- 


sonal dangers  with  the  calmest  unconcern.  Perhaps 
the  strongest  feature  in  his  character  was  prudence, 
never  acting  until  every  circumstance,  every  consi- 
deration was  maturely  weighed;  refraining,  if  he 
saw  a  doubt ;  but,  when  once  decided,  going  through 
with  his  purpose,  whatever  obstacles  opposed.  His 
integrity  was  most  pure,  his  justice  the  most  inflex- 
ible I  have  ever  known;  no  motives  of  interest  or 
consanguinity,  of  friendship  or  hatred,  being  able  to 
bias  his  decision.  He  was,  indeed,  in  every  sense  of 
the  words,  a  wise,  a  good,  and  a  great  man.  His 
temper  was  naturally  irritable  and  high-toned  ;  but 
reflection  and  resolution  had  obtained  a  firm  and 
habitual  ascendancy  over  it.  If  ever,  however,  it 
broke  its  bonds,  he  was  most  tremendous  in  his 
wrath.  In  his  expenses  he  was  honorable,  but  exact; 
liberal  in  contributions  to  whatever  promised  utility; 
but  frowning  and  unyielding  on  all  visionary  pro- 
jects and  all  unworthy  calls  on  his  charity.  His 
heart  was  not  warm  in  its  affections;  but  he  exactly 
calculated  every  man's  value,  and  gave  him  a  solid 
esteem  proportioned  to  it.  His  person,  you  know, 
was  fine  ;  his  stature  exactly  what  one  would  wish ; 
his  deportment  easj',  erect,  and  noble;  the  best 
horseman  of  his  age,  and  the  most  graceful  figure 
that  could  be  seen  On  horseback.  Although  in  the 
circle  of  his  friends,  where  he  might  be  unreserved 
with  safety,  he  took  a  free  share  in  conversation, 
his  colloquial  talents  were  not  above  mediocrity, 
possessing  neither  copiousness  of  ideas  nor  fluency 
of  words.  In  public,  when  called  on  for  a  sudden 
opinion,  he  was  unready,  short,  and  embarrassed. 
Yet  he  wrote  readily,  rather  diffusely,  in  an  easy 
and  correct  style.  This  he  had  acquired  by  conver- 
sation with  the  world,  for  his  education  was  merely 
reading,  writing,  and  common  arithmetic,  to  which 
he  added  surveying,  at  a  later  day.  His  time  was 
employed  in  action  chiefly,  reading  little,  and  that 
only  in  agricultural  and  English  history.  His  cor- 
respondence became  necessarily  extensive,  and,  with 
journalizing  his  agricultural  proceedings,  occupied 
most  of  his  leisure  hours  within  daors.  On  the 
whole,  his  character  was  in  its  mass,  perfect;  in  no- 
thing bad,  in  few  points  indifferent;  and  it  maj' 
truly  be  said,  that  never  did  nature  and  fortune 
combine  more  perfectly  to  make  a  man  great,  and  to 
place  him  in  the  same  constellation  with  whatever 
worthies  have  merited  from  man  an  everlasting  re- 
membrance. For  his  was  the  singular  destiny  and 
merit,  of  leading  the  armies  of  his  country  success- 
fully through  an  arduous  war,  for  the  establishment 
of  its  independence ;  of  conducting  its  councils 
through  the  birth  of  a  government,  new  in  its  forms 
and  principles,  until  it  had  settled  down  into  a  quiet 
and  orderly  train;  and  of  scrupulously  obeying  the 
laws  through  the  whole  of  his  career,  civil  and  mili- 
tary, of  which  the  history  of  the  world  furnishes  no 
other  example. 

MORALITIES. 

To  Tliomas  Jefferson  Smith,  Monticello,  Feb.  21, 1S25. 
This  letter  will,  to  you,  be  as  one  from  the  dead. 
The  writer  will  be  in  the  grave  before  you  can 
weigh  its  councils.  Your  affectionate  and  excellent 
father  has  requested  that  I  would  address  to  you 
something  which  might  possibly  have-  a  favorable 
influence  on  the  course  of  life  you  have  to  run  ;  and 
I  too,  as  a  namesake,  feel  an  interest  in  that  course. 
Few  words  will  be  necessary,  with  good  dispositions 
on  your  part.  Adore  God.  Reverence  and  cherish 
5'our  parents.  Love  your  neighbor  as  yourself,  and 
your  country  more  than  yourself.  Be  just.  Be  true. 
Murmur  not  at  the'  ways  of  Providence.  So  shall 
the  life,  into  which  you  have  entered,  be  the  portal 
to  one  of  eternal  and  ineffable  bliss.     And,  if  to  the 


216 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


dead  it  is  permitted  to  care  for  the  things  of  this 
world,  every  action  of  your  life  will  be  under  my 
regard.     Farewell. 

Monticello,  February  21st,  1825. 

The  Portrait  of  a  Good  Man,  by  (he  most  sublime  of  Poets, 
for  your  imitation. 

Lord,  who's  the  happy  man  that  may  to  thy  blest 

courts  repair ; 
Sot,  stranger-like,  to  visit  them,  but  to  inhabit  there? 
'T  is  he,  whose  every  thought  and  deed  by  rules  of 

virtue  moves; 
"Whose  generous  tongue  disdains  to  speak,  the  thing 

his  heart  disproves. 
Who  never  did  a  slander  forge,  his  neighbor's  fame 

to  wound; 
Nor  hearken  to  a  false  report,  by  malice  whispered 

round. 

Who  vice,  in  all  its  pomp  and  power,  can  treat  with 

just  neglect ; 
And  piety,  though  eloth'd  in  rags,  religiously  respect. 
"ft  ho  to  his  plighted  vows  and  trust,  has  ever  firmly 

stcod; 
And  though  he  promise  to  his  loss,  he  makes  his 

promise  good. 
Whose  soul  in  usury  disdains  his  treasure  to  employ ; 
Whom  no  rewards  can  ever  bribe,  the  guiltless  to 

destroy. 
The  man,  who  by  this  steady  course  has  happiness 

ensured, 
When  earth's   foundations   shake,  shall  stand,  by 

Providence  secured. 

A  Decalogue  of  Canons  for  observation  in  practical  life. 

1.  Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  you  can  do 

to-day. 

2.  Never   trouble  another  for  what  you  can   do 

yourself. 

3.  Never  spend  your  money  before  you  have  it. 

4.  Never  buy  what  you  do  not  want,  because  it  is 

cheap;  it  will  be  dear  to  you. 

5.  Pride  costs  us  more  than  hunger,  thirst,   and 

cold. 

6.  We  never  repent  of  having  eaten  too  little. 

7.  Nothing  is  troublesome  that  we  do  willingly. 

8.  How  much  pain  have  cost  us  the  evils  that  have 

never  happened. 

9.  Take  things  always  by  their  smooth  handle. 
10.  AVhen  angry,   count  ten  before  you  speak;  if 

very  angry,  an  hundred. 

NATHANAEL  EMMONS 
Was  a  native  of  Connecticut,  born  in  the  town 
of  East  Haddam,  county  of  Hartford,  May  1, 
1745.  In  his  Autobiography,  written  towards 
the  close  of  his  life,  he  tells  us  that  his  parents, 
finding  him  of  "  a  volatile,  trifling  spirit,"  as  a 
schoolboy,  altered  their  purpose  of  sending  him 
to  college,  and  determined  to  make  a  farmer 
of  him;  a  resolution  which  put  him  upon  his 
mettle  for  study.  He  bought  a  Latin  accidence 
and  grammar  with  his  own  money,  before  he 
attended  a  grammar-school.  In  1763,  he  entered 
Yale,  where  he  was  a  classmate  of  the  poet  Trum- 
bull, and  found  himself,  on  the  completion  of  his 
course,- by  the  loss  of  his  parents,  without  money 
■or  a  home.  School-keeping  was  the  obvious  and 
uniform  resource  in  such  cases,  and  Emmons 
taught  school  for  some  months,  till  he  entered  the 
family  of  the  Eev.  Nathan  Strong,  of  Coventry, 
Conn.,  teaching  his  children,  and  himself  acquiring 


theology.  He  also  placed  himself  under  the  in- 
struction of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Smalley.* 

In  1769,  he  was  licensed  by  the  South  Associa- 
tion in  Hartford  county.  In  1773,  he  was  or- 
dained to  the  pastoral  care  of  the  Second  church, 
in  Wrentham,  Mass.,  the  name  of  the  district  from 
which  the  town  of  Franklin  was  subsequently 
organized  in  1778,  receiving  its  name  in  honor  of 
the  philosopher. 

After  having  sustained  a  pastoral  relation  with 

his   congregation   of    more  than  fifty  years,  he 

retired   from  his   ministry   at   the   first  decided 

,   warning  of  the  loss  of  his  powers,  in  Ma}',  1827. 

J   He    still,    however,    though    fully   relinquishing 

i  his  office,   retained    a    connexion  with    its  new 

ministry,    and   at   the    time   of    his  death    had 

been  for  seventy  years,  in  all,  connected  with  the 

church  at  that  place. 

Emmons  was  thrice  married ;  to  the  first  wife, 
Miss  Deliverance  French,  the  daughter  of  Moses 
French,  of  Braintree,  Mass.,  who  died  three  years 
after,  in  1775 ;  in  less  than  two  years  after,  he 
married  the  daughter  of  the  Eev.  Chester  Wil- 
liams, of  Hadley,  Mass.,  who  was  his  partner  till 
1829,  for  a  period  of  nearly  fifty  years;  and  in  1831, 
in  his  eighty -seventh  year,  he  was  married  (her 
third  ministerial  husband)  to  Mrs.  Abigail  M.  Mills, 
the. widow  of  a  clergyman  of  Sutton.  The  loss  of 
several  children  in  advanced  life  caused  him  much 
affliction,  and  drew  from  him,  on  the  death  of  a 
favorite  daughter,  one  of  the  most  touching  pas- 
sages of  his  discourses.  His  death  occurred  Sep- 
tember 23d,  1840,  in  his  ninety-sixth  year.  "While 
his  memory  and  personal  vivacity  and  activity 
were  somewhat  impaired,  in  the  few  latter  years 
of  his  life",  he  was  still  a  great  reader.  "  When 
he  was  ninety  years  of  age,"  says  his  biographer, 
the  Rev.  A.  R.  Baker,  "  and  often  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  remember  the  name  of  yesterday's  victor, 
he  would  relate  the  contents  of  the  last  book  he 
read  with  surprising  accuracy,  and  would  make 
extemporaneous  criticisms  upon  it  which  would 
have  ornamented  the  pages  of  a  quarterly .'"t 

The  writings  of  Emmons  are  numerous.  He 
published,  Prof.  Park  tells  us,  "more  than  seven 
thousand  copies  of  nearly  two  hundred  sermons, 
besides  four  labored  dissertations  and  numerous 
essays  for  periodicals."  The  collection  of  his 
works,  by  Ids  son-in-law,  Dr.  Ide,  containing  two 
hundred  and  twenty-two  sermons,  fills  six  large 
octavo  volumes ;  and  the  editor  remarks,  that  he 
has  the  material  for  ten  more  in  his  hands,  as 
valuable  as  those  which  he  has  published.!  Be- 
sides these  sermons,  Emmons's  uncollected  writ- 
ings include  more  than  a  hundred  articles,  mostly 
on  religious  topics,  in  the  New  England  Ecclesias- 
tical reviews  and  periodicals,  the  Massachusetts 
Missionary  Magazine,  the  Connecticut  Evangeli- 
cal Magazine,  the  Hopkinsian  Magazine,  and  the 
Christian  Magazine. 

The  style  of  Emmons  as  a  writer  is  clear  and 


*  This  divine  was  born  at  Lebanon,  Conn.,  in  1734,  and  died 
in  lS2ft.  He  was  minister  at  Berlin,  Conn. ;  published  sermons 
on  Natural  and  Moral  Inability,  17G0;  sermons  on  Connected 
Subjects,  18(3,  with  other  sermons  and  occasional  publications. 

t  Memoir,  Am.  Quar.  Beg.  xv.  121. 

X  The  Works  of  Kathanael  Emmons,  D.D.,  late  Pastor  of 
the  Church  in  Franklin,  Mass.,  with  a  Memoir  of  his  Life. 
Edited  by  Jacob  Ide,  B.D.  6  vols.  Svo.  Boston :  Crocker  & 
Brewster,  1L42. 


NATHANAEL  EMMOXS. 


247 


plain,  direct  and  forcible,  without  richness  or 
ornament.  His  own  theory  on  the  subject  is 
expressed  in  one  of  his  aphorisms, — "Style  is 
only  the  frame  to  hold  our  thoughts.  It  is  like 
the  sash  of  a  window;  a  heavy  sash  will  obscure 
the  light.  The  object  is  to  have  as  little  sash  as 
will  hold  the  lights,  that  we  may  not  think  of  the 
frame,  but  have  the  most  light."  This  is  true  in 
some  respects,  though  genuine  ornament  is  part  of 
the  substance,  and  when  the  sash  is  provided, 
much  depends  upon  the  purity  of  the  glass  and 
the  force  of  the  sun. 

With  respect  to  Emmons's  theological  views,  as 
the  author  of  his  memoirs  remarks,  "A  perusal 
of  his  works  is  that  only  which  can  give  the 
reader  a  full  and  accurate  knowledge  of  his 
opinion-;."  They  involve  many  niceties  of  meta- 
physical and  polemical  discussion  on  the  freedom 
of  the  will  and  the  work  of  conversion.  Dr.  Ide 
has  arranged  two  volumes  of  the  discourses  under 
the  title,  Systematic  Theology,  though  the  author 
himself  never  prepared  a  professed  sj'stem.  He 
appears  to  have  engrafted  on  the  doctrine  of  total 
depravity  a  theory  of  "the  free,  voluntary,  selfish 
affections,"  and  he  held  that  "men  are  active  and 
not  passive  in  regeneration."*  When  once  asked, 
"  What  is  the  difference  between  natural  depravity 
and  original  sin?"  he  replied,  in  his  quick  way, 
"  Natural  depravity  is  the  truth ;  original  sin  is  a 
lie." 

.His  Jeroboam  sermon,  on  the  annual  fast  of 
April  9th,  1801,+  shortly  after  the  inauguration  of 
Jefferson,  has  been  generally  understood  to  have 
been  levelled  at  the  new  President.  It  could 
hardly  be  mistaken,  as  it  plays  off  Solomon  against 
the  infidel  Rehoboam  with  artful  parallelism  to 
the  new  nineteenth  century.  It  is  long  drawn, 
solemn,  and  withering.  Reading  it  with  the  sub- 
stitution of  Washington,  Adams,  and  Jefferson 
for  their  scriptural  prototypes,  and  taking  the 
federal  politics  of  the  time  into  view,  it  is  a  curi- 
ous analogy — for  example : 

Jefferson  as  Secretary  of  State. — And  Solomon, 
seeing  the  young  man  that  lie  was  industrious,  made 
him  ruler  over  all  tlie  charge  of  the  house  of  Joseph. 
His  appointment  to  such  an  office,  by  such  a  pene- 
trating prince,  is  an  infallible  evidence  of  his  popu- 
lar talents  and  pleasing  address.  These  excellent 
and  amiable  accomplishments,  had  they  been  pro- 
perly directed  to  the  public  good,  would  have  reu- 
dered  him  a  great  benefit  to  the  nation. 

Jefferson  in  Paris. — His  flight  into  Egypt  seems  to 
have  been  the  most  fatal  period  in  Jeroboam's  life. 
*  *  He  could  not  have  lived  among  a  more  dan- 
gerous people  than  the  Egyptians,  who  were  then 
the  most  noted  nation  in  the  world  for  learning,  mag- 
nificence, superstition,  and  the  grossest  idolatry. 
Hence  his  residence  in  Egypt  prepared  him  to  return 
to  his  native  country  a  more  bitter  enemy  to  the 
God  of  Israel,  and  a  more  malignant  opposer  of  all 
his  sacred  rites  and  institutions  than  any  pagan 
priest  or  Egyptian  philosopher.  Such  was  the  omi- 
nous character  of  Jeroboam  the  son  of  Nebat  before 
he  reached  the  object  of  his  wishes,  and  was  placed 
iu  the  first  seat  of  Government. 

Jeroboam's  new  appointments  to  office. — He  was 
resolved  to  shake  every  sacred  as  well  as  civil  officer 


*  Schedule  of  doctrines  found  among  his  papers.— Ide's  Me- 
moir, lxxvii. 
t  Works,  ii.  184. 


from  his  seat  rather  than  to  lose  his  own.  We  are 
not,  indeed,  informed  whom  he  appointed  to  stand 
around  his  person  and  assist  him  in  the  administra- 
tioa  of  government;  but  who  can  doubt  whether 
he  did  not  display  the  same  corruption  of  heart  in 
appointing  the  officers  of  state  which  he  had  dis- 
played in  appointing  the  officers  of  religion  ? 

His  powers  of  conversation. — It  appears  from  his 
character  and  conduct  in  early  life,  that  he  possessed 
in  a  high  degree  the  art  of  captivating  and  corrupt- 
ing all  sorts  of  people  with  whom  he  conversed. 
And  when  he  was  clothed  with  the  ensigns  of  roy- 
alty his  power  and  opportunity  of  corrupting  his 
subjects  greatly  increased.  He  became  the  standard 
of  taste  and  model  of  imitation.  His  sentiments  and 
manners  became  a  living  law  to  his  subjects.  In  his 
familiar  intercourse  with  all  around  him  he  undoubt- 
edly seized  those  soft  moments  which  were  the  most 
favorable  to  his  malignant  design  of  seduction.  This 
he  could  do  without  departing  from  the  dignity  of 
his  station. 

If  terms  and  phrases  like  these  needed  any 
"  improvement,"  they  had  it  in  the  sequel  of  the 
doctor's  discourse : 

It  is  more  than  possible  that  our  nation  may  find 
themselves  in  the  hands  of  a  Jeroboam,  who  will 
drive  them  from  following  the  Lord,  and  whenever 
they  do  they  will  rue  the  day,  and  detest  the  folly, 
delusion,  and  intrigue  which  raised  him  to  the  head 
of  the  United  States. 

And  he  asks  the  pertinent  question — ■ 

Who  can  say  that  men  in  power  may  not  catch  the 
spirit  of  the  times,  and  follow  the  example  of  Jero- 
boam, or  rather  that  of  the  late  apostates  in  Eu- 
rope? We  are  becoming  more  and  more  connected 
with  those  infidel  nations,  whose  politicians  and  phi- 
losophers are  the  bold  patrons  and  preachers  of 
infidelity.  This  mutual  intercourse  affords  a  pecu- 
liar opportunity  to  try  the  whole  force  of  their 
infatuating  philosophy  upon  us  in  America.  And  it 
is  beyond  a  doubt  that  our  rulers  are  the  most 
exposed  to  their  fatal  delusions. 

Emmons's  federal  politics  were  clearly  an- 
nounced in  his  sermon  on  American  Independence, 
July  5,  1802,  in  which  he  claims  not  only  all  the 
sound  principles  of  government  for  his  friends,  but 
also  the  right  of  celebration  of  the  National 
Jubilee.  "  It  is  presumption,"  he  said  from  the 
pulpit,  "  in  republicans  to  claim  this  day  as  their 
own."* 

There  is  a  well  drawn  and  interesting  account 
of  Emmons,  entitled  Miscellaneous  Reflections  of 
a  Visiter  upon  the  character  of  Dr.  Amnions,  in 
I  "a  familiar  lecture"  to  the  senior  class  in  Andover 
Theological  Seminary,  by  Prof.  Edwards  A.  Park. 
It  is  prefixed  to  the  collection  of  the  works,  where  it 
forms  forty-five  closely  printed  octavo  pages.  We 
may  best  gather  from  this  the  memorabilia  of  this 
extraordinary  man.  "In  person  he  was  not  more 
than  five  feet  and  seven  inches  high,  but  he  stood 
erect,  and  was  in  all  senses  upright.  When  he 
appeared  in  the  streets  of  a  New  England  city,  in' 
his  latter  days,  with  bis  three-cornered  hat,  the 
bright  buckles  on  his  shoe  and  knee,  his  white 
locks  flowing  down  his  shoulders,  the  boys  flocked 
after  him,  as  after  a  military  general.  System 
characterized  his  movements.     His  guests  would 


*  Works,  H.  229. 


.24S 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  A31ERICAN  LITERATURE. 


a] Trays  find  his  hat  hanging'  on  the  same  nail  in 
the  study.  Every  chair  was  in  its  place;  every 
hook  on  its  shelf,  save  the  one  he  was  reading ; 
ami  that  was  put  into  the  book-case  as  soon  as  a 
visitor  arrived.  His  style  of  writing  was  neat  as 
his  white  locks.  He  was  always  attentive  to  his 
chirogfaphy,  and  wrote  a  better  hand  at  the  age 
of  seventy-five  than  at  thirty-five." 

The  doctor  was  an  odd  man,  but  there  was 
method  in  his  oddity,  and  his  wit  was  not  always 
to  be  encountered.  "A  certain  divine,"  Prof. 
Park  tells  the  story,  "the  junior  of  Dr.  Emmons 
by  several  years,  unequal  lo  him  in  acumen  and 
theological  knowledge,  and  under  some  peculiar 
'obligation  to  treat  him  with  deference,  was  fond, 
although  doubtless  a  very  good  man,  of  appear- 
ing like  a  metropolitan  before  the  minister  of 
Franklin,  and  as  he  was  physically  at  least  a  great 
man,  much  superior  in  altitude  to  the  doctor, 
he  was  inclined  to  look  down  on  the  country  par- 
son, as  the  smaller  of  the  two.  This  domineering 
treatment  was  endured  with  patience  until 
patience  ceased  to  be  a  virtue.  Having  read  Dr. 
Emmons's  sermon  on  the  Atonement,  a  sermon 
which  was  encountering  at  that  time  some  oppo- 
sition, he  sent  to  the  Franklin  minister  the  fol- 
lowing .epistle:  'May  1st.  My  Dear  Brother, 
— I  have  read  your  sermon  on  the  Atonement, 
and  have  wept  over  it.  Yours  affectionately, 
A.  B.  0.'  These  admonitory  words  were  no 
sooner  read  than  the  following  was  written  and 
sent  to  the  post-office  :  '  May  3d.  Dear  Sir, — I 
have  read  your  letter  and  laughed  at  it.  Yours, 
Natiiaxael  Em.moxs.'  "  To  a  young  preacher  he 
said,  "  Your  sermon  was  too  much  like  Seekonk 
plain,  long  and  level."  A  drunken  sceptic  asked 
him,  "What  is  understood  by  the  soul  of  man?" 
"No,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  can't  tell  a  man  that 
hasn't  got  any."  Conversing  once  with  a  lapsing 
theological  opponent,  whom  he  had  pressed  hard, 
when  the  victim  took  refuge  in  the  assertion, 
"  "Well,  every  tub  must  stand  upon  its  own  bot- 
tom " — "Yes,  yes,"  said  the  doctor,  "but  what 
shall  those  tubs  do  that  haven't  any  bottoms?" 
■  H:s  shrewd,  vigorous  sense  is  exhibited  in  many 
a  dogmatic  utterance.  On  being  asked  what  was 
the  best  system  of  rhetoric  for  a  clergyman,  he 
gave  these  two  rules  : — "  First,  have  something 
,  to  say ;  second,  say  it."  Many  of  his  terse  con- 
versational aphorism?  have  been  preserved.  "  Of 
the  two  Edwardses,"  he  said,  "  the  father  had 
more  reason  than  his  son,  but  the  son  was  a 
greater  reasoner  than  his  father."  "  Great  men," 
was  one  of  his  maxims,  "  always  committed  great 
errors."  Of  the  pulpit,  it  was  his  remark, 
"Preach  with  animation  er.ongh  to  produce  a 
great  excitement  of  the  natural  sympathies,  which 
will  make  persons  think  they  have  some  native 
goodness;"  and,  "Be  short  in  all  religious  exer- 
cises. Better  leave  the  people  longing  than 
loathing.  No  conversions  after  the  hour  is  out." 
"  A  man  must  not  only  know  the  truth,  but  know 
that  he  knows  it."  "  The  worst  books,"  he  said, 
"  were  the  best :  they  compel  us  to  think." 

The  doctor  kept  a  jealous  eye  upon  his  flock, 
sedulously  guarding  them  from  sectarian  wolves. 
That  we  do  not  use  the  last  word  unadvisedly 
may  be  learnt  from  an  anecdote  illustrating  Em- 
mons's downright  brusque  manner,  preserved  in 
the  memoir  of  Ide.     "  A  very  respectable  clergy- 


man of  another  denomination  was  solicited  by  a 
gentleman  in  Franklin  to  come  and  preach  at  his 
house,  and,  as  Dr.  Emmons  thought,  with  .a  view 
to  make  an  impression  upon  his  people  in  favor 
of  the  peculiarities  of  that  denomination.  Shortly 
after  receiving  the  invitation,  this  clergyman  met 
Dr.  Emmons  in  Boston,  and  told  him  that  he  had 
been  invited  to  come  and  give  his  people  a  ser- 
mon. The  doctor  very  pleasantly  replied,  'You 
have  a  very  important  sphere  of  labor  assigned 
you  where  you  are.  You  need  not  take  the 
trouble  to  come  to  Franklin.  I  can  take  care  of 
my  own  fleck.'  '  But,'  said  the  clergyman,  '  you 
will  not  object  to  my  coming?'  The  doctor,  un- 
derstanding by  this  that  he  was  still  inclined  to 
come,  notwithstanding  the  hint  which  had  been 
given  him,  made  the  following  characteristic 
reply:  'I  do  object,  and  if  you  come  to  Franklin 
in  our  present  circumstances  I'll  consider  and 
treat  you  as  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.'  This 
clergyman  never  came." 

There  are  some  interesting  observations  by 
Prof.  Park  in  his  notes  on  Emmons,  with  respect 
to  the  habits  of  study,  and  longevity  of  the  clergy 
of  New  England.  "  We  read  of  the  two  Edwardses, 
Hopkins,  Smaller,  Stiles,  Chauney,'  and  Dwight, 
as  at  their  books  thirteen,  fourteen,  fifteen,  and 
sometimes  eighteen  hours  of  the  day.  Dr.  Emmons, 
in  this  respect,  equalled  any  of  them.  Mr.  Stod- 
dard of  Northampton  died  at  eighty-six;  Dr.  In- 
crease Mather  at  eighty-four;  Dr.  Cotton  Mather 
at  sixty-five;  Dr.  Stiles  at  sixty-eight;  Dr.  Johnson 
at  seventy -six ;  Dr.  Hopkins  at  eighty-three ;  Dr. 
Bellamy  at  seventy-two ;  Dr.  Hart  at  si_ty-nine;' 
President  Chauney,  of  Harvard,  and  Dr.  Chauney, 
of  Boston,  at  eighty-two ;  Dr.  Smalley  at  eighty- 
six  ;  Dr.  AVest*  at  eighty-four;  Dr.  Strong  at  sixty- 
eight;  Dr.  Lothrop  at  ninety.  These  divines 
lived  abstemiously,  but  neglected  physical  exercise. 
'I  do  not  ascribe  my  long  continued  health,'  said 
Dr.  Emmons,  'to  any  whimsical  care  of  my  diet; 
what  has  hurt  me  I  have  not  eaten.  I  have 
avoided  stimulating  liquids,  have  seldom  drunk 
coti'ee  unless  it  were  half  milk  and  half  sugar, 
have  been  always  temperate  in  the  use  of  simple 
food,  and  have  secured  good  sleep.'  "t     There 

*  There  -were  three  Wests  of  repute  in  the  old  New  Erg- 
land  churches:  fcanmel,  the  minister  of  New- Bedford,  who 
died  in  18m,  at  the  age  of  seventy-seven.  He  published, 
among  other  doctrinal  ■writings,  "Essays  on  Liberty  and  Ne- 
cessity,1' in  two  parts,  in  17&3"and  1765,  in  which  he  reviewed 
the  arguments  of  Edwards.  Another  Samuel  West,  horn 
at  Martha  s  Vineyard,  in  1738,  was  minister  at  Needham  and 
in  Boston,  lie  died  in  l&lS,  having  published  a  number  of 
sermons  and  the  Essays,  in  the  CoiumUan  Ccntiuel.  of  "an  Old 
Wan,"  in  l&i  u'  and  n7.  Stephen  West,  the  minister  of  Stock- 
bridge,  published  an  Essay  on  Moral  Agency  in  1772,  and  was 
also  the  author  of  a  Treatise  on  the  Atonement.  He  was  born 
in  Tolland.  Conn,,  1730,  and  died  in  Itlil.  Joseph  Bellamy  was 
a  native  of  Connecticut,  born  at  New  Cheshire,,  in  171'.'.  lie 
was  fifty  years  minister  of  the  church  at  Bethlcm.  He  died  in 
1790.  His  works  were  collected  in  three  volumes,  in  1S11,  and 
were  reprinted  in  two  volumes  octavo,  in  1SS3,  by  the  Doc- 
trinal Tract  and  Book  Society,  Boston.  His  True  Religion. 
Delineated  was  published  in  175.:. 

t  Emmons  sat  in  the  same  study  chair  more  than  half  a  cen- 
tury, and  when  about  ninety  years  of  age  he  relaxed  the  Severity 
of  his  mental  toil,  he  fitly  consented  to  abandon  the  old  aim 
chair  for  a  new  and  easier  one.  "  I  should  like  well  enough  to 
travel,"  he  said  in  his  latter  days  of  leisure*  "if  1  could  lake  my 
study  with  me.  Habits  are  stubborn  tilings;  and  I  have  be- 
come so  accustomed  to  this  room,  lo  this  dosk,  to  this  chair, 
and  to  this  spot  where  I  sit,  that  i  do  not  feel  at  home  any- 
where else.  1  cannot  talk  anywhere  else.''  He  had  a  regufar 
hour  for  conversation  witli  his  students  and  friends;  and  a  pe- 
culiar movement  of  his  body  towards  the  study-table  was  equal 
to  a  sheriff's  order  that  the  room  should  be  cleared,  aLd  ho  Le 
left  alone. — Prof.  Paiks  Notices. 


JAMES  MOODY. 


249 


was  much,  too,  in  the  assurance  of  a  settled 
position,  and  the  absorption  of  care  in  "the  quiet 
and  -till  air  of  delightful  studies." 

JAMES  MOODT, 

A  loyalist  of  the  American  war,  whom  the  out- 
breaking of  the  Revolution  found  at  his  farm  in 
Now  Jersey,  lias  left  a  well  written  account  of  his 
celebrated  partisan  warfare,  which  gave  much 
trouble  to  the  movements  of  Washington,  in  a 
pamphlet  published  in  London  in  1783,  entitled 
Lieut.  James  Moody's  fflarjvUive  of  his  Exertions 
and  Sufferings  in  the  Cause  of  Government,  since 
the  year  1776,  with  certificates  from  Gov.  Wm. 
Franklin,  of  New  Jersey,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Inglis  of 
New  York,  and  others.  He  went  through  many 
perilous,  hair-breadth  adventures,  preserving  his 
life  in  extraordinary  emergencies  by  his  selt-pos- 
session  and  bravery.  As  his  pamphlet  is  now 
very  scarce,  we  present  one  or  two  of  these 
scenes  in  his  well  written  narrative.*  Here  is 
an  anecdote  of  his  ubiquitous  presence;  for  like 
the  true  partisan,  he  was  everywhere,  at  least  to 
the  imagination  of  his  enemies  ;  with  an  affecting 
story  of  a  true  man,  who  deserved  a  better  fate  . — 

Returning  again  into 'Sussex  county,  he  now  heard 
that  several  prisoners  were  confined,  on  various 
suspicions  and  charges  of  loyalty,  in  the  jail  of  that 
county ;  and  that  one  of  them  was  actually  under 
sentence  of  de:ith.  This  poor  fellow  was  one  of 
Burgoyne's  soldiers,  charged  with  crimes  ol  a  civil 
nature,  of  which,  however,  he  was  generally  be- 
lieve! to  bo  innocent.  But  when  a  clergyman  of 
the  L'hurch-of  England  interposed  with  his  unrelent- 
ing prosecutor,  and  warmly  urged  this  plea  of  inno- 
cence, he  was  sharply  told,  that,  though  he  might 
not  perhaps  deserve  to  die  for  the  crime  for  which 
he  had  been  committed,  there  could  be  no  doubt  of 
his  deserving  to  die,  as  an  enemy  to  America. 
There  was  something  so  piteous,  as  well  as  shame- 
ful, in  the  case  of  this  ill-fated  victim  to  republican 
resentment,  that  it  was  determined,  if  possible,  to 
release  both  him  and  his  fellow-prisoners.  For  this 
purpose,'  Mr.  Moody  took  with  him  six  men  ;  and, 
late  at  night,  entered  the  country  town,  about 
seventy  miles  from  New  York.  The  inhabitants  of 
the  town  were  but  too  generally  disaffected.  This 
suggested  the  necessity  of  stratagem.  Coming  to 
the  jail,  the  keeper  called  Out  from  the  window  of 
an  upper  room,  and  demanded  what  their  business 
was  ?  The  Ensign  instantly  replied,  He  had  a  pri- 
soner to  deliver  into  his  custody.  "What!  one  of 
Moody's  fellows  ?"  said  the  jailor.  "  Yes,"  said  the 
Ensign.  On  his  inquiring  what  the  name  of  this 
supposed  prisoner  was,  one  of  the  party,  who  was 
well  known  by  the  inhabitants'of  that  place  to  be 
with  Mr.  Moody,  personated  the  character  of  a  pri- 
soner, and  spoke  for  himself.  The  jailor  gave  him 
a  little  ill  language;  but,  notwithstanding,  seemed 
highly  pleased  with  the  idea  of  his  having  so  noto- 
rious a  Tory  in  his  custody.  On  the  Ensign's  urg- 
ing him  to  come  down,  and  take  charge  of  the 
man,  he  peremptorily  refused ;  alleging,  that  in  con- 
sequence of  Moody's  being  out,  he  had  received 
strict  orders  to  open  his  doors  to  no  man  after  sun- 
set; and  that  therefore  he  must  wait  till  morning. 
Finding  that  this  tale  would  not  take,  the  Ensign 
now  changed  his  note;  and,  in  a  stern  tone,  told 
him,  "  Sirrah,  the  man-  who  ndw  srjeaks  to  you   is 


*  We  fire  indebted  for  a  copy  of  this  work  to  the  courtesy 
of  Air.  W.  J.  Duvis,  of  this  city. 


Moody :  I  have  a  strong  party  with  me.  and  if  you 
do  not  this  moment  deliver  up  your  keys,  1  will  in- 
stantly pull  down  your  house  about  your  ears." 
The  jailor  vanished  in  a  moment,  On  this  Mr. 
Moody's  men,  who  were  well  skilled  in  the  Indian 
war-whoop,  made  the  air  resound  with  such  a  vari- 
ety of  hideous  yells,  as  soon  left  them  nothing  to 
fear  from  the  inhabitants  of  New  Town,  which, 
though  the  county  town,  consists  only  of  twenty  or 
thirty  houses.  "The  Indians!  the  Indians  are 
come,"  said  the  panic-struck  people ;  and  happy 
were  they  who  could  soonest  escape  into  the  woods.' 
While  these  things  were  thus  going  on,  the  Ensigu 
had  made  his  way  through  a  casement,  and  was  met 
by  a  prisoner,  whom  he  immediately  employed  to 
procure  him  a  light.  The  vanquished  jailor  was 
now  again  produced,  and  most  obsequiously  con- 
ducted Mr.  Moody  to  the  dungeon  of  the  poor 
wretch  under  sentence  of  death. 

It  may  seem  incredible,  but  it  is  an  undoubted 
fact,  that,  notwithstanding  all  the  horrors  and 
awfulness  of  his  situation,. this  poor,  forlorn,  con- 
demned British  soldier  was  found  fast  asleep,  and 
had  slept  so  so.und  as  to  have  heard  nothing  of  the 
uproar  or  alarm.  There  is  no  possibility  of  describ- 
ing the  agony  of  this  man,  when,  on  being  thus  sud- 
denly aroused,  he  saw  before  him  a  man  in  arms, 
attended  by  persons,  whom,  though  they  were  fami- 
liarly known  to  him,  so  agitated  were  his  spirits,  he 
waS .utterly  at  a  loss  then  to  recognise.  The  first, 
and  the  only  idea  that  occurred  to  him  was,  that,  as 
many  of  the  friends  ot  Government  had  been  pri- 
vately executed  in  prison,  the  person  he  saw  was 
his  executioner.  On  Mr.  Moody's  repeatedly  inform- 
ing him  of  his  mistake,  and  that  he  was  come  to  re- 
lease hmi  in  the  name  of  King  George,  the  transi- 
tion fro  n  such  an  abyss  of  wretchedness  to  so  extra- 
vagant a  pitch  of  joy  had  well  nigh  overcome  him. 
Never  before  had  the  writer  been  present  at  so 
affecting  a  scene.  The  image  of  the  poor  soldier, 
alternately  agitated  with  the  extremes,  of  despair 
and  rapture,  is,  at  this  moment,  present  to  his  ima- 
gination, as  strong  almost  as  if  the  object  were  still 
before  him;  and  he  has  often  thought,  there  are  few 
subjects  6,i  which  a  painter  of  taste  and  sensibility 
could  more  happily  employ  his  pencil.  The  man 
looked  wild,  and  undoubtedly  was  wild,  and  hardly 
in  his  senses;  and  yet  he  labored,  and  was  big  with 
some  of  the  noblest  sentiments  and  most  powerful 
passions  by  which  the  human  mind  is  ever  actu- 
ated. In  such  circumstances  it  was  with  some  diffi- 
culty that  the  English  got  him  away.  At  length, 
however,  his  clothes  were  got  on  ;  and  he,  with  all 
the  rest  who  chose  to  avail  themselves  of  the  oppor- 
tunity, were  conducted  into  safety,  notwithstanding 
a  warm  pursuit  of  several  days. 

The  humane  reader,  Mr.  Moody  persuades  him- 
self, will  not  be  less  affected  than  he  himself. was,  at 
the  mournful  sequel  of  this  poor  soldier's  tale.  In 
the  course  of  war  he  was  again  taken,  and  again 
conducted  to  the  dungeon,  a. id  afterwards  actually 
executed  on  the  same  sentence  on  which  lie  had 
been  before  convicted;  though  he  left  the  world 
with  the  most  solemn  asseverations  of  his  innocence 
as  to  any  crime  of  which  he  hid  been  accused,  ex- 
cepting only  an  unshaken  allegiance  to  his  sove- 
reign. 

A  few  other  particulars  respecting  this  poor  man, 
who,  though  but  a  common  soldier  in  a  marching 
regiment,  was,  in  all  the  essential  and  best  parts  of 
tlie  character,  an  hero,  the  writer  cannot  excuse 
himself  from  the  relation  of.  His  situation  and  cir- 
cumstances in  the  rebel  country  being  peculiar,  Mr. 
Moody  not  thinking  it  proper  himself  to  return 
thither  so  soon,  took  the  earliest  means  he  could  to 


250 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


have  him  conveyed  safe  to  New  York.  But  no 
arguments,  no  entreaties  could  prevail  with  him  to 
leave  his  deliverer.  "  To  you,"  said  he,  "  I  owe  my 
life;  to  you  and  inyourservicelet  medevoteit.  You 
have  found  me  in, circumstances  of  ignominy ;  I  wish 
for  an  opportunity  to  convince  you  that  you  have 
not  been  mistaken  in  thinking  me  innocent.  I  am, 
and  you  shall  find  me,  a  good  soldier."  It  was  to 
this  fatal  but  fixed  determination  that  he  soon  after 
owed  the  loss  of  his  life. 

When  he  was  brought  to  the  place  Of  execution, 
the  persons  wdio  had  charge  of  him  told  him  they 
had  authority  to  promise  him  a  reprieve ;  and  they 
did  most  solemnly  promise  it  to  him,  on  condition 
only  that  he  would  tell  them  who  the  loyalists  in 
the  country  were,  that  had  assisted  Moody.  His 
reply  was  most  manly  and  noble ;  and  proves  that 
real  nobility  and  dignity  of  sentiment  are  appropri- 
ated to  no  particular  rank  or  condition  of  life.  "  I 
love  life,"  he  said,  "  and  there  is  nothing  which  a 
man  of  honor  can  do,  that  1  would  not  do  to  save 
it;  but  I  cannot  pay  this  price  for  it.  The  men 
you  wish  me  to  betray  must  be  good  men,  because 
they  have  assisted  a  good  man  in.  a  good  cause. 
Innocent  as  I  am,  I  feel  this  an  awful  moment. 
How  far  it  becomes  you  to  tempt  me  to  make  it  ter- 
rible, by  overwhelming  me  in  the  basest  guilt,  your- 
selves must  judge.  My  life  is  in  your  power;  my 
conscience,  I  thank  God,  is  still  my  own." 

Another  extraordinary  circumstance  is  said  to 
have  befallen  him,  which,  as  well  as  the  preceding, 
Mr.  Moody  relates,  on  the  testimony  of  an  eye-wit- 
ness, yet  living.  Though  he  was  a  small  and  light 
man,  yet  the  rope  with  which  he  was  suspended 
broke.  Even  still  tins  poor  man's  admirable  pre- 
sence of  mind  and  dignity  of  conscious  innocence 
did  not  forsake  him.  He  instantly  addressed  him- 
self to  the  surrounding  multitude,  in  the  following 
words:  "Gentlemen,  I  cannot  but  hope  that  this 
very  extraordinary  event  will  convince  you  of 
what  I  again  solemnly  protest  to  you,  that  1  am  in- 
nocent of  the  crime  for  which  you  have  adjudged 
me  to  die."     But  he  still  protested  in  vain. 

The  supposed  crime  for  which  he  suffered  was, 
the  plundering  and  robbing  the  house  of  a  certain 
furious  and  powerful  rebel.  But  it  would  be  unjust 
to  his  memory  not  to  certify,  as  Mr.  Moody  does, 
that  he  has  since  learned,  from  the  voluntary  con- 
fession of  a  less  conscientious  loyalist,  that  this 
honest  man  was  charged  wrongfully,  inasmuch  as  he 
himself,  without  the  knowledge  of  the  other,  on  the 
principles  of  retaliation  and  revenge,  had  com- 
mitted the  crime.  The  name  of  the  above-men- 
tioned honest  soldier  and  martyr  was  Robert  Max- 
well, a  Scotsman,  who  had  had  a  good  education. 

He  made  a  famous  attempt  to  secure  the  person 
of  Gov.  Livingston,  of  New  Jersey,  in  which  he 
■  failed  from  information  given  by  one  of  his  com- 
rades. His  favorite  exploit  was  to  cut  off  the 
American  despatches,  which  hefrequently  brought 
into  New  York.  He  was  taken  and  imprisoned 
at  West  Point,  where  he  found  General  Arnold  a 
rigorous  jailor.  Writing  some  time  after  Arnold's 
treason,  he  naively  says,  "  Under  new  masters,  it 
is  hoped,  General  Arnold  has  learned  new  max- 
ims. Compelled  by  truth,  however,  Mr.  Moody 
must  bear  him  testimony,  that  lie  was  then  faith- 
ful to  his  employers,  and  abated  not  an  iota  in 
fulfilling  both  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of  their 
general  orders  and  instructions."  His  subsequent 
escape  is  thus  told  : — ■ 

The  ways  of  Providence  are  often  mysterious, 


frequently  bringing  about  its  ends  by  the  most  un- 
likely means.  To  this  inhuman  treatment  in  Gene- 
ral Arnold's  camp,  Mr.  Moody  owed  his  future  safety. 
On  the  1st  of  September,  he  was  carried  to  Wash- 
ington's camp,  and  there  confined  near  their  Libeity 
pole.  Colonel  Skammel,  the  Adjutant  General, 
came  to  see  him  put  in  irons.  When  they  had 
handcuffed  him,  he  remonstrated  with  the  Colonel, 
desiring  that  his  legs,  which  were  indeed  in  a  worse 
situation  than  even  his  wrists,  might  be  examined; 
farther  adding  only,  that  death  would  be  infinitely 
preferable  to  a  repetition  of  the  torments  he  had 
just  undergone.  The  Colonel  did  examine  his  legs; 
and  on  seeing  them,  he  also  acknowledged  that  his 
treatment  had  indeed  been  too  bad;  and  asked  if 
General  Arnold  had  been  made  acquainted  with  his 
situation.  Mr.  Moody  feels  a  sincere  pleasure  in  thus 
publicly  acknowledging  his  obligations  and  his 
gratitude  to  Colonel  Skammel,  who  humanely  gave 
orders  to  the  Provost  Marshal  to  take  good  care  of 
him,  and  by  no  means  to  suffer  any  irons  to  be  put 
on  his  legs,  till  they  were  likely  to  prove  less  dis- 
tressing. 

Mr.  Moody  attended  the  rebel  army  in  its  march 
over  the  New  Bridge ;  and  had  an  opportunity  of 
observing  their  whole  line,  and  counting  their  artil- 
lery. Everything  seemed  smooth  and  fair;  and  he 
felt  himself  much  at  ease,  in  the  prospect  of  being 
soon  exchanged;  when,  very  unexpectedly,  he  was 
visited  by  an  old  acquaintance,  one  of  their  Colonels, 
who  informed  him  that  he  was  in  twb  days'  time  to 
be  brought  to  trial ;  that  Livingston  was  to  be  his 
prosecutor,  and  that  the  Court  Martial  was  carefully 
picked  for  the  purpose.  He  subjoined  that  he 
would  do  wrell  to  prepare  for  eternity,  since,  from 
the  evidence  which  he  knew  would  be  produced, 
there  was  but  one  issue  of  the  business  to  be 
expected.  Mr.  Moody  requested  to  be  informed, 
what  it  was  the  purpose  of  this  evidence  to  prove? 
It  was,  his  well-wisher  told  him,  that  he  had  assassi- 
nated a  Captain  Shaddock  and  a  Lieutenant  Hen- 
drickson.  These  were  the  two  officers  who  had  fallen 
fairly  in  battle  near  Black  Point,  as  has  been  already 
related.  The  Ensign  replied,  that  he  felt  himself 
much  at  ease  on  that  account,  as  it  could  be  suffi- 
ciently cleared  up  by  their  own  people,  who  had 
been  in,  and  had  survived  the  action,  as  well  as  by 
some  of  their  officers,  who  were  at  the  time  prison- 
ers to  him,  and  spectators  of  the  whole  affair.  "All 
this,"  said  his  friend,  "  will  be  of  little  avail ;  you 
are  so  obnoxious ;  you  have  been,  and  are  likely  to 
be,  so  mischievous  to  us,  that,  be  assured,  we  are 
resolved  to  get  rid  of  you  at  any  rate.  Besides, 
you  cannot  deny,  and  it  can  be  proved  by  incontes- 
table evidence,  that  you  have  enlisted  men,  in  this 
state,  for  the  King's  service,  and  this,  by  our  laws, 
is  death." 

Ensign  Moody  affected  an  air  of  unconcern  at  this 
information ;  but  it  was  too  serious  and  important 
to  him  to  be  really  disregarded  ;  he  resolved,  there- 
fore, from  that  moment,  to  effect  his  escape,  or  to 
perish  in  the  attempt. 

Every  precaution  had  been  taken  to  secure  the 
place  in  which  he  was  confined.  It  was  nearly  in 
the  centre  of  the  rebel  camp.  A  sentinel  was  placed 
within  the  door  of  his  prison,  and  another  without, 
besides  four  others  close  round,  and  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  place.  The  time  now  came  on  when 
he  must  either  make  his  escape,  or  lose  the  oppor- 
tunity forever.  On  the  night,  therefore,  of  the  17  th 
of  September,  busy  in  ruminating  on  his  project,  he 
had,  on  the  pretence  of  being  cold,  got  a  watch-coat 
thrown  across  his  shoulders,  that  he  .might  better 
conceal,  from  his  unpleasant  companion,  the  opera- 
tions  which   lie   meditated  against   his   handcuffs, 


JOSIAH  QUINCY,  JR. 


251 


While  he  was  racking  his  invention,  to  find  some 
possible  means  of  extricating  himself  from  his  fetters, 
he  providentially  cast  his  e\"e  on  a  post  fastened  in 
the  ground,  through  -which  an  hole  had  been  bored 
with  an  auger  ;  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  might 
be  possible,  with  the  aid  of  this  hole,  to  break  the 
bolt  of  his  handcuffs.  Watching  the  opportunity, 
therefore,  from  time  to  time,  of  the  sentinel's  look- 
ing another  way,  lie  thrust  the  point  of  the  bolt 
into  the  above-mentioned  hole,  and  by  cautiously 
exerting  his  strength,  and  gradually  bending  the 
iron  backwards  and  forwards,  he  at  length  broke  it. 
Let  the  reader  imagine  what  his  sensations  were, 
when  he  found  the  manacles  drop  from  his  hands! 
He  sprung  instantly  past  the  interior  sentinel,  and 
rushing  on  the  next,  with  one  hand  he  seized  his 
musket,  and  with  the  other  struck  him  to  the  ground. 
The  sentinel  within,  and  the  four  others  who  were 
placed  by  the  fence  surrounding  the  place  of  his 
confinement,  immediately  gave  the  alarm  ;  and  in  a 
moment  the  cry  was  general — "  Moody  is  escaped 
from  the  Provost."  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the 
uproar  which  now  took  place  throughout  the  whole 
camp.  In  a  few  minutes  every  man  was  in  a  bustle; 
every  man  was  looking  for  Moody,  and  multitudes 
passed  him  on  all  sides,  little  suspecting  that  a  man 
whom  they  saw  deliberately  marching  along,  with  a 
musket  on  his  shoulder,  could  be  the  fugitive  they 
were  in  quest  of.  The  darkness  of  the  night,  which 
was  also  blustering  and  drizzly,  prevented  a.iy  dis- 
crimination of  his  person,  and  was  indeed  the  great 
circumstance  that  rendered  his  escape  possible. 

But  no  small  difficulty  still  remained  to  be  sur- 
mounted. To  prevent  desertion,  Washington  had 
surrounded  his  camp  with  a  chain  of  sentinels,  post- 
ed at  about  forty  or  fifty  yards'  distance  from  each 
other;  he  was  unacquainted  with  their  stations;  to 
pass  them  undiscovered  was  next  to  impossible ;  and 
to  be  discovered  would  certainly  be  fatal.  In  this 
dilemma  Providence  again  befriended  him.  He  had 
gained  their  station  without  knowing  it,  when  luck- 
ily he  heard  the  watchword  passed  from  one  to 
another — ■"  Look  sharp  to  the  chain :  Moody  is 
escaped  from  the  Provost."  From  the  sound  of  the 
voices  he  ascertainel  the  respective  situations  of 
these  sentinels;  and  throwing  himself  on  his  hands 
and  knees,  he  was  happy  enough  to  crawl  through 
the  vacant  space  between  two  of  them,  unseen  by 
either.  Judging  that  their  line  of  pursuit  would 
naturally  be  towards  the  British  arm}1,  he  made  a 
detour  into  the  woods  on  the  opposite  side.  Through 
these  woods  he  made  as  much  speed  as  the  darkness 
of  the  night  would  permit,  steering  his  course,  after 
the  Indian  manner,  by  occasionally  groping  and 
feeling  the  white  oak.  On  the  south  side  t!ie  bark 
of  this  tree  is  rough  and  unpleasant  to  the  touch, 
but  ou  the  north  side  it  is  smooth ;  hence  it  serves 
the  sagacious  traverser  of  the  desert,  by  night  as 
well  as  by  day,  for  his  compass.  Through  the  most 
dismal  woods  and  swamps  he  continued  to  wander 
till  the  night  of  the  21st,  a  space  of  more  than  fifty- 
six  hours,  during  which  tim  ■  he  had.  no  other  sus- 
tenance than  a  few  beejh  leaves  (which,  of  all  that 
the  woods  afforded,  were  the  least  unpleasant  to  the 
taste,  and  least  pernicious  to  health),  which  he  chew- 
ed and  swallowed,  to  abate  the  intolerable  cravings 
of  his  hunger. 

Ill  every  inhabited  district  he  knew  there  were 
friends  of  Government;  and  he  had  now  learned 
also,  where  and  how  to  find  them  out,  without 
endangering  their  safety,  which  was  always  the  first 
object  of  his  concern.  From  some  of  these  good 
men  he  received  minute  information  how  the  pursuit 
after  him  was  directed,  and  where  every  guard  was 
posted.     Thus  assisted,  he  eluded  their  keenest  vigi- 


lance: and,  at  length,  by  God's  blessing,  to  his 
unspeakable  joy  he  arrived  safe  at  Paulus  liook. 

Moody  went  to  England,  at  the  close  of  the 
war,  with  recommendations  to  Government  from 
Sir  Henry  Clinton,  and  afterwards  settled  on  his 
half  pay  in  Nova  Scotia,  where  he  died  at  Sissi- 
bou,  in  1809,  at  the  age  of  sixty-five.* 

JOSIAH  QUIXCY,  JR. 

Edmttn'h.  the  first  of  the  name  of  Quincy,  in  New 
EngUind,  landed  at  Boston  with  John  Cotton,  the 
eminent  divine,  in  September,  1633.  We  hear  in 
1G35  of  a  grant  of  land  on  Mount  Wollaston  to 
him  by  the  town,  and  soon  after  of  his  death,  at 
the  age  of  thirty-three.  His  only  son,  Edmund, 
born  in  England  in  1627,  who  lived  on  the  lands 
at  Mount  Wollaston,  afterwards  called  Braintree, 
was  a  country  magistrate,  and  died  in  16117.  He 
had  two  sons,  Daniel  and  Edmund,  both  of  whom 
died  before  him.  Daniel  left  a  son  John,  born  in 
1689,  who  served  for  forty  years  as  a  representa- 
tive of  his  district  in  the  Provincial  Legislature, 
and  as  a  member  of  the  Executive  Council,  and 
died  a  day  after  the  birth  of  his  great-grandson, 
John  Quincy  Adams. 


J^? 


The  youngest  son  of  Daniel's  brother,  Edmund, 
was  born  in  1681,  and  died  at  London  in  1738, 
while  engaged  as  the  agent  of  the  colony  in  press- 
ing her  claims  in  the  dispute  as  to  the  boundary 
between  her  territory  and  that  of  New  Hamp- 
shire. During  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  tilled 
the  office  of  Judge  of  the  Supremo  Court  of  Mas- 
sachusetts. Josiah,  the  youngest  of  Ids  two  sons, 
was  born  in  1709,  and  in  1755  appointed  by  Go- 
vernor Shirley  to  negotiate  with  New  York  and 
Pennsylvania  for  the  establishment  of  the  frontier 
post  of.  Ticonderoga.  He  executed  other  impor- 
tant public  trusts,  and  died  in  1784.  His  young- 
est son,  Josiah  Quincy,  Jr.,  was  born  at  Boston, 
Feb.  22,  1744,  and  educated  at  the  school  of  Mr. 
Joseph  Marsh  in  Braintree.  He  entered  Harvard 
in  1759,  and  was  a  hard  student,  not  only  of  the 
Greek  and  Latin  but  also  of  the  English  classics. 
A  closely  written  manuscript  of  seventy  pages 
quarto,  filled  with  extracts  from  Shakespeare,  is 
still  extant  with  the  date  1762.  On  taking  Ids 
Master's  degree  in  1766,  lie  delivered  an  English 
oration  on  Patriotism,  a  fitting  commencement  of 
his  public  career.  He  had  previously  bo  this,  in 
1763,  commenced  the  study  of  law  with  the  dis- 
tinguished Oxenbridge  Tliacher  of  Boston.  He 
succeeded,  on  the  death  of  his  instructor,  in  July, 
1765,  to  the  care  of  the  office,  and  on  his  admis- 
sion to  the  bar,  to  a  large  practice.  A  number 
of  MS.  volumes  of  Reports  from  his  hand  at  this 
time  proves  his  industry  and  enthusiasm  in  his 
profession.     He   is  said  to  have    been  the  first 


*  Sabine's  Biographical  Sketches  of  American  Loyalists,  p. 


252 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


lawyer  who  put  his  name  on  a  "  shingle"  at  his 
office  dour. 

.  Quincy  commenced  his  career  as  political  writer 
by  the  publication  of  two  articles  in  the  Boston 
Gazette,  in  September  and  October,  1767,  on  the 
recent  restrictions  on  the  commerce  and  enlarge- 
ment of  the  military  forces  of  the  colonies.  One 
of  these  contains  this  spirited  passage. 

In  defence  of  our  civil  and  religions  rights,  we 
dare  oppose  the  world;  with  the  God  of  armies  on 
our  side,  even  the  God  who  fought  our  fathers'  bat- 
tles, we  fear  not  the  hour  of  trial,  though  the  hosts 
of  our  enemies  should  cover  the  field  like  locusts. 
If  this  be  enthusiasm,  we  will  bve  and  die  enthu- 
siasts. 

Blandishments  will  not  fascinate  us,  nor  will 
threats  of  a  "  halter"  intimidate.  For  under  God, 
we  are  determined,  that  wheresoever,  whensoever, 
or  howsoever,  we  shall  be  called  to  make  our  exit, 
we  will  die  freemen.  Weil  do  we  know  that  all  the 
regalia  of  this  world  cannot  dignify  the  death  of  a 
villain,  nor  diminish  the  ignominy,  with  which  a 
slave  shall  quit  Ids  existence.  ]S  either  can  it  taint 
the  unblemished  honor  of  a  son  of  freedom,  though 
he  should  make  his  departure  on  the  already  pre- 
pared gibbet,  or  be  dragged  to  the  newly  erected 
scaffold  for  execution.  With  the  plaudits  of  his  con- 
science he  will  go  off  the  stage.  A  crown  of  joy  and 
immortality  shall  be  his  reward.  The  history  of  his 
life  his  children  shall  venerate.  The  virtues  of  their 
sire  shall  excite  their  emulation. 

He  followed  these  by  others  of  a  similar  cha- 
racter during  the  next  year.  The  landing  of 
troops  in  October  called  forth  a  vigorous  appeal. 

Oh,  my  countrymen !  what  will  our  children  say, 
when  they  read  the  history  of  these  times,  should 
they  find  we  tamely  gave  away,  without  one  noble 
struggle,  the  most  invaluable  of  earthly  blessings? 
As  tiiey  drag  the  gallir.g  chain,  will  they  not  exe- 
crate us  ?  If  we  have  any  respect  for  things  sacred ; 
any  regard  to  the  dearest  treasure  on  earth  ; — if  we 
have  one  tender  sentiment  for  posterity ;  if  we  would 
not  be  despised  by  the  whole  world ; — let  us,  in  the 
most  open,  solemn  manner,  and  with  determined 
fortitude,  swear, — we  will  die, — if  we  cannot  live 
freemen ! 

Be  not  lulled,  my  countrymen,  with  vain  imagina- 
tions or  idle  fancies.  To  hope  for  the  protection  of 
Heaven,  without  doing  our  duty,  and  exerting  our- 
selves as  becomes  men,  is  to  mock  the  Deity. 
"Wherefore  had  man  his  reason,  if  it  were  not  to 
direct  him?  Wherefore  his  strength,  if  it  be  not  his 
protection  ?  To  banish  folly  and  luxury,  correct 
vice  and  immorality,  and  stand  immovable  in  the 
freedom,  in  which  we  are  free  indeed,  is  eminently 
the  duty  of  each  individual,  at  this  day.  When  this 
is  done,  we  may  rationally  hope  for  an  answer  to 
our  prayers;  for  the  whole  counsel  of  God,  and  the 
invincible  armour  of  the  Almighty. 

However  righteous  our  cause,  we  cannot,  in  this 
period  of  the  world,  expect  a  miraculous  salvation. 
Heaven  will  undoubtedly  assist  us,  if  we  act  like 
men ;  but  to  expect  protection  from  above,  while  we 
are  enervated  by  luxury,  and  slothful  in  the  exertion 
of  those  abilities  with  which  we  are  endued,  is  an 
expectation  vain  and  foolish.  With  the  smiles  of 
Heaven,  virtue,  unanimity,  and  firmness  will  insure 
success.  While  we  have  equity,  justice,  -and  God  on 
our  side,  Tyranny,  spiritual  or  temporal,  shall  never 
ride  triumphant  in  a  land  inhabited  by  Englishmen. 

His  increasing  practice  prevented  him  from  su- 


pervising the  printing  of  these  essays,  but  an  in- 
scription on  one  of  his  MSS.,  "  Let  Samuel  Adams, 
Esq.,  correct  the  press,"  shows  that  this  duty  also 
was  in  patriot  hands.  In  October,  1769,  he  mar- 
ried a  daughter  of  William  Phillips,  a  Boston 
merchant,  who  afterwards  rendered  liberal  finan- 
cial assistance  to  the  great  cause.  He  still  con- 
tinued his  communications  under  various  signa- 
tures, and  on  the  12th  of  February,  1770,  said  in 
one  of  these — 

From  a  conviction  in  my  own  mind,  that  America 
is  now  the  slave  of  Britain  ;  from  a  sense  that  we  are 
every  day  more  and  more  in  danger  of  an  increase 
of  our  burdens,  and  a  fastening  of  our  shackles,  I 
wish  to  see  my  countrymen  break  off, — off  for  ever! 
— all  social  intercourse  with  those,  whose  commerce 
contaminates,  whose  luxuries  poison,  whose  avarice 
is  insatiable,  and  whose  unnatural  oppressions  are 
not  to  be  borne.  That  Americans  will  know  their 
lights,  that  they  will  resume,  assert,  and  defend 
them,  are  matters  of  which  I  harbour  no  doubt. 
Whether  the  arts  of  policy,  or  the  arts  of  war,  will 
decide  the  contest,  are  problems,  we  will  solve  at  a 
more  convenient  season.  He,  whose  heart  is  en- 
amoured with  the  refinements  of  political  artifice 
and  finesse,  will  seek  one  mode  of  relief;  he  whose 
heart  is  free,  honest,  and  intrepid,  will  pursue  ano- 
ther, a  bolder,  and  more  noble  mode  of  redress. 
This  reply  is  so  intelligible,  that  it  needs  no  com- 
ment or  explanation. 

The  Boston  Massacre  occurred  on  the  fifth  of 
March  following,  and  Quincy,  to  his  surprise,  was 
chosen  by  Colonel  Preston,  the  English  comman- 
der, as  his  counsel.  He  accepted  and  discharged 
the  duty  with  his  colleague,  John  Adams,  not- 
withstanding the  opposition  of  .his  friends  and  the 
censure  of  an  excited  public  opinion.  That  opi- 
nion has  long  since  justified  a  prediction  con- 
tained in  a  letter  to  his  father,  explanatory  of  his 
course. 

I  dare  affirm,  that  you  and  this  whole  people  will 
one  day  rejoice,  that  I  became  an  advocate  for  the 
aforesaid  "  criminals,"  charged  with  the  murder  of 
our  fellow-eitizens. 

I  never  harboured  the  expectation,  nor  any  great 
desire,  that  all  men  should  speak  well  of  me.  To 
inquire  my  duty,  and  to  do  it,  is  my  aim.  Being 
mortal,  I  am  subject  to  error;  and  conscious  of  this, 
I  wish  to  be  diffident.  Being  a  rational  creature,  I 
judge  for  myself,  according  to  the  light  afforded  me. 
When  a  plan  of  conduct  is  formed  with  an  honest 
deliberation,  neither  murmuring,  slander,  nor  re- 
proaches move.  For  my  single  self,  I  consider, 
judge,  and  with  reason  hope  to  be  immutable. 

There  are  honest  men  in  all  sects, — I  wish  their 
approbation ;— there  are  wicked  bigots  in  all  par- 
ties,— I  abhor  them. 

Preston  was  defended  and  acqnitted,  but  the 
opinions  of  his  counsel  remained  unchanged  on 
the  political  bearing  of  the  act.  In  a  communi- 
cation published  February  11,  1771,  he  laments 
"hearing  so  little  discourse  relative  to  a  decent, 
manly,  and.  instructive  commemoration  of  the 
melancholy  tragedy  of  the  fifth  of  March,  1770." 
An  oversight  which  was  speedily  corrected,  the 
"Boston  Massacre  Orations"  having  been  com- 
menced on  the  first  anniversary  of  that  event,  and 
continued  for  several  years. 

At  the  close  of  1772,  symptoms  of  pulmonary 
disease  having  begun  to  develope  themselves  in 


JEREMY  BELKNAP. 


253 


consequence  of  Mr.  Quincy's  intense  application 
to  business,  lie  sought  relief  in  a  voyage  to 
Charleston.  He  returned  by  land,  and  his  jour- 
nal, containing  a  curious  though  brief  sketch  of 
the  places  he  visited,  is  printed  in  his  life  by  his 
son.  He  returned  in  May  with  improved  health. 
During  the  next  month  the  celebrated  letters  of 
Hutchinson  and  others  were  discovered  and  trans- 
mitted to  the  colonies  by  Franklin.  Soon  after 
their  publication  Quinoy  wrote  a  series  of  papers 
with  the. signature  of  Marchmont Needham,  one  of 
which  contains  this  passage : — 

If  to  appear  for  my  country  is  treason,  and  to  arm 
for  her  detene'e  is  rebellion,— like  my  fathers,  I  will 
glory  in  the  name  of  rebel  and  traitor, — as  they  did 
in  that  of  puritan  and  enthusiast 

In  May,  1774,  he  published  a  political  pamph- 
let, Observations  on  the  act  of  Parliament,  com- 
monly called  "  The  Boston  Port  Bill"  with 
Thoughts  on  Civil  Society  and  Standing  Armies. 
It  is  sound  and  forcible  in  its  reasoning,  and  con- 
tains passages  of  much  eloquence. 

In  September,  1774,  Mr.  Quinoy  sailed  for 
England,  with  the  double  hope  of  reinvigorating 
his  constitution  and  effecting  something  for  the 
benefit  of  his  country  with  the  home  government, 
lie  became  acquainted  in  London  with  Lord 
North  and  other  leading  statesmen  of  both  par- 
ties, and  also  with  Franklin.  Of  the  last  he 
writes,  November  27,  1774 — 

Be  careful  what  parts  of  this  letter  you  publish ; 
without  absolute  necessity,  do  not  publish  any.  Br. 
Franklin  and  others  complain  much  of  their  letters 
being  made  public.  It  is  a  fear  of  that,  that  pre- 
vents liini  and  many  more  from  writing  to  yon. 

Br.  Franklin  is  an  American  in  heart  and  soul. 
You  may  trust  him ;  his  ideas  are  not  contracted 
within  the  narrow  limits  of  exemption  from  taxes, 
but  are  extended  upon  the  broad  scale  of  total 
emancipation.  He  is  explicit  and  bold  upon  the 
subject;  and  his  hopes  are  as  sanguine  as  my  own, 
of  the  triumph  of  liberty  iu  America. 

His  correspondence  soon  bears  witness  to  the 
hopelessness  of  negotiation,  and  the  necessity  of 
firmness  and  resolution  on  the  part  of  America. 
He  continued  to  reside  in  London,  attending  the 
American  debates  in  Parliament,  visiting,  and 
now  and  then  going  to  see  Garriok,  but  without 
improvement  to  his  health.  On  the  16th  of 
March,  1775,  he  sailed  for  Boston.  'When  not 
more  than  three  days  at  sea,  he  dictated  to  a 
seaman  a  farewell  latter  to  his  friends  at  home, 
anticipating  that  he  should  not  live  through  the 
voyage.     In  it  he  says  : — ■ 

Foreseeing  that  there  will  be  many  inexplicable 
circumstances  in  the  way  of  my  friends,  to  account 
for  many  things  relating  to  my  conduct,  I  should 
have  been  glad,  if  God  had  spared  my  life,  to  con- 
verse with  them  once  more.  But  this,  his  holy  Pro- 
vidence seems  fully  settled  to  deny.  Some  few 
matters  I  have  prevailed  with  a  friend  on  board  to 
minute  for  their  information. 

My  going  to  America  at  this  time  was  very  con- 
siderably against  my  inclinations,  especially  as  Boc- 
tor  Fothergill  was  of  opinion  that  Bristol  waters 
would  be  of  great  advantage  to  me.  But  he  did  not 
dissuade  me  from  going  to  America,  but  advised  it 
very  strongly  in  preference  to  my  staying  in  Loudon, 
or  its  environs. 


The  most  weighty  motive  of  all  that  determined 
my  conduct,  was  the  extreme  urgency  of  about  fif- 
teen or  twenty  most  staunch  friends  to  America,  and 
many  of  them  the  most  learned  and  respectable  cha- 
racters in  the  king  lorn,  for  my  immediately  pro- 
ceeding to  Boston.  Their  sentiments  what  ought  to 
be  the  conduct  of  Boston,  and  of  the  continent,  at 
this,  and  the  approaching  season,  I  hail  heard  very 
often  in  the  social  circle;  and  in  what  things  they 
differed  I  perfectly  knew.  It  appeared  of  high  im- 
portance that  the  sentiments  of  such  persons  should 
be  known  in  America.  To  commit  their  sentiments 
to  writing,  was  neither  practicable  nor  prudent  at 
this  time.  To  the  bosom  of  a  friend  they  could  in- 
trust what  might  be  of  great  advantage  to  my  coun- 
try. To  me  that  trust  was  committed,  and  I  was, 
immediately  upon  my  arrival,  to  assemble  certain 
persons,  to  whom  I  was  to  communicate  my  trust, 
and  had  God  spared  my  life,  it  seems  it  would  have 
been  of  great  service  to  my  country.  * 

,*  *  *  *  ■*  *  * 

*  Ever  since  I  have  been  out,  almost 

everything  has  been  different  from  what  I  expected. 
Instead  of  pleasant  weather,  the  most  inclement  and 
damp,  which  removes  me  entirely  from  the  deck, 
and  when  I  was  flattered  with  the  hope  of  getting 
into  port  six  days  ago,  I  am  yet  here,  as  distant 
from  it  as  when  the  encouragement  was  given  me. 
Had  Providence  been  pleased  that  I  should  have 
reached  America  six  days  ago,  I  should  have  been 
able  to  converse  with  my  friends.  1  am  persuaded 
that  this  voyage  and  passage  are  the  instruments  to 
put  au  end  to  my  being.     His  holy  will  be  done  ! 

He  grew  woaker  and  weaker,  and  on  the 
twenty-sixth  of  April,  within  sight  of  land,  and 
almost  within  hearing  of  the  news  of  the  battle  of 
Lexington,  expired  "in  solitude,  amidst  suffer- 
ing, without  associate,  and  without  witness;  yet 
breathing  forth  a  dying  wish  for  his  country,  de- 
siring to  live  only  to  perform  towards  her  a  last 
and  signal  service."*  His  remains  were  brought 
into  port  in  the  ship  at  Gloucester,  and  the  siege' 
of  Boston  having  dispersed  his  relatives  and 
friends,  were  buried  there  by  kind  but  strange 
hands.  As.  soon  as  the  district  was  sufficiently 
tranquil,  they  were  removed  by  his  aged  father 
to  the  burial-ground  at  Braintree.  A  monument 
was  raised  over  his  resting-place  after  his  widow 
had  been,  in  1.798,  placed  beside  him,  with  an  in- 
scription by  John  Quinoy  Adams,  closing  with 
these  well-turned  lines: — 

STKANOEB, 

Iu  contemplating  this  monument,  the  frail  tribute 
Of  filial  gratitude,  and  affection, 

Glows  thy  bold  breast  with  patriotic  flame? 
Let  his  example  point  the  paths  of  fame  I 
Or  seeks  thy  heart,  averse  from  public  strife, 
The  milder  graces  of  domestic  life? 
Her  kindred  virtues  let  thy  soul  revere, 
And  o'er  the  best  of  mothers  drop  a  tear. 


JEREMY  BELKNAP. 

I   Tins  eminent  New  England  clergyman  and  his- 

'   torian  was  born  June  4,  1744,  in  Boston,  where 

the  family  resided  for  three  generations.      His 

habits  in  childhood  showed  the  future  antiquarian 

and  historian.     At  ten  years  of  age  he  made  neat 


*  Life  by  J.  Quiacy.  p.  348. 


254 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


abstracts  of  the  sermons  at  the  Old  South  Church ; 
and  from  his  entrance  at  Harvard,  at  fifteen,  kept, 
through  his  life,  series  of  interleaved  annotated 
almanacs,  a  favorite  mode  of  diary,  of  the  Eastern 
clergyman,  of  which  some  curious  specimens  are 
preserved.  He  had,  too,  his  manuscript  books, 
Quotidiana  Miscellanea,  &c,  for  extracts  from  the 
authors  he  read.  The  first  entry  on  the  first 
page  of  these  is  significant  of  his  tastes  thus 
early  forming,  from  Eckard's  Roman  History: — 
"there  are  required  so  many  qualifications  and 
accomplishments  in  an  historian,  and  so  much 
care  and  nioeness  in  writing  an  history,  that  some 
have  reckoned  it  one  of  the  most  difficult  labors 
human  nature  is  capable  of."  He  left  Harvard 
with  the  class  of  1702,  and  became,  like  so  many 
others,  a  schoolmaster.  After  four  years  in  this 
employment,  and  when  he  had  fully  established 
his  resolution,  he  was  ordained  as  a  preacher. 
He  married  Ruth  Eliot,  of  Boston,  and  became 
pastor  of  the  church  in  Dover,  New  Hampshire, 
in  1767,  where  he  passed  twenty  years.  His  his- 
torical tastes  soon  developed  themselves ;  but  they 
were  somewhat  interrupted  by  the  openingscenes 
of  the  Revolution,  in  which  Belknap  bore  the 
part  of  a  good  Whig,  counselling  the  people  by 
his  pen.  He  was  chosen  chaplain  to  the  troops 
of  New  Hampshire  at  Cambridge,  but  declined 
the  appointment.  In  1787  he  left  Dover  for  the 
charge  of  the  Federal  Street  Church  in  Boston,  a 
position  which  he  held  till  his  death,  caused  sud- 
denly by  paralysis,  June  20,  1798.  He  had  him- 
self in  some  lines  of  poetry,  found  among  his 
papers,  invoked  a  speedy  departure. 

When  faith  and  patience,  hope  and  love, 
Have  made  us  meet  for  heaven  above, 
How  blest  the  privilege  to  rise     ' 
Snatched  in  a  moment  to  the  skies! 
Unconscious,  to  resign  our  breath, 
Nor  taste  the  bitterness  of  death. 
Such  be  my  lot,  Lord,  if  thou  please, 
To  die  in  silence  and  at  ease. 
When  thou  dost  know  that  I'm  prepared, 
O  seize  me  quick  to  my  reward. 
But  if  thy  wisdom  sees  it  best 
To  turn  thine  ear  from  this  request — 
If  sickness  be  the  appointed  way, 
To  waste  this  frame  of  human  clay ; 
If,  "Worn  with  grief  and  racked  with  pain, 
This  earth  must  turn  to  earth  again ; 
Then  let  thine  angels  round  me  stand — 
Support  me  by  thy  powerful  hand; 
Let  not  my  faith  or  patience  move, 
Nor  aught  abate  my  hope  or  love  ; 
But  brighter  may  my  graces  shine, 
Till  they're  absorbed  in  light  divine. 

His  distinct  historical  labors  commenced  with 
his  residence  in  New  Hampshire,  where  he  en- 
gaged in  the  study  and  preparation  of  manu- 
scripts, using  great  diligence  in  his  pioneer  work. 
Before  the  Revolution,  Belknap  had  studied  his 
subject  in  the  steeple  of  the  Old  South  Church, 
among  the  books  collected  by  his  pastor,  Mr. 
Prince.  In  the  preface  to  his  first  volume,  Belk- 
nap suggests  a  public  repository  for  MSS.,  under 
proper  regulations.  This  first  volume  of  his  His- 
■  tory  of  New  Hampshire  appeared  at  Philadelphia 
in  1784,  under  the  superintendence  of  Ebenezer 
Hazard,  the  Postmaster-General,  and  compiler  of 
the  State  Papers.     The  second  appeared  at  Bos- 


ton in  1791,  and  the  third  in  the  same  city,  in  the 
following  year.  To  assist  him  in  the  work,  which 
at  the  time  of  the  publication  of  the  last  volume 
had  fallen  short  of  the  actual  expenses,  the  Legis- 
lature of  New  Hampshire  granted  him  fifty 
pounds.  Its  merits  at  the  present  day  would 
secure  it  a  better  reception.  The  first  volume 
comprehends  the  events  of  one  complete  century, 
from  the  discovery  of  the  river  Pascataqua;  the 
second,  seventy-five  years,  from  1715;  the  third 
is  occupied  with  a  geographical  description  of  the 
state  ;  with  sketches  of  its  natural  history,  pro- 
ductions, improvements,  and  present  state  of 
society  and  manners,  laws  and  government. 

The  candor  and  agreeable  style  of  this  work 
are  no  less  remarkable  than  its  historical  tact 
and  fidelity.  It  has  long  ranked  at  the  head  of 
the  local  state  histories  of  the  country.  The 
author  had  everything  to  acquire  and  arrange. 
He  overcame  these  difficulties,  and  seized  his  sub- 
ject with  the  grasp  of  an  earnest  thinker  and  ac- 
complished writer.  The  interesting  chapters  in 
the  third  volume  on  physical  geography  and 
natural  history  show  that  he  took  no  narrow  view 
of  the  relations  of  his  subject. 

On  the  completion  of  this  work,  an  editor  of  a 
newspaper  in  Keene,  N.H.,  made  the  modest  an- 
nouncement to  his  readers  that  "to  render  his 
paper  as  useful  and  entertaining  as  possible,  ho 
proposed  to  commence  upon  the  Rev.  Mr.  Belk- 
nap's late  History  of  New  Hampshire,  and  con- 
tinue a  small  part  of  the  same  weekly.  As  every 
member  of  the  community  is  equally  interested  in 
this  much-approved  History,  the  editor  flatters 
himself  that  the  above  attempt  to  please  will 
meet  with  the  approbation  of  his  generous  patrons. 
This  information  is  given  to  accommodate  those 
who  have  a  desire  of  becoming  subscribers  for  the 
Cheshire  Advertiser,  that  they  may  apply  in 
season,  and  not  be  disappointed  of  the  first  part 
of  this  valuable  History."  To  which  cool  propo- 
sition, when  the  author  was  informed  of  it  by  his 
friend,  Isaiah  Thomas,  he  replied  :  "  As  I  am  par- 
ticularly interested  in  the  success  of  that  literary 
adventure,  I  beg  you  would  set  me  down  as  a 
subscriber  for  the  Cheshire  Advertiser  for  one 
year,  to  commence  from  the  first  portion  of  the 
said  History  which  you  may  reprint,  and  send  the 
papers  to  me  regularly  by  the  post.  If  you  are 
desirous  of  reprinting  the  certificate  from  the 
Clerk  of  the  Federal  Court,  which  secures  the 
copyright  of  the  said  History  to  me  and  my  heirs, 
agreeably  to  the  laws  of  the  United  States,  be  so 
good  as  to  let  me  know  it,  and  I  will  seud  you  an 
authenticated  copy." 

In  1790,  Belknap  projected  the  Massachusetts 
Historical  Society,  which  became,  long  since  an 
established  precedent  for  similar  organizations 
throughout  the  country.  At  the  request  of  this 
body  he  delivered,  Oct.  23,  1792,  a  centennial 
Discourse  intended  to  commemorate  the  Discovery 
of  America  by  Christopher  Columbus,  on  the 
completion  of  the  third  century  since  that  event. 
Four  dissertations  are  added  on  points  raised  by 
the  address.  The  whole  is  well  filled  with  in- 
genious philosophical  suggestions. 

In  the  same  year  with  this  address  appeared  in 
successive  numbers  of  the  Columbian  Magazine, 
a  production  entitled  The  Foresters,  an.  American 
tale,  being  a  sequel  to  the  history  of  John  Bull' 


JEREMY  BELKNAP. 


255 


the  Clothier,  in  a  series  of  letters  to  a  friend. 
This  was  written  by  Dr.  Belknap.  The  papers 
were  collected  in  a  volume,  and  printed  again 
with  two  additional  letters,  continuing  the  story, 
in  1796. 


'£su-e-^i^-' 


The  Foresters  is  an  apologue,  written  after  the 
manner  of  Arbuthnot's  John  Bull,  in  which  the 
leading  states  and  interests  of  the  American 
continent  are  represented  under  catch-words  of 
easy  interpretation.  The  Foresters  themselves 
are  the  people  of  the  United  States;  Onontio  is 
Canada;  Robert  Lumber,  New  Hampshire;  John 
Codline,  Massachusetts;  Peter  Bull-Frog,  New 
York ;  Walter  Pipeweed,  Virginia ;  his  grand- 
soil,  General  Washington ;  Charles  Indigo,  South 
Carolina ;  Ethan  Greenwood,  Vermont.  The 
several  settlements  of  the  country  are  related  in 
neatly  turned  phrase,  together  with  the  incidents 
of  the  Revolution  and  the  circumstances  out  of 
which  it  arose,  followed  by  a  graphic  picture  of 
the  new  constitution,  and  the  attempt  of  Genet  at 
French  interference.  There  is  much  sly  humor 
in  this  book,  hit  off  in  a  neat  quiet  style.* 

In  1793  he  published  anonymously  a  Life  of 
Watts,  in  connexion  with  Kippis's  Life  of  Dod- 
dridge. In  the  conclusion  of  this  life  he  states 
what  he  interpreted  as  the  views  of  Watts  in 
relation  to  the  Trinity.  This  portion  has  been 
added  by  his  grand-daughter  to  the  judicious 
memoir  she  has  published  of  Belknap.f 

*  This  production  was  pleasantly  revived  on  a  late  occasion 
bv  the  poet  Bryant,  at  the  semi-centennial  celebration  of  the 
New  York  Historical  Society.  In  a  speech  at  the  dinner  at 
the  Astor  House,  Nov.  20,  1854,  he  spoke  of  the  Foresters, 
l-a  work  which  sought  to  embellish  our  history  with  the 
charms  of  wit  and  humor,"  in  connexion  witii  the  American 
Biography,  which  he  recollected  as  amongst  his  earliest  read- 
ing and  assigned  to  Belknap  "  the  high  merit  of  being  the  lirst 
to  make  American  history  attractive."  "Sixty-two  years 
ago"  Mr.  Bryant  continued,  "he  published  the  Foresters, 
long  a  favorite  at  New  England  firesides." 

+  Life  of  Jeremy  Belknap,  D.D.,  the  Historian  of  New 


In  1794  Belknap  published  the  first  volume  of 
a  series  of  American  biographical  sketches — An 
Historical  account  of  those  persons  who  have  been 
distinguished  in  America  as  Adventurer's,  States- 
men, Philosopihers,  Divines,  Warriors,  Authors, 
and  other  remarkable  characters,  comprehending 
a  recital  of  the  events  connected  with  their  lives 
and  actions. 

The  second  volume  of  the  Biographies  was 
completed  and  in  press  at  the  time  of  the 
author's  death. 

The  next  year  he  issued  a  Collection  of  Psalms 
and  Hymns,  which  was  in  use  for  a  while  with 
the  New  England  Congregational  churches. 
Several  of  these  were  written  by  himself. 

In  1795  appeared  Dr.  Belknap's  Dissertations 
on  the  Character,  Death,  and  Resurrection  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  the  Evidence  of  his  Gospel, 
with  Remarks  on  some  sentiments  advanced  in  a 
book  entitled  "  The  Age  of  Reason.'1'' 

As  an  anecdote  of  Dr.  Belknap's  historical  ac- 
curacy, it  may  be  mentioned,  that  the  year  be- 
fore his  death  he  sailed  from  New  Bedford  to 
ascertain  the  island  discovered  by  Gosnold  in 
1G02,  which  he  had  stated  incorrectly  in  the 
first  volume  of  his  Biographies.  Finding  the 
exact  locality  on  the  island  of  Cuttyhunk,  he  re- 
wrote the  life  for  the  second  volume,  and  intro- 
duced a  description  of  the  spot. 

THE  OLD  CONFEDERATION  — FROM  TITE  FORESTERS. 

When  the  foresters  had  broken  their  connexion 
with  Bull,  it  was  uncertain  what  connexions  they 
might  form  abroad,  but  it  was  judged  expedient  for 
them  to  be  united  among  themselves,  that  no  one 
family  should  connect  itself  in  trade  with  any  mer- 
chant, or  factor,  without  the  consent  of  the  others. 
In  short,  it  became  necessary  for  them  to  enter  into 
a  partnership  for  their  mutual  interest  and  conve- 
nience. To  do  this  was  a  nice  point,  and  required 
much  delicacy.  It  was  to  them  a  new  subject,  and 
they  had  an  untrodden  path  before  them.  After 
much  consultation  and  inquiry,  their  ingenuity  sug- 
gested to  them  the  idea  of  an  original  social  compact. 
"  Why  should  we  (said  they)  look  abroad  for  prece- 
dents, when  we  have  enough  among  ourselves  ? 
See  the  beavers  in  our  own  brooks  and  meadows, 
how  they  work  in  complete  partnership,  each  family 
has  its  own  cell,  and  a  number  of  cells  arc  placed  in 
one  pond.  They  carry  on  their  operations  with 
peace  and  unanimity,  without  even  the  appearance 
of  a  master.  Here  is  a  perfect  republic,  a  complete 
equality,  a  striking  example  of  order  without  subor- 
dination, of  liberty  without  jealousy,  of  industry 
without  coercion,  of  economy  without  parsimony, 
of  sagacity  without  overbearing  influence.  Every 
one  knows  his  own  business  and  does  it,  their  labour 
goes  on  with  regularity  and  decency;  their  united 
eii'orts  serve  the  common  cause,  and  the  interest  of 
every  one  is  involved  in  that  of  the  whole.  Let  us 
go  and  do  likewise."  The  hint  took,  and  a  plan  of 
confederation,  as  it  was  called,  was  drawn  up  on 
principles  of  the  purest  equality;  each  family  re- 
taining the  entire  control  of  its  own  domestic  con- 
cerns, without  any  interference  of  the  others,  and 
agreeing  to  contribute  voluntarily  its  proportion  of 
labour  and  money  to  support  the  common  interest. 

This  was,  in  theory,  a  very  pretty  device,  exactly 
suited  to  a  set  of  people  who  thought  themselves 


Hampshire,  with  selections  from  his  correspondence  and  other 
1    writings.     Collected   and    arranged  by  his  grand-daughter. 
Harper  &  Brothers.     1S47. 


256 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


completely  virtuous.  But  as  it- often  happens  that 
great  ingenuity  exists  without  much  judgment  or 
policy,  so  it  proved  here.  These  foresters  did  not 
consider  that  their  intellects  were  not,  like  those  of 
the  beavers,  confined  to  a  few  particular  objects; 
that  they  were  not,  like  the  beavers,  void  of  passions 
and  prejudices,  void  of  ambition,  jealousy,  avarice, 
and  self-interest.  With  all  the  infirmities  of  hu- 
manity, they  were  expecting  to  establish  a  commu- 
nity on  a  plan  similar  to  that  in  which  no  such 
deformities  can  possibly  find  admittance. 

Though  for  a  while,  and  during  the  period  of  the 
law-suit,  when  common  danger  impelled  .  them  to 
keep  themselves  close  together,  this  plan  answered 
the  end. better  tnan  none:  yet  in  fact  the  notion  of 
independence 'had  so  intoxicated  their  minds,  that 
having  cast  off  their  dependence  on  Mr.  Bull,  they 
thought  themselves  independent  of  all  the  world 
beside.  When  they  had  got  entirely  clear  of  the 
controversy  with  him,  they  were  in  the  condition  of 
a  young  heir  just  come  of  age,  who  feels  proud,  of 
his  freedom,  and  thinks  he  has  a  right  to  act  without 
control.  Each  family  felt  its  own  importance,  and 
expected  a  degree  of  respect  from  the  others,  in  pro- 
portion to  its  numbers,  its  property,  its  exertions,  its 
antiquity,  and  other  trifling  considerations,  which 
ought  never  to  have  had  any  place  in  a  partnership 
of  complete  equality;  and  in  consequence  of  this 
intoxicating  idea  of  independence,  each  family 
claimed  the  right  of  giving  or  withholding  its  con- 
sent to  what  was  proposed  by  any  or  all  of  the 
others. 

In  the  club  room,  among  a  number  of  ingenious 
devices,  there  was  a  clock,  of  a  most  curious  and  in- 
tricate construction,  by  which  all  the  common  con- 
cerns of  the  partnership  were  to  be  regulated.  It 
had  one  bell,  on  which  thirteen  distinct  hummers 
struck  the  hours.  Each  hammer  was  moved  by  in- 
dependent wheels  and  weights,  each  set  of  wheels 
and  weights  was  inclosed  in  a  separate  ease,  the  key 
of  which  was  kept,  not  as  it  ought  to  have  been,  by 
the  person  who  represented  the  family  at  club,  but 
in  each  mansion  house  ;  and  every  family  claimed  a 
right  either  to  keep  the  key  at  home  or  send  it  to 
club,  when  and  by  whom  they  pleased.  Kow  as 
this  clock,  like  all  other  automatons,  needed  fre- 
quently to  be  wound  up,  to  be  oiled  and  cleaned,  a 
very  nice  and  particular  adjustment  of  circum- 
stances was  necessary  to  preserve  the  regularity  of 
its  motions,  and  make  the  hammers  perform  their 
functions  with  propriety.  Sometimes  one  or  two 
of  the  hammers  would  be  out  of  order,  ami  when  it 
came  to  the  turn  of  one  to  strike  it  would  be  silent; 
then  there  must  be  a  running  or  sending  home  for 
the  key,  and  the  houses  being  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, much  time  was  spent  in  waiting  Sometimes 
the  messenger  arrived  at  an  unseasonable  hour,  when 
the  family  was  asleep,  or  abroad  in  the  fields,  and 
it  would  take  up  a  considerable  time  to  collect  them, 
and  lay  the  case  before  them,  that  they  might  de- 
liberate and  determine  whether  the  key  should  be 
sent  or  not ;  and  before  this  could  be  done,  the  clock 
would  get  more  out  of  order.  By  this  means,  the 
club  was  frequently  perplexed;  they  knew  neither 
the  hour  of  the  day,  nor  the  day  of  the  month ; 
they  could  not  date  their  letters,  nor  adjust  their 
books,  nor  do  business  with  any  regularity. 

Besides  this,  there  was  another  inconvenience. 
For  though  they  had  a  strong-box,  yet  it  was  filled 
with  nothing  but  bills  of  parcels,  and  accounts  pre- 
sented for  payment,  contracts  of  loans,  and  inden- 
tures for  services.  No  money  could  be  had  from 
any  of  the  families,  but  by  their  own  voluntary 
consent;  and  to  gain  this  consent  there  was  great 
difficulty.     Some  had  advanced  what  they  supposed 


to  be  more  than  their  proportion  ;  others  had  paid 
less.  The  former  would  give  no  more,  till  the  latter 
had  made  up  their  quotas,  and  there  was  no  autho- 
rity which  could  call  any  one  to  account,  or  make 
him  do  his  duty.  Their  whole  estates  were  morl^ 
gaged  for  the  money  which  they  had  borrowed  of 
Mr.  Lewis  and  Mr.  Frog;  and  yet  they  could  carry 
on  no  business  in  partnership.  In  fact  they  had 
formed  such  an  unheard  of  kind  of  partnership, 
that  though  they  could  run  themselves  in  debt,  yet 
they  could'  not  oblige  one  another  to  raise  any  money 
to  'discharge  their  debts. 

Each  family,  however,  carried  on  a  separate  trade, 
and  the5T  contrived  to  undersell  each  other,  both  at 
home  and  at  market.  Each  family  also  had  a  sepa- 
rate debt,  whichsome  were  providing  means  to  dis- 
charge, and  others  neglected.  In  one  or  two  of  the 
families  they  went  to  loggerheads  among  themselves. 
John  Codlme's  family  was,  for  several  days,  a  scene 
of  confusion  and  disorder;  nothing  was  seen  or 
heard,  but  cursing  and  calling  names,  kicking  shins 
aud  pulling  noses.  John  at  first  tried  to  silence 
them  by  gentle  means,  but  finding  these  ineffectual, 
he  at  length  drew  his  hanger,  and  swore  he  would 
cut  off  the  ears  of  the  first  that  should  dare  to  make 
any  more  noise.  This  threatening  drove  two  or 
three  turbulent  fellows  out  of  doors,  after  which  the 
house  was  tolerably  quiet.  Something  of  the  same 
kind  happened  in  Robert  Lumber's  family,  but  he 
made  so  good  a  use  of  his  fist  as  quelled  the  disturb- 
ance at  once. 

In  the  famity  of  Roger  Carrier  there  seemed  to 
be  a  predominant  lurch  for  knavery,  for  lie  publicly 
advertised  that  he  was  ready  to  pay  his  debts  by 
notes  of  hand,  subject  to  a  discount,-the  amount  of 
which  was  indefinite,  because  continually  increasing; 
and  that  whoever  did  not  take  his  pay,  when  thus 
offered,  might  go  without.  The  other  families  weie 
alarmed  at  his  conduct ;  but  had  no  power  to  oblige 
him  to  deal  honestly,  and  he  carried  his  roguery  so 
far  as  to  bid  them  all  defiance. 

In  this  state  of  debility  and  distraction,  it  became 
necessary  to  consult  on  some  measures  for  a  better 
plan  of  union.  They  began  to  be  convinced  that 
they  were  not  beavers,  nor  capable  of  subsisting  in 
such  a  state  of  society  as  had  been'  adopted  from 
them.  Something  more  energetic  was  wanted  to 
compel  the  lazy,  to  cheek  the  knavish,  to  direct  the 
industrious,  and  to  keep  the  honest  from  being  im- 
posed upon.  It  had  been  often  in  contemplation  to 
amend  the  mode  of  partnership;  but  now  the  disor- 
ders in  some  of  the  families  became  so  alarming, 
that  though  they  had  been  quelled  for  the  present, 
it  was  uncertain  whether  they  would  not  break  out 
again,  especially  as  one  whole  family  seemed  deter- 
mined openly  to  patronize  roguery.  These  conside- 
rations served  to  hasten  the  change  which  had  been 
contemplated.  It  was  accordingly  moved  in  the 
club,  that  each  family  should  appoint  one  or  more 
persons  to  meet  together  and  consult  upon  some  al- 
terations and  improvements  in  the  partnership. 

TUF.  SEW  CONSTITUTION. 

The  professed  design  of  the  meeting  was  to  reform 
and  amend  the  plan  ;  but  in  fact  when  they  came  to 
examine  it,  they  found  themselves  obliged  to  pass 
the  same  sentence  on  it  that  was  once  delivered  con- 
cerning the  famous  poet  Alexander  Pope,  whose 
usual  ejaculation  was  God  mend  me  !  "  Mend  you," 
said  a  hackney  coachman  (looking  with  contempt  on 
his  dwarfish  form  and  hump  back),  "  it  would  not  be 
half  so  much  trouble  to  make  a  new  one." 

A  newonewas  accordingly  entered  upon,  and  the 
fundamental  principle  of  it  was,  not  to  suppose  men 
as  good  as  they  ought  to  be,  but  to  take  them  as 


JEREMY  BELKNAP. 


257 


tliey  are.  "Tt  is  true,"  said  tliey,  "  that  all  men  are 
naturally  tree  and  equal ;  it  is  a  very  good  idea, 
and  ought  to  be  understood  in  every  contract  and 
partnership  -which  can  be  formed  ;  it  may  serve  as 
a  cheek  upon  ambition  and  other  human  passions, 
and  put  people  in  mind  that  they  may  some  time  or 
other  be  called  to  account  by  their  equals.  But  it 
is  as  true  that  this  equality  is  destroyed  by  a  thou- 
sand causes  which  exist  in  nature  and  in  society. 
It  is  true  that  all  beasts,  birds,  and  fishes  are  natu- 
rally free  and  equal  in  some  respects,  but  yet  we 
find  them  unequal  in  other  respects,  and  one  be- 
comes the  prey  of  another.  There  is,  and  always 
will  be,  a  superiority  and  an  inferiority,  in  spite  of 
all  the  systems  of  metaphysics  that  ever  existed. 
How  can  you  prevent  one  man  from  being  stronger, 
or  wiser,  or  richer  than  another?  and  will  not  the 
strong  overcome  the  weak?  will  not  the  cunning 
circumvent  the  foolish  ?  and  will  not  the  borrower 
become  servant  to  the  lender  ?  Is  not  this  noble, 
free  and  independent  creature  man,  necessarily  sub- 
ject to  lords  of  his  own  species  in  every  stage  of  his 
existence?  When  a  child,  is  he  not  under  the  com- 
mand of  his  parents?  Send  him  to  school,  place 
him  out  as  an  apprentice,  put  him  on  board  a  ship, 
enrol  him  in  a  company  of  militia,  must  he  not  be 
subject  to  a  master?  Place  him  in  any  kind  of  so- 
ciety whatever,  and  he  lias  wants  to  be  supplied, 
and  passions  to  be  subdued;  his  active  powers  need 
to  be  directed,  and  his  extravagances  to  be  con- 
trolled, and  if  he  will  not  do  it  himself,  somebody 
must  do  it  for  him.  Self-government  is  indeed  the 
most  perfect  form  of  government  in  the  world  ;  but 
if  men  will  not  govern  themselves,  they  must  have 
some  governors  appointed  over  them,  who  will  keep 
them  in  order,  and  make  them  do  their  duty.  Now 
if  there  is  in  fact  such  an  inequality  existing  among 
us,  why  should  we  act  as  if  no  such  thing  existed? 
We  have  tried  the  braver  scheme  of  partnership  long 
enough,  and  find  it  will  not  do.  Let  us  then  adopt 
the  practice  of  another  kind  of  industrious  animals 
which  we  have  among  us — Let  us  imitate  the  bees, 
who  are  governed  by  one  supreme  head,  and,  under 
that  direction,  conduct  their  whole  economy  with 
perfect  order  and  regularity." 

)n  this  principle  tliey  drew  up  an  entire  new 
plan,  in  which  there  was  one  chief  steward,  who 
was  to  manage  their  united  interest,  and  be  respon- 
sible to  the  whole  for  his  conduct.  He  was  to  have 
a  kind  of  council  to  advise  and  direct  him,  and  seve- 
ral inferior  officers  to  assist  him,  as  there  might  be 
•  o.'cas;on;  and  a  certain  contribution  was  to  be 
levied  ou  the  trade,  or  on  the  estates  of  the  whole, 
which  was  to  make  a  common  stock  for  the  support 
of  the  common  interest,  and  they  were  to  erect  a 
tribunal  among  themselves,  which  should  decide  and 
determine  all  differences.  If  nine  of  the  families 
should  agree  to  this  plan,  it  was  to  take  place ;  and 
Ih  ■  othcis  might  or  might  not  adopt  it ;  but  if  any 
0.1C  should  finally  refuse,  or  if  any  should  adopt  it 
and  afterward  fill  from  it,  he  was  to  be  looked  upon 
as  an  outcast,  and  no  person  was  to  have  any  con- 
nexion with  him. 

The  meeting  having  continued  a  long  time,  every- 
body became  extremely  anxious  to  know  what  they 
were  about ;  the  doors  were  kept  shut,  and  no  per- 
son whatever  was  let  into  the  secret  till  the  whole 
was  completed.  A  copy  was  then  sent  to  each 
family,  for  them  to  consider  at  their  leisure. 

Though  curiosity  was  now  gratified,  yet  anxiety 
was  not  relaxed.  The  new  plan  of  partnership 
went  by  the  name  of  the  fiddle ;  those  who  were  in 
favour  of  it  called  themselves  fiddlers,  and  those 
who  opposed  it  were  styled  antifiddlers.  The  former 
said  it  was  the  best  plan   that  human  wisdom   had 

VOL.    I.— IT 


ever  contrived.  The  latter  imagined  it  "pregnant 
with  mischief."  The  former  compared  it  to  a  strong 
fence  about  a  rich  field  of  wheat  The  latter  com- 
pared it  to  the  whale  that  swallowed  up  Jonah. 

In  each  family  a  consultation  was  held  on  the 
question,  Whether  it  should  be  adopted  or  not?  and 
liberty  was  given  for  every  one  to  speak  his  mind 
with  the  utmost  freedom.  The  objections,  answers, 
replies,  rejoinders,  and  rebutters,  which  were  pre* 
duced  on  this  occasion,  would  make  a  curious  collec- 
tion, and  form  an  important  page  in  the  history  of 
man.  The  fiddlers  were  extremely  fond  of  having 
it  examined,  because  they  said  it  was  like  a  rich 
piece  of  plate,  which  the  more  it  be  rubbed  shines 
the  brighter.  The  antifiddlers  said  it  was  like  a 
worm-eaten  bottom  of  a  ship,  the  defects  of  which 
would  more  evidently  appear,  the  more  it  was 
ripped  to  pieces;  they  were  therefore  for  rejecting 
it  at  once,  without  any  examination  at  all. 

When  they  were  urged  to  point  out  its  defects, 
they  would  say,  "  It  is  dangerous  to  put  so  much 
power  into  the  hands  of  any  man,  or  set  of  men, 
lest  they  should  abuse  it.  Our  liberty  and  property 
will  be  safe  whilst  we  keep  them  ourselves,  but 
when  we  have  onee  parted  with  them,  we  may  never 
be  able  to  get  them  back  again." 

If  the  plan  was  compared  to  a  house,  then  the 
objection  would  be  made  against  building  it  too  high, 
lest  the  wind  should  blow  it  down.  How  shall  we 
guard  it  against  fire?  how  shall  we  secure  it  against 
robbers?  and  how  shall  we  keep  out  rats  and  mice? 

If  it  was  likened  to  a  ship,  then  it  would  be  asked, 
how  shall  we  guard  it  against  leaking  ?  how  shall 
we  prevent  it  from  running  on  the  rocks  and  quick- 
sands? 

Sometimes  it  would  be  compared  to  a  clock,  then 
the  question  was,  how  shall  we  secure  the  pendulum, 
the  wheels  and  the  balance  from  rust?  who  shall 
keep  the  key,  and  who  shall  we  trust  to  wind  it  up? 

Sometimes  it  was  represented  by  a  purse,  and 
then  it  was  said  to  be  dangerous  to  let  any  one  hold 
the  strings.  Money  is  a  tempting  object,  and  the 
best  men  are  liable  to  be  corrupted. 

In  short,  the  whole  of  the  arguments  against  it 
might  be  summed  up  in  one  word — jealousy  ; 
which  is  well  known  to  be  the  highest  degree  of  re- 
publican virtue. 

To  show  the  futility  of  these  arguments,  it  was 
observed  by  the  opposite  party,  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  put  it  into  any  man's  power  to  do  you  good, 
without  at  the  same  time  putting  it  into  his  power 
to  do  you  hurt.  If  you  trust  a  barber  to  shave 
your  beard,  you  put  it  into  his  power  to  cut  your 
throat.  If  j'ou  trust  a  baker  to  make  your  bread, 
or  a  cook  to  dress  your  meat,  you  put  it  into  the 
power  of  each  to  poison  you ;  nay,  if  you  venture 
to  lie  in  the  same  bed  with  your  wife,  you  put  it 
into  her  power  to  choak  you  when  you  are  asleep. 
Shall  we  therefore  let  our  beards  grow  till  they  are 
long  enough  to  put  into  our  pockets,  because  we  are 
afraid  of  the  barber?  shall  we  starve  ourselves  be- 
cause the  baker  and  the  cook  map  poison  us?  and 
snail  we  be  afraid  to  go  to  bed  with  our  wives? 
Fie,  fie,  gentlemen,  do  not  indulge  such  whims:  Be 
careful  in  the  choice  of  your  barbel's,  your  bakers, 
your  cooks,  and  your  wives ;  pay  them  well,  and 
treat  them  well,  and  make  it  their  interest,  to  treat 
you  well,  and  you  need  not  fear  them. 

After  much  debate  and  discussion,  some  of  the 
families  adopted  it  without  exception,  but  in  others, 
the  opposition  was  so  strong  that  it  could  not  be 
made  to  pass,  but  by  the  help  of  certain  amendments, 
which  were  proposed;  and  of  these  amendments 
every  family  which  thought  proper  to  make  any, 
made  as  many  as  they  pleased.     The  new  plan  with. 


258 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


its  appendage  of  amendments,  cut  such  a  grotesque 
figure,  that  a  certain  wng  in  one  of  the  families,  like 
Jotham,  the  son  of  Gideon,  ridiculed  it  in  the  fol- 
lowing fable: 

:'  A  certain  man  hired  a  taylor  to  make  him  a  pair 
of  small  clothes  ;  the  taylor  measured  him  and  made 
the  garment.  When  he  had  brought  it  home,  the 
man  turned  and  twisted  and  viewed  it  on  all  sides ; 
it  is  too  small  here,  said  he,  and  wants  to  be  let  out; 
it  is  too  big  hero,  and  wants  to  be  taken  in ;  I  am 
afraid  there  will  be  a  hole  here,  and  you  must  put 
on  a  patch ;  this  button  is  not  strong  enough,  you 
must  set  on  another.  He  was  ;^oing  on  in  this  man- 
ner, when  his  wife  overhearing  him,  said,  have  you 
put  on  the  small  clothes,  my  dear  ?  No,  6aid  he. 
How  then,  replied  she,  can  you  possibly  tell  whether 
they  will  fit  you  or  not  ?  If  I  had  made  such  objec- 
tions to  a  gown  or  a  pair  of  stays  before  I  had  put 
them  on,  how  would  you  have  laughed  at  my  female 
wisdom  ?  The  man  took  his  wife's  advice,  and 
3aved  the  taylor  a  deal  of  trouble." 

In  like  manner  the  new  plan  of  partnership  was 
tried  on,  and  was  found  to  fit  very  well.  The 
amendments  were  thrown  by,  for  future  considera- 
tion ;  some  of  them  have  been  since  adopted,  but 
\hey  are  so  few  and  so  trifling,  as  to  make  no  essen- 
tial difference. 

ELIJAH  FITCH. 

Elijah  Pitch  was  born  in  1745.  He  was  edu- 
cated at  Yale,  and  received  an  honorary  degree 
of  A.M.,  from  Harvard,  in  1770.  He  became  a 
clergyman  at  Hopkinton,  Massachusetts,  where 
he  died,  as  we  learn  from  a  notice  accompanying 
his  poems,  "  on  the  sixteenth  of  December,  1788, 
in  the  forty-third  year  of  his  age,  and  seventeenth 
of  his  ministry."  He  wrote  The  Beauties  of 
Feliijion,  a  poem  addressed  to  youth,  in  five 
books,  and  a  short  poem  entitled  The  Choice, 
which  were  published  at  Providence  in  1789. 

The  objects  of  the  principal  poem  are  concisely 
stated  in  the  "Advertisement  of  the  Author." 
"  The  design  of  these  Essays  is  to  paint  religion  in 
her  native  beauties.  They  are  principally  in- 
tended for  youth,  to  give  them  just  views  of  re- 
ligion, and  to  persuade  them  to  love  and  practise 
it.  The  subject  required  me  to  stud}-  perspicuity 
more  than  elegance,  and  truth  more  than  poetical 
embellishments." 

In  the  first  three  books  the  desires  of  the  soul, 
the  sufficiency  of  the  Gospel  to  supply  its  long- 
ing, the  goodness  of  God  in  the  material  creation, 
and  the  need  of  religion  to  hallow  it  to  our  use, 
the  happiness  of  a  holy  life,  the  evils  produced 
by  sin,  especially  war,  are  enforced,  with  oc- 
casional narrative  episodes.  Book  IV.  contains 
the  soliloquy  of  an  infidel,  who,  "  after  a  debauch, 
awakes  with  a  resolution  to  pursue  nothing  but 
the  pleasures  of  the  world."  He  is  unable  to 
escape  the  rebukes  of  conscience,  and  expires  in 
misery.  An  animated  description  then  follows 
of  the  beauty  and  variety  of  nature,  and  the 
sufficiency  of  harmless  pleasures  to  secure  hap- 
piness. In  the  last  book  the  "soliloquy  of  a 
believer"  is  given,  in  which  the  happiness  of  a 
holy  life  of  devout  meditation  and  participation 
in  the  ordinances  of  public  worship  is  dwelt  upon. 

THE  TRUE  CHRISTIAN. 

See  now  the  man  of  wond'rous  birth, 
Lorn  from  above,  but  dwells  on  earth, 
Whose  heart  religion  fills: 


By  wisdom  guided  in  his  way, 
On  wings  of  faith  he  mounts  to-day 
Towards  everlasting  hills. 

Lord  of  himself,  his  noble  mind, 
From  fetters  free  and  unconfined, 

A  flight  sublime  maintains ; 
But  little  his  concern  to  know, 
"What's  done  by  mortals  here  below, 

Who  drag  about  their  chains. 

Pleased  with  himself  and  satisfied, 
While  streams  of  pleasure  gently  glide 

From  fountain-head  on  high; 
Possesses  all  beneath  the  sun, 
And  smiles  to  see  how  mortals  run, 

To  catch  those  things  which  fly. 

Pleased  with  the  present,  he  enjoys 
Himself  at  ease,  nor  wants  those  toys 

Which  little  minds  call  great ; 
Crowns,  riches,  honours,  and  such  things, 
Which  please  the  vulgar,  yea  and  kings, 

He  treads  beneath  his  feet. 

In  love  with  that  fair  Goddess  bright, 
Who  sits  enthroned  in  realms  of  light, 

No  meaner  flame  can  burn; 
'Tis  she  that  leads  to  Jesus'  arms, 
And  gives  possession  of  bis  charms; 

Christ  and  religion's  one. 

Love  this  fair  Goddess ;  and  serene 

She'll  make  you  pass  thro'  life's  dark  scene, 

And  gild  your  passing  day  : 
Grace  your  last  moments  with  her  light, 
Then  waft  your  snul  to  regions  bright, 

To  join  angelie  lays. 

THE    CHOICE. 

Would  Heaven's  high  sov'reign  condescend 

To  crown  my  wish,  and  let  me  spend 

The  days  on  earth  he's  pleased  to  give, 

In  that  fair  place  I'd  choose  to  live, 

Where  upon  a  rising  ground, 

A  little  distance  from  the  town, 

Far  beyond  the  noisy  rout 

Of  carts  and  waggons  driv'n  about. 

Or  the  more  confounded  din 

Of  men  contending  for  a  pin  : 

Where  Aurora  spreads  her  light 

First  in  the  morn,  and  last  at  night ; 

Where  sweet  Zephyr's  breath  is  pure, 

Which  all  diseases  helps  to  cure, 

Fresh  at  ev'ry  hour  should  come, 

Wafting  spices,  myrrh,  and  gum ; 

And  at  eve  more  fragrant  grows, 

Like  the  sweet-briar  and  the  rose. 

A  placid  stream  with  gentle  tide, 

Meand'ring  thro'  a  mead,  should  glide, 

Enamel'd  o'er  with  every  hue, 

Which  on  the  earth  yet  ever  grew, 

And  lofty  pine  and  oak  in  rows, 

And  the  elm  with  careless  boughs, 

On  each  side  should  raise  their  head, 

Shading  fishes  in  their  bed. 

To  the  east  this  stream  should  run, 

As  emulous  to  meet  the  sun, 

Whose  beams,  reflected  from  that  glass. 

Make  double  morn  my  life  compass; 

While  pleasure-boats,  with  silken  sails, 

And  streamers  gay,  delight  the  vales. 

Men  of  all  professions  there 

Should  issue  forth  to  take  the  air; 

Two  or  three  in  ev'ry  line, 

Should  be  invited  to  my  wine: 

Such  whose  tempers  were  serene, 

And  had  with  books  familiar  been. 


LINDLEY  MURRAY. 


259 


A  garden  interspersed  with  trees, 
Waving  to  the  gentle  breeze, 
Laden  with  all  kinds  of  fruit 
Which  the  climate  e'er  could  suit: 
Peaches,  apples,  plums  and  chenis, 
Pears  and  apricots,  with  berries, 
Creeping  latent  through  the  grass 
All  other  pleasure  should  surpass, 
Surprising  oft  the  eye  with  joy, 
And  to  the  grateful  touch  not  coy. 
A  purling  rill,  with  winding  course, 
Now  gentle,  and  then  sounding  hoarse, 
Thro'  arbours  and  by  pleasant  walks, 
Where  flowers  should  grow  on  all  their  stalks, 
The  pink,  and  rose,  and  daffodil, 
Lady's  delight,  which  crowns  the  hill, 
Narcissus  fair,  with  tulip  gay, 
Which  finely  dress  themselves  in  May. 
With  all  the  summer's  shining  train, 
Which  breathe  more  fragrant  for  the  rain, 
And  afford  a  sweet  repast 
For  busy  bees  which  love  their  taste; 
There  humming-birds,  with  plumage  gay, 
Shining  bright  as  flnw'rs  in  May, 
Around  my  head  should  sprightly  play  ; 
On  nimble  wings  they  seem  to  dance, 
Suspended  still  without  advance, 
And  then  away  as  swift  as  light, 
So  sudden  that  they  'scape  the  sight ; 
Their  plumes  of  scarlet,  gold  and  green, 
A  lively  hue  as  e'er  was  seen ; 
These  o'er  my  flow'rs  should  rove  at  plensir  ', 
Partake  the  joy,  not  spoil  the  treasure, 
But  with  their  little  tube-like  bill 
From  op'ning  blossoms  drink  their  fill: 
And  on  farina  fine  they  feed, 
Which  fully  satisfies  their  need. 

Frequent  here  would  I  resort, 
To  enjoy  the  blissful  sport, 
And  to  view  with  pleasing  eye 
All  that  blooms  beneath  the  sky; 
See  where  the  primrose  dips  her  bill 
Amo.ig  the  dew-drops  on  the  hill, 
Anil  where  the  lily  hangs  her  head 
O'er  the  violet's  purple  bed  ; 
All  bestrew'd  with  green  and  gold, 
Where  pretty  birds  sweet  dalliance  hoM. 
There  the  lark  his  mate  invites 
To  pass  with  him  the  summer  nights, 
And  early  in  the  morn  awake. 
Together  the  first  dawn  partake, 
And  on  their  silver  pinions  rise, 
And  sing  their  mattms  to  the  skies ; 
With  sweetest  notes  theyT  fill  the  air, 
And  call  forth  shepherds  to  their  care. 
I'd  hear  the  bleating  flocks  of  sheep, 
When  the  dawn  begins  to  peep, 
And  from  my  couch  would  rise  alert, 
To  join  aird  share  the  sweet  concert; 
Hear  the  dulcet  harmony 
Warble  sweet  from  ev'ry  tree, 
From  the  meads  and  from  the  vales, 
On  the  hills  and  in  the  dales; 
Various  notes  of  flocks  and  herds, 
Mingling  with  the  singing  birds, 
Should  echo  fast  from  hill  to  hill, 
Till  ev'ry  part  of  air  they  fill. 

I'd  have  a  little  grove  fast  by, 
There  to  repair  in  milder  sky  • 
My  morn  and  ev'uing  walk  should  be, 
To  view  the  birds  perch'd  on  the  tree, 
Their  shiny  glossy  plumes  would  fill 
My  ravish'd  eye  with  pleasure  still. 


There  the  linnet,  thrush,  and  quail, 
There  the  mock-bird,  feme  and  male, 
There  the  sparrow,  with  robin-hood, 
And  ev'ry  bird  that  loves  the  wood, 
Should  live  at  ease,  secure  from  fear, 
No  cruel  fowler  should  come  near; 
The  whip-poor-will  should  cheer  the  night 
With  her  sweet  notes,  which  sleep  invite; 
About  my  farm  tame  fowls  should  rove, 
Geese  and  turkeys,  ducks  and  dove; 
Nor  would  I  want  the  guinea-hen, 
Which  imitates  the  chatt'ring  wren  ; 
And  the  proud  cock,  who  struts  and  crows 
Defiance  to  his  neighb'ring  foes. 
Martins  and  swallows,  chatt'ring  sweet, 
In  friendship  round  my  house  should  meet; 
The  peacock,  with  majestic  mien, 
And  richest  plumes,  should  oft  be  seen, 
Spreading  his  waving  glories  high, 
With  dazzling  lustre  charm  the  eye. 

Nor  would  I  want  those  joys  refin'd, 
With  holy  wedlock  which  are  join'd; 
For  Hymen's  mystic  knot  unites 
Sublimest  joys  and  sweet  delights. 

With  one  fair  iu  love  I'd  join, 
Whose  pleasing  words  should  cheer  like  wine; 
Whose  soul  to  mine  so  near  was  grown, 
No  striking  difference  could  be  known, 
But  blended  in  sweet  bands  of  love, 
In  concert  both  should  always  move, 
And  dimpled  smiles,  with  mutual  glance, 
Should  joys  reciprocal  advance. 

To  crown  the  whole,  and  give  a  relish 

To  all  the  pleasures  life  embellish, 

On  holy  days  I  would  not  lose 

The  pleasure  which  from  worship  flows; 

And  near  my  house  should  be  the  seat 

Where  those  who  love  to  praise  should  meet, 

To  tread  the  courts  of  God  most  high, 

And  hear  his  message  from  the  sky, 

From  one  who  knows  how  to  dispense 

The  joyful  truths  sent  down  from  thence, 

And  join  with  those  whose  souls  were  graced 

With  love,  and  truth,  and  righteousness; 

To  pray  and  praise,  adore  and  sing 

Loud  anthems  to  th'  eternal  King ; 

With  joy  myr  heart  should  more  dilate, 

Than  all  the  favours  of  the  great. 

But  give  me  such  a  pleasing  spot, 

And  I'll  not  envy  kings  their  court. 

LINDLEY  MITERAY. 
The  reader  who  takes  up  the  autobiography  of 
Lindley  Murray  with  no  other  previous  prepara- 
tion than  his  early  schoolboy  recollections  of  the 
grammar,  will  have  a  sensation  as  agreeable  as  mi- 
expected.  It  is  likemeeting  the  schoolmaster  after 
we  have  grown  up,  and  finding  him  a  pleasant 
courteous  gentleman  instead  of  the  monster  we 
had,  so  often  vowed  to  thrash  on  arriving  at  the 
vigor  of  manhood  prerequisite  for  the  achieve- 
ment. 

Lindley  Murray  made  a  dolorous  entrance  into 
life :  for  six  months  after  his  birth,  in  1745,  he 
was,  says  the  editor  of  his  autobiography,  "al- 
most perpetually  crying."  After  that  time  he 
grew  healthier.  In  1753,  he  removed  with  his 
parents  from  Swetara,  near  Lancaster,  Pa.,  to  the 
city  of  New  York.  After  receiving  the  rudiments 
of  an  English  education  he  was  placed  in  the 
counting-house  of  his  father,  a  prosperous  mer- 
chant, who  was  naturally  desirous  that  his  son 


260 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


^n 


should  step  into  the  opening  he  had  provided  for 
him.  This,  however,  did  not  suit  the  son's  wishes, 
which  were  bent  upon  the  law.  He  ascribes  his 
dislike  to  his  father's  calling  to  the  strictness  of 
the  rule  to  which  that  parent  subjected  him,  a 
strictness  which  led  to  an  outbreak  on  the  son's 
part,  the  only  ripple  in  the  placid  stream  of  his 
existence. 

I  have  sometimes  hesitated,  respecting  the  pro- 
priety of  communicating  this  little  piece  of  my  his- 
tory. But  as  it  is  intimately  connected  with  events 
of  this  period,  and  contains  some  traits  of  disposition 
and  character  in  early  life,  I  have  at  length  conclud- 
ed to  relinquish  my  scruples  on  this  subject.  The 
following  is  the  occurrence  to  which  I  allude. 

Though  my  father,  as  the  events  already  mention- 
ed demonstrate,  had  an  earnest  desire  to  promote 
my  interest  and  happiness,  yet  lie  appeared  to  me, 
in  some  respects,  and  on  some  occasions,  rather  too 
rigorous.  Among  other  regulations,  lie  had,  with 
true  parental  prudence,  given  me  general  directions 
not  to  leave  the  house,  in  an  evening,  without  pre- 
viously  obtaining  his  approbation.  I  believe  that 
his  permission  was  generally  and  readily  procured. 
But  a  particular  instance  occurred,  in  which,  on  ac- 
count of  his  absence,  I  could  not  apply  to  him.  I 
was  invited  by  an  uncle  to  spend  the  evening  with 
him;  and  trusting  to  this  circumstance,  and  to  the 
respectability  of  my  company,  I  ventured  to  break 
the  letter,  though  I  thought  not  the  spirit,  of  the  in- 
junction which  had  been  laid  upon  me.  The  next 
morning,  I  was  taken  by  my  father  into  a  private 
apartment,  and  remonstrated  with  for  my  disobedi- 
ence. In  vain  were  my  apologies.  Nothing  that  I 
could  offer,  was  considered  as  an  extenuation  of  mv 
having  broken  a  plain  ai:d  positive  command.  In 
short,  I  received  a  very  severe  chastisement;  and 
was  threatened  with  a  repetition  of  it,  for  every 
similar  offence.  Being  a  lad  of  some  spirit,  I  felt 
very  indignant  at  such  treatment,  under  circum- 
stances which,  as  I  conceived,  admitted  of  so  much 
alleviation.  I  could  not  bear  it ;  1  resolved  to  leave 
my  father's  house,  and  seek  a  distant  country,  what 
I  conceived  to  be  an  asylum,  or  a  better  fortune. 
Young  and  ardent,  I  did  not  want  confidence  in  my 
own  powers:  and  I  presumed  that,  with  health  and 


strength  which  I  possessed  in  a  superior  degree,  I 
|  could  support  myself,  and  make  my  way  happily 
■  through  life.  1  meditated  on  my  plan  ;  and  came  to 
the  resolution  of  taking  my  books  and  all  my  pro- 
perty with  me,  to  a  town  in  the  interior  of  the  coun- 
try, where  1  had  understood  there  was  an  excellent 
seminary,  kept  by  a  man  of  distinguished  talents  and 
learning.  Here  I  purposed  to  remain,  till  I  had 
learned  the  French  language,  which  I  thought  would 
be  of  great  use  to  me ;  and  till  I  had  acquired  as 
much  other  improvement  as  my  funds  would  admit 
With  this  stock  of  knowledge,  I  presumed  that  I 
should  set  out  in  life  under  much  greater  advantages 
than  I  should  possess  by  entering  immediately  into 
business,  with  my  small  portion  of  property, and  great 
inexperience.  I  was  then  about  fourteen  years  of  age. 
My  views  being  thus  arranged,  I  procured  a  new  suit 
of  clothes,  entirely  different  from  those  which  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  wear,  packed  up  my  little  all 
and  left  the  city,  without  exciting  any  suspicion  of 
my  design,  till  it  was  too  late  to  prevent  its  accom- 
plishment. 

In  a  short  time  1  arrived  at  the  place  of  destina- 
tion. I  settled  myself  immediately  as  a  boarder  in 
the  seminary,  and  commenced  my  studies.  The 
prospect  which  I  entertained  was  so  luminous  and 
cheering,  that,  on  the  whole,  I  did  not  regret  the 
part  I  had  acted.  Past  recollections  and  future 
hopes  combined  to  animate  me.  The  chief  uneasi- 
ness which  I  felt  in  my  present  situation,  must  have 
arisen  from  the  reflection  of  having  lost  the  society 
and  attentions  of  a  most  affectionate  mother,  and  of 
having  occasioned  sorrow  to  her  feeling  mind.  But 
as  I  had  passed  the  Rubicon,  and  believed  I  could 
not  be  comfortable  at  home,  I  contented  myself  with 
the  thought,  that  the  pursuit  of  the  objects  before 
me  was  better  calculated  than  any  other,  to  produce 
my  happiness.  In  this  quiet  retreat,  I  had  as  much 
enjoyment  as  my  circumstances  were  adapted  to 
convey.  The  pleasure  of  study,  and  the  glow  of  a 
fond  imagination,  brightened  the  scenes  around  me. 
And  the  consciousness  of  a  state  of  freedom  and  in- 
dependence undoubtedly  contributed  to  augment 
my  gratifications,  and  to  animate  my  youthful  heart. 
But  my  continuance  in  this  delightful  situation  was 
not  of  long  duration.  Circumstances  of  an  appa- 
rently trivial  nature  concurred  to  overturn  the  vi- 
sionary fabric  I  had  formed,  and  to  bring  me  again 
to  the  paternal  roof. 

I  had  a  particular  friend,  a  youth  about  my  own 
age,  who  resided  at  Philadelphia.  I  wished  to  pay 
him  a  short  visit,  and  then  resume  my  studies.  We 
met  according  to  appointment,  at  an  inn  on  the  road. 
1  enjoyed  his  society,  and  communicated  to  him  my 
situation  and  views.  But  before  I  returned  to  my 
retreat  an  occurrence  took  place  which  occasioned  me 
to  go  to  Philadelphia.  When  I  was  about  to  leave 
that  city,  as  I  passed  through  one  of  the  streets, 
I  met  a  gentleman  who  hnd  some  time  before  dined 
at  my  father's  house.  He  expressed  great  plea- 
sure on  seeing  me;  and  inquired  wdicn  I  expected 
to  leave  the  city.  I  told  him  I  was  then  on  the 
point  of  setting  off.  He  thought  the  occasion  very 
fortunate  for  him.  He  had  just  been  with  a  letter  to 
the  post-office ;  but  found  that  he  was  too  late.  The 
letter,  he  said,  was  of  importance  ;  and  he  begged 
that  I  would  deliver  it  with  my  own  hand,  and  as 
as  soon  as  I  arrived  at  New-Y'ork,  to  the  person  for 
whom  it  was  directed.  Surprised  by  the  request, 
and  unwilling  to  state  to  him  my  situation,  I  en- 
gaged to  take  good  care  of  the  letter. 

My  new  residence  was  at  Burlington,  about  twen- 
ty miles  from  Philadelphia.  I  travelled  towards  it 
rather  pensive,  and  uncertain  what  plan  to  adopt 
respecting  the  letter.     I  believe  that  I  sometimes 


LINDLEY  MURRAY. 


2G1 


thought  of  putting  it  into  tlie post-office;  sometimes,    I 
of  hiring  a  person  to  deliver  it.     But  the  confidence    j 
which   had  been  reposed  in  me;  the  importance  of    j 
the  trust;  and  my  tacit  engagement  to  deliver  it 
personally  ;   operated  so  powerfully  on    my  mind, 
that   after   1   had  rode  a  few  miles,  I  determined, 
Whatever  risk  and  expense  I  might  incur,  to  hire  a 
carriage  for  the  purpose,    to  go  to   Mew  York   as 
speedily  as  possible,  deliver  the  letter,  and  return 
immediately.     My  design,  so  far  as  it  respected  the   j 
charge  of  the  letter,  was  completely  accomplished. 
I  delivered  it,   according  to  the  direction,  and  my   j 
own  engagement.      I  was,  however,  obliged  to  re- 
main in  New  York  that  night,  as  the  packet  boat,  in   j 
which  [  had  crossed  the  bay,  could  not  sail  till  next 
morning.     This  was  a  mortifying  circumstance,  as  I 
wished   to  return   very  expeditiously.      The  delay 
was,  however,  unavoidable.     I   put   up  at  an  inn, 
near  the  wharf  from  which  the  packet  was  to  sail  in 
the  morning,  and  waited  for  that  period  with  some 
anxiety. 

I  thought  I  had  conducted  my  business  with  so 
much  caution,  that  no  one  acquainted  with  me  had 
known  of  my  being  in  the  city.  I  had,  however, 
been  noticed  by  some  person  who  knew  me;  ami,  in 
the  evening,  to  my  great  surprise,  my  uncle,  whom 
1  have  mentioned  before,  paid  me  a  visit.  He  treat- 
ed me  affectionately,  and  with  much  prudent  atten- 
tion: and,  after  some  time,  strenuously  urged  me  to 
go  with  him  to  my  father's  house;  but  I  firmly  re- 
fused to  comply  with  his  request.  At  length  he  told 
me,  that  my  mother  was  greatly  distressed  on  ac- 
count of  my  absence;  and  that  [  should  be  unkind 
and  undutiful,  if  1  did  not  see  her.  This  made  a 
strong  impression  upon  me.  I  resolved,  therefore, 
to  spend  a  short  time  with  her,  and  then  return  to  : 
my  lodgings.  The  meeting  which  1  had  with  my 
dear  and  tender  parent  was  truly  affecting  to  me. 
Every  thing  that  passed,  evinced  the  great  affection 
she  had  for  me,  and  the  sorrow  into  which  my  de- 
parture from  home  had  plunged  her.  After  1  had 
been  some  time  in  the  house,  my  father  unexpected- 
ly came  in :  and  my  embarrassment,  under  these  cir- 
cumstances, may  easily  be  conceived.  It  was,  how- 
ever, instantly  removed,  by  his  approaching  me  in 
the  most  affectionate  manner.  He  saluted  me  very  | 
tenderly;  and  expressed  great  satisfaction  on  seeing 
me  again.  Every  degree  of  resentment  was  imme- 
diately dissipated.  I  felt  myself  happy,  in  pereeiv-  j 
ing  the  pleasure  which  my  society  could  afford  to 
persons  so  intimately  connected  with  me,  and  to  ! 
whom  I  was  so  much  indebted.  We  spent  the  even- 
ing together  in  love  and  harmony  :  and  I  abandoned 
entirely,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  the  idea  of 
leaving  a  house  and  family,  which  were  now  dearer 
to  me  than  ever. 

He  resumed  his  studies  under  the  charge  of  a 
private  tutor,  and  his  father  at  last  granted  him 
permission  to  pursue  the  profession  of  his  choice. 
He  was  a  fellow  student  with  John  Jay ;  was  ad- 
mitted and  commenced  practice  with  good  suc- 
cess, which  continued  until  the  commencement  of 
the  American  Revolution,  when  finding  nothing 
to  do  in  the  courts,  and  wishing  to  recruit  his 
health,  he  retired  with  his  wife  (he  had  become 
a  married  man  some  years  hefore)  to  lslip,  Long 
Island.  Here  he  remained  four  years,  and  then 
becoming  tired  of  country  sports  and  comparative 
inaction,  returned  to  the  city  and  entered  into 
mercantile  business  with  such  success,  that  at  the 
close  of  the  war  he  found  himself  possessed  of  a 
handsome  property.  He  retired  from  business  to 
a  beautiful  country-scat,  Hellevue,   then   a  few 


miles  from  the  city,  but  long  since  included  in  its 
limits,  where  he  resided  for  three  years.  He  was 
then  forced  to  leave  this  pleasant  home  in  quest 
of  health.  After  passing  some  time  with  the  Mo- 
ravians at  Bethlehem,  he  sailed  to  England  by  the 
advice  of  his  physicians,  in  order  to  avoid  the 
rigors  of  a  New  York  winter.  His  sojourn  was 
not  designed  to  be  extended  beyond  a  year;  but, 
though  he  earnestly  desired  to  return  to  his  na- 
tive country,  the  state  of  his  health  would  not 
permit  the  change,  and  he  passed  the  remainder 
of  his  long  life  in  England,  at  a  small  country-seat 
in  the  vicinity  of  York.  The  disease  with  which 
he  was  afflicted  was  a  weakness  in  the  lower 
limbs,  which  precluded  him  from  walking,  and 
after  a  time  from  any  exercise  whatever.  His 
Christian  fortitude  and  cheerfulness,  however, 
enabled  him  to  hear  up  against  this  calamity: 
and  just  at  the  time  when  his  life  seemed  about  to 
become  useless  to  himself,  it  began  to  be  pre-emi- 
nently useful  to  others.  With  a  well  educated  and 
active  mind,  he  naturally  turned  to  literature  as  a 
pursuit,  and  he  has  recorded  the  beneficial  results 
to  his  health  which  this  course  produced. 

In  the  course  of  my  literary  labours,  I  found  that 
the  mental  exercise  which  accompanied  them,  was 
not  a  little  beneficial  to  my  health.  The  motives 
which  excited  me  to  write,  and  the  objects  which  I 
hoped  to  accomplish,  were  of  a  nature  calculated  to 
cheer  the  mind,  and  to  give  the  animal  spirits  a 
salutary  impulse.  I  am  persuaded,  that  if  I  had 
suffered  my  time  to  pass  away,  with  little  or  no  em- 
ployment, my  health  would  have  been  still  more  im- 
paired, my  spirits  depressed,  and  perhaps  my  life 
considerably  shortened.  I  have  therefore  reason  to 
deem  it  a  happiness,  and  a  source  of  gratitude  to  Di- 
vine Providence,  that  I  was  enabled,  undermy  bodily 
weakness  and  confinement,  to  turn  my  attention  to 
the  subjects  which  have,  for  so  many  years,  afforded 
me  abundant  occupation.  I  think  it  is  incumbent 
upon  us,  whatever  may  be  our  privations,  to  cast 
our  eyes  around,  and  endeavour  to  discover,  whe- 
ther there  are  not  some  means  yet  left  us,  of  doing 
good  to  ourselves  and  to  others;  that  our  lights  may, 
in  some  degree,  shine  in  every  situation,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, be  extinguished  only  with  our  lives.  The 
quantum  of  good  which,  under  such  circumstances, 
we  do,  ought  not  to  disturb  or  affect  us.  If  we  per- 
form what  we  are  able  to  perform,  how  little  soever 
it  may  be.  it  is  enough  ;  it  will  be  acceptable  in  the 
sii^lit  of  Him,  who  knows  how  to  estimate  exactly  all 
our  actions,  by  comparing  them  with  our  disposition 
and  ability. 

His  debut  in  literature  was  a  modest  one.  He 
prepared  a  work,  The  Power  of  Religion,  on  the 
Mind,  giving  the  testimony  of  many  eminent  men 
'■  in  recommendation  of  religion,  as  the  great  pro- 

'  moter  of  our  happiness  here  and  hereafter,"  and 
printed  five  hundred  copies  at  his  own  expense, 
which  he  presented  anonymously  to  the  principal 
inhabitants  of  the  vicinity.      It  was  so  well  re- 

|   ceived  that  the  author  was  induced  to  publish  it 

j  in  the  ordinary  maimer.  It  met  with  a  large 
sale ;  other  editions  were  called  for,  and  on  the 

j  issue  of  the  sixth,  he  was  induced  to  put  his  name 
to  the  title-page. 

His  next  work  was  the  English  Grammar.  This 
originated  in  the  following  manner.  A  school 
had  been  established  in  York  for  the  education  of 

.  young  ladies.     Mr.  Murray  was  desirous  that  the 


262 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


close  study  of  the  English  language  should  form 
a  portion  of  the  course  pursued.  As  the  young 
teachers  at  first  employed  themselves  needed  in- 
struction in  this  branch  of  knowledge,  lie  assem- 
bled them  in  his  own  house  for  oral  instruction. 
They  found  themselves  so  much  benefited  by  his 
exertions,  that  they  urged  him  to  write  an  Eng- 
lish grammar  for  the  use  of  their  pupils.  This  he 
consented  to  do.  The  work  was  published  in 
1795,  and  was  followed  by  a  volume  of  exercises, 
and  a  key  explanatory  of  their  construction. 
These  were  published  in  1797,  and  an  abridgment, 
by  the  author,  of  his  grammar  for  the  use  of 
schools  appeared  the  same  year. 

The  series  was  completed  by  the  i-sue  of  a  vo- 
lume of  extracts  from  the  best  authors  of  the  lan- 
guage, under  the  title  of  the  English  Hauler.  Ik- 
soon  after  published  a  volume  of  similar  character 
devoted  to  French  literature. 

The  author's  autobiography*  closes  with  the 
year  1809.  It  was  continued  by  the  Friend  to 
whom  it  was  addressed,  Elizabeth  Frank,  to  the 
close  of  his  lung  life  of  81  years,  February  10,1826. 
His  wife,  to  whom  he  was  tenderly  attached,  sur- 
vived him.  They  had  no  children.  His  will  pro- 
vided for  the  investment  of  Iris-property,  after  the 
death  of  his  wife,  in  the  hands  of  trustees  in  the 
city  of  New  York,  and  the  expenditure  of  its 
yearly  income 

In  liberating  black  people  who  may  be  held  in 
slavery,  assisting  them  when  freed,  and  giving  their 
descendants  or  the  descendants  of  other  black  per- 
sons, suitable  education:  in  promoting  the  civiliza- 
tion and  instruction  of  the  Indians  of  North  America; 
in  the  purchase  and  distribution  of  books  tending  to 
promote  piety  and  virtue,  and  the  truth  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  it  is  his  wish  that  "  The  Power  of  Reli- 
gion on  the  ilind,  in  Retirement,  Affliction,  and  at 
the  Approach  of  Death,"  with  the  author's  latest  cor- 
rections and  improvements,  may  form  a  considerable 
part  of  those  books ;  and  in  assisting  and  relieving 
the  poor  of  any  description,  in  any  manner  that  may 
be  judged  proper,  especially  those  who  are  sober, 
industrious,  and  of  good  character. 

The  lines  "  To  my  "Wife"  have  been  generally 
attributed  to  Lindley  Murray.  They  were  pub- 
lished in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  for 
October,  1836,  from  a  manuscript  copy,  endorsed 
Lindley  Murray  to  his  Wife,  "apparently  written 
as  far  back  as  1783,"  found  among  a  parcel  of  let- 
ters from  the  sisters  of  the  grammarian  to  a  lady 
friend.  They,  however,  appear,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  last  stanza,  in  the  Weccamieal  Chaplet, 
a  selection  of  original  poetry,  comprising  smaller 
Poems,  serious  and  comic  ;  classical  trifles  ;  son- 
nets, inscriptions,  and  epitaphs ;  songs  and  ballads; 
mock  heroics ;  epigrams,  fragments,  &c.  Edited 
by  George  Huddesford.  Cr.  8vo.,  pp.  223,  6s.  bds. 
Leigh  &  Sotheby,  1805;  a  collection  which  de- 
rives its  name  from  the  circumstance,  that  all  its 
contributors  were  educated  at  Winchester  school, 
founded  by  William  of  Wickham.  The  Poem  in 
question,  with  the  title,  "  Song — Mutual  Love,"  is 
quoted  as  one  of  the  novelties,  or  new  poems,  of 
this  publication  in  the  Monthly  Review,  for  Feb- 
ruary, 1806 ;  and  is  stated  to  be,  with  many  of 


*  Memoirs  of  tlie  Life  and  Writings  of  Lindley  "Murray,  in  a 
Series  of  Letters,  written  by  himself ;  with  a  preface,  and  a 
continuation  of  the  Memoirs.  By  Elizabeth  Frank.  New 
York.  1S27. 


the  best  pieces  of  the  volume,  by  Huddesford,  who 
is  spoken  of  as  a  "  legitimate  (literary)  descendant 
of  Mat  Prior." 

Huddesford  published  in  1801,  Poems,  including 
Salmagundi,  Topsy  Turvy,  Bubble  and  Squeak, 
and  Crainbe  Repetita,  Lond.  1801.  2  vols.  8vo. 
12s.  Most  of  these  had  previously  appeared  in  a 
separate  form.  The  shorter  pieces  are  interspers- 
ed with  poems  by  his  friends.  In  1805,  he  pub- 
lished his  Champignons  du  Diable,  or  Imperial 
Mushrooms,  amock  heroic  poem  in  five  cantos ;  in- 
cluding a  Conference  between  the  Pope  and  the 
Devil,  on  his  Holiness'  Visit  to  Paris,  illustrated 
with  Notes.  12mo.  (Noticed  in  Monthly  Re- 
view, 38,  p.  272.) 

Huddesford's  Poems  show  great  ease  and  spirit 
in  versification,  with  abundant  wit.  He  seems  to 
have  thrown  off  effusions  on  subjects  of  the 
day,  being  probably  a  gentleman  of  easy  fortune, 
writing  for  amusement.  His  Chaplet  is  dedi- 
cated by  permission  to  Lord  Loughborough  :  and 
among  his  school  associates  at  Winchester  were 
the  present  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  other 
distinguished  persons.*  His  claim  to  the  verses 
in  question  appears  superior  to '  that  of  Murray, 
but  neither  deserves  any  greater  praise  than  that 
(•fan  adapter,  as  the  lines  in  question  are  taken 
with  slight  alteration  from  the  song,  "Matrimo- 
nial Happiness,"  by  John  Lapraik,  a  Scotchman, 
who  was  born  in  1727;  published  a  volume  of 
Poems  in  1778;  and  died  the  keeper  of  the  post- 
office  at  the  village  of  Muirkirk,  in  1807.  Burns 
hearing  the  song  sung  at  a  "  rockin,  to  ca'  the 
crack  and  weave  the  stockin,"  was  so  struck  with 
its  beaut}',  that  he  addressed  a  rhyming  epistle 
to  the  author.     In  it  he  says, 

There  was  ae  sang  amang  the  rest, 
Aboon  them  a 'it  pleased  me  best. 
That  some  kind  husband  had  addrest 

To  some  sweet  wife'; 
It  thrill'd  the  heart  strings  through  the  bresst, 

A'  to  the  life. 

I've  scarce  heard  ought  described  sae  wee!. 
What  generous  manly  bosoms  feel  ; 
Thought  I,  can  this  be  Pope,  or  Steele, 

Or  Beattie's  work  ? 
They  tould  me  'twas  an  odd  kind  ehiel 

About  Muirkirk.  • 

The  letter,  as  it  well  might,  led  to  a  correspon- 
dence, which  includes  two  other  poetical  Epislles 
by  Burns,t  between  the  poets.  Burns  says  that 
Lapraik  "often  told  him  that  he  composed  the 
song  one  day  when  his  wife  had  been  fretting  o'er 
their  misfortunes,"  which  consisted  in  the  loss  of 
their  small  estate  at  Dalfram,  nearMuirkirk ; "which 
little  property  he  was  obliged  to  sell,  in  consequence 
of  some  connexion,  as  security,  for  some  persons 
concerned  in  that  villanous  bubble,  The  Ayr 
Bank.'" 

Having  thus  traced  the  poem  to  the  original 
source,  we  present  it  in  its  successive  stages. 

MATHIMONIAL  HAPPINESS. 

[Btj  John  Lapraik.} 
When  I  upon  thy  bosom  lean, 
And  fondly  clasp  thee  a'  rny  ain, 


*  Southern  Lit.  Messenger.  April,  1S3T. 
t  Chambers's  Life   ar.d  Works  of  Burns,  i.  115,  119,  1S9. 
Book  of  Scottish  Sols:,  p.  3ol. 


JOHN  JAY. 


263 


I  glory  in  the  sacred  ties 

That  make  us  one,  wha  anee  "were  twain. 
A  mutual  flame  inspires  us  baith, 

The  tender  look,  the  meltin  kiss: 
E'en  years  shall  ne'er  destroy  our  love, 

But  only  gi'eus  change  o'  bliss. 

Ha'e  I  a  wish  ?     It's  a'  for  thee  ! 

I  ken  thy  wish  is  me  to  please  ; 
Our  moments  pass  sae  smooth  away, 

That  numbers  on  us  look  and  gaze  ; 
Weel  pleased  they  see  our  happy  days, 

Nor  envy's  sel'  finds  aught  to  blame ; 
Aud  aye,  when  weary  cares  arise, 

Thy  bosom  still  shall  be  my  hame. 

I'll  lay  me  there  and  tak'  my  rest; 

And,  if  that  aught  disturb  my  dear, 
I'll  bid  her  laugh  her  cares  away, 

And  beg  her  not  to  drop  a  tear. 
Ha'e  I  a  joy  ?  it's  a'  her  ain  ! 

United  still  her  heart  and  mine ; 
They're  like  the  woodbine  round  the  tree, 

That's  twined  till  death  shall  them  disjoin. 

BONG — MTTUAL  LOVE. 

[Fro7)i  the  Weccamical  CJuqjlei.] 
When  on  thy  bosom  I  recline, 
Enraptur'd  still  to  call  thee  mine, 

To  call  thee  mine  for  life, 
I  glory  in  the  sacred  ties, 
Which  modern  wits  and  fools  despise, 

Of  husband  and  of  wife. 

One  mutual  flame  inspires  our  bliss, 
The  tender  look,  the  melting  kiss. 

Even  years  have  not  destroyed ; 
Some  sweet  sensation  ever  new, 
Springs  up,  and  proves  the  maxim  true, 

That  love  can  ne'er  be  eloy'd. 

Have  I  a  wish  ?  'tis  all  for  thee. 
Hast  thou  a  wish  ?  'tis  all  for  me. 

So  soft  our  moments  move, 
That  angels  look  with  ardent  gaze, 
Well  pleased  to  see  our  happy  days, 

And  bid  us  live  and  love. 

If  cares  arise — and  cares  will  come. — 
Thy  bosom  is  my  softest  home; 

I'll  lull  me  there  to  rest; 
And  is  there  aught  disturbs  my  fair  ? 
I'll  bid  her  sigh  out  every  care, 

And  lose  it  in  my  breast. 

Additional  stanza,  added  in  the  copy  attributed 
to  Dudley  Murray : — 

Have  I  a  wish  ?  'tis  all  her  own  ; 
All  hers  and  mine  are  roll'd  in  one, 

Our  hearts  are  so  entwined, 
That,  like  the  ivy  round  the  tree, 
Bound  up  in  closest  amity, 

Tis  death  to  be  disjoin'd. 

JOIIX  JAY. 
The  literary  reputation  of  Jay  is  incidental  to  his 
political  career,  and  attaches  "to  the  national  state 
papers  which  he  sent  forth  from  the  Conti- 
nental Congress,  which  did  much  to  prepare  the 
way  for  American  liberty,  and  to  his  contribu- 
tions to  the  Federalist,  by  which  he  assisted  in 
permanently  securing  that  liberty  which  he  was 
one  of  the  first  to  promote.  His  "Address  to 
the  people  of  Great  Britain,"  in  1774,  called 
forth  the  admiration  of  Jefferson.  It  is  marked 
by  moral  earnestness  and  patriotic  fervor,  quali- 


ties shared  by  his  address  to  the  inhabitants  of 
Canada  and  the  people  of  Ireland.  The  appeal 
of  the  Convention  of  the  State  of  New  York  to 
the  people  in  1776,  anil  the  address  of  Congress 
to  the  country  in  1799f  meeting  the  financial 
condition  of  the  times,  and  his  Address  to  the 
people  of  the  State  of  New  York,  in  support  of 
the  adoption  of  the  Constitution,  are  his  other 
chief  productions  of  this  kind.  He.  wrote  five 
papers  of  the  Federalist;  the  second,  third, 
fourth,  and  fifth,  on  Dangers  from  foreign  force 
and  influence,  and  the  sixty-fourth  on  the  treaty- 
making  power  of  the  senate.  He  would  have 
furnished  others  had  he  not  received  an  injury 
in  the  interim, in  hisvindication  of  the  law  in  the 
Doctors'  mob  of  the  city  of  New  York. 

Of  Huguenot  descent,  Jay  was  a  native  of  the 
city  of  New  York,  born  December  12,  1745,  a 
graduate  of  Columbia  College,  a  delegate  to  the 
first  revolutionary  Congress  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
eight,  three  years  later  Chief  Justice  of  Ins  State, 
Minister  of  Spain  and  negotiator  of  the  peace 
with  Great  Britain,  Secretary  of  State,  Chief 
Justice  of  the  United  States,  Governor  of  his  own 
State :  abundant  honors  and  employment,  which 
still  left  him  nearly  thirty  years  of  rural  retire- 
ment at  Bedford,  where  he  died  May  17, 1829,  at 
the  age  of  eighty-four.  Moral  worth  and  sober 
judgment  have  had  no  finer  exemplification  in 
our  best  political  annals.  His  life,  written  by 
his  son  William  Jay,  contains  a  Selection  from 
his  Correspondence. 

FKOM  THE  ADDRESS  OP  TirE  NEW  Y0KK  CONVENTION,  1776. 

"  Under  the  auspices  and  direction  of  Divine 
Providence,  your  forefathers  removed  to  the  wilds 
and  wilderness  of  America.  By  their  industry, 
they  made  it  fruitful — and  by  their  virtue,  a  happy 
country.  And  we  should  still  have  enjoyed  the 
blessings  of  peace  and  plenty,  if  we  had  not  forgot- 
ten the  source  from  which  these  blessings  flowed; 
and  permitted  our  country  to  be  contaminated  by 
the  many  shameful  vices  which  have  prevailed 
among  us. 

"  It  is  a  well  known  truth,  that  no  virtuous  people 
were  ever  oppressed ;  and  it  is  also  true,  that  a 
scourge  was  never  wanting  to  those  of  an  opposite 
character.  Even  the  Jews,  those  favourites  of 
Heaven,  met  with  the  frowns,  whenever  they  for- 
got the  smiles  of  their  benevolent  Creator.  By  ty- 
rants of  Egypt,  of  Babylon,  of  Syria,  and  of  Rome, 
they  were  severely  chastised;  and  those  tyrants 
themselves,  wdien  they  had  executed  the  vengeance 
of  Almighty  God,  their  own  crimes  bursting  on 
their  own  heads,  received  the  rewards  justly  due 
to  their  violation  of  the  sacred  rights  of  mankind. 

"  You  were  born  equally  free  with  the  Jews,  and 
have  as  good  a  right  to  be  exempted  from  the 
arbitrary  domination  of  Britain,  as  they  had  from 
the  invasions  of  Egypt,  Babylon,  Syria,  or  Rome. 
But  they,  for  their  wickedness,  were  permitted  to 
be  scourged  by  the  latter;  and  we,  for  our  wicked- 
ness, are  scourged  by  tyrants  as  cruel  and  im- 
placable as  those.  Our  case,  however,  is  peculiarly 
distinguished  from  theirs.  Their  enemies  were 
strangers,  unenlightened,  and  bound  to  them  by  no 


264 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ties  of  gratitude  or  consanguinity.  Our  enemies,  on 
the  contrary,  call  themselves  Christians.  They  are 
of  a  nation  and  people  bound  to  us  by  the  strongest 
ties.  A  people,  by  whose  side  nfe  have  fought  and 
bled ;  whose  power  we  have  contributed  to  raise  ; 
who  owe  much  of  their  wealth  to  our  industry,  and 
whose  grandeur  has  been  augmented  by  our  ex- 
ertions. ******* 

"  You  may  be  told  that  your  forts  have  been 
taken ;  your  country  ravaged ;  and  that  your 
armies  have  retreated ;  and  that,  therefore,  God 
is  not  with  you.  It  is  true,  that  some  forts  have 
been  taken,  that  our  country  hath  been  ravaged, 
and  that  our  Maker  is  displeased  with  us.  But  it  is 
also  true,  that  the  King  of  Heaven  is  not,  like  the 
king  of  Britain,  implacable.  If  we  turn  from  our 
sins,  He  will  turn  from  his  anger.  Then  will  our 
arms  be  crowned  with  success,  and  the  pride  and 
power  of  our  enemies,  like  the  arrogance  and  pride 
of  Nebuchadnezzar,  will  vanish  away.  Let  a  gene- 
ral reformation  of  manners  take  place — let  universal 
charity,  public  spirit,  and  private  virtue  be  incul- 
cated, encouraged,  and  practised.  Unite  in  preparing 
for  a  vigorous  defence  of  your  country,  as  if  all  de- 
pended on  your  own  exertions.  And  when  you 
have  done  all  things,  then  rely  upon  the  good  Provi- 
dence of  Almighty  God  for  success,  in  full  confidence 
that  without  his  blessing,  all  our  efforts  will  inevi- 
tably fail.      ******  * 

"  Cease,  then,  to  desire  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt, 
and  remember  her  task-masters  and  oppression.  No 
longer  hesitate  about  rejecting  all  dependence  on  a 
king  who  will  rule  you  with  a  rod  of  iron :  freedom 
is  now  in  your  power — value  the  heavenly  gift: 
remember,  that  if  you  dare  to  neglect  or  despise  it, 
you  offer  an  insult  to  the  Divine  bestower — nor 
despair  of  keeping  it.  After  the  armies  of  Rome 
had  been  repeatedly  defeated  by  Hannibal,  that 
imperial  city  was  besieged  by  this  brave  and  ex- 
perienced general,  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  and 
victorious  army.  But,  so  far  were  her  glorious  citi- 
zens from  being  dismayed  by  the  loss  of  so  many 
battles,  and  of  all  their  country — so  confident  were 
they  in  their  own  virtue  and  the  protection  of 
Heaven,  that  the  very  land  on  which  the  Cartha- 
ginians were  encamped,  was  sold  at  public  auction 
for  more  than  the  usual  price.  These  heroic  citi- 
zens disdained  to  receive  his  protections,  or  to  regard 
his  proclamations.  They  invoked  the  protection  of 
the  Supreme  Being — they  bravely  defended  then- 
city  with  undaunted  courage — they  repelled  the 
enemy  and  recovered  their  country.  Blush,  then, 
ye  degenerate  spirits,  who  give  all  over  for  lost,  be- 
cause your  enemies  have  marched  through  three  or 
four  counties  in  this  and  a  neighbouring  State — ye 
who  basely  fly  to  have  the  yoke  of  slavery  fixed  on 
your  necks,  and  to  swear  that  you  and  your  chil- 
dren shall  be  slaves  for  ever.  *         *         * 

"  Rouse,  brave  citizens !  Do  your  duty  like  men ; 
and  be  persuaded  that  Divine  Providence  will  not 
permit  this  western  world  to  be  involved  in  the  hor- 
rors of  slavery.  Consider,  that  from  the  earliest 
ages  of  the  world,  religion,  liberty,  and  reason  have 
been  bending  their  course  towards  the  Betting  sun. 
The  holy  gospels  are  yet  to  be  preached  in  these 
western  regions;  and  we  have  the  highest  reason  to 
believe  that  the  Almighty  will  not  suffer  slavery  and 
the  gospel  to  go  hand  in  hand.  It  cannot,  it  will 
not  be. 

"  But  if  there  be  any  among  us,  dead  to  all  sense 
of  honour,  and  love  of  their  country;  if  deaf  to  all 
the  calls  of  liberty,  virtue,  and  religion ;  if  forget- 
ful of  the  magnanimity  of  their  ancestors,  and  the 
happiness  of  their  children ;  if  neither  the  exam- 
ples nor.  the  success  of  other  nations — the  dictates 


of  reason  and  of  nature ;  or  the  great  duties 
they  owe  to  their  God,  themselves,  and  their  pos- 
terity, have  any  effect  upon  them — if  neither  the 
injuries  they  have  received,  the  prize  they  are  con- 
tending for,  the  future  blessings  or  curses  of  their 
children — the  applause  or  the  reproach  of  all  man- 
kind— the  approbation  or  displeasure  of  the  Great 
Judge — or  the  happiness  or  misery  consequent  upon 
their  conduct,  in  this  and  a  future  state,  can  move 
them; — then  let  them  be  assured,  that  they  deserve 
to  be  slaves,  and  are  entitled  to  nothing  but  anguish . 
and  tribulation.  Let  them  banish  from  their  remem- 
brance the  reputation,  the  freedom,  and  the  happi- 
ness they  have  inherited  from  their  forefathers.  Let 
them  forget  every  duty,  human  and  divine;  remem- 
ber not  that  they  have  children:  and  beware  how 
they  call  to  mind  the  justice  of  the  Supreme  Being: 
let  them  go  into  captivity,  like  the  idolatrous  and 
disobedient  Jews;  and  be  a  reproach  and  a  by-word 
among  the  nations.  But  we  think  better  things  of 
you, — we  believe  and  are  persuaded  that  you  will 
do  your  duty  like  men,  and  cheerfully  refer  your 
cause  to  the  great  and  righteous  Judge.  If  success 
crown  your  efforts,  all  the  blessings  of  freemen  will 
be  your  reward.  If  you  fall  in  the  contest,  you  will 
be  happy  with  God  in  heaven." 

BENJAMIN  ETJSH. 
The  benevolent  and  ingenious  Dr.  Benjamin 
Rush,  the  friend  of  Franklin,  was  born  on  his 
father's  farm  near  Philadelphia,  December  24, 
1745.  One  of  his  ancestors,  John  Rush,  a  captain 
of  horse  under  Cromwell,  emigrated  from  England 
to  the  state  among  its  first  settlers.  In  his  boy- 
hood he  was  fortunate,  after  .the  death  of  his 
father,  in  being  placed  under  the  instruction  of 
his  aunt's  husband,  Dr.  Finley,  afterwards  Presi- 
dent of  Princeton,  then  at  Nottingham,  a  country 
town  in  Maryland,  remarkable  for  the  simplicity 
and  purity  of  its  people.  At  fourteen  lie  entered 
the  College  at  Princeton,  then  presided  over  by  the 
eloquent  and  patriotic  Davies.  He  was  graduated 
the  next  year,  studied  medicine  with  Dr.  Redman, 
translated  the  aphorisms  of  Hippocrates,  and 
wrote  a  Eulogy  on  the  Rev.  Gilbert  Tennent,  the 
associate  of  Whitefield,  at  Philadelphia,  passed  to 
Edinburgh,  where  he  took  his  degree  in  1768,  re- 
turning the  next  year  to  America  after  a  residence 
in  London  and  Paris.  He  then  became  connected 
with  the  College  of  Philadelphia  as  Lecturer  on 
Chemistry,  and  afterwards,  when  that  institution 
became  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  as  a  Pro- 
fessor of  the  Institutes  and  Practice  of  Medicine, 
delivering  courses  of  medical  lectures  for  forty- 
four  years.  His  theories,  and  the  story  of  his 
success  in  the  treatment  of  the  yellow  fever  of 
1793,  in  which  he  derived  aid  from  the  acumen  of 
Dr.  Mitchell  of  Virginia,*  of  which  he  published 
an  account  in  1794,  belong  to  the  annals  of  me- 
dical science. 

His  political  principles  were  displayed  in  his 
zeal  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  Revolution,  when 


*  John  Mitchell,  an  Englishman,  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Soci- 
ety, settled  in  Virginia  as  physician  about  17(  0,  wrote  on  bo- 
tany, aud  also  an  Essay  on  the  Causes  of  the  Different  Colours 
of  People  of  Different  Climates,  attributing  the  variation  to 
climate,  published  in  the  Philosophical  Transactions.  His  pi- 
per on  the  Yellow  Fever  of  Virginia,  in  MS.,  was  commuri- 
cated  by  Franklin  to  Bush,  who  made  one  of  its  hints  on  tl.e 
use  of  purgatives,  the  basis  of  his  medical  practice  in  that 
disease,  lie  died  about  1750. — Ramsay's  Eulogy  on  Eu;h, 
Tuacher's  Med.  Biog.    Miller's  Retrospect,  i.  Sis. 


BENJAMIN  RUSH. 


2G5 


lie  sat  in  Congress  and  signed  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  He  bore  a  medical  appointment 
in  the  military  service.  In  1787  he  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  State  Convention  for  the  adoption  of 
the  Federal  Constitution.  In  the  latter  years  of 
his  life  he  held  the  government  appointment  of 
Treasurer  of  the  Mint.  He  was  greatly  honored 
and  esteemed  at  home  and  abroad.  His  death 
occurred  at  Philadelphia,  April  19,  1813,  in  his 
sixty-eighth  year.  Jefferson,  writing  to  John 
Adams  the  ensuing  month,  says,  "  Another  of 
our  friends  of  seventy-six  is  gone,  my  dear  sir, 
another  of  the  co-signers  of  the  Independence  of 
our  country :  and  a  better  man  than  Rush  could 
not  have  left  us,  more  benevolent,  more  learned, 
of  finer  genius,  or  more  honest." 

Of  his  numerous  professional  writings,  his 
Medical  Inquiries  and  Observations  form  a  series 
of  four  volumes.  This  work,  which  was  pub- 
lished in  a  third  edition,  revised  and  enlarged  by 
the  author,  in  Philadelphia,  in  1809,  with  a  num- 
ber of  special  medical  topics,  includes  the  Inquiry 
into  the  Cause  of  Animal  Life,  the  Natural 
History  of  Medicine  amour/  the  North  American 
Irdians,  the  Influence  'of  Physical  Causes  upon 
the  Moral  Faculty,  a  paper  On  the  State  of  the 
Body  and  Mind  in  Old  Age,  and  the  ingenious 
Account  of  the  Influence  of  the  Military  and 
Political  Even  ts  of  the  American  Revolution  upon 
the  Human  Body* 

His  Medical  Inquiries  and  Observations  upon 
the  Diseases  of  the  Mind,  following  the  same  gene- 
ral title,  form  another  volume,  which  appeared  in 
1812,  not  long  before  his  death  ;  a  book  which  is 
of  interest  to  the  general  reader  by  the  variety 
of  its  topics  and  its  frequent  personal  anecdotes. 

His  reading  was  various,  and  all  brought  to 
bear  on  his  medical  studies.  It  was  his  constant 
object  to  popularize  and  render  attractive  the 
principles  of  medicine.  His  Introductory  Lec- 
tures to  Courses  of  Lectures  upon  the  Institutes 
and  Practice  of  Medicine,  connect  many  impor- 
tant moral  topics  with  the  science  which  he  dis- 
cussed. 

There  is  a  pleasant  early  volume  of  his  Essays, 
Literary,  Moral,  and  Philosophical,  collected  by 
him  in  an  octavo,  in  1798,  chiefly  from  his  pa- 
pers in  the  Museum  and  Columbian  Magazine 
of  Philadelphia.  It  is  a  favorable  display  of  his 
tastes  and  powers.  His  habits  of  intellectual  in- 
dustry were  ingenious  and  unceasing.  He  was 
greatly  influenced  by  the  example  of  Franklin, 
of  whose  conversation  lie  meditated  writing  a 
volume,  an  undertaking  which  it  is  much  to  be 
regretted  he  did  not  execute.  He  was  always  in 
company  with  a  book — if  not  a  written  volume, 
at  least,  as  his  eulogist  Dr.  Ramsay  remarked, 
the  book  of  nature.  He  kept  with  him  a  note- 
book, in  one  part  of  which  he  inserted  facts,  in 
another,  ideas  and  reflection-,  as  they  arose  in  his 
own  mind,  or  were  the  suggestions  of  others. 
He  advised  his  pupils  to  lay  every  person  they 
met  with  in  stage-coaches,  packets,  or  elsewhere, 
under  contribution  for  facts  in  the  physical  sci- 
ences.    It  was  a  saying  of  his,  which  reminds 


*  Corvisart.  in  his  Essay  on  the  Disease*  antl  Organic  Le- 
sions of  tin'  Heart  and  great  Vessels,  notices  the  increase  of 
affections  of  that  nature  under  the  excitement  of  the  French 
devolution. 


one  of  his  free  use  of  the  lancet,  "  that  ideas, 
whether  acquired  from  books  or  by  reflection, 
produced  a  plethora  in  the  mind,  which  can  only 
be  relieved  by  depletion  from  the  pen  or  tongue." 
His  judgment  was  not,  however,  always  equally 
sound,  his  restless  inquisitiveness  of  knowledge 
being  sometimes  at  fault.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Staugh- 
ton,  who  delivered  a  funeral  sermon  on  his  death, 
said,  "  His  intellect  was  a  Columbus,  mistaking 
sometimes  the  nature  and  extent  of  discovery, 
but  delighting  in  the  voyage,  calm,  persevering, 
and  successful."  One  of  these  false  discoveries 
in  intellectual  geography,  was  the  notion  ex- 
pressed in  his  Observations  on  the  Study  of  the 
Latin  and  Greek  Languages,  of  the  worthlessness. 
of  that  branch  of  education.  His  zeal  carried 
him  so  far  on  this  point,  as  to  advance  the  thesis, 
"  the  cultivation  of  these  languages  is  a  great  ob- 
stacle to  the  cultivation  and  perfection  of  the 
English  language." 

Schoolboys  had  in  him  a  good  friend.  His 
paper  On  the  Amusements  and  Punishments  pro- 
per  for  Schools*  resolutely  opposes  corporal 
punishment,  as  his  Essay  on  the  Punishment  of 
Crimes  by  Death,  does  hanging,  for  he  thought 
the  best  means  of  prevention  to  be,  "by  living, 
and  not  by  dead  examples."  His  Paradise  of 
Negro  Slaves — A  Dream,  the  vision  appended  to 
his  notice  of  the  Life  of  Anthony  Benezet,  is  a 
dramatic  and  highly  pathetic  appeal  for  humanity 
to  the  African.  His  benevolence  was  shown  in 
his  efforts  to  improve  the  condition  of  prisons ; 
and  his  practical  Christianity,  by  the  disposition 
which  he  made  of  his  Sunday  fees.  He  gave 
i  them  entirely  to  objects  of  charity.  His  gene-, 
rosity  led  him,  in  the  yellow  fever  time,  to  com- 
municate freely  to  the  public  the  remedies,  the 
success  of  which  had  brought  him  a  great  acces- 
sion of  practice.     When  he  received  five  thou- 


*  He  thought  the  study  of  grammar  was  too  early  forced 
upon  tfic  attention  of  children.  lie  recommended  geography 
and  natural  history  as  primary  studies.  "  By  making  natural 
history  the  first  study  of  a  boy,"  says  he,  with  great  beauty, 

I  "we  imitate  the  conduct  of  the  first  teacher  of  man.  The 
first  lesson  that  Adam  received  from  his  Maker  in  Paradise, 

!    was  upon  Natural  History." 


2GG 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


sand  dollars  in  the  libel  suit  against  Cobbett,  he 
gave  the  money  to  the  poor.* 

His  religion  was  inwrought  with  his  love  of 
country.  A  Christian,  he  said,  could  not  fail  of 
being  a  republican.  Ills  Inquiry  into  the  Effect 
of  Ardent  Spirits  upon  the  Human  Body  and 
Mind  places  him  among  the  earliest  promoters 
of  the  Temperance  cause. 

The  amiable  activity  of  Rush  was  shown  in 
his  causing  Beattie,  the  poet,  to  be  elected  a 
member  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society, 
and  sending  him  a  certificate  subscribed  by  Frank- 
lin. This  was  in  1786.  His  letter  to  the  poet 
commences  :  "  The  American  Revolution,  which 
divided  the  British  empire,  made  no  breach  in  the 
republic  of  letters.'"t 

A  pleasing  instance  of  the  happy  sympathe- 
tic turn  of  Rush  is  in  his  short  biographies  of  the 
Quaker  Benezet  and  the  eccentric  Benjamin  Lay, 
as  well  as  in  his  Account  of  the  Life  and  Charac- 
ter of  Christopher  Ludicicl;  "the  baker-general 
of  the  army  of  the  United  States  during  the  Revo- 
lutionary war,"  which  lie  wrote  in  Poulsou's 
American  Daily  Advertiser,  in  1801. J 

The  personal  description,  in  Sanderson's  Lives 
of  the  Signers,  answering  to  the  portrait  by  Sully, 
represents  him  as  "  above  the  middle  size ;  of  a 
slender  but  well  proportioned  figure.  The  dia- 
meter of  his  head,  from  back  to  front,  was  un- 
commonly large.  He  had  a  prominent  forehead  ; 
aquiline  nose;  highly  animated  blue  eyes,  with 
a  chin  and  mouth  expressive  and  comely;  his 
look  was  fixed,  his  aspect  thoughtful. ''§  John 
Adams,  who  met  him  in  Philadelphia,  during  the 
Congress  of  177-1-5,  notices  his  residence  upon 
Water  street,  and  the  fine  prospect  of  Delaware 
River  and  New  Jersey,  from  his  window;  and 


*  The  eagerness  of  "Hush  led  him  to  carry  his  theories  and 
notions  to  excess.  Cobbett  seized  upon  souie  of  his  weak 
points  for  annoyance,  and  committing  his  pen  to  a  libel,  was 
mulcted  by  an  indignant  jury  of  the  good  Doctor's  townspeo- 
ple (encouraged  by  his  counsel,  Joseph  Hopkinson,  tiie  author 
of  "Hail  Columbia,")  in  the  sum  of  five  thousand  dollars, 
which,  with  the  sacrifices  of  his  property  and  the  incidental 
damages,  he  sets  down  in  the  Rush- Li >jht  at  eight  thousand. 
This  was  his  famous  rejoinder  to  the  libel  suit,  and  was  pub- 
lished at  Kew  York,  in  1800,  in  a  periodical  12mo.  pamphlet, 
in  four  numbers,  in  which  he  brings  all  his  artillery  of  squib 
and  detraction  against  the  Doctor.  It  had  a  large  sale,  for  the 
public  relishes  witty  personality,  and  Cobbett  had  a  method 
of  always  getting  readers  for  his  writings.  Perhaps  the  com- 
parison of  Rush  to  Sangrado,  in  his  bleeding  practice,  sup- 
ported by  parallel  passages  taken  from  Gil  Bias  and  the  Doc- 
tor's writings,  and  the  eulogies  by  his  friends,  is  the  best  por- 
tion. He  soon  left  for  England,  when  Frenean  celebrated  his 
departure  with  an  allusion  to  his  extinguished  Rush-light,  and 
the  popular  charge  of  his  pension  from  England  as  a  supporter 
of  monarchical  ideas  in  America,  and  an  enemy  to  free  insti- 
tutions. 

Five  thousand  dollars,  we  may  guess, 
Have  made  his  pension  something  less — 
So,  Peter  left  us — in  distress, 

+  Life  of  Beattie,  by  the  P.ev.  Alexander  Dyce. 

%  Ludwick  was  a  man  of  mark,  a  German,  who,  after  va- 
rious adventures,  as  a  soldier  in  the  wars  of  the  Austrians 
against  the  Turks,  and  a  sailor  out  of  England,  reached  Phila- 
delphia in  1758.  With  the  proceeds  of  a  small  mercantile  ven- 
ture he  went  to  London,  and  learned  the  business  of  a  ginger- 
bread baker  and  confectioner;  returning  to  Philadelphia  in 
1774  with  a  stock  of  gingerbread  prints,  with  which  he  be- 
came famous  for  his  manufacture  of  that  article.  He  joined 
the  Revolution  at  its  outset,  and  sacrificed  his  property  in  the 
cause.  He  assisted  the  commissariat  with  his  skill  as  a  baker. 
He  died  in  18(1,  in  his  eightieth  year,  leaving  a  considerable 

?roperty  for  benev  >lent  uses,  mainly  for  charity  s  -hoois.     In 
831.  tiie  newspaper  account  of  him,  by  Ru>h.  was  revised  and 
republished,  by  direction  of  the  Philadelphia  Society  for  the 
establishment  and  support  of  charity  schools,  in  a  linn  18mo. 
volume. 
§  Biography  of  the  Signers,  iv,  285. 


describes  his  person  characteristically — "  an  ele- 
gant, ingenious  body ;  a  sprightly,  pretty  fellow. 
He  is  a  republican ;  he  lias  been  much  in  Lon- 
don; acquainted  with  Sawbridge,  Macaulay, 
Burgh,  and  others  of  that  stamp.  Dilly  sends 
him  books  and  pamphlets,  and  Sawbridge  and 
Macaulay  correspond  with  him."* 

He  married  in  his  thirty-second  year,  in  1776, 
the  daughter  of  the  Hon.  Judge  Stockton,  by 
which  marriage  he  had  thirteen  children. 

AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  TTTE  MILITARY  ANP  POLITICAL 
EVENTS  OF  TUE  AMEP.ICAN  REVOLUTION  UPON  THE  HUMAN 
BODY. 

There  were  several  circumstances  peculiar  to  the 
American  revolution,  which  should  be  mentioned 
previously  to  an  account  of  the  influence  of  the 
events  which  accompanied  it  upon  the  human  body. 

1.  The  revolution  interested  every  inhabitant  of 
the  country  of  both  sexes,  and  of  every  rank  and  age 
that  was  capable  of  reflection.  An  indifferent,  or 
neutral,  spectator  of  the  controversy  was  scarcely  to 
be  found  in  any  of  the  states. 

2.  The  scenes  of  war  and  government  which  it 
introduced  were  new  to  the  greatest  pait  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  United  states,  and  operated  with 
all  the  force  of  novelty  upon  the  human  mind. 

3.  The  controversy  was  conceived  to  be  the  most 
important  of  any  that  had  ever  engaged  the  atten- 
tion of  mankind.  It  was  generally  believed,  by  the 
friends  of  the  revolution,  that  the  very  existence  of 
freedom,  upon  our  globe,  was  involved  in  the  issue 
of  the  contest  in  favour  of  the  United  States. 

4.  The  American  revolution  included  in  it  the 
cares  of  government,  as  well  as  the  toils  and  dan- 
gers of  war.  The  American  mind  was.  therefore, 
frequently  occupied,  at  the  same  time,  by  the  diffi- 
cult and  complicated  duties  of  political  and  military 
life. 

5.  The  revolution  was  conducted  by  men  who  had 
been  born  free,  and  whose  sense  of  the  blessings  of 
liberty  was  of  course  more  exquisite  than  if  they 
had  just  emerged  from  a  state  of  slavery. 

6.  The  greatest  part  of  the  soldiers  in  the  armies 
of  the  United  States  had  family  connections  and 
property  in  the  country. 

7.  The  war  was  carried  on  by  the  Americans 
against  a  nation,  to  whom  they  had  long  been  tied 
by  tiie  numerous  obligations  of  consanguinity,  laws, 
religion,  commerce,  language,  interest,  and  a  mutual 
sense  of  national  glory.  The  resentments  of  the 
Americans  of  course  rose,  as  is  usual  in  all  disputes, 
in  proportion  to  tiie  number  and  force  of  these 
ancient  bonds  of  affection  and  union. 

8.  A  predilection  to  a  limited  monarchy,  as  an 
essential  part  of  a  free  and  safe  government,  and  an 
attachment  to  the  reigning  king  of  Great  Britain 
(witli  a  very  few  exceptions)  were  universal  in  every 
part  of  the  United  States. 

9.  There  was  at  one  time  a  sudden  dissolution  of 
civil  government  in  all,  and  of  ecclesiastical  esta- 
blishments in  several,  of  the  states. 

10.  The  expenses  of  the  war  were  supported  by 
means  of  a  paper  currency,  which  was  continually 
depreciating. 

From  the  action  of  each  of  these  causes,  and  fre- 
quently from  their  combination  in  the  same  persons, 
effects  might  reasonably  be  expected,  botii  upon  the 
mind  and  body,  which  have  seldom  occurred  ;  or  if 
they  have,  I  believe  were  never  fully  recorded  in 
any  age  or  country. 

It  might  afford  some  useful  instruction,  to  point 


*  Adams's  Diary,  Works,  ii.  880,  427. 


BENJAMIN  RUSH. 


267 


out  the  influence  of  the  military  and  political  events 
of  the  revolution  upon  the  understandings;  passions, 
and  morals  of  the  citizens  of  the  United  States  ;  but 
my  business  in  the  present  inquiry  is  only  to  take 
notice  of  the  influence  of  those  events  upon  the 
human  bod}T,  through  the  medium  of  the  mind. 

I  shall  first  mention  the  effects  of  the  military, 
and,  secondly,  of  the  political  events  of  the  revolu- 
tion. The  last  must  be  considered  in  a  two-fold 
view,  accordingly  as  they  affected  the  friends,  or 
the  enemies,  of  the  revolution. 

I.  In  treating  of  the  effects  of  the  military  events, 
I  shall  take  notice,  first,  of  the  influence  of  actual 
•war,  and,  secondly,  of  the  influence  of  the  military 
life. 

In  the  beginning  of  a  battle,  I  have  observed 
thirst  to  be  a  very  common  sensation  among  both 
officers  an.l  soldiers.  It  occurred  where  no  exercise, 
or  action  of  the  body,  could  have  excited  it. 

Many  officers  have  informed  me,  that  after  the 
first  onset  in  a  battle  they  felt  a  glow  of  heat,  so 
universal  as  to  be  perceptible  in  both  their  ears. 
This  was  the  case,  in  a  particular  manner,  in  the 
battle  of  Princeton,  on  the  third  of  January,  in  the 
year  1777,  on  which  day  the  weather  was  remark- 
ably cold. 

A  veteran  colonel  of  a  New  England  regiment, 
whom  I  visited  at  Princeton,  and  who  was  wounded 
in  the  hand  at  the  battle  of  Monmouth,  on  the  28th 
of  June,  1778  (a  day  in  which  the  mercury  stood 
at  90'  of  Fahrenheit's  thermometer)  after  describing 
his  situation  at  the  time  he  received  his  wound,  I 
conclude!  his  story  by  remarking,  "that  fighting 
■was  hot  work  on  a  cold  day,  but  much  more  so 
on  a  warm  day."  The  many  instances  which 
appeared  after  that  memorable  battle,  of  soldiers 
who  were  found  among  the  slain  without  any 
marks  of  wounds  or  violence  upon  their  bodies, 
were  probably  occasioned  by  the  heat  excited  in  the 
body,  by  the  emotions  of  the  mind,  being  added  to 
that  of  the  atmosphere. 

Soldiers  bore  operations  of  every  kind,  immedi- 
ately after  a  battle,  with  much  more  fortitude  than 
they  did  at  any  time  afterwards. 

The  effects  of  the  military  life  upon  the  human 
body  come  next  to  be  considered  under  this  head. 

In  another  place  I  have  mentioned  three  cases 
of  pulmonary  consumption  being  perfectly  cured  by 
the  diet  and  hardships  of  a  camp  life. 

Doctor  Blane,  in  his  valuable  observations  on  the 
diseases  incident  to  seamen,  ascribes  the  extraordi- 
nary healthiness  of  the  British  fleet  in  the  month  of 
April,  1782,  to  the  effects  produced  on  the  spirit  of 
the  soldiers  and  seamen,  by  the  victory  obtained 
over  the  French  fleet  on  the  12th  of  that  month  ; 
and  relates,  upon  the  authority  of  Mr.  Ives,  an 
instance,  in  the  war  betwueu  Great  Britain  and  the 
combined  powers  of  France  and  Spain,  in  1744,  ill 
■which  the  scurvy,  as  well  as  other  diseases,  were 
checked  by  the  prospect  of  a  naval  engagement. 

The  American  ami}'  furnished  an  instance  of  the 
effects  of  victory  upon  the  human  mind,  which  may 
serve  to  establish  the  inferences  from  the  facts 
related  by  Doctor  Blane.  The  Philadelphia  militia 
"who  joined  the  remains  of  General  Washington's 
arm}',  in  December,  1776,  and  shared  with  them  a 
few  days  afterwards  in  the  capture  of  a  large  body 
of  Hessians  at  Trenton,  consisted  of  1500  men,  most 
of  whom  had  been  accustomed  to  the  habits  of  a 
city  life.  These  men  slept  in  tents  and  barns,  and 
sometimes  in  the  open  air,  during  the  usual  colds  of 
December  and  January;  and  yet  there  were  but 
two  instances  of  sickness,  and  only  one  of  death,  in 
that  body  of  men  in  the  course  of  nearly  six  weeks, 
in  those  winter  months.     This  extraordinary  healthi- 


ness of  so  great  a  number  of  men,  under  such  trying 
circumstances,  can  only  be  ascribed  to  the  vigour 
infused  into  the  human  body  by  the  victory  of 
Trenton  having  produced  insensibility  to  all  the  usual 
remote  causes  of  diseases. 

Militia  officers  and  soldiers,  who  enjoyed  good 
health  during  a  campaign,  were  often  affected  by 
fevers  and  other  diseases,  as  soon  as  they  returned 
to  their  respective  homes.  I  know  one  instance  of  a 
militia  captain,  who  was  seized  with  convulsions  the 
first  night  he  lay  on  a  feather  bed,  after  sleeping 
several  months  on  a  mattress,  or  upon  the  ground. 
These  affections  of  the  body  appeared  to  be  pro- 
duced only  by  the  sudden  abstraction  of  that  tone 
in  the  system,  which  was  excited  by  a  sense  of 
danger,  and  the  other  invigorating  objects  of  a 
military  life. 

The  nostalgia  of  Doctor  Cullen,  or  the  home- 
sickness, was  a  frequent  disease  in  the  American 
army,  more  especially  among  the  soldiers  of  the 
New  England  states.  But  this  disease  was  sus- 
pended by  the  superior  action  of  the  mind,  under 
the  influence  of  the  principles  which  governed  com- 
mon soldiers  in  the  American  army.  Of  this 
General  Gates  furnished  me  with  a  remarkable 
instance  in  1776,  soon  after  his  return  from  the 
command  of  a  large  body  of  regular  troops  and 
militia  at  Ticonderoga.  From  the  effects  of  the 
nostalgia,  and  the  feebleness  of  the  discipline  which 
was  exercised  over  the  militia,  desertions  jvere  very 
frequent  and  numerous  in  his  army,  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  campaign ;  and  yet  during  the  three 
week.*  in  which  the  general  expected  every  hour  an 
attack  to  be  made  Upon  him  by  General  Burgoyne, 
there  was  not  a  single  desertion  from  his  army, 
which  consisted  at  that  time  of  10,000  men. 

The  patience,  firmness,  and  magnanimity,  with 
which  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  the  American  army 
endured  the  complicated  evils  of  hunger,  cold  and 
nakedness,  can  only  be  ascribed  to  an  insensibility 
of  body  produced  by  an  uncommon  tone  of  mind, 
excited  by  the  love  of  liberty  and  their  country. 

Before  I  proceed  to  the  second  general  division 
of  this  subject,  I  shall  take  notice,  that  more  instan- 
ces of  apoplexies  occurred  in  the  city  of  Philadel- 
phia, in  the  winter  of  1774-5,  than  had  been  known 
in  former  years.  I  should  have  hesitated  in  record- 
ing this  fact,  had  I  not  found  the  observation  sup- 
ported by  a  fact  of  the  same  kind,  and  produced  by 
a  nearly  similar  cause,  in  the  appendix  to  the  prac- 
tical works  of  Doctor  Baglivi,  professor  of  physic 
and  anatomy  at  Rome.  After  a  very  wet  season  in 
the  winter  of  1694-5,  he  informs  us,  that  "apoplex- 
ies displayed  their  rage  ;  and  perhaps  (adds  our 
author)  some  part  of  this  epidemic  illness  was 
owing  to  the  universal  grief  and  domestic  care, 
occasioned  by  all  Europe  being  engaged  in  a  war. 
All  commerce  was  disturbed,  and  all  the  avenues  of 
peace  blocked  up,  so  that  the  strongest  heart  could 
scarcely  bear  the  thoughts  of  it."  The  winter  of 
1774-5  was  a  period  of  uncommon  anxiety  among 
the  citizens  of  America.  Every  countenance  wore 
the  marks  of  painful  solicitude  for  the  event  of  a 
petition  to  the  throne  of  Britain,  which  was  to 
determine  whetherreconciliation,  or  a  civil  Avar,  with 
all  its  terrible  and  distressing  consequences,  were 
to  take  place.  The  apoplectic  fit,  which  deprived 
the  world  of  the  talents  and  virtues  of  Peyton 
Randolph,  while  he  rilled  the  chair  of 'Congress,  in 
1775,  appeared  to  be  occasioned  in  part  by  the  pres- 
sure of  the  uncertainty  of  those  great  events  upon 
his  mind.  To  the  name  of  this  illustrious  patriot, 
several  others  might  be  added,  who  were  affected 
by  the  apoplexy  in  the  same  memorable  year.  At 
this  time  a  difference  of  opinion  upon  the  subject  of 


268 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  contest  with  Great  Britain  had  scarcely  taken 
place  among  the  citizens  of  America. 

II.  The  political  events  of  the  revolution  pro- 
duced different  effects  upon  the  human  body, 
through  the  medium  of  the  mind,  according  as 
they  acted  upou  the  friends  or  enemies  of  the  revo- 
lution. 

I  shall  first  describe  its  effects  upon  the  former 
class  of  citizens  of  the  United  States. 

Many  persons,  of  infirm  and  delicate  habits,  were 
restored  to  perfect  health,  by  the  change  of  place, 
or  occupation,  to  which  the  war  exposed  them. 
This  was  the  case  in  a  more  especial  manner  with 
hysterical  women,  who  were  much  interested  in  the 
successful  issue  of  the  contest.  The  same  effects  of 
a  civil  war  upon  the  hysteria,  were  observed  by 
Doctor  Cullen  in  Scotland,  in  the  years  1745  and 
1746.  It  may  perhaps  help  to  extend  our  ideas  of 
the  influence  of  the  passions  upon  diseases,  to  add, 
that  when  either  love,  jealous}',  grief,  or  even  devo- 
tion, wholly  engross  the  female  mind,  they  seldom 
fail,  in  like  manner,  to  cure  or  to  suspend  hysterical 
complaints. 

An  uncommon  cheerfulness  prevailed  everywhere, 
among  the  friends  of  the  revolution.  Defeats,  and 
even  the  loss  of  relations  and  property,  were  soon 
forgotten  in  the  great  objects  of  the  war. 

The  population  in  the  United  States  was  more 
rapid  from  births  during  the  war,  than  it  had  ever 
been  in  the  siime  number  of  years  since  the  settle- 
ment of  the  country. 

I  am  disposed  to  ascribe  this  increase  of  births 
chiefly  to  the  quantity  and  extensive  circulation  of 
money,  and  to  the  facility  of  procuring  the  means 
of  subsistence  during  the  war,  which  favoured  mar- 
riages among  the  labouring  part  of  the  people.* 
But  I  have  sufficient  documents  to  prove,  that  mar- 
riages were  more  fruitful  than  in  former  years,  and 
that  a  considerable  number  of  unfruitful  marriages 
became  fruitful  during  the  war.  In  1783,  the  year 
of  the  peace,  there  were  several  children  born  of 
parents  who  had  lived  many  years  together  without 
issue. 

Mr.  Hume  informs  us,  in  his  History  of  England, 
that  some  old  people,  upon  hearing  the  news  of  the 
restoration  of  Charles  II.,  died  suddenly  of  joy. 
There  was  a  time  when  I  doubted  the  truth  of  this 
assertion  ;  but  I  am  now  disposed  to  believe  it,  from 
having  heard  of  a  similar  effect  from  an  agreeable 
political  event,  in  the  course  of  the  American  revo- 
lution. The  door-keeper  of  Congress,  an  aged  man, 
died  suddenly,  immediately  after  hearing  of  the 
capture  of  Lord  Cornwallis's  army.  His  death  was 
universally  ascribed  to  a  violent  emotion  of  political 
joy.  This  species  of  J03'  appears  to  be  one  of  the 
strongest  emotions  that  can  agitate  the  human  mind. 

Perhaps  the  influence  of  that  ardour  in  trade  and 
speculation,  which  seized  many  of  the  friends  of  the 
revolution,  and  which  was  excited  by  the  fallacious 
nominal  amount  of  the  paper  money,  should  rather 
be  considered  as  a  disease,  than  as  a  passion.  It  un- 
hinged the  judgment,  deposed  the  moral  faculty,  and 
filled  the  imagination,  in  many  people,  with  airy 
and  impracticable  schemes  of  wealth  and  grandeur. 
Desultory  manners,  and  a  peculiar  species  of  extem- 
pore conduct,  were  among  its  characteristic  symp- 
toms. It  produced  insensibility  to  cold,  hunger,  and 
danger.  The  trading  towns,  and  in  some  instances 
the  extremities  of  the  United  States,  were  frequently 


*  Wheat,  which  was  sold  before  the  war  for  seven  shillings 
and  sixpence,  was  sold  for  several  years  during  the  war  for 
four,  and  iit  some  places  for  two  and  sixpence  Pennsylvania 
currency,  per  bushel.  Beggars  of  every  description  disap- 
peared in  the  year  17T6,  and  were  seldom  seen  till  near  the 
elose  of  the  war. 


visited  in  a  few  hours  or  days  by  persons  affected 
by  this  disease ;  and  hence,  "  to  travel  with  the 
speed  of  a  speculator,"  became  a  common  saying  in 
many  parts  of  the  country.  This  species  of  insanity 
(if  I  may  be  allowed  to  call  it  by  that  name)  did  not 
require  the  confinement  of  a  Bedlam  to  cure  it,  like 
the  South-Sea  madness  described  by  Doctor  Mead. 
Its  remedies  were  the  depreciation  of  the  paper  mo- 
ney, and  the  events  of  the  peace. 

The  political  events  of  the  revolution  produced 
upon  its  enemies  very  different  effects  from  those 
which  have  been  mentioned. 

The  hypochondriasis  of  Doctor  Cullen  occurred,  in 
many  instances,  in  persons  of  this  description.  In 
some  of  them,  the  terror  and  distress  of  the  revolu- 
tion brought  on  a  true  melancholia.*  The  causes 
which  produced  these  diseases  may  be  reduced  to 
four  heads.  1.  The  loss  of  former  power  or  influ- 
ence in  government.  2.  The  destruction  of  the  hier- 
archy of  the  English  church  in  America.  3.  The 
change  in  the  habits  of  diet,  and  company,  and  man- 
ners, produced  by  the  annihilation  of  just  debts  by 
means  of  depreciated  papier  money.  And  4.  The 
neglect,  insults,  and  oppression,  to  which  the  loyal- 
ists were  expjosed,  from  individuals,  and,  in  several 
instances,  from  the  laws  of  some  of  the  states. 

It  was  observed  in  South  Carolina,  that  several 
gentlemen,  who  had  protected  their  estates  by  swear- 
ing allegiance  to  the  British  government,  died  soon 
after  the  evacuation  of  Charleston  by  the  British 
army.  Their  deaths  were  ascribed  to  the  neglect 
witli  which  they  were  treated  by  their  ancient 
'  friends,  who  had  adhered  to  the  government  of  the 
United  States.  The  disease  was  called,  by  the  com- 
mon people,  the  protection  fever. 

From  the  causes  which  produced  this  hypochon- 
driasis, I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  distinguishing  it 
by  the  name  of  revolutiana. 

In  some  cases,  this  disease  was  rendered  fatal  by- 
exile  and  confinement;  and,  in  others,  by  those  per- 
sons who  were  afflicted  with  it  seeking  relief  from 
spirituous  liquors. 

The  termination  of  the  war  by  the  peace  in  1783 
did  not  terminate  the  American  revolution.  The 
minds  of  the  citizens  of  the  United  States  were 
wholly  unprepared  for  their  new  situation.  The 
excess  of  the  passion  for  liberty,  inflamed  by  the 
successful  issue  of  the  war,  produced,  in  many  peo- 
ple, opinions  and  conduct,  which  could  not  be  re- 
moved by  reason  nor  restrained  by  government. 
For  a  while,  they  threatened  to  render  abortive  the 
goodness  of  Heaven  to  the  United  States,  in  deliver- 
ing them  from  the  evils  of  slavery  and  war.  The 
extensive  influence  which  these  opinions  had  upon 
the  understandings,  passions,  and  morals  of  many  of 
'  the  citizens  of  the  United  States,  constituted  a  form 
:  of  insanity,  which  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  distin- 
guishing by  the  name  of  anarchia. 

I  hope  no  offence  will  be  given  by  the  freedom  of 
:  any  of  these  remarks.  An  inquirer  after  philosophi- 
cal truth  should  consider  the  passions  of  men  in  the 
same  light  that  he  does  the  laws  of  matter  or  mo- 
tion. The  friends  and  enemies  of  the  American 
revolution  must  have  been  more,  or  less,  than  men, 
if  they  could  have  sustained  the  magnitude  and  ra- 
pidity of  the  events  that  characterised  it,  without 
discovering  some  marks  of  human  weakness,  both  in 
body  and  mind.  Perhaps  these  weaknesses  were 
'  permitted,  that  human  nature  might  receive  fresh 
I  honours  in  America,  by  the  contending  parties  (whe- 
ther produced  by  the  controversies  about  independ- 
ence or  the  national  government)  mutually  forgiving 

i  *  Insania  partialis  sine  dyspepsia,  of  Doctor  Cullen. 


BENJAMIN  RUSH. 


269 


each  other,  and  uniting  in  plans  of  general  order  and 
happiness. 


EIOGBArmCAL  ANECDOTES  OF  ANTHONY  BENE7.ET. 

This  excellent  man  was  placed  by  his  friends  in 
early  life  in  a  counting-house,  but  finding  commerce 
opened  temptations  to  a  worldly  spirit,  he  left  his 
master,  and  bound  himself  as  an  apprentice  to  a 
cooper.  Finding  this  business  too  laborious  for  his 
constitution,  he  declined  it,  and  .devoted  himself  to 
school-keeping;  in  which  useful  employment  he 
continued  during  the  greatest  part  of  his  life. 

He  possessed  uncommon  activity  and  industry  in 
every  thing  he  undertook.  He  did  every  tiling  as 
if  the  words  of  his  Saviour  were  perpetually  sound- 
ing in  his  ears,  "  wist  ye  not,  that  I  must  be  about 
my  Father's  business?" 

He  used  to  say,  "  the  highest  act  of  charity  in  the 
world  was  to  bear  with  the  unreasonableness  of 
mankind." 

He  generally  wore  plush  clothes,  and  gave  as  a 
reason  for  it,  that  after  he  had  worn  them  for  two 
or  three  years,  they  made  comfortable  and  decent 
garments  for  the  poor. 

He  once  informed  a  young  friend,  that  his  me- 
mory began  to  fail  him;  "  but  this,"  said  he,  "gives 
me  one  great  advantage  over  thee — for  thou  canst 
find  entertainment  in  reading  a  good  book  only  once 
— but  I  enjoy  that  pleasure  as  often  as  I  read  it; 
for  it  is  always  new  to  me." 

He  published  several  valuable  tracts  in  favour  of 
the  emancipation  of  the  blacks,  and  of  the  civilizing 
and  christianizing  the  Indians.  He  also  published  a 
pamphlet  against  the  use  of  ardent  spirits.  All 
these  publications  were  circulated  with  great  indus- 
try, and  at  his  own  expense,  throughout  every  part 
of  the  United  States. 

He  wrote  letters  to  the  queen  of  Great-Britain, 
and  to  the  queen  of  Portugal,  to  use  their  influence 
with  their  respective  courts  to  abolish  the  African 
trade.  He  accompanied  his  letter  to  the  queen  of 
Great-Britain  with  a  present  of  his  works.  The 
queen  received  them  with  great  politeness,  and  said 
after  reading  them  "  that  the  author  appeared  to  be 
a  very  good  man." 

He  also  wrote  a  letter  to  the  king  of  Prussia,  in 
which  he  endeavoured  to  convince  him  of  the  unlaw- 
fulness of  war. 

During  the  time  the  British  army  was  in  posses- 
sion of  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  he  was  indefatigable 
in  his  endeavours  to  render  the  situation  of  the  per- 
sons who  suffered  from  captivity  as  easy  as  possible. 
He  knew  no  fear  in  the  presence  of  his  fellow  men, 
however  dignified  they  were  by  titles  or  station, 
and  such  were  the  propriety  and  gentleness  of  his 
manners  in  his  intercourse  with  the  gentlemen  who 
commanded  the  British  and  German  troops,  that 
when  he  could  not  obtain  the  objects  of  his  requests, 
he  never  failed  to  secure  their  civilities,  and  fre- 
quently their  esteem. 

So  great  was  his  sympathy  with  every  thing  that 
was  capable  of  feeling  pain,  that  he  resolved,  towards 
the  close  of  his  life,  to  eat  no  animal  food.  Upon 
coming  into  his  brother's  house  one  day,  when  his 
family  was  dining  upon  poultry,  he  was  asked  by 
his  brother's  wife,  to  sit  down  and  dine  with  them. 
"What!  (said  he)  would  you  have  me  eat  my 
neighbours?" 

This  misapplication  of  a  moral  feeling  was  sup- 
posed to  have  brought  on  such  a  debility  in  his  sto- 
mach and  bowels,  as  produced  a  disease  in  those 
parts  of  which  he  finally  died. 

Few  men,  since  the  days  of  the  apostles,  ever  lived 
a  more  disinterested  life.     And  yet,  upon  his  death- 


bed, he  said,  he  wished  to  live  a  little  longer,  that 
"  he  might  bring  down  self." 

The  last  time  he  ever  walked  across  his  room,  was 
to  take  from  his  desk  six  dollars,  which  he  gave  to  a 
poor  widow  whom  he  had  long  assisted  to  maintain. 

He  bequeathed  after  the  death  of  his  widow,  a 
house  anil  lot  in  which  consisted  his  whole  estate,  to 
the  support  of  a  school  for  the  education  of  negro 
children,  which  he  had  founded  and  taught  for  seve- 
ral years  before  his  death. 

He  died  in  May,  1784,  in  the  "71st  year  of  his  age. 

His  funeral  was  attended  by  persons  of  all  reli- 
gious denominations,  and  by  many  hundred  black 
people. 

Colonel  J n,  who  had  served  in  the  American 

army  during  the  late  war,  in  returning  from  the 
funeral,  pronounced  an  eulogiumupon  him.  It  con- 
sisted only  of  the  following  words:  "I  would  ra- 
ther," said  he,  "  be  Anthony  Benezet  in  that  coffin, 
than  George  Washington  with  all  his  fame." 

July  15, 1788. 

BIOGRAPHICAL  ANECDOTE     OF  BENJAMIN  LAY. 

There  was  a  time  when  the  name  of  this  celebrated 
Christian  philosopher  wras  familiar  to  every  man, 
woman,  and  to  nearly  every  child,  in  Pennsylvania. 
His  size,  which  was  not  much  above  four  feet,  his 
dress,  which  was  always  the  same,  consisting  of 
light-coloured  plain  clothes,  a  white  hat,  and  half- 
boots; — his  milk-white  beard,  which  hung  upon  his 
breast ;  and,  above  all,  his  peculiar  principles  and 
conduct,  rendered  him  to  many,  an  object  of  admi- 
ration, and  to  all,  the  subject  of  conversation. 

He  was  born  in  England,  and  spent  the  early  part 
of  his  life  at  sea.  His  first  settlement  was  in  Bar- 
badoes,  as  a  merchant,  where  he  was  soon  convinced 
of  the  iniquity  of  the  slave  trade.  He  bore  au  open 
testimony  against  it,  in  all  companies,  by  which 
means  he  rendered  himself  so  unpopular,  that  he  left 
the  island  in  disgust,  and  settled  in  the  then  pro- 
vince of  Pennsylvania.  He  fixed  his  home  at  Abing- 
tou,  ten  miles  from  Philadelphia,  from  whence  he 
made  frequent  excursions  to  the  city,  and  to  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  country. 

At  the  time  of  his  arrival  in  Pennsylvania,  he 
found  many  of  his  brethren,  the  people  called  Qua- 
kers, had  fallen  so  far  from  their  original  principles, 
as  to  keep  negro  slaves.  He  remonstrated  with 
them,  both  publicly  and  privately,  against  the  prac- 
tice ;  but,  frequently  with  so  much  indiscreet  zeal,  as 
to  give  great  offence.  He  often  disturbed  their 
public  meetings,  by  interrupting  or  opposing  their 
preachers,  for  which  he  was  once  carried  out  of  a 
meeting-house,  by  two  or  three  friends.  Upon  this 
occasion  he  submitted  with  patience  to  what  he  con- 
sidered a  species  of  persecution.  He  lay  down  at 
the  door  of  the  meeting-house,  in  a  shower  of  rain, 
till  divine  worship  was  ended;  nor  could  he  be 
prevailed  upon  to  rise,  till  the  whole  congregation 
had  stepped  over  him  in  their  way  to  their  respect- 
ive homes. 

To  show  his  indignation  against  the  practice  of 
slave-keeping,  he  once  carried  a  bladder  filled  with 
blood  into  a  meeting;  and,  in  the  presence  of  the 
whole  congregation,  thrust  a  sword,  which  he  had 
concealed  under  his  coat,  into  the  bladder,  exclaim- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  "Thus  shall  God  shed  the 
blood  of  those  persons  who  enslave  their  fellow- 
creatures."  The  terror  of  this  extravagant  and  un- 
expected act,  produced  swoonings  in  several  of  the 
women  of  the  congregation. 

He  once  went  into  the  house  of  a  friend  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  found  him  seated  at  breakfast,  with  his 
family  around  him.  Being  asked  by  him  to  sit  down 
and  breakfast  with  them,  he  said,  "  Dost  thou  keep 


270 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


slaves  in  thy  house  ?"  Upon  being  answered  in  the 
affirmative,  he  said,  "  Then  I  will  not  partake  with 
thee,  of  the  fruits  of  thy  unrighteousness." 

He  took  great  pains  to  convince  a  farmer  and  his 
wife,  in  Chester  county,  of  the  iniquity  of  keeping 
negro  slaves,  but  to  no  purpose.  They  not  only 
kept  their  slaves,  but  defended  the  practice.  One 
day  he  went  into  their  house,  and  after  a  short  dis- 
course with  them  upon  the  wickedness,  and  parti- 
cularly the  inhumanity  of  separating  children  from 
their  parents,  which  was  involved  in  the  slave  trade, 
he  seized  the  only  child  of  the  family,  (a  little  girl 
about  three  years  old)  and  pretended  to  run  away 
with  her.  The  child  cried  bitterly,  "  I  will  be  good 
— I  will  be  good,"  and  the  parents  showed  signs  of 
being  alarmed.  Upon  observing  this  scene,  Mr.  Lay 
said,  very  emphatically,  "  You  see  and  feel  now  a 
Utile  of  the  distress  you  occasion  every  daj*,  by  the 
inhuman  practice  of  slave-keeping." 

This  singular  philosopher  did  not  limit  his  pions 
testimony  against  vice,  to  slave-keeping,  alone.  He 
was  opposed  to  every  species  of  extravagance.  Upon 
the  introduction  of  tea,  as  an  article  of  diet,  into 
Pennsylvania,  his  wife  bought  a  small  quantity  of 
it,  with  a  set  of  cups  and  saucers,  and  brought  them 
home  with  her.  Mr.  Lay  took  them  from  her, 
brought  them  back  again  to  the  city,  and  from  the 
balcony  of  the  court-house  scattered  the  tea,  and 
broke  the  cups  and  saucers,  in  the  presence  of  many 
hundred  spectators,  delivering,  at  the  some  time,  a 
striking  lecture  upon  the  folly  of  preferring  that 
foreign  herb,  with  its  expensive  appurtenances,  to 
the  simple  and  wholesome  diet  of  our  country. 

He  possessed  a  good  deal  of  wit,  and  was  quick  at 
repartee.  A  citizen  of  Philadelphia,  who  knew  his 
peculiarities,  once  met  him  in  a  crowd,  at  a  funeral, 
in  Germantown.  Being  desirous  of  entering  into  a 
conversation  with  him  that  should  divert  the  com- 
pany, the  citizen  accosted  him,  with  the  most  re- 
spectful ceremony,  and  declared  himself  to  be  "  his 
most  humble  servant."  "Art  thou  my  servant?" 
saidMr.  Lay;  "  Yes,  I  am!"  said  the  citizen.  "Then," 
said  Mr.  Lay,  (holding  up  his  foot  towards  him,) 
"  clean  this  shoe."  This  unexpected  reply  turned  the 
laugh  upon  the  citizen.  Being  desirous  of  recovering 
himself  in  the  opinion  of  the  company,  he  asked  him 
to  instruct  him  in  the  way  to  heaven.  "  Dost  thou 
indeed  wish  to  be  taught?"  said  Mr.  Lay.  "  I  do!" 
said  the  citizen.  "  Then,"  said  Mr.  Lay,  "  do  justice, 
love  mercy,  and  walk  humbly  with  thy  God." 

He  wrote  a  small  treatise  upon  negro-slavery, 
which  lie  brought  to  Dr.  Franklin  to  be  printed. 
Upon  looking  over  it,  the  Doctor  told  him  that  it 
was  not  paged,  and  that  there  appeared  Jo  be  no 
order  or  arrangement  in  it.  "  It  is  no  matter,"  said 
Mi'.  Lay,  "print  any  part  thou  pleasest  first."  This 
book  contained  many  pious  sentiments,  and  strong 
expressions  against  negro  slavery;  but  even  the  ad- 
dress and  skill  of  Dr.  Franklin  were  not. sufficient  to 
connect  its  different  parts  together  so  as  to  render 
it  an  agreeable  or  useful  work.  This  book  is  in  the 
library  of  the  city  of  Philadelphia. 

Mr.  Lay  was  extremely  attentive  to  young  people. 
He  took  great  pleasure  in  visiting  schools,  where  lie 
often  preached  to  the  youth.  He  frequently  carried 
a  basket  of  religious  books  witli  him,  and  distributed 
them  as  prizes  among  the  scholars. 

He  was  fond  of  reading.  In  the  print  of  him, 
which  is  to  be  seen  in  many  houses  in  Philadelphia, 
he  is  represented  with  "  Tryon  on  Happiness"  in  his 
hand,  a  book  which  he  valued  very  much,  and  which 
he  frequently  carried  with  him  in  his  excursions 
from  home. 

He  was  kind  and  charitable  to  the  poor,  but  had 
no  compassion  for  beggars.     He  used  to  say,  "  there 


was  no  man  or  woman,  who  was  able  to  go  abroad 
to  beg,  that  was  not  able  to  earn  four  pence  a  day, 
and  this  sum,  he  said,  was  enough  to  keep  any  per- 
son above  want  or  dependence  in  this  country." 

He  was  a  severe  enemy  to  idleness,  insomuch  that 
when  he  could  not  employ  himself  out  of  doors,  or 
when  he  was  tired  of  reading,  he  used  to  spend  his 
time  in  spinning.  His  common  sitting-room  was 
hung  witli  skeins  of  thread,  spun  entirely  by  him- 
self.    All  his  clothes  were  of  his  own  manufactory. 

He  was  extremely  temperate  in  his  diet,  living 
chiefly  upon  vegetables.  Turnips  boiled,  and  after- 
wards roasted,  were  his  favourite  dinner.  His  drink 
was  pure  water.  From  a  desire  of  imitating  our  Sa- 
viour in  every  thing  he  once  attempted  to  fast  for 
forty  days.  This  experiment,  it  is  said,  had  nearly 
cost  him  his  life.  He  was  obliged  to  desist  from  it 
long  before  the  forty  days  were  expired ;  but  the 
fasting,  it  was  said,  so  much  debilitated  his  body  as 
to  accelerate  his  death.  He  lived  above  eighty  • 
years,  and  died  in  his  own  house  in  Abington,  about 
thirty  years  ago. 

In  reviewing  the  history  of  this  extraordinary 
man,  we  cannot  help  absolving  him  of  his  weak- 
nesses, when  we  contemplate  his  many  active  vir- 
tues. He  was  the  piioneer  of  that  war,  which  has 
since  been  carried  on  so  successfully  against  the 
commerce  and  slavery  of  the  negroes.  Perhaps  the 
turbulence  and  severity  of  his  temper  were  neces- 
sary to  rouse  the  torpor  of  the  human  mind,  at  the 
period  in  which  he  lived,  to  this  interesting  subject. 
The  meekness  and  gentleness  of  Anthony  Benezet, 
who  completed  what  Mr.  Lay  began,  would  pro- 
bably have  been  as  insufficient  for  the  work  per- 
formed by  Mr.  Lay,  as  the  humble  piety  of  De 
Renty,  or  of  Thomas  A'Kempis,  would  have  been  to 
have  accomplished  the  works  of  the  zealous  Luther, 
or  the  intrepid  Knox,  in  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  success  of  Mr.  La}-,  in  sowing  the  seeds  of  a 
principle  which  bids  fair  to  produce  a  revolution  in 
morals,  commerce,  and  government,  in  the  new  and 
in  the  old  world,  should  teach  the  benefactors  of 
mankind  not  to  despair,  if  they  do  not  see  the  fruits 
of  their  benevolent  propositions,  or  undertakings, 
during  their  lives.  No  one  seed  of  truth  or  virtue 
ever  perished.  "Wherever  it  may  be  sowed,  or  even 
scattered,  it  will  preserve  and  carry  with  it  the 
principle  of  life.  Some  of  these  seeds  produce  their 
fruits  in  a  short  time,  but  the  most  valuable  of  them, 
like  the  venerable  oak,  are  centuries  in  growing; 
but  they  are  unlike  the  pride  of  the  forest,  as  well 
as  all  other  vegetable  productions,  in  being  incapa- 
ble of  a  decay.  They  exist  and  bloom  for  ever. 
February  10th,  1790. 

COLLEGE  OF  NEW  JEKSEY. 
In  the  division  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  con- 
nected with  the  Whitefield  revival  or  agitation, 
which  occurred  in  America  in  1741,  the  future 
education  of  the  clergy  became  a  matter  of  im- 
portant consideration  ;  and  New  Jersey  belonging 
to  the  Synod  of  New  York  in  the  separation 
from  the  Synod  of  Philadelphia,  it  was  determined 
to  establish  a  seat  of  learning  in  the  former  state. 
The  religious  education  of  the  new  Church  party 
had  been  more  effectively  than  ostentatiously 
provided  for  at  the  school  established  by  the  Rev. 
William  Tennent  at  Neshaminy,  known  as  the 
Log  College,  which  had  sent  forth  from  its  hum- 
ble doorway  several  eminent  divines  and  preach- 
ers.*    The  decline  of  this  seminary  with  the  age 

*  Its  history  has  been  ivritten  by  Dr.  Archibald  Alexander. 
"WillUun  Tennent,  Se-n'r,  was  a  native  of  Ireland  and  belonged 


COLLEGE  OF  NEW  JERSEY. 


271 


of  its  founder,  and  the  unfortunate  expulsion  of 
the  pious  Brainerd  from  Yale,  hastened  the  work 
of  preparation  for  the  College  of  New  Jersey. 
A  charter  was  obtained  with  difficulty  in  1740,* 
the  peculiar  religions  interests  of  the  applicants 
being  little  regarded  in  New  Jersey.  Jonathan 
Dickinson,  a  native  of  Massachusetts  and  gradu- 
ate of  Yale,  acted  as  its  first  President,  at  Eliza- 
bethtown,  where  he  was  settled  as  a  clergyman 
for  a  short  time,  till  his  death  in  17-17,  within  a 
year  of  the  organization.  He  was  a  man  of 
ability  as  a  preacher,  and  left  a  large  number  of 
sermons  and  theological  publications.  A  new 
charter  was  now  obtained  from  Governor  Bel- 
cher! in  1748,  and  the  Rev.  Aaron  Burr  was 
chosen  President.  This  pious  man,  the  friend  of 
"Whitefield,  and  the  son-in-law  of  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards, was  the  father  of  the  subsequent  unhappy 
politician  who  bore  his  name,  lie  was  born  in 
Connecticut  in  1716,  and  arrived  at  the  College 
of  New  Jersey  through  his  settlement  as  a  cler- 
gyman at  Newark,  where  the  College  was  held 
during  his  life.  He  died  in  1757,  in  which  year 
the  institution  was  removed  to  Princeton.  Burr's 
character  is  spoken  of  with  great  admiration  for 
his  energy  in  allairs,  his  happy  temper  and  pulpit 
eloquence.}:     President  Burr   prepared    a  Latin 


originally  to  the  Episcopal  Church.  Whitefield  visited  his 
school  at  Neshaminy  in  1730,  and  speaks  of  "the  place  wherein 
the  young  men  study,  in  con  tempt  called  the  College."  It  was 
a  simple  back-country  structure  i>f  the  log-cabin  order. 

*  Hist.  Sketch  of  the  Origin  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey, 
by  Ashbel  Green.     Notes  to.  Discourses,  2S3. 

t  Jonathan  Belcher  was  a  man  of  spirit  in  the  Colonial  annals. 
He  was  born  in  1681,  of  a  good  family  at  Cambridge,  Mass., 
was  graduated  at  the  College,  travelled  in  Europe,  and  lived 
at  Boston  as  a  merchant  on  his  return,  till  he  was  appointed  to 
the  Government  of  Massachusetts  in  1730.  He  was  a  good 
scholar.  His  frankness  and  energy  caused  his  removal  from 
office,  when  the  Government  of  New  Jersey  was  given  him, 
where  he  lived  ten  years,  dying  in  office  in  1757.  "His  friend 
Aaron  Burr  at  Princeton  preached  bis  sermon  a  few  days  only 
before  his  own  death. 

X  Burr  is  buried  in  the  graveyard  at  Princeton,  where  his 
son  at  last  came  to  be  laid  beside  him.  The  Latin  inscription 
on  his  monument  is  of  more  than  usual  eloquence.  The  ceno- 
taphs at  Princeton  are  noticeable  in  this  particular. 

Quasris  Viator  qualis  quantusque  fuit? 

Perpaucis  accipe. 

Vir  corporcparvo  et  tenui, 

Studiis,  vigiliis,  assiduisque  laboribus, 

Macro. 

Sagacitate,  Perspicacitate,  Agilita'.e, 

Ac  Solertia  (si  fas  dieere), 

Plusquam  humana,  pene 

Angelica, 

Animii  ferine  totus. 

Omnigena  Lileratuia  instructus, 

Theologia  pnestantior : 

Concionator  volubilis,  suavis  et  suadus  : 

Orator  faeundus. 

Moiibus  facilis, candidus  et  jueumlns, 

Vita  egregie  liberalis  ac  beneficus  : 

Supra  vero  omnia  emicaerunt 

Pietas  et  Benevoleotia. 

Sed  ah  !  quanta  et  quota  Ingenii, 

Industrial,  Prudentise,  Patientiie, 

Caiterarumque  omnium  Virtutnm 

Exemplar!  a, 

Marmoris  sepulclualis  August  ia 

Reticebit. 

Multum  desideratus,  multum 

Dilectus, 

Human!  generis  Delieia1. 

0!  infandum  sni  Desiderium, 

Gemit  Ecclcsia.  plorat 

Academia: 

At  Ccelum  plaudit,  dum  ille 

Ingreditur 

In  Gaudium  Domini 

Dulce  loqucntis, 
Euge  bone  et  fidelts  _\ 
Serve!  ,  , 

AM  Viator  tuam  rospice      Bta 


grammar,  published  in  New  York  in  1752,  which 
was  u-edin  the  College  and  known  as  the."  New- 
ark Grammar ;"  and  as  a  specimen  of  his  La- 
tinity  there  is  extant  in  manuscript  an  oration  in 
that  language  which  he  delivered  in  Newark  be- 
fore the  Board  of  Trustees  on  the  death  of  Dr. 
Philip  Doddridge,  who  had  been  a  friend  of  the 
College.*  The  Eulogium  on  his  Death,  by  Wil- 
liam Livingston,  celebrates  his  virtues  and  acute- 
ness  with  animated  panegyric.t 

Burr  was  succeeded  by  the  eminent  metaphysi- 
cian, Jonathan  Edwards,  who  arrived  from  Stock- 
bridge  in  1758,  and  whose  death  occurred,  when 
he  had  scarcely  entered  upon  his  new  duties,  but 
a  few  months  later.  The  Rev.  Samuel  Davies,  a 
native  of  Pennsylvania,  was  called  from  Virginia, 
where  he  had  passed  a  distinguished  career  as  a 
faithful  and  eloquent  preacher,  to  the  post  in  1758. 
He  had  previously  visited  England  with  the  Rev. 
Gilbert  Tennent,!  in  a  successful  tour  for  contribu- 
tions. The  College  building  erected  in  1756  with 
the  funds  thus  collected,  was  at  first  to  be  called 
Belcher  Hall,  but  the  "Governor,  modestly  setting 
aside  his  own  claims,  gave  it  the  name  of  Nassau 
Hall,  in  honor  of  the  great  Protestant  hero  Wil- 
liam III.  It  has  been  said  to  have  been  the  best 
college  structure  in  its  time  in  the  country,  and 
the  largest  single  edifice  in  the  colonies.§  De- 
clining this  first  appointment  Davies  was  elected 
again  in  1759,  when  he  left  Hanover,  where  his 
intluence  was  very  great,  and  entered  upon  the 
duties  of  the  Presidency,  which  he  held  till  his 
death,  only  a  year  and  a  half  after,  in  1701,  at 
the  early  age  of  thirty-six.  His  reputation  as  an 
ardent  missionary  and  zealous  preacher  was  very 
great,  and  his  personal  character  greatly  strength- 
ened the  college.  His  early  discourses  on  the 
Expedition  of  Braddock,  in  a  note  to  one  of  which 
in  August,  1755,  entitled  u  Religion  and  Patriot- 
ism the  Constituents  of  a  Good  Soldier,"  he  pro- 
phetically "points  out  to  the  public  that  heroic 
youth,  Col.  Washington,  whom  I  cannot  but  hope 
Providence  has  hitherto  preserved  in  so  signal  a 
manner  for  some  important  service  to  his  country,11 
and  a  third  addressed  to  the  Militia  of  Hanover 


*Dr.  J.  F.  Stearns's  Hist.  Discourse  relating  to  the  First  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  Newark,  p.  1*8.  There  are  numerous  dis- 
tinct ami  forcible  notices  of  Burr  in  this  book. 

t  A  Funeral  Eulogium  on  the  Reverend  Mr.  Aaron  Burr, 
late  President  of  the  "College  of  New  Jersey,  by  William  Liv- 
ingston, Esq. 

Of  comfort  no  man  speak  ! 
Let's  talk  of  graves,  and  worms,  and  epitaphs, 
Make  dust  our  paper,  and  with  rainy  eyes, 
Write  sorrow  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth.  Siiaks, 

Stat  sua  euique  dies;  breve  et  irreparabile  tempus 
Omnibus  est  vita? :  sed  famam  cxtcudere  factis, 
Hoc  virtutis  opus. 

New  York,  Printed:  Boston;  Reprinted  by  Green  and  Rus- 
sell in  Queen  street,  for  J.  Winter,  iu  Union-street  175$.  4to. 
pp.  23. 

t  Tennent  was  of  much  celebrity  in  his  day  ns  a  follower  of 
Whitefield.  He  affected  some  eccentricity  in  his  preaching, 
entering  the  pulpit  on  liis  New  England  tour  in  an  overcoat 
bound  with  a  leathern  girdle,  and  with  long  hair.  His  elo- 
quence was  in  the  line  of  the  terrific.  Whitefield,  who  was 
with  Tennent  in  New  York  in  1739,  has  described  his  preach- 
ing: "  never  before  heard  I  such  a  searching  sermon.  He  went 
to  the  bottom,  indeed,  and  did  not  d;mb  with  untempered  mor- 
tar. He  is  'a  son  of  thunder,'  and  does  not  regard  the  face  of 
man."  With  his  energy  he  sometimes  forgot  courtesy  and 
Christian  humility,  and  was  very  abusive.  Dr.  Alexander  fur- 
nishes a  list  of  his  publications. — History  of  the  Log  College, 
91-94. 

§  Dr.  Jns.  W.  Alexander's  MS.  Centennial  Discourse  at 
Princeton,  1S46. 


272 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Co.,  at  a  general  muster  in  May,  1759,  when  his 
eloquence  at  once  filled  the  ranks,  have  connected 
his  name  with  the  public  history  of  his  country. 
He  published  numerous  sermons,  a  collection  of 
■which  in  three  volnmes  "  on  the  most  useful  and 
important  subjects"  has  been  much  read.  His 
style  was  warm  and  passionate. 

Davies  was  not  only  an  energetic  declaimer  of 
poetic  prose,  but  wrote  verses  of  considerable  ex- 
cellence. His  elegy  on  the  death  of  his  old  pre- 
ceptor, Samuel  Blair,*  with  its  warmth  of  feeling 
shows  a  modern  taste  in  composition  which  may 
be  contrasted  with  the  cramped  effusions  of  a  simi- 
lar character  of  which  we  have  given  specimens 
in  the  old  Puritan  literature. 

Blair  is  no  more — then  this  poor  world  has 

lost 
As  rich  a  jewel  as  her  stores  could  boast; 
Heaven,  in  just  vengeance,  has  recalled  again, 
Its  faithful  envoy,  from  the  sons  of  men, 
Advanced  him  from  his  pious  toils  below, 
In  raptures  there,  in  kindred  plains  to  glow. 

0  had  not  the  mournful  news  divulged, 
My  mind  had  still  the  pleasing  dream  indulged — 
Still  fancied  Blair,  with  health  and  vigor  blessed, 
With  some  grand  purpose  laboring  in  his  breast. 
In  studious  thought,  pursuing  truth  divine, 
Till  the  full  demonstration  round  him  shine; 
Or,  from  the  sacred  desk,  proclaiming  loud, 
His  Master's  message,  to  the  attentive  crowd, 
While  heavenly  truth  with  bright  conviction  glares, 
And  coward  error  shrinks,  and  disappears; 
While  quick  remorse,  the  hardy  sinner  feels, 
And  Calv'ry's  balm,  the  bleeding  conscience  heals. f 

In  1769,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas  Gibbons,  who 
was  the  London  editor  of  Davies's  Sermons,  pub- 
lished a  Collection  of  Hymns  in  which  there  are 
fifteen  assigned  to  Davies.  These  were  found 
among  the  manuscripts  of  the  latter.  Two  of 
them  may  be  quoted  as  well  for  their  historical 
as  their  devotional  interest. 


NATIONAL    JUDGMENTS    DEr-EECATEP,  AND    NATIONAL  JIEECTES 
PLEADED.^ 


While  o'er  our  guilty  land,  0  Lord, 
We  view  the  terrors  of  thy  sword ; 
While  heav'n  its  fruitful  sliow'rs  denies, 
And  nature  round  us  fades  and  dies  ; 


*  Samuel  Blair  was  born  in  Ireland,  came  to  America  as  a 
youth,  and  was  educated  at  the  Log  College.  He  was  settled 
as  a  preacher  at  Shrewsbury,  New  Jersey,  and  in  New  Lon- 
donderry, or  Fogg's  Manor,  in  Pennsylvania,  where  lie  formed 
a  classical  school  in  which  Davies,  the  Rev.  John  Eodgers,  and 
other  divines,  were  educated.  He  died  young,  at  1  he  age  of 
thirty-nine.    His  tomb  at  Fogg's  Manor  bears  the  inscription — 

In  yonder  sacred  house  I  spent  my  breath,- 
Now  sileiit,  mouldering,  here  I  lie  in  death; 
These  lips  shall  wake  aiid  yet  declare, 
A  dread  amen  to  truths  they  published  there. 

John  Blair,  his  brother,  was  Professor  of  Divinity  at  the  College 
of  New  Jersey,  17G7  to  1769.  One  of  his  sisters  married  the 
Kev.  Robert  Smith  of  Pequea,  the  father  of  President  Smith  of 
the  College,  of  John  Blair  Smith,  and  of  the  Rev.  William 
Smith. 

t  We  are  indebted  for  this  extract  to  Dr.  Alexander's  Log 
College,  as  we  are  for  the  knowledge  of  the  hymns  which'  fol- 
low, to  his  son,  Dr.  James  W.  Alexander.  Davies's  elegy  was 
published  in  a  volume  of  the  writings  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Blair, 
Philadelphia,  1754. 

%  This  and  the  following  Hymn  were  printed  by  the  Author, 
with  two  Discourses  on  Amos  iii.  1-6.  entitled  Virginia's.Zlo"?!- 
ger  and  Iirtnedy^niX  occasioned  by  the  severe  Drought  in  sun- 
dry Parts  of  that  Country,  and  the  defeat  of  General  Brad- 
doek,  1756.— Gibbon's  note. 


While  clouds  collecting  o'er  our  head 
Seem  eharg'd  with  wrath  to  smite  us  dead, 
Oh!  whither  shall  the  helpless  fly  ? 
To  whom  but  thee  direct  our  cry  ? 

m. 

The  helpless  sinner's  cries  and  tears 
Are  grown  familiar  to  thine  ears; 
Oft  has  thy  mercy  sent  relief, 
When  all  was  fear  and  hopeless  grief: 

rv. 
On  thee  our  guardian  God  we  call, 
Before  thy  throne  of  grace  we  fall ; 
And  is  there  no  deliv'rance  there  ? 
And  must  we  perish  in  despair  ? 

v. 
See,  we  repent,  we  weep,  we  mourn, 
To  our  forsaken  God  we  turn  ; 
0  spare  our  guilty  country,  spare 
The  church  which  thou  hast  jilanted  here  ! 

VI. 

Revive  our  with'ring  fields  with  rain,  , 

Let  peace  compose  our  land  again, 
Silence  the  horrid  noise  of  war! 
0  spare  a  guilty  people,  spare ! 

vn. 

We  plead  tliy  grace,  indulgent  God, 
We  plead  thy  Son's  atoning  blood, 
We  plead  thy  gracious  promises, 
And  are  they  unavailing  pleas? 

vm. 

These  pleas,  by  faith  urg'd  at  thy  throne. 
Have  brought  ten  thousand  blessings  down 
On  guilty  lands  in  helpless  woe; 
Let  them  prevail  to  save  us  too ! 

ON  THE  SAME, 

I. 

While  various  rumours  spread  abroad, 
And  hold  our  souls  in  dread  suspense, 

We  look,  we  fly  to  thee  our  God ; 
Our  refuge  is  thy  Providence. 

it. 
This  wilderness,  so  long  untill'd, 

An  hideous  waste  of  barren  ground, 
Thy  care  has  made  a  fruitful  field, 

With  peace  and  plenty  richly  erown'd. 

in. 
Thy  Gospel  spreads  an  heav'nly  day 

Throughout  this  once  benighted  land, 
A  Land  once  wild  with  beasts  of  prey, 

By  impious  heathen  rites  profan'd ; 

IV. 

Thy  Gospel,  like  a  gen'rous  vine, 
Its  branches  wide  began  to  spread, 

Refresh'd  our  souls  with  heav'nly  wine, 
And  bless'd  us  with  its  cooling  shade  ; 


A:id  shall  these  mercies  now  remove  ? 

SJltall  peace  and  plenty  fly  away? 
The  laud,  that  Ilenv'n  did  thus  improve, 

Wil.'  Heav'n  give  up  an  helpless  Prey? 

VI. 

0  must  we  bid  our  God  adieu? 

And  must  the  Gospel  take  its  flight? 
0  shall  r  L  children  never  view 

The  'flniejfngs  of  that  heav'nly  light? 


COLLEGE  OF  NEW  JERSEY. 


Forbid  it,  Lord ;  with  arms  of  faith 

We'll  holil  thee  fast,  and  thou  slialt  stay 

We'll  cry  while  we  have  life  or  breath, 
Our  God,  do  not  depart  away  I 

VIII. 

If  broken  hearts  and  weeping  eyes 
Can  find  acceptance  at  thy  throne, 

Lo,  here  they  are;  this  sacrifice 

Tliou  wilt  accept  thro'  Christ  thy  Son. 


The  Rev.  Samuel  Finley  succeeded  to  the  Pre- 
sidency at  Princeton.  He  was  of  Irish  birth, 
coming  early  to  America,  had  taken  part  in  the 
White-field  revival,  and  was  settled  as  a  clergyman 
at  Nottingham  in  Maryland  for  seventeen  years, 
when  he  was  called  to  the  office.  Ho  instituted 
an  academy  at  Nottingham,  where  his  scholar- 
ship had  brought  around  him  a  number  of  pupils 
who  afterwards  became  men  of  distinction.*  Fin- 
ley  was  an  assiduous  College  President,  and  when, 


as  with  his  predecessors,  his  term  of  office  was 
briefly  closed,  his  remains  were  carried  to  his  grave 
at  Philadelphia  where  he  died,  borne,  according 
to  his  request,  by  eight  members  of  the  senior 
class  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey. 

Finley's  death  occurred  in  1766,  when  Dr. 
Witherspoon  was  invited  to  the  Presidency  from 
Scotland.  He  came  and  was  inaugurated  in  1768. 
He  enlarged  the  field  of  the  college  by  promoting 
the  study  of  mathematics  and  mental  philosophy. 
During  the  Revolution  the  President  was  trans- 
ferred in  Congress  to  a  wider  sphere. 

Immediately  after  the  battle  of  Princeton,  in 
1777,  the  College  became  the  scene  of  a  conflict 
between  its  British  occupants  and  a  portion  of  the 
army  of  Washington.  In  the  chapel  iii  Nassau  Hall 
hung  at  this  time  a  portrait  of  George  II.,  which 
was  destroyed  by  an  American  cannon-shot  parsing 
through  the  canvas.  Within  the  same  frame  now 
hangs  a  portrait  of  Washington,  painted  by  Peale, 
and  purchased  with  the  fifty  guineas  which  were 
presented  to  the  College  by  the  General  after  the 
conflict.  The  British  plundered  the  library.  Some 
of  the  books  were  afterwards  found  in  North  Caro- 
lina, left  there  by  the  troops  of  Cornwallis.* 

There  is  a  picture  of  the  College  in  the  opening 


*  Ashbel  Green's  Memoirs,  pp.  136,  144.  This  old  North 
College,  the  original  Nassau  Hall,  which  had  thus  suffered  the 
attack  of  the  troops,  was  nearly  destroy*  d  by  fire  in  1812. 
Again,  in  1S55,  on  the  evening  of  March  9  it  was  entirely 
burnt,  the  walls  only  being  left  standing.  The  pictures  in  the 
College  Gallery  were  fortunately  preserved. 
VOL.  I. — 18 


days  of  the  Revolution,  by  John  Adams,  in  his  diary 
of  the  date  of  Aug.  26, 1774,  when  the  young  law- 
yer was  on  his  way  to  the  Continental  Congress. 

The  college  is  conveniently  constructed;  instead 
of  entries  across  the  building,  the  entries  are  from 
end  to  end,  and  the  chambers  are  on  each  side  of 
the  entries.  There  are  such  entries,  one  above 
another,  in  every  story;  each  chamber  hns  three 
windows,  two  Btudies  with  one  window  in  ench,  and 
one  window  between  the  studies  to  enlighten  the 
chamber.  Mr.  Euston,  the  Professor  of  Mathematics 
and  Natural  Philosophy,  showed  us  the  library;  it 
is  not  large,  but,  has  some  good  books.  He  then  led 
us  into  the  apparatus ;  here  we  saw  a  most  beauti- 
ful machine — an  orrery  or  planetarium,  constructed 
by  Mr.  Rittenhouse  of  Philadelphia.  By  this  time 
the  bell  rang  for  prayers;  we  went  into  the  chapel; 
the  President  soon  came  in.  and  we  attended.  The 
scholars  sing  as  badly  as  the  Presbyterians  at  New 
York,  After  prayers  the  President  attended  us  to 
the  balcony  of  the  college,  where  we  have  a  pros- 
pect of  a  horizon  of  about  eighty  miles'  diameter. 

On  the  establishment  of  peace,  Dr.  Samuel 
Stanhope  Smith,  the  vice-president,  became  the 
acting  governor  of  the  College,  and  on  the  death 
of  Witherspoon  in  1794,  its  head.     He  held  the 


*  "His  method  of  instruction  in  the  Latin  anil  Greek  lan- 
guages was  thorough  and  accurate.  Dr.  Finley  boarded  most 
of  the  scholars  in  his  own  house,  and  when  they  were  at  meals 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  relaxing  from  the  severity  of  the  peda- 
gogue, and  indulging  in  facetious  remarks,  saying  that  nothing 
more  helped  digestion  than  a  hearty  laugh.  His  own  temper 
was  remarkably  benignant  and  sweet,  and  his  manners  affable 
and  polite.'' — Alexander's  Log  College,  p.  306. 


274 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


position  until  he  resigned  it,  from  the  infirmities 
of  age,  in  1812.    • 

Samuel  Stanhope  Smith,  "whose  accomplish- 
ments were  the  delight  of  the  lust  generation  of 
scholars  and  divines,  was  the  son  ot  a  minister  in 
Pennsylvania,  Br.  Robert  Smith,  of  Scoto-Irish 
descent,  who  can.e  to  this  country  in  his  child- 
hood,— a  man  oi'  education  ami  character.  Two 
erf  his  sons  became  quite  noted  in  the  literary  and 
religious  affairs  of  America :  John  Llair  Smith,  an 
eloquent  preacher  in  Virginia,  and  the  first  presi- 
dent of  Union  College ;  and  Samuel  Stanbope 
Smith,  the  president  of  Princeton.  The  latter 
was  born  at  Pequea,  Lancaster  county,  Pennsyl- 
vania, the  seat  of  his  father's  pastoral  duties, 
March  16,  1750;  studied  at  Princeton;  was  the 
first  head  of  the  Presbyterian  Theological  College 
of  Hampden  Sidney,  in  Viiginia;  was  called  in 
1799  to  the  chair  of  moral  philosophy  at  Prince- 
ton, and  succeeded  Witherspoon,  his  father-in-law, 
in  the  presidency,  on  his  death  in  1794.  He  re- 
signed this  office  on  account  of  ill  health  in  1812. 
He  died  August  21,  1819. 

The  best  known  of  bis  literary  productions  is 
his  Essay  on  the  Causes  of  the  Variety  of  Com- 
plexion and  Figure  in  the  Human  Species,  which 
he  published  in  1788,  and  a  second  edition  of 
which,  enlarged  with  a  reply  to  his  English 
critic,  Charles  White,  and  some  strictures  on 
Lord  Karnes's  Discourse  on  the  Original  Diversity 
of  Mankind,  appeared  in  1810.  Tbe  argument 
of  this  work  is,  a  defence  of  tbe  unity  of  the  race, 
accounting  for  the  varieties  by  the  influences  of 
climate,  of  the  state  of  society,  and  tbe  manner  of 
living.  Though  superseded  by  other  works  in 
tbe  great  advance  of  the  knowledge  of  facts  and 
study  of  Ethnology,  this  work  may  still  be  read 
with  interest  for  the  amenity  of  its  style  and  the 
ingenuity  of  its  views. 

The  late  Dr.  Alexander,  in  his  memoirs,  lias 
left  us  a  distinct  account  of  the  impression  of 
President  Smith  upon  his  contemporaries.  He 
describes  his  appearance  at  Prineeton  in  1801  : 
"Certainly,  viewing  him  as  in  his  meridian,  I 
have  never  seen  his  equal  in  elegance  of  person 
and  manners.  Dignity  and  winning  grace  were 
remarkably  united  in  his  expressive  countenance. 
His  large  blue  eye  hail  a  penetration  which  com- 
manded the  respect  of  all  beholders.  Notwith- 
standing the  want  of  health,  his  cheek  had  a 
bright  rosy  tint,  and  his  smile  lighted  up  the 
whole  face.  The  tones  of  his  elocution  had  a 
thrilling  peculiarity,  and  this  was  more  remarka- 
ble in  his  preaching,  where  it  is  well  known  that 
he  imitated  the  elaborate  polish  and  satirical 
glow  of  the  French  school.''* 

Ashbel  Green,  who  succeeded  to  President 
Smith,  was  a  native  of  New  Jersey,  horn  at 
Hanover,  July  6,  1702.  He  was  a  graduate  of 
the  College  of  1783;  entered  the  ministry;  was 
professor  of  mathematics  and  natural  philosophy 
in  Princeton  from  1785  to  1787  ;  was  chaplain 
to  Congress  in  Philadelphia  from  1792  to  1800,  a 
position  which  brought  him  into  relation  with 
Washington,  whom  he  had  seen  in  the  field  in  his 


*  The  Life  of  Archibald  Alexander,  p  2f5.  Dr.  James  W. 
Alexander  notices  Smith's  bearing  at  Princeton,  and  his 
French  style,  '■  in  which  endeavor  his  most  celebrated  pupil 
was  the  Itev.  Dr.  Henry  Kollock.  one  of  the  most  ornate  yet 
vehement  orators  whoih  our  country  has  produced."  lb. p.  309. 


early  militia  days  in  New  Jersey,  and  the  best 
society  of  the  day ;  was  e  ected  to  the  presidency 
of  the  College  of  New  Jersey  in  1812,  which  he 
occupied  for  ten  years, — the  marked  incidents  of 
his  career  being  the  great  insubordination  and  re- 
vival ;  on  his  retirement,  conducting  a  Pre>byte- 
rian  religious  journal,  the  Christian  Advocate,  in 
Philadelphia,  for  twelve  years;  in  his  subset] tunt 
leisure  preparing  amemoir  of  Witherspoon,  which 
is  still  in  manuscript;  and  at  the  age  of  tighty- 
two  commencing  an  autobiography,  which  he 
continued  to  write  till  within  two  years  of  his 
death,  which  occurred  in  his  eighty-sixth  year, 
May  19,  1848.  His  chief  publications  are  the 
periodical  which  we  have  mentioned,  his  posthu- 
mous autobiography,  and  a  collectim  of  his  dis- 
courses, with  an  appendix,  containing  among 
other  articles  a  history  of  his  college,  and 
tributes  to  its  presidents,  which  appeared  in 
Philadelphia  in  1822.  He  had  been  also  engaged 
in  revising  for  the  American  market  the  articles 
in  Eees's  and  tin.  Edinburgh  Encyclopaedias,  for 
which,  he  tells  us,  he  received  as  compensation  a 
set  of  the  works.  His  autobiography  ci  nlains 
much  devotional  matter,  a  few  anecdotes  of 
Washington  and  ins  early  "court"  days,  and 
an  interesting  diary  of  a  tour  which  he  made  into 
New  England  in  the  summer  of  1791*  He  was 
a  polished  writer.  His  portrait  shows  a  fine 
dark  eye,  which,  though  he  was  an  amiable  man, 
contributed  to  the  severity  of  bis  countenance, 
according  to  the  college  reputation  of  his  austere 
appearance.f 

Dr.  Green  was  succeeded  in  the  year  1823  1  yT  the 
Eev.  James  Carnahan,  D.D.,  who  held  the  chair 
more  than  thirty  years;  probably  the  period  most 
marked  by  prosperity  ;  which  it  has  largely  e  wed 
to  tbe  fidelity,  diligence,  wisdom,  and  txem]  lary 
gentleness  of  this  excellent  man.  President  Car- 
naban is  reputed  an  excellent  classical  scholar, 
and  a  sound  leather  of  philosophy  and  religion. 
Less  brilliant  than  his  predecessors,  he  brought  to 
the  service  erf  education  a  balance  and  constancy 
of  solid  qualities,  and  an  administrative  talent  in 
finance  which,  joined  to  proverbial  truth  and 
uprightness,  have  made  his  green  old  age  pecu- 
liarly honorable.  His  agreeable  retirement  is 
within  sight  of  the  Tusculum  of  Witherspoon, 

Tbe  tenth  president  is  the  Eev.  John  Maclean, 
D.D.,  who  was  inaugurated  in  1854.  The  pre- 
sent condition  of  Princeton  College  is  prosperous 
in  a  high  degree.  In  the  departments  of  Mathe- 
matics  and  Physical  Science,  it  has  acquired  some 
iclat  from  the  methods  and  labors  of  Professor 
Henry,  now  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  but 
again  professor  elect  in  the  college,  and  the 
eminent  astronomer,  Stephen  Alexander.  The 
beauty  of  the  grounds,  presenting  a  certain  clois- 
tered shadiness,  reminding  one  e>f  certain  scenes 
in  Oxford,  together  with  a  position  midway  be- 
tween tbe  great  cities,  continues  to  make  this  a 
favorite  re-ort.  The  entire  number  of  alumni 
has  been  3,390,  of  whom  2,023  are  now  living. 
Among  its  graduates,  besides  some  named  above, 

*  It  was  published  with  a  continuation  after  his  death : — 
"The  Life  of  Ashbel  Green,  V.  D.  M.,  berun  to  be  written  by 
himself  in  his  S2d  year,  and  continued  till  his  Mih.  Pr.  pared 
for  the  press,  at  the  authors  request,  by  Joseph  II.  Jones. 
New  York.  1S49." 

t  Parish  and  other  Pencilliugs,  by  Kirwan,  p.  135. 


JOHN  WITHERSPOON. 


275 


are  the  two  Richard  Stocktons,  President  Reed 
of  Pa.',  Dr.  Benjamin  Rush,  William  Patterson, 
Tapping  Reeve,  Francis  Ilopkinson,  David  Ram- 
say, Oliver  Ellsworth,  Dr.  Samuel  Spring,  Pier- 
pont  Edwards,  Hugh  H.  Braekenridge,  James 
Madison,  Pres.  of  U.  S.,  Aaron  Bnrr,  Henry  Lee, 
Morgan  Lewis,  Edward  Livingston,  John  Ser- 
geant, Samuel  L.  Southard,  and  Theodore  Freling- 
huysen. 

Of  the  old  professors  in  this  institution,  Dr. 
John  Maclean  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished. 
He  rilled  the  chairs  of  Chemistry  and  Natural 
History,  and  of  Mathematics  and  Natural  Philoso- 
phy, with  much  distinction,  from  1795  to  1812. 
He  was  a  native  of  Scotland,  and  had  studied 
the  sciences  in  Paris.  Dr.  Archibald  Alexander 
speaks  of  him  as  "  the  soul  of  the  Faculty "  at 
Princeton,  and  records  his  claim  as  "one  of 
the  first  to  reproduce  in  America  the  views  of  the 
new  French  school  in  Chemistry,  a  subject  on 
which  he  waged  a  successful  war  with  Dr. 
Priestley,  the  great  champion  for  phlogiston.''* 

Walter  Minto  was  professor  in  the  College  of 
New  Jersey  from  1787  to  1796.  He  was  a 
Scotchman  of  good  family  and  great  science. 
His  early  life  had  been  eventful ;  for  after  his 
university  curriculum,  he  became  tutor  of  the 
two  sons  of  the  Hon.  George  Johnstone,  M.P., 
well  known  in  Jamaica,  and  as  Commissioner  to 
this  country  in  1778;  and  with  them  he  travelled 
over  much  of  Europe,  and  lived  awhile  at  Pisa. 
Here  he  became  acquainted  with  Dr.  Slop,  the 
astronomer,  and  through  him  with  the  then 
novel  applications  of  the  higher  analysis  to  the 
heavenly  motions.  Quarrelling  with  the  boys 
and  their  father,  he  remained  some  years  at  Pisa, 
and  never  afterwards  redded  in  his  native 
country.  His  only  publication  was  an  Inaugu- 
ral Address  on  the  Mathematical  Sciences  ;  but 
the  college  library  contains  some  careful  and 
curious  MSS.  on  Mathematical  Analysis.t 

Among  the  benefactors  of  the  institution  have 
been  Col.  Henry  Rutgers  and  his  family,  of  New 
York  ;  Elias  Boudinot,  who  founded  a  cabinet 
of  Natural  History,  and  bequeathed  the  sum  of 
eight  thousand  dollars  and  four  thousand  acres  of 
land;  and  Dr.  David  Hosack,  one  of  its  alumni, 
who  gave  a  valuable  mineralogical  cabinet.  In 
the  Philosophic  Hall  there  are  preserved  the 
electrical  machine  of  Franklin,  and  the  orrery  of 
Rittenhou.-.e. 

JOHN  WITIIERSPOON. 

One  of  the  happiest  instances  of  sterling  charac- 
ter transplanted  from  the  old  world  to  bear  genial 
fruit  in  the  new,  at  the  period  of  the  Revolution, 
was  John  Witherspoon,  President  of  the  College  of 
New  Jersey,  and  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. He  was  a  man  of  native  force  and  vigor, 
which  were  not  overlaid  by  education  or  society, 
though  no  one  knew  better  how  to  appreciate  both. 
He  had  good  blood  in  his  veins  for  the  reforma- 
tion of  abuses,  since  he  was  lineally  descended  from 
old  John  Knox  by  his  daughter  Elizabeth.  His 
father  was  minister  of  the  parish  of  Yester,  near 
Edinburgh,  where  the  son  was  born  February  5, 


*  Lire  of  A.  Alexander,  2BT. 

t  Fur  a  memoir  of  Dr.  Minto  see  Princeton  Majrazino,  vol. 
1.  53-47. 


1722.  At  fourteen  he  entered  the  University  of 
Edinburgh,  where  he  remained  employed  in  its 
studies  till  he  was  twenty-one,  when  he  was 
licensed  as  a  preacher.  He  declined  dependence 
upon  his  father  as  his  assistant,  and  became  set- 
tled at  Beith,  in  the  west  of  Scotland.  While  he 
was  at  this  parish,  the  Pretender  landed  in  Scut- 
land.  Witherspoon  took  the  part  of  his  country, 
and  stimulated  the  raising  of  a  corps  of  militia, 
of  which  he  put  himself  at  the  head,  and  marched 
to  Glasgow.  He  was  taken  '  prisoner  at  the 
battle  of  Falkirk,  and  imprisoned  in  Doune  Castle, 
where  he  remained  until  after  the  battle  of  Cul- 
loden;  so  that  he  had  already  acted  the  patriotic 
part  in  the  old  country*  which  he  was  not  back- 
ward in  repeating  in  America.  In  an  effort  to 
escape  from  the  battlements  of  the  castle  in  which 
he  was  imprisoned,  with  a  party  of  seven,  by  a 
rope  from  the  wall,  he  fortunately  drew  the  lot 
for  the  last.  Four  of  the  company  got  safely 
down;  the  rope  broke  with  the  fifth,  and  the 
sixth  was  much  injured,  when  Witherspoon  gave 
up  the  attempt. 

Leaving  Beith,  he  became  minister  in  Paisley, 
whence  he  was  called  to  the  presidency  of  the 
college  at  Princeton,  in  New  Jersey,  a  post  which 
he  accepted,  though  a  rich  old  bachelor  friend 
offered  to  make  him  his  heir  to  a  large  property 
if  he  would  remain  in  Scotland.  Benjamin  Rush, 
then  a  young  student  at  Edinburgh,  was  dele- 
gated by  the  college,  of  which  he  was  an  alumnus, 
to  urge  his  coming  to  America.  His  tastes  and 
principles  led  him  in  search  of  a  simpler  and  more 
earne-t  religious  society  than  presented  itself  at 
that  time  in  Scotland,  the  features  of  which  he 
set  forth  with  strength  and  humor  in  a  work, 
published  while  he  was  at  Paisley,  entitled  Eccle- 
siastical Characteristics,^  and  which  was  admired 
by  Warburton.  It  was  levelled  at  the  moderate 
party,  at  the  head  of  whom  stood  Dr.  Robertson, 
the  historian.  It  is  in  a  series  of  maxims,  ironi- 
cally bandied,  exposing  the  worldliness  of  a  por- 
tion of  the  clergy — a  paragraph  of  which  will 
show  his  delicate  raillery.  Pie  is  rebuking  the 
indifference  as  to  religious  services : — 

Sometimes,  indeed,  it  may  happen,  by  a  concur- 
rence of  circumstances,  that  one  of  us  may,  at  bed- 
time, be  unequally  yoked  with  an  orthodox  brother, 
who  may  propose  a  little  unseasonable  devotion  be- 
tween ourselves,  before  we  lie  down  to  sleep:  but 
there  are  twenty  ways  of  throwing  cold  water  upon 
such  a  motion  ;  or,  if  it  should  be  insisted  upon,  I 
could  recommend  a  moderate  way  of  complying  with 
it,  from  the  example  of  one  of  our  friends,  who,  on  a 
like  occasion,  yielded  so  far,  that  he  stood  up  at  the 
back  of  a  chair,  and  said  :  "  0  Lord,  we  thank  thee 
for  Mr.  Bayle's  Dictionary.  Amen."  This  was  so 
far  from  spoiling  good  company,  that  it  contributed 
wonderfully  to  promote  social  mirth,  and  sweetened 
the  young  men  in  a  most  agreeable  manner  for  their 
rest.f 

The  irony  of  the  Characteristics  appears  to 
have  been  misunderstood  in  some  quarters ;  at 
any  rate,  it  drew  from   the   writer   A  Serious 


*  Blackwood's  Magazine,  ii.  433. 

t  Ecclesiastical  Characteristics:  or,  the  Arcana  of  Church 
Policy — beiriL'  an  Humble  Attempt  to  open  the  Mystery  of 
Moderation,  likewise  is  shewn  a  plain  and  easy  way  of  attain- 
ing to  the  character  of  a  Moderate  Man,  as  at  present  in  repute 
in  the  Church  of  Scotland. 


276 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


Apology  for  the  Ecclesiastical  Characteristics, 
by  the  real  Author  of  that  Performance,  in  which 
the  use  of  satire  of  that  kind  is  defended,  and  its 
application  in  the  particular  instance  enforced. 
He  instances  passages  of  irony  from  the  sacred 
•writings,  and  "  from  the  most  grave  and  venera- 
ble of  the  fathers,"  and  urges  the  necessity  of 
making  some  provision  for  the  levity  and  sloth 
of  the  readers  of  the  day.  Another  motive  was 
to  meet  the  worldliness  of  the  times  on  its  own 
terms: — 

The  great  patron  and  advocate  for  these  was  Lord 
Shaftesbury,  one  of  whose  leading  principles  it  is, 
that  "  Ridicule  is  the  test  of  truth."  This  principle 
of  his  had  been  adopted  by  many  of  the  clergy  ;  and 
there  is  hardly  any  man  conversant  in  the  literary 
world,  who  has  not  heard  it  a  thousand  times  de- 
fended in  Conversation.  I  was  therefore  willing  to 
try  how  they  themselves  could  stand  the  edge  of 
this  weapon  ;  hoping,  that  if  it  did  not  eo?iviiice 
them  of  the  folly  of  the  other  parts  of  their  conduct, 
it  might  at  least  put  them  out  of  conceit  with  this 
particular  opinion.  The  last  of  these  I  do  really 
think  the  publication  of  the  Characteristics  has  in 
a  great  measure  effected ;  at  least  within  my  narrow 
sphere  of  conversation.  It  is  but  seldom  we  now 
hear  it  pretended,  that  ridicule  is  the  test  of  truth. 
If  they  have  not  renounced  this  opinion,  they  at 
least  keep  it  more  to  themselves,  and  are  less  inso- 
lent upon  it  in  their  treatment  of  others. 

He  takes  care,  however,  to  state  that  he  does 
not  adopt  the  test  of  ridicule  as  a  criterion  of 
what  is  true  and  excellent. 

Another  apologue,  somewhat  similar  in  idea  to 
the  Characteristics,  was  his  History  of  a  Corpora- 
tion of  Servants,  discovered  a  few  years  ago  in 
the  interior  parts  of  South  America,  containing 
some  very  Surprising  Events  and  Extraordinary 
Characters,  which  is  a  narrative,  under  a  plea- 
sant disguise,  of  the  Church  History  of  Great 
Britain. 

His  Serious  Enquiry  into  the  Kature  and 
Effects  of  the  Stage  originated  with  the  perform- 
ance, in  Edinburgh,  of  Douglas,  written  by  the 
clergyman  Home.* 

Witherspoon  arrived  in  America,  and  was 
inaugurated  president  at  Princeton,  August  17, 
1768.  He  improved  the  finances  of  the  institu- 
tion, and  extended  its  literary  and  philosophical 
instruction  by  his  courses  on  Moral  Philosophy 
and  Rhetoric,  in  which  he  anticipated  the  pub- 
lished works  of  Reid  and  Blair.  These  lectures 
are  included  in  his  works,  and  are  highly  finished 
productions  for  their  day,  of  this  species  of  writ- 
ing. 

On  the  opening  of  the  war,  the  college,  on 
the  highroad  of  hostilities,  was  broken  up  for  the 
time,  when  Witherspoon  was  elected  delegate  to 
the  Convention  of  New  Jersey  for  the  formation 
of  a  state  constitution,  and  being  sent  by  the 
Provincial  Congress  to  the  General  Congress  at 
Philadelphia,  took  his  seat  in  time  to  sign  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  To  a  member  of 
Congress,  who   said  that  the  country  was  not 


*  Witherspoon's  Serious  Inquiry  into  the  Nature  and  Effects 
of  the  Stage,  and  a  Letter  respecting  Play  Actors,  ■with  a  Ser- 
mon by  Dr.  Samuel  Miller,  on  the  Burning  of  the  Theatre  at 
Richmond,  with  an  Introductory  Address,  were  published  in 
a  suiall  volume,  by  Whiting  &  Watson,  New  York,  1S12. 


ripe  for  such  a  declaration,  he  replied,  "  In  my 
judgment,  sir,  we  are  not  only  ripe  but  rotten." 
He  attended  Congress  with  exemplary  punctuality 
throughout  the  war,  and  was  actively  engaged  in 
its  committees.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Secret 
Committee  and  of  the  Board  of  War,  in  which 
latter  capacity  he  brought  before  Congress  a 
report  respecting  the  cruel  treatment  of  prisoners 
by  the  British  in  New  York,  and  was  one  of  a 
committee  who  prepared  a  protest  on  the  subject. 
He  visited  the  camp  at  head-quarters,  to  improve 
the  state  of  the  troops,  and  was  sent  to  the  East 
to  assist  in  the  adjustment  of  the  New  Hampshire 
grants.  He  wrote  the  Congressional  addresses 
to  the  people,  recommending  fasts  and  Thoughts 
on  American  Liberty,  and  several  war  topics  in  the 
newspapers.  He  was  thoroughly  identified  with 
the  American  cause.  "  No  man,"  we  quote  the 
words  of  Dr.  J.  W.  Alexander  in  his  Princeton 
Address,  "  thinks  of  Witherspoon  as  a  Briton, 
but  as  an  American  of  the  Americans:  as  the 
friend  of  Stockton,  the  counsellor  of  Morris,  the 
correspondent  of  Washington,  the  rival  of  Frank- 
lin in  his  sagacity,  and  of  Reed  in  his  resolution ; 
one  of  the  boldest  in  that  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, and  one  of  the  most  revered  in  the  debates 
of  the  Congre.-s."* 

Witherspoon's  Essay  on  Money  was  a  repro- 
duction of  his  speeches  in  Congress,  where  he  op- 
posed the  repeated  issues  of  paper  currency.  His 
memory  was  very  great;  he  carefully  matured 
his  speech,  and  lay  in  wait  with  it  in  his  mind 
till  opportunity  arose,  when  he  prefaced  it  with 
extempore  remarks,  and  surprised  his  audience 
by  his  fulness  and  method.  In  1781  he  wrote 
several  periodical  essays  on  social  and  literary 
topics,  the  corruptions  of  languages  and  other 
matters,  with  the  title,  TJie  Druid. 

On  the  revival  of  the  college  it  was  mainly  left 
in  the  hands  of  his  son-in-law,  Dr.  Samuel  Stan- 
hope Smith,  who  succeeded  him  in  the  office  of 
President  at  his  death.  In  1783  he  was  induced 
to  visit  England  for  the  purpose  of  collecting 
funds  for  the  institution ;  a  rather  early  applica- 
tion after  the  war,  which  was  unsuccessful.  He 
returned  the  next  3*ear.  Some  time  afterwards, 
when  he  was  about  seventy,  he  occasioned  much 
comment  among  Ids  friends  by  marrying  a  lady 
of  twenty-three.t  He  married  his  first  wife  in 
Scotland,  by  whom  he  had  a  son  who  became  a 
major  in  the  Revolutionary  army,  and  was  killed 
at  the  battle  of  Germantown.  Ramsay,  the  his- 
torian, married  his  daughter.  He  resided  at  a 
country-seat  near  Princeton,  to  which  he  gave  the 
name  of  Tusculum.  Within  the  last  two  years 
of  his  life  he  was  afflicted  with  blindness.  He 
died,  Nov.  15,  1794. 

His  portrait  by  Pine  shows  a  fine,  manly  coun- 

i  tenance.     His  personal  appearance,  being  six  feet 
in  height,  was  impressive,  and  he  has  been  in  this 

;  respect  compared  with  Washington.     He  spoke 
with   a   strong   Scottish   accent.     His   sermons, 


*  J.  W.  Alexanders  MS.  Centennial  Address  at  Princeton. 

+  Ashbel  Green  has  this  entry  in  his  Diary,  July  29,  1791 : — 
M  Spent  this  day  at  Princeton.  After  making  several  calls,  I 
went  with  Dr.  'Smith  and  Dr.  Stockton  to  Tusculum.  in  the 
afternoon,  to  take  tea  with  Dr.  Witherspoon,  and  to  pay  my 
respects  to  his  young  wife.  I  had  heard  her  represented  as 
verv  handsome.  She  is  comely;  but  to  my  apprehension, 
nothing  more.    The  Doctor  treated  us  with  great  politeness." 


JOHN  WITHERSPOON'. 


277 


which  were  evangelical,  simple"  in  matter  and 
methodical  in  arrangement,  were  well  delivered, 
though  a  dizziness  to  which  he  was  subject  re- 
strained his  expression  of  emotion.  "  He  had  a 
small  voice,"  Ashbel  Green  tells  us,  "  and  used 
but  little  gesture  in  the  pulpit,  but  his  utterance 
was  very  distinct  and  articulate ;  and  his  whole 
manner  serious  and  solemn."  While  sitting  in 
Congress  he  always  wore  his  clerical  dress.  In 
his  general  course,  he  has  the  merit  of  having 
equally  avoided  flattery  and  scandal.  His  sa- 
gacity was  shown  in  the  old  Continental  Con- 
egress,  when  he  earnestly  opposed  the  appointment 
"of  Thomas  Paine  as  Secretary  to  the  Committee 
of  Foreign  Affairs,  whom  he  already  distrusted, 
though  fresh  in  the  success  of  the  "  Crisis."*  A 
turn  of  his  self-reliant  character  is  given  in  his 
remark  to  Braekenridge,  afterwards  the  witty 
judge,  then  a  student  at  Princeton,  who,  com- 
plaining of  his  straitened  fortunes,  quoted  the  line 
of  Juvenal — 

Hand  facile  emergunt  quorum  virtutibus  obstat 
Res  angusta  dorni. 

"  There  yon  are  wrong,  young  man,"  said  the 
Doctor;  "it  is  only  your  res-angvsta-domi  men 
that  do  emerge.1'! 

Witherspoon  was  never  deficient  in  ardor  when 
it  was  properly  called  for ;  at  other  times  he  was 
not  lightly  to  be  moved  from  his  balance.  Gray- 
don,  in  his  memoirs,  tells  a  story  of  a  cool  reception 
of  an  effort  which  he  made  with  him  for  the 
liberation  of  one  of  his  Scottish  countrymen,  a 
young  officer  who  had  got  into  jail  through  a 
street  encounter  with  the  Whigs  of  the  day. 
Witherspoon  was  then  member  of  Congress,  and 
had  some  power  in  the  matter.  Graydon  met  him 
at  dinner,  and  made  his  appeal.     "  I  counted,"  he 


says,  "  something  upon  the  national  spirit,  sup- 
posed to  be  so  prevalent  among  North  Britons; 
and  yet  more,  upon  the  circumstance  of  knowing 
from  Dunlap  and  two  other  young  Scotchmen,  his 
fellow  prisoners,  that  Doctor  Witherspoon  had 
been  well  acquainted  with  their  families.  I  did  not 
find,  however,  that  the  Doctor  was  much  melted 
to  compassion  for  the  mishap  of  his  countryman, 
as  he  contented  himself  with  coldly  observing,  that 
if  I  could  suggest  any  substantial  ground  for  him 
to  proceed  upon,  he  would  do  what  he  could  for 
the  young  man.  It  appeared  to  me,  that  enough 
had  been  suggested,  by  my  simple  relation  of  the 
facts ;  and  I  had  nothing  more  to  offer.  But 
whether  or  not  my  application  was  of  any  benefit 
to  its  object,  my  presentation  of  the  laddies  to  the 
recollection  of  the  Doctor,  seemed  to  have  some- 
thing of  national  interest  in  it;  and  had  the  effect 
to  incite  him  to  a  shrewd  remark,  according  to  his 
manner.  He  told  me  he  had  seen  the  young  meu 
soon  after  they  had  been  taken,  and  was  sur- 
prised to  find  one  of  them,  whose  name  I  forget, 
so  much  of  a  cub.  His  father,  said  he,  was  a 
very  sprightly  fellow,  when  I  knew  him.  This 
lad  is  the  fruit  of  a  second  marriage  ;  and  I  im- 
mediately concluded,  when  I  saw  him,  said  the 
Doctor,  that  Jemrriey,  or  Sawney  something,  men- 
tioning the  father's  name,  had  taken  some  clumsy 
girl  to  wife  for  the  sake  of  a  fortune."* 

Dr.  Ashbel  Green  give?  an  account  of  his  pas- 
sage with  Governor  Franklin  in  Congress: — "Dr. 
Witherspoon  was  a  member  of  the  Provincial 
Congress  with  my  father,  when  Governor  Frank- 
lin was  brought  before  it,  under  a  military  guard. 
The  governor  treated  the  whole  Congress  with 
marked  indignity,  refused  to  answer  any  questions 
that  were  put  to  him,  represented  it  as  a  lawless 
assembly,  composed  of  ignorant  and  vulgar  men, 
utterty  incapable  of  devising  anything  for  the 
public  good,  and  who  had  rashly  subjected  them- 
selves to  the  charge  and  deserved  punishment  of 
rebellion.  When  he  finished  his  tirade  of  abuse, 
Dr.  Witherspoon  rose  and  let  loose  upon  him  a 
copious  stream  of  that  irony  and  sarcasm  which 
he  always  had  at  command  ;  and  in  which  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  allude  to  the  governor's  illegitimate 
origin,  and  to  his  entire  want,  in  his  early  train- 
ing, of  all  scientific  and  liberal  knowledge.  At 
length  he  concluded,  nearly,  if  not  exactly,  in 
these  words — 'On  the  whole,  Mr.  President,  I 
think  that  Governor  Franklin  has  made  us  a 
speech  every  way  worthy  of  his  exalted  birth  and 
refined  education.'  "t 

When  General  James  Wilkinson  made  his  tardy 
appearance  on  the  floor  of  Congress  with  the 
standards  which  he  had  been  delegated  to  carry 
there  by  General  Gates  after  the  victory  of  Sara- 
toga, it  was  moved  by  a  member  to  honor  the 
laggard  messenger  with  a  costly  sword,  when 
Witherspoon  rose  and  proposed,  that  in  place  of 
a  sword  lie  should  bo  presented  with  a  pair  of 
golden  spurs. { 

At  his  death  his  eulogy  was  pronounced  by  Dr. 
John  Rodgers  of  New  York,  and  his  works  were 
collected  in  1802  at  Philadelphia,  in  four  octavo 
volumes. 


*  John  Adams's  Autobiography,  Works,  ii.  507. 
t  Biog.  Notice  of  11.  H.  Brackenrid-re.     Modern  Chivalry. 
1646.    VoL  ii.  158. 


*  Graydon's  Memoirs,  pp.  30G-7. 

t  Life  of  Green,  p.  61. 

i  Sanderson's  Biog.  of  the  Signers,  v.  180. 


278 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


MAXIM   V. — FROM  THE  CHARACTERISTICS. 

A  minuter  must  endeavor  to  acquire  as  great  a  degree 
of  politeness,  in  his  carriage  and  behavior,  and  to 
catch  as  much  of  the  air  and  manner  of  a  fine  gen- 
tleman, as  possibly  he  can. 

This  ia  usually  a  distinguishing  mark  between  the 
moderate  and  the  orthodox;  and  how  much  we 
have  the  advantage  in  it  is  extremely  obvious. 
Good  manners  is  undoubtedly  the  most  excellent 
of  all  accomplishments,  and  in  some  measure  supplies 
the  place  of  them  all  when  they  are  wanting.  And 
surely  nothing  can  be  more  necessary  to,  or  more 
ornamental  and  becomii  g  in  a  minister:  it  gains 
him  easy  access  into  the  world,  and  frees  him  from 
that  rigid  seventy  which  renders  many  of  them  60 
odious  a;id  detestable  to  the  polite  part  of  it.  In 
former  times,  ministers  were  so  monkish  and  recluse, 
for  ordinary,  and  so  formal  when  they  did  happen 
to  appear,  that  a!l  the  jovial  part  of  mankind,  parti- 
ctilaily  rakes  and  libertines,  shunned  and  fled  from 
them  ;  or,  when  unavoidably  thrown  into  their  coin- 
pa  y,  were  constrained,  and  had  no  kind  of  confi- 
dence to  repose  in  them :  whereas  now,  let  a 
moderate,  modern,  well-bred  minister  go  into  pro- 
miscuous company,  they  stand  in  no  manner  of  awe, 
and  will  even  swear  with  all  imaginable  liberty. 
This  gives  the  minister  an  oppoitui.ity  of  under- 
stand] g  their  character,  and  of  perhaps  sometimes 
reasoning  in  an  easy  and  genteel  manner  against 
swearing.  This,  though  indeed  it  seldom  reforms 
them,  yet  it  is  as  seldom  taken  amiss;  which  shows 
the  counsel  to  have  been  administered  with  pru- 
dence. 

How  is  it  possible  that  a  minister  can  understand 
wickedness,  unless  he  either  practises  it  himself  (but 
much  of  that  will  not  yet  pass  in  the  world)  or 
allows  the  wicked  to  be  bold  in  his  presence?  To 
do  otherwise,  would  be  to  do  in  practice  what  I 
have  known  narrow-minded  bigoted  students  do 
as  to  speculation,  viz.  avoid  reading  their  adver- 
saries' books  because  they  were  erroneous;  whereas 
it  is  evident  no  error  can  be  refuted  till  it  be  under- 
stood. 

The  setting  the  different  characters  of  ministers  in 
immediate  opposition,  will  put  this  matter  past  all 
doubt,  as  the  sun  of  truth  rising  upon  the  stars  of 
error,  darkens  and  makes  them  to  disappear.  Some 
there  are,  who  may  be  easily  known  to  be  ministers 
by  their  very  dress,  their  grave  demure  looks,  and 
their  confined  precise  conversation.  How  contempt- 
ible is  this!  and  how  like  to  some  of  the  meanest 
employments  among  us ;  as  sailors,  who  are  known 
by  their  rolling  walk,  and  taylors,  by  the  shivering 
shrug  of  their  shoulders!  But  our  truly  accom- 
plished clergy  put  off  so  entirely  everything  that  is 
peculiar  to  their  profession,  that  were  you  to  see 
them  in  the  streets,  meet  with  them  at  a  visit,  or 
spend  an  evening  with  them  in  a  tavern,  you  would 
not  once  suspect  them  for  men  of  that  character. 
Agreeably  to  this,  1  remember  an  excellent  thing 
said  by  a  gentleman,  in  commendation  of  a  minister, 
that  "  he  had  nothing  at  all  of  the  clergyman  about 
im. 

I  shall  have  done  with  this  maxim,  when  I  have 
given  my  advice  as  to  the  method  of  attaining  to  it; 
which  is,  That  students,  probationers,  and  young 
clergymen,  while  their  bodies  and  minds  are  yet 
flexible,  should  converse,  and  keep  company,  as 
much  as  may  be,  with  officers  of  the  army  under 
five  and  twenty,  of  whom  there  are  no  small  num- 
ber in  the  nation,  and  with  young  gentlemen  of  for- 
tune, particularly  such  as,  by  the  earl}'  and  happy 
death  of  their  parents,  have  come  to  their  estates 
before  they  arrived  at  the  years  of  majority. 
Scarce  one  of  these  but  is  a  noble  pattern  to  form 


!  upon;  for  they  have  had  the  opportunity  of  follow- 
i  ing  nature,  which  is  the  all-comprehensive  rule  of 
|  the  ancients,  and  of  acquiring  a  free  manner  of 
I  thinking,  speaking,  and  acting,  without  either  the 
i  pedantry  of  learning,  or  the  stiffness  contracted  by 
j  a  strict  adherence  to  the  maxims  of  worldly  pru- 
j   dence. 

After  all,  I  believe  I  might  have  spared  myself 
j   the  trouble  of  inserting  this  maxim,  the  present  ris- 
[    ing  generation   being  of  themselves  sufficiently  dis- 
i   posed  to  observe  it.     This  I  reckon  they  have  either 
t   constitutionally,  or  perhaps  have  learned  it  from  the 
inimitable   Lord   Shaftsbury,  who    in   so   lively   a 
manner   sets   forth   the    evil    of    universities,   and 
recommends  conversation  with  the  polite   Peripa- 
tetics, as  the  only  way  of  ai  riving  at  true  know- 
ledge. 

JAMES   EIYINGTON, 
The   Royal   Printer  of  New  York   during   the 
Revolution,  if  not  a  man  of  much  literature  in 
himself,  was  the  prolific   cause  of  literature  in 
others,  having  excited  by  his  course  some  of  the 
best  effusions  of   Witherspoon,  Hopkinson,  and 
Freneau.     He  was  from  London,  where  he.  had 
attained   considerable   wealth    as    a   bookseller, 
which  he  had  lost  by  his  gay  expenses  at  New- 
market.    He  failed  in  business  and  came  to  Ame- 
rica in  1760.  #He  was  at  first  a  bookseller  in 
Philadelphia,  and  the  next  year  opened  a  store  in 
Wall  street  in  New  York,  where  he  took  up  his 
residence,  in   1763   entering  upon  the   printing 
business.     He   commenced    his   newspaper,    the 
New    York   Gazetteer ;  or  the   Connecticut,  New 
Jersey,  Hudson's  River  and  Quebec  Weekly  Ad- 
vertiser, April  22,  1773,  "  at  his  ever  open  and 
uninfluenced  press."     He  received  support  from 
the  government  and  advocated  British  interests; 
not  always  to  the  acceptance  of  the  popular  feel- 
ing.    In  1775  he  appears  to  have  been  confined 
by  order  of  Congress,  when  he  addressed  to  that 
body  a  very  submissive  remonstrance  and  petition,- 
"  humbly  presuming  that  the  very  respectable 
gentlemen  of  the  Congress  now  sitting  at  Phila- 
delphia, will  permit  him  to  declare,  and,  as  a  man 
j  of  honor  and  veracity,  he  can  and  does  solemnly 
j   declare,  that  however  wrong  and  mistaken   he 
1  may  have  been  in  his  opinions,  he  has  always 
meant  honestly  and  openly  to  do  his  duty  as  a 
servant  of  the  public.     *     *     It  is  his  wish  and 
ambition  to  be  an  useful  member  of  society.     Al- 
i  though  an  Englishman  by  birth,  he  is  an  Ameri- 
!  can  by  choice,  and  he  is  desirous  of  devoting  his 
life,  in  the  business  of  his  profession,  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  country  he  has  adopted  for  his  own.''* 
In  Nov.  1775,  Oapt.  Isaac  Sears,  a  representative 
of  the  sons  of  liberty,  who  had  retired  to  Con- 
necticut, returned  with  a  troop  of  seventy -five 
light  horse,  which  he  had  got  together,  "  beset" 
j  the  habitation  of  Rivington,  destroyed  his  press 
j  and  carried  off  his  types,  which  were  converted 
!  into  bullets.     Rivington  then  left  for  England, 
|  procured  a  new  press,  and  was  appointed  King's 
]  Printer  in  New  York.     Oct.  4,  1777,  he  recom- 
menced the  Gazette  with  the  old  title,  which  he 
soon  exchanged  to  Rivington's  New  York  Loyal 
Gazette,  and  December  13  to  the  Royal  Gazette, 
which    became   so   notorious   in  his  hands,  and 


*  The  letter  is  given  in  Sabine's  Loyalists,  pp.  553-560. 


JAMES  RIVINGTON'. 


279 


■which  he  continued  till  178?..  On  the  with- 
drawal of  the  British,  Rivington  remained  in 
New  York,  a  circumstance  which  surprised  the 
returning  Americans  till  it  became  known  that 
he  had  been,  during  the  latter  days  of  the  war,  a 
spy  for  Washington.  He  wrote  his  communica- 
tions on  thin  paper,  and  they  found  their  way 
bound  in  one  of  the  books  in  which  he  dealt  to 
the  American  camp,  by  the  hands  of  agents  igno- 
rant of  the  service.  He  continued  his  paper 
with  the  royal  arms  taken  down,  and  the  title 
changed  to  Rivingtorfs  New  York  Gazette  and 
Universal  Advertiser,  but  it  was  considered  "a 
wolf  in  sheep's  clothing;"  support  dropped  off, 
and  the  paper  soon  stop  >ed  in  1783.  Rivington, 
in  reduced  circumstances,  lived  till  1802,  when 
he  died  at  the  age  of  seventy-eight.  There  is  a 
portrait  of  him  by  Stuart  in  the  possession  of 
the  Hunter  family  in  Westchester  Co.,  New 
York. 

The  Royal  Gazette  undoubtedly  bore  a  very  had 
character  for  its  statements.  People  were  accus- 
tomed to  call  it  the  Lying  Gazette.  The  resolu- 
tions of  the  Rhode  Island  Whigs  at  Newport  on 
this  head  are  sufficiently  explicit:  "  Whereas,  a 
certain  James  Rivington,  a  printer  and  stationer 
in  the  city  of  New  York,  impelled  by  the  love  of 
sordid  pelf  and  a  haughty,  domineering  spirit, 
hath  for  a  long  time  in  the  dirty  Gazette,  and  in 
pamphlets,  if  possible  still  more  dirty,  uniformly 
persisted  in  publishing  everv  falsehood,"  &c* 
"Even  the  royalists,"  says  Isaiah  Thomas,  "  cen- 
sured Rivington  for  Ins  disregard  to  truth.  Dur- 
ing the  war,  a  captain  of  militia  at  Horseneck, 
with  abqut  thirty  men,  marched  to  Kingsbridge, 
and  there  attacked  a  house  within  the  British 
lines,  which  was  garrisoned  by  refugees,  and  took 
most  of  them  prisoners.  Rivington  published  an 
accmmt  of  this  transaction  which  greatly  exag- 
gerated the  affair  in  favor  of  the  refugees;  he 
observed,  that  'a  large  detachment  of  rebels  at- 
tack ;d  the  house,  which  was  bravely  defended 
by  a  refugee  colonel,  a  major,  a  quartermaster, 
and  fifteen  privates — and,  that  after  they  were 
taken  and  carried  off,  another  party  of  refugee 
dragoon*,  seventy-three  in  number,  pursued  the 
rebels,  killed  twenty-three  of  them,  took  forty 
prisoners,  and  would  have  taken  the  whole  rebel 
force,  had  not  the  refugee  horse  been  jaded  to  a 
stand-still'  "t 

Rivington's  Royal  Gazette  was  conducted  for 
the  Tory  side  with  cleverness,  and  Rivington 
must  have  been,  in  many  ways,  a  man  of  talent 
and  ability. I  The  paper  was  well  put  together 
and  supplied  with  news  from  abroad,  and  was 
constantly  replenished  with  poetical  and  prose 
squibs  directed  at  the  rebels.  There  was  no 
lack  of  very  pretty  poems  full  of  facetiousness 
at  the  expense  of  the  Revolutionary  leaders  and 
their  French  allies.  Gov.  Livingston,  in  particu- 
lar, was  honored  with  many  humorous  epithets  as 
the  Don  Quixote  of  the  Jerseys,  the  Itinerant 


'*  Sabine's  American  Loyalists,  p.  553,  where  several  otherpro- 
cecdings  of  this  kind  are  given. 
I  Thomas's  Hist.  Printing,  ii.  314. 

J  '-He  knew  how  to  get  money,  and  as  well  knew  how  to 
spend  it;  being  facetious,  companionable,  and  still  fond  of 
high  living;  but,  like  a  man  acquainted  with  the  world,  he 
distinguished  the  guests  who  were  his  best  customers." — Tho- 
mas's Hist.  Printing,  ii.  112. 


Dey  of  New  Jersey,  trie  Knight  of  the  most 
honorable  Order  of  Starvation  and  Chief  of  the 
Independents.  "If  Rivington  is  taken,"  Gov. 
Livingston  wrote  about  1780,  "  I  must  have  one 
of  his  ears ;  Governor  Clinton  is  entitled  to  the 
other,  and  General  Washington,  if  he  pleases, 
may  take  his  head."  Writing  to  a  friend  in  1779, 
he  says,  "  If  I  could  send  you  any  news  I  should 
do  it  with  pleasure ;  and  to  make  it,  you  know, 
is  the  prerogative  of  Mr.  Rivington."* 

Rivington's  Gazette  relishes  of  many  other 
things  besides  war  and  politics.  The  officers  lived 
well  and  daintily,  it  we  may  judge  from  his  adver- 
tising columns.  "  Ratafia  and  Liqueurs  to  be  sold 
in  boxe-i.  Enquire  of  the  Printer."  "  Wanted. 
A  Very  Good  Fiddle.  Enquire  of  the  Printer," 
are  advertisements  of  1779.  His  own  bookselling 
stock  was  at  the  same  time  daintily  set  forth — 
"Novels,  New  Plays,  and  other  Bagatelles,  just 
imported  and  sold  by  James  Rivington — as  The 
Memoirs  of  Lady  Audley — The  Journey  of  Dr. 
Robert  Bon  Gout  and  his  lady  to  Bath,  and  plays 
of  the  very  pleasant  Master  Samuel  Foot,  now 
first. published."  We  have  also  "  Dr.  Smollett's 
pleasant  expedition  of  Humphrey  Clinker," — and 
"  the  facetious  history  of  Peregrine  Pickle."  All 
tilings  are  as  pleasant  as  possible  to  his  friends 
in  Rivington's  paper.  But  as  a  salad  is  worth 
nothing  without  a  few  drops  of  vinegar,  that  in- 
gredient is  supplied  at  the  cost  of  the  great  Dr. 
Johnson.  There  is  advertised,  in  1780- — ■"  a  Jour- 
ney to  the  Western  Isles  of  Scotland,  a  very  sour 
performance  published  by  the  celebrated  Dr.  Sa- 
muel Johnson,  author  of  a  lu-tv  Dictionary  of  the 
English  language."  In  his  paper  of  May  3, 1780, 
Rivington  offers  for  sale  "Lord  Clarendon's  His- 
tory of  the  Grand  Rebellion  which  the  vandals 
of  America  are  apeing;"  but  this,  perhaps,  was 
a  treasonable  compliment  to  the  "rebels,"  with  a 
wink  over  the  pen  to  Washington  I 

He  had  not,  however,  all  the  laughter  to  him- 
self. The  grave  and  venerable  Witherspoon,  who 
never  threw  away  a  joke  in  an  unprofitable  way, 
though  lie  had  always  wit  at  command,  wrote  a 

Supplication  of  J.  P ,  a  parody  of  Rivington's 

Petition  to  Congress,  which  must  have  stirred  the 
gall  of  its  victim,  as  it  tickled  the  midriff  of  all 
who  knew  the  man.  It  purports  to  be  addressed 
to  his  Excellency  Henry  Laurens,  Esquire,  Presi- 
dent and  others,  the  members  of  the  Honorable 
the  American  Congress,  &e.,  and  thus  at  the  open- 
ing, Respectfully  Sheweth : — 

That  a  great  part  of  the  British  forces  has  already 
left  this  city,  and  from  many  symptoms  there  is  rea- 
son to  suspect,  that  the  remainder  will  speedily  fol- 
low them.  Where  they  are  gone  or  going,  is  per- 
haps known  to  themselves,  perhaps  not;  certainly, 
however,  it  is  unknown  to  us,  the  loyal  inhabitants 
of  the  place,  and  other  friends  of  government 
who  have  taken  refuge  in  it,  and  who  are  therefore 
filled  with  distress  and  terror  on  the  unhappy  oc- 
casion. 

That  as  soon  as  the  evacuation  is  completed,  it 
is  more  than  probable  the  city  will  be  taken  pos- 
session of  by  the  forces  of  your  high  mightinesses, 
followed  by  vast  crowds  of  other  persons — whigs  by 
nature  and  profession — friends  to  the  liberties,  and 


:  Sedgwick's  Livingston,  pp.  247,  338. 


280 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


foes  to  the  enemies  of  America.  Above  all,  it  will 
undoubtedly  be  tilled  with  shoals  of  Yanki.es,  that 
is  to  say,  the  natives  and  inhabitants  (or  as  a  great 
lady  in  this  metropolis  generally  expresses  it,  the 
'wretches)  of  New-hngland. 

That  from  several  circumstances,  there  is  reason  to 
fear  that  the  behavior  of  the  wretches  aforesaid,  may 
not  be  altogether  gentle  to  such  of  the  friends  of 
government  as  shall  stay  behind.  What  the  govern- 
ment powers  of  the  state  of  New-York  may  do  also, 
it  is  impossible  to  foretell.  Nay,  who  knows  but  we 
may  soon  see,  propria  perso?ta,  as  we  have  often 
heard  of  Hortcnsius,  the  governor  of  New-Jersey,  a 
gentleman  remarkable  for  severely  handling  those 
whom  he  calls  traitors,  and  indeed  who  has  exalted 
some  of  them  (quanquam  animus  meminisse  horret 
lectuque  refugit)  to  a  high,  though  dependent  station, 
and  brought  America  under  their  feet,  in  a  sense 
very  different  from  what  Lord  North  meant  when  he 
first  used  that  celebrated  expression. 

That  your  petitioner,  in  particular,  is  at  the  great- 
est loss  what  to  resolve  upon,  or  how  to  shape  his 
course.  He  has  no  desire  at  all,  either  to  be  roasted 
in  Florida,  or  frozen  to  death  in  Canada  or  Nova 
Seotia.  Being  a  great  lover  of  iresli  cod,  he  has  had 
thoughts  of  ti'3-n.g  a  settlement  in  Newfoundland, 
but  recollecting  that  the  New-England  men  have 
almost  all  the  same  appetite,  he  was  obliged  to  re- 
linquish that  project  entirely.  If  he  should  go  to 
Great-Britain,  dangers  no  less  formidable  present 
themselves,  Having  been  a  bankrupt  in  London,  it 
is  not  impossible  that  he  might  be  accommodated 
with  a  lodging  in  Newgate,  and  that  the  ordinary 
there  might  oblige  him  to  say  his  prayers,  a  practice 
from  which  he  hath  had  an  insuperable  aversion  all 
his  life  long. 

He  urges  "  sundry  reasons  "  for  leniency,  one  of 
"which  is  the  following : — 

Any  further  punishment  upon  me,  or  any  other  of 
the  unhappy  refugees  who  shall  remain  in  N.  York, 
will  be  altogether  unnecessary,  for  they  do  suffer  and 
will  suffer  from  the  nature  of  the  thing,  as  much  as 
a  merciful  man  could  wish  to  impose  upon  his  great- 
est enemy.  By  this  I  mean  the  dreadful  mortifica- 
tion (after  our  past  puffing  and  vaunting)  of  being 
under  the  dominion  of  the  Congress,  seeing  and 
hearing  the  conduct  and  discourse  of  the  friends  of 
America,  and  perhaps  being  put  in  mind  of  our  own, 
in  former  times.  You  have  probably  seen  many  of 
the  English  newspapers,  and  also  some  of  mine,  and 
you  have  among  you  the  few  prisoners  who  by  a 
miracle  escaped  death  in  our  hands.  By  all  these 
means  you  may  learn  with  what  infinite  contempt, 
with  what  provoking  insult,  and  with  what  unex- 
ampled barbarity,  your  people  have,  from  the  begin- 
nir.g  to  the  end,  been  treated  by  the  British  officers, 
excepting  a  very  small  number,  but  above  all  by  the 
tories  and  refugees,  who  not  having  the  faculty  of 
fighting,  were  obliged  to  lay  out  their  whole  wrath 
and  malice  in  the  article  of  speaking.  I  remember, 
when  one  of  the  prisoners  taken  after  the  gallant 
defence  of  Fort  Washington  had  received  several 
kicks  for  not  being  in  his  rank,  he  said,  is  this  a  way 
of  treating  a  gentleman ?  The  answer  was.  gentle- 
man ?  G d — your  blood,  who  made  you  a 

gentleman  ?  which  was  heard  by  us  all  present  with 
unspeakable  satisfaction,  and  ratified  by  general  ap- 
plause. I  have  also  seen  one  of  your  officers,  after 
long  imprisonment,  for  want  of  clothes,  food  and 
lodging,  as  meagre  as  a  skeleton  and  as  dirty  and 
shabby  as  a  London  beggar,  when  one  of  our  friends 
would  say  with  infinite  humour,  look  you  there  is 
one  of  King  Cong's  ragged  rascals.     You  must  re- 


member the  many  sweet  names  given  you  in  print, 
in  England  and  America,  Rebels,  Rascals,  Ragga- 
muffins,  Tatterdemallions,  Scoundrels,  Blackguards, 
Cowards,  and  Poltroons.  You  cannot  be  ignorant 
how  many  and  how  complete  victories  we  gained 
over  you,  and  what  a  fine  figure  you  made  in  our 
narratives.  We  never  once  made  you  to  retreat, 
seldom  even  to  fig  as  a  routed  army,  but  to  run  off 
into  the  woods,  to  scamper  away  ihrougli  the  fields, 
and  to  take  to  your  heels  as  usual.  You  will  proba- 
bly soon  see  the  gazette  account  of  the  defeat  of 
Mr.  Washington  at  Monmouth.  There  it  will  appear 
how  you  scampered  off,  and  how  the  English  followed 
you  and  mowed  you  down,  till  their  officers,  with 
that  humanity  which  is  the  characteristic  of  the  na- 
tion, put  a  stop  to  this  carnage,  and  then  by  a 
masterly  stroke  of  generalship,  stole  a  march  in  the 
night,  lest  you  should  have  scampered  back  again 
and  obliged  them  to  make  a  new  slaughter  in  the 
morning. 

Now,  dear  gentlemen,  consider  what  a  miserable 
affair  it  must  be  for  a  man  to  be  obliged  to  apply 
with  humility  and  self-abasement  to  those  wtiom  he 
hath  so  treated,  nay,  even  to  beg  life  of  them,  while 
his  own  heart  upbraids  him  with  his  pnst  conduct, 
and  perhaps  his  memory  is  refreshed  with  the  repe- 
tition of  some  of  his  rhetorical  flowers.  It  is  gene- 
rally said  that  our  friend  Burgoyne  was  treated  with 
abundance  of  civility  by  General  Gates,  and  yet  I 
think  it  could  not  be  verj*  pleasing  to  him  to  see  and 
hear  the  boys  when  he  entered  Albany,  going  before 
and  crying  Elbow  Room  for  General  Burgoyne  there. 
Fear  and  trembling  have  already  taken  hold  of  many 
of  the  Refugees  and  friends  of  government  in  this 
place.     It  would   break  your  hearts  to  hear  poor 

bam.  8 ,   of   Philadelphia,   weeping  and 

wailing,  and  yet  he  was  a  peaceable  Quaker  who 
did  nothing  in  the  world  but  hire  guides  to  the  Eng- 
lish parties  who  were  going  out  to  surprise   and 

butcher   you.     My  brother  of   trade,   G is  so 

much  affected,  that  some  say  he  has  lost,  or  will 
soon  lose,  his  reason.  For  my  own  part  I  do  not 
think  1  run  any  risk  in  that  respect.  All  the  wis- 
dom that  I  was  ever  possessed  of  is  in  me  still, 
praised  be  God,  and  likely  to  be  so.  *  *  *  * 
I  have  heard  some  people  say  that  dishonor  was 
worse  than  death,  but  with  the  great  Saneho  Pancha, 
I  was  always  of  a  different  opinion.  I  hope,  there- 
fore, your  honors  will  consider  my  sufferings  as  suffi- 
cient to  atone  for  my  offences,  and  allow  me  to  con- 
tinue in  peace  a:id  quiet,  and  according  to  the  North- 
British  proverb,  sleep  in  a  whole  skin. 

And  does  not  forget  his  lighter  accomplishments : 

I  beg  leave  to  suggest,  that  upon  being  received 
into  favor,  I  think  it  would  be  in  my  power  to  serve 
the  United  States  in  several  important  respects.  I 
believe  many  of  your  officers  want  politeness.  They 
are  like  old  Cinciunatus,  taken  from  the  plow;  and 
therefore  must  still  have  a  little  roughness  in  their 
manners  and  deportment.  Now,  I  myself  am  the 
pink  of  courtesy,  a  genteel,  portly,  well-looking  fel- 
low, as  you  will  see  in  a  summer's  day.  I  under- 
stand and  possess  the  bienseance,  the  manner,  the 
grace,  so  largely  insisted  on  by  Lord  Chesterfield ; 
and  may  without  vanity  say,  I  could  teach  it  better 
than  his  lordship,  who  in  that  article  has  remarkably 
failed.  I  hear  with  pleasure,  that  your  people  are 
pretty  good  scholars,  and  have  made  particularly 
very  happy  advances  in  the  art  of  swearing,  so 
essentially  necessary  to  a  gentleman.  Yet  1  dare  say 
they  will  themselves  confess,  that  they  are  still  in 
this  respect  far  inferioi  to  the  English  army.  There 
is,  by  all  accounts,  a  coarseness  and  sameness  in  their 


JAMES  RIVINGTON. 


2Sl 


expression ;  whereas  there  is  variety,  sprightliness, 
and  figure,  in  the  oaths  of  gentlemen  well  educated. 
Dean  Swift  says  very  justly,  "  a  footman  may  swear, 
but  he  cannot  swear  like  a  lord."  Now  we  have 
many  lords  in  the  English  army,  all  of  whom,  when 
here,  were  pleased  to  honor  me  with  their  friendship 
and  intimacy;  so  that  I  hope  my  qualifications  can 
hardly  be  disputed.  I  have  imported  many  of  the 
most  necessary  articles  for  appearance  in  genteel 
life.  I  can  give  them  Lavornitti's  soap-balls,  to  wash 
their  brown  hands  clean,  perfumed  gloves,  paint, 
powder,  and  pomatum.  I  can  also  furnish  the  New- 
England  men  with  rings,  seals,  swords,  canes,  snuff- 
boxes, tweezer-cases,  and  many  other  such  notions, 
to  carry  home  to  their  wives  and  mistresses,  who  will 
be  nation-g\dd  to  see  them.  You  are  also  to  know 
that  I  import  a  great  many  patent  medicines,  which 
may  be  of  use  to  your  army.  It  is  said  that  some 
of  them  are  exceedingly  liable  to  a  disorder  called 
by  physicians  the  rancomania,  which  is  frequently 
followed  by  the  two  twin  diseases  of  plumbophobia 
and  siderophobia.  If  they  will  but  submit  to  a  strict 
regimen,  and  take  the  tincture  drops  and  pills  which 
I  prepare,  I  am  confident  the  cure  in  most  cases 
would  be  infallible. 

Nor  his  capacity  as  an  editor:  — 

Finally,  I  hope  I  may  be  of  service  to  the  United 
States,  as  a  writer,  publisher,  collector,  and  maker 
of  news.  I  mention  tins  with  some  diffidence;  be- 
cause perhaps  you  will  think  I  have  foreclosed 
myself  from  such  a  claim,  by  confessing  (as  above) 
that  my  credit  as  a  news-writer  is  broken  by  over- 
stretching. But  it  is  common  enough  for  a  man  in 
business,  when  his  credit  is  wholly  gone  in  one 
place,  by  shifting  his  ground,  and  taking  a  new 
departure,  to  flourish  away,  and  make  as  great  or 
greater  figure  than  before.  How  long  that  splendor 
will  last  is  another  matter,  and  belongs  to  an  after 
consideration.  I  might  therefore,  though  my  credit 
is  gone  in  New-York,  set  up  again  in  the  place  which 
is  honored  with  your  residence.  Besides,  I  might 
write  those  things  only  or  chiefly,  which  you  wish 
to  be  disbelieved,  and  thus  render  you  the  most 
essential  service.  This  would  be  aiming  and  arriving 
at  the  same  point,  by  manoeuvring  retrograde.  Once 
more,  as  I  have  been  the  ostensible  printer  of  other 
people's  lies  in  New-York,  what  is  to  hinder  me 
from  keeping  incog,  and  inventing  or  polishing  lies, 
to  be  issued  from  the  press  of  another  printer  in 
Philadelphia?  In  one,  or  more,  or  all  of  these  ways, 
I  hope  to  merit  your  approbation.  It  would  be  end- 
less to  .mention  all  my  devices;  and  therefore  I  will 
only  say  further,  that  I  can  take  a  truth,  and  so  puff 
and  swell  and  adorn  it,  still  keeping  the  proportion 
of  its  parts,  but  enlarging  their  dimensions,  that  you 
could  hardly  discover  where  the  falsehood  lay,  in 
case  of  a  strict  investigation. 

Francis  Hopkinson  published  one  of  his  wittiest 
papers  at  Eivington's  expense  in  the  following 

ADVERTISEMENT  EXTRAORDINARY.      BY  JAMES  RIVINGTON.* 

New  York,  Nov,  1,  1781. 
The  late  surrender  of  Lord   Cornwallis  and  his 
army,   together   with   a   variety  of   other  circum- 


*  EST  JAMES  E1VINGT0N,  printer  of  the  Eovnl  Gazette 
at  New  York,  whilst  the  British  troops  were  in  possession  of 

that  city,  had  been  exceedingly  virulent,  abusive,  and  illiberal 
in  his  publications  against  the  Americans,  their  congress  their 
army,  their  officers,  and  their  measures  :  Every  paper  abound- 
ed with  the  grossest  falsities,  misrepresentations,  and  insults- 
till  at  last,  facts  repeatedly  contradicting  his  positive  intelli- 
gence, the  Royal  Gazette  lost  all  credit, even  in  Europe  where 
his  accounts  of  the  events  of  the  war  were  cbictly  intended  to 


stances,  having  rendered  it  convenient  for  the  sub- 
scriber to  remove  to  Europe,  all  those  who  are 
indebted  to,  or  have  any  demands  against  him,  are 
earnestly  requested  to  make  as  speedy  a  settlement 
of  their  accounts  as  possible. 

Notice  is  also  hereby  given,  that  the  subscriber 
will  dispose  of  his  remaining  stock  in  trade  by  pub- 
lic auction.  The  sales  to  begin  at  his  store  on  Mon- 
day, the  19th  instant,  and  will  be  continued  from 
day  to  day  (Sundays  excepted)  from  the  hours  of  ten 
to  one  in  the  forenoon,  until  the  whole  shall  be  dis- 
posed of. 

It  is  well  known  that  his  store  is  furnished  with 
not  only  an  extensive  library  of  the  most  approved 
authors,  but  also  a  greater  variety  of  curious  and 
valuable  articles  than  hath  ever  been  exhibited  in 
one  collected  view  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  The 
scanty  limits  of  an  advertisement  are  by  far  insuf- 
ficient to  admit  of  an  adequate  display  of  his  extra- 
ordinary and  miscellaneous  collection.  The  sub- 
scriber must,  therefore,  content  himself  with 
selecting,  for  the  present,  a  few  articles  for  public 
attention  :  but  a  complete  catalogue  is  now  under 
the  press,  and  will  be  distributed  at  the  time  and 
place  of  sale. 

BOOKS. 

THE  History  of  the  American  War:  or,  The 
glorious  exploits  of  the  British  Generals,  Gage,  Howe, 
Burgoyne,  Cornwallis,  and  Clinton. 

7 lie  Royal  Pocket  Companion  :  being  a  New  Sys- 
tem of  Policy,  founded  on  rules  deduced  from  the 
nature  of  man,  and  proved  by  experience  :  whereby 
a  prince  may  in  a  short  time  render  himself  the 
abhorrence  of  his  subjects,  and  the  contempt  of  all 
good  and  wise  men. 

Select  Fables  of  jEsop,  with  suitable  Morals  and 
Applications — Amongst  which  are,  The  Dog  and  the 
Shadow — The  Man  and  his  Goose,  which  laid  a 
Golden  Egg,  <fec,  etc. 

A  New  System  of  Cruelty ;  containing  a  variety 
of  Modern  Improvements  in  that  Art.  Embellished 
with  an  elegant  Frontispiece,  representing  an  Inside 
View  of  a  Prison  Ship. 

The  Right  of  Great  Britain  to  the  Dominion  of 
the  Sea — a  poetical  Fiction. 

The  State  of  Great  Britain  in  October  1760  and 
October  1781,  compared  and  contrasted. 

A  Geographical,  Historical,  and  Political  History 
of  the  Rights  and  Possessions  of  the  Crown  of  Great 
Britain  in  North  America.  This  valuable  Work  did 
consist  of  thirteen  Volumes  in  Folio:  but  is  now 
abridged  by  a  royal  Author  to  a  single  Pocket  Duo- 
decimo ;  for  the  greater  convenience  of  himself,  his 
successors,  and  subjects. 

The  Lam  of  Nations,  revised  and  amended.  To 
which  is  added,  by  way  of  Appendix,  a  full  and  true 
account  of  the  Capture  of  the  Island  of  St.  Eustatia, 
by  Admiral  Rodney. 

The  Conquest  of  the  four  Southern  rebel  Colonies, 
with  Notes  critical  and  explanatory  by  Earl  Corn- 
wallis. 

A  narrative  of  the  Ship-wreck  of  'Lord  Rawdon, 
in  his  voyage  from  Charlestown,  South  Carolina,  to 
London. 


operate.  This  conduct  of  Mr.  Eivingtnn,  and  of  those  who 
countenanced  and  assisted  him,  provoked  some  sarcasms  in 
return— amongst  which  was  this  publication. — AicOun"a  Note. 
To  appreciate  fullvtlie  humor  of  this  ironical  inventory,  the 
reader  should  consult  the  files  of  Eivington's  paper  and  note 
the  provocation  to  mirth,  in  the  glowing  advertisements, 
arranged  pretty  much  according  to  Eopkinson's  order,  of  the 
royal  printer's  pamphlets,  maps,"  charts,  views  and  plans  of  bat- 
tles, musical  instruments.  <fcc.  There  is  a  complete  set  of  Eiv- 
ington's Gazette  in  the  Library  of  the  New  York  Historical 
Society. 


282 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Miracles  not  ceased:  or,  an  instance  of  the  remark- 
able Interposition  of  Providence  in  causing  the  Moon 
to  delay  her  setting  for  more  than  two  hours,  to 
favour  the  retreat  of  General  Joshua  and  the  British 
Army  after  the  battle  of  Monmouth. 

Tears  of  Repentance :  or,  the  present  state  of  the 
loyal  Refugees  in  IN'ew  York,  and  elsewhere. 

Tli e  political  Liar  :  a  weekly  Paper,  published  by 
the  Subscriber,  bouud  in  Volumes. 


WEST  Point  Preserved :  or,  The  Plot  discovered. 

Miss  M'Crea:  A  Tragedy. 

Burgoyne's  Address  to  the  people  of  Saratoga. 
The  sleeveless  Errand :  or,  the  Commissioners  of  Peace. 
The  march  to  the  Valley  Forge  ;  or  much  ado  about 
nothing.  The  unsuccessful  attempt  by  Gov.  Johnson. 
The  amorous  Hero  and  contented  Cuckold,  by  Gen. 
Howe  and  Mr.  Loring — Comedies. 

The  Meschianza:  a  pantomime. 

The  Battle  of  the  Kegs  :  a  Farce. 

Who'd  have  thought  it?  or,  the  Introduction  of  24 
Standards  to  the  rebel  Congress.     A  procession. 

MAPS  AND  PP.INT8. 

AN  elegant  Map  of  the  British  empire  in  North 
America,  upon  a  very  small  scale. 

Ax  accurate  Chart  of  the  Const  of  North  America 
from  IS'ew  Hampshire  to  Florida  ;  with  the  Sound- 
ings of  all  the  principal  Inlets,  Bays,  Harbours,  and 
Rivers.  This  work  was  undertaken  and  completed 
by  his  Majesty's  special  command ;  and  at  a  national 
expense  of  many  millions  of  Guineas,  thousands  of 
Men,  and  hundreds  of  Merchantmen  and  ro\-al  Ships 
of  War. 

A  Survey  of  Lord  Cornwallis's  Rout  through  the 
Southern  Colonies:  beginning  at  Charlestown,  in 
South  Carolina,  and  terminating  at  York  in  Virginia. 
As  the  preceding  Chart  gives  an  accurate  descrip- 
tion of  the  Sea  Coast,  so  it  was  intended  to  form  a 
correct  Map  of  the  interior  parts  of  this  Country  ; 
but  the  rude  Inhabitants  grew  jealous  of  the  opera- 
tion, and  actually  opposed  his  Lordship's  progress. 

The  Battle  of  Saratoga,  and  the  Surrender  at 
York ;  two  elegant  Prints,  cut  in  Copper,  and  dedi- 
cated to  the  Kii  g. 

British  Representations  of  the  principal  Transac- 
tions of  the  present  War,  highly  coloured  by  eminent 
hands.  These  pieces  are  so  ingeniously  contrived, 
th:it  by  reversing  any  one  of  them,  it  will  exhibit  an 
American  or  a  French  view  of  the  same  subject 
uncoloured. 

A  very  humourous  Representation  of  the  memora- 
ble Procession  of  Brigadier  General  Arnold  ;  with 
his  Friend  and  Counsellor,  through  the  streets  of 
Philadelphia.* 

The  limes:  A  satyrical  Print,  representing  the 
British  Lion  blind  in  boih  Eyes,  thirteen  of  his 
Teeth  drawn,  and  his  Claws  pared  off;  with  Lord 
North,  in  the  character  of  a  Farrier,  bleeding  himin 
the  Tail  for  his  recovery. 

PHILOSOPHICAL  APPAP.ATUS. 

A  curious  neio  invented  magic  Laniliorn  :  very 
useful  for  those  who  are  at  the  head  of  affairs.  This 


*  After  the  Discovery  and  Failure  of  General  Arnold's  trea- 
sonable design  to  betiay  the  whole  garrison  of  West-point,  with 
the  person  of  Gen.  "Washington,  the  ministerof  France,  Baron 
Steuben,  and  other  principal  Characters,  into  the  hands  of  the 
Enemy  ;  an  effigy  of  t tie  General,  as  larire  as  the  life,  was  con- 
structed by  an  able  artist  at  Philadelphia,  and  seated  in  a  cart, 
with  the  figure  of  the  Devil  at  his  elbow,  holding  a  Lanthorn 
tip  to  the  face  of  Arnold  to  show  Dim  to  the  people.  The  cart 
was  paraded  a  whole  evening  through  the  streets  of  the  City, 
with  Drums  and  Fifes  playing  the  Rogue's  march,  and  other 
marks  of  Infamy,  and  attended  by  a  vast  concourse  of  People, 
—Author's  Kotc, 


Machine  was  constructed  by  an  able  Artist,  under 
Lord  North's  immediate  direction,  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  good  people  of  England.  The  Specta- 
tors are  gratified  with  an  illuminated  view  of  the 
fictitious  objects  presented,  but  kept  totally  in  the 
dark  with  respect  to  the  real  objects  around  tnern. 

Multiplying  Glasses ;  whereby  the  numbers  of  an 
Enemy  ma}'  be  greatly  encreased  to  cover  the  dis- 
grace of  a  Defeat,  or  enhance  the  glory  of  a  Victory. 

Microscopes,  for  mag  lifyuig  small  objects,  furnish- 
ed with  a  select  set  ready  fitted  for  use.  Amongst 
these  are  a  variety  of  real  and  supposed  Successes 
of  the  British  Generals  in  America. 

A  complete  Electrical  Apparatus,  with  improve- 
ments, for  the  use  of  the  King  and  his  Ministers. 
This  Machine  should  be  exercised  with  great  caution ; 
otherwise,  as  experience  hath  shown,  the  operator 
may  unexpectedly  receive  the  shock  he  intends  to 
give — Pocket  glasses  for  short-sighted  Politicians. 


PATENT  MEDICINES. 


Aurum  Potabile.  This  preparation  was  formerly 
supposed  to  be  a  never  failing  Specific;  but  has 
been  found  not  so  well  adapted  to  the  American  Cli- 
mate, having  been  frequently  tried  here  without 
effect:  But  its  reputation  is  again  rising,  as  it  has 
lately  been  administered  with  success  in  the  case  of 
General  Arnold. 

Vivifying  Balsam  :  excellent  for  weak  Nerves, 
Palpitations  of  the  Heart,  over  Bashfulness  and  Dif- 
fidence. In  great  demand  for  the  Officers  of  the 
Army. 

Sp.  Mend. :  Or  the  genuine  spirit  of  Lying,  ex- 
tracted by  distillation  from  many  hundreds  of  the 
Royal  Gazette  of  New  York.  Other  papers  have 
been  subjected  to  the  same  process,  but  the  success 
did  not  answer  the  Expence  and  Trouble  of  the 
operation,  the  produce  being  of  an  inferior  quality 
— Therefore  beware  of  Counterfeits.  The  Ink  and 
Paper  of  the  Royal  Gazette  can  alone  furnish  this 
excellent  Sp.  Mend,  in  its  greatest  perfection.  By 
administering  due  proportions  of  this  admirable 
Medicine,  Lies  may  be  formed  which  will  operate  for 
a  day,  a  week,  a  month  or  months ;  near  at  hand  or 
at  a  distance;  in  America,  or  in  Europe,  according 
to  the  design  of  the  party.  K.  B.  The  true  Sp. 
Mend,  is  authenticated  by  the  Seal  of  the  Subscriber, 
who  is  the  Inventor  and  Patentee  thereof. 

Cordial  Drops  for  low  spirits,  prepared  for  the 
special  use  of  the  Honorable  the  Board  of  loyal  Refu- 
gees at  New  York. 

Anodyne  Elixir,  for  quieting  Fears  and  Appre- 
hensions: very  necessary  for  Tories  in  all  parts  of 
America. 

With  a  great  variety  of  other  Articles  too  tedious 
to  enumerate. 

N.  B.  To  every  Purchaser  to  the  value  of  five 
Pounds,  will  be  delivered  gratis,  One  Quire  of  coun- 
terfeit Continental  Currency.  Also  two  Quires  of 
Proclamations,  offering  Pardon  to  Rebels. 

JAMES  RIYIXGTON. 

Hopkitifon  also  published  Rivington's  reply  to 
this,  very  much  in  the  style  of  Witlierspoon.  Last- 
ly, we  have  these  witty  morceaux,  by  Frenearj,  who 
found  capital  vent  for  his  humor  in  the  character 
of  this  curiously  compounded  gentleman.  He 
wrote  a  number  of  verses  on  the  tempting  theme. 
First,  an  Epigram  "  occasioned  by  the  title  of 
Mr.  Rivington's  New  York  Royal  Gazette  being 
scarcely  legible;"  then,  "  Lines  occasioned  Ivy  Mr. 
Rivington's  new  titular  types  to  his  Royal  Ga- 
zette," but  became  very  much  dissatisfied  with  the 
execution  of  the  king's  arms ;  and  when  that  was 
remedied,  produced  a  more  stinging  Epigram  still. 


JAMES  M'CLURG. 


283 


"onMivRivington's  New  Engraved  King's  Arms 
to  hid  Royal  Gazette."  The  "  Reflections  "  and 
"Confessions"  are  most  searching  and  candid — ■ 
since  Freneau  did  not  spare  him;  but  perhaps  of 
all  these,  the  best  was  his 

RIVINGTON'S   LAST  "WILL  AND   TESTAMENT. 

Since  life  is  uncertain,  and  no  one  can  say 

How  soon  we  may  go,  or  how  long  we  snail  stay, 

Metliinks  lie  is  wisest  wao  soo  lest  prepares, 

And  settles,  ia  season,  his  worldly  affairs. 

Some  folks  are  so  weak  they  cau  scarce  avail  crying, 

And  think  when  they're  making  their  wills  they  are 

dying; 
'Tis  surely  a  serious  employment— but  still, 
Who  e'er  died  the  sooner  for  making  his  will  ? 

Let  others  be  sad  when  their  lives  they  review, 
But  I  know   whom  I've  serv'd — and  him  faithfully 

too  ; 
And  though  it  may  seem  a  fanatical  story, 
He  ofien  has  show'd  me  a  glimpse  of  tiis  glory. 

Imprimis,  my  carcase  I  give  and  devise, 

To  be  made  into  cakes  of  a  mo  lerate  size, 

To  nourish  those  Tories  wlio-e  spirits  may  droop, 

And  serve  the  king's  army  with  portable  soup. 

Unless  I  mistake,  in  the  scriptureswe  read 
That  "  worms  on  the  dead  shall  delicto  isly  feed  ;" 
The  scripture  stands  true — ind  that  I  a:n  firm  in, 
For  what  are  our  Tories  and  soldiers  but  vermin! 

This  soup  of  all  soups  can't  be  call'd  that  of  beef, 
(And  this  may  to  some  be  a  matter  of  grief,) 
But  I  am  certain  the  Bull  would  occasion  a  laugh, 
That  beef-portable-soup  should  be  made  of  a  calf. 

To  the  king,  my  dear  master,  I  give  a  full  sett 
(In  volumes  bound  up)  of  the  Royal  Gazette, 
In  which  he  will  find  the  vast  records  co  itain'd, 
Of  provinces  conquer'd,  and  victories  giiu'd. 

As  to  Arnold,  the  traitor,  and  Satan,  his  brother, 
I  beg  they  will  also  accept  of  another; 
And  this  shall  be  bo  Hid  in  Morocco  re  I  leather, 
Provided  they'll  read  it,  like  brothers,  together. 

But  if  Arnold  should  die,  'tis  another  affair, 
Then  Satan,  surviving,  shall  be  the  sole  heir; 
He  often  lias  told  me  he  thought  it  quite  clever, 
So  to  him  and  his  heirs  I  bequeath  it  forever. 

I  know  there  are  some  (that  would  fain  be  thought 

wise) 
Who  say  my  Gazette  is  a  record  of  lies ; 
In  answer  to  this,  I  shall  only  reply — 
All  the  choice  that  I  had  was,  to  starve  or  to  lie. 

My  fiddles,  my  flutes,  French  horns  and  guitars, 
I  ienve  to  our  heroes,  now  weary  of  wars — - 
To  the  wars  of  the  stage  they  more  boldly  advance, 
The  captains  shall  play,  and  the  soldiers  shall  dance. 

To  Sir  H'nri/  Clinton,  his  use  and  behoof, 
I  leave  my  French  brandy,  of  very  goo  1  proof; 
It  will  give  him  fresh  spirits  for  battle  and  slaughter, 
And  make  him  feel  boidr  by  land  and  by  water. 

But  I  caution  the  knight,  for  fear  he  do  wrong, 

'Tis  aimnt  la  viands,  et  apra  le  poUson* — 

It   will   strengthen   his   stomach,  prevent   it   from 

turning, 
And  digest  the  affront  of  his  effigy -burning. 
To  Baron  Knyphausen,  his  heirs  and  assigns, 
I  bequeath  my  old  Hock,  and  my  Burgundy  wines, 
To  a  true  Hessian  drunkard,  no  liquors  are  sweeter, 
ind  I  know  the  old  man  is  no  foe  to  the  creature. 

*  Before  flesh  and  after  fish.— See  E.  Gaz. 


To  a  General,  my  namesake,*  I  give  and  dispose 
Of  a  purse  full  of  clipp'd,  lirjht,  sweated  half  joes; 
I  hereby  desire  him  lo  take  back  his  trash, 
And  return  me  my  Haunay's  infallible  wash. 

My  chessmen  and  tables,  and  other  such  chattels 
I  give  to  Coruwnllis,  renowned  in  battles; 
By  moving  of  these  (not  tracing  the  map) 
He'll  explain  to  the  king  how  he  got  in  a  trap. 

To  goo  1  David  Mi  thews  (among  other  slops) 
I  give  my  whole  cargo  of  Mare  taut's  drops ; 
If  they  cannot  do  all,  they  may  cuie  him  in  part, 
And  scatter  the  poison  that  Cankers  his  heart. 

Provided,  however,  and  nevertheless, 
That  whatever  estate  I  enjoy  and  possess 
At  the  time  of  my  death  (if  it  be  not  then  sold) 
Shall  remain  to  the  Tories,  to  have  and  to  hold. 

As  I  thus  have  bequeath'd  them  both  carcase  and 

fleece, 
The  least  they  can  do  is  to  wait  my  decease ; 
But  to  give  them  what  substance  I  have,  ere  I  die, 
And  be  cat  up  with  vermin,  while  living — uot  I — 

In  witness  whereof  (though  no  ailment  I  feel) 
Hereunto  I  set  both  my  hand  and  my  seal; 
(As  the  law  says)  in  presence  of  witnesses  twain, 
'Squire  John  Cor/hill  Knap  and  brother  Hugh  Gaine. 

Graydon,  in  his  Memoirs,  mentions  Rivington 
as  one  of  the  occasional  visitors  of  his  mother's 
boarding-house  at  Philadelphia,  and  notices  his 
theatrical  turn.  "This  gentleman's  manners  and 
appearance  were  sufficiently  dignified  ;  and  he 
kept  the  best  company.  He  was  an  everlasting 
dabbler  in  theatrical  heroics.  Othello  was  the 
character  in  which  he  liked  best  to  appear."! 

Ashbel  Green,  in  his  Autobiography,  says,  that 
"he  had.  in  foresight  of  the  evacuation  of  New 
York  by  the  British  army,  supplied  himself  from 
London  with  a    large  assortment  of  what,  are 
called  the  British  classics,  and  other  works  of 
merit ;  so  that,  for  some  time  after  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  war,  he  had  the  sale  of  these  puhlica- 
i  tions  almost  wholly  to  himself.    Amongst  others, 
I  dealt  with  him  pretty  largely ;  and  with  no- 
thing else  to  make  me  a  favorite,  the  fulsome  let- 
ters which  he  addressed  to  me  were  a  real  curi- 
osity.     He  was  the  greatest  sycophant  imagi- 
;  nable;    very  little  under  the   influence  of   any 
I  principle  but  self-interest,  yet  of  the  most  conr- 
I  teons  manners  to  all  with  whom  he  had  inter- 
course.'^ 

JAMES  MCLCEG. 

Tins  accomplished  litterateur  and  eminent  phy- 
sician of  Virginia  was  born  at  Hampton,  in  the 
county  of  Elizabeth  City  in  that  state,  in  1747. 
lie  was  at  the  College  of  William  and  Mary  with 
Jefferson,  and  pursued  the  study  of  medicine  at 
Edinburgh  and  Paris.  While  in  London  he  pub- 
lished his  Essay  on  the  "Human  Bile,"  exhibiting 
a  series  of  experiments,  with  an  introduction, 
"written  in  so  philosophical  a  spirit,  and  ex- 
pressed with  such  beauty  and  classic  elegance  of 
diction,  that  it  was  translated  into  all  the  lan- 
guages of  Europe."§     He  returned  to  America  in 


*  Gen.  James  Robertson. 

t  Graydon's  Memoirs,  p.  77. 

*  Ashbel  Greens  Life,  p.  46. 

§  Discourse  on  American  Literature  at  Charlottesville,  Dec 
19,  1837,  by  Professor  Geo.  Tucker. 


284 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


1772  or  1773,  and  established  himself  at  Williams- 
burg, removing,  when  the  seat  of  government 
was  changed,  about  1783  to  Richmond,  where  he 
died,  July,  1825.  He  was  killed  on  Governor's 
street,  in  that  city,  by  his  horses  running  away. 
His  remains  lie  in  old  St.  John's  Church,  on 
Church  Hill,  where  there  is  the  following  inscrip- 
tion on  his  tomb,  written  by  Mr.  Watkins  Leigh, 
who  married  his  grand-daughter,  and  which  has 
been  much  admired  for  its  tasteful  composition. 

Here  lies  interred 

the  body  of  James  M'Olurg,  M.D. 

In  life 

admired  and  honored  for  learning,  taste,  and  genius, 

and  venerated  for  virtue; 

of  studious  and  retired  habits, 

yet  of  the  most  easy  and  polished  manners; 

of  the  readiest  and  happiest  wit, 

tempered  with  modesty  and  benignity; 

with  a  native  dignity  of  character  and  deportment 

always  sustained  without  effort, 

united  with  unaffected  simplicity, 

and  softened  with  the  utmost  suavity  of  temper  ; 

formed  to  delight,  instruct,  and  adorn  society, 

his  conversation  and  acquaintance 

were  courted  by  the  most  distinguished  persons 

of  his  country  and  of  his  age. 

Having  studied  his  profession 

in  the  most  celebrated  schools  of  Europe, 

and  distinguished  himself  even  in  youth 

by  the  elegance  and  ability  of  his  writings, 

he  was  early  placed 

without  pretension  on  his  part, 

by  common  consent  abroad  and  at  home, 

in  the  highest  rank  among  its  professors, 

which  he  occupied  for  half  a  century. 


In  old  age 

cheerful  and  tranquil, 

his  mental  faculties  unimpaired, 

the  serenity  of  his  temper  undisturbed. 

Even  his  social  gayety  hardly  clouded  to  the  last 

by  the  decay  and  infirmities  of  his  body; 

honored,  beloved,  revered, 

content  to  live,  content  to  die, 

with  equal  mind  he  sunk  to  rest, 

on  the  9th  day  of  July,  1825, 

in  the  78th  year  of  his  age. 

He  married  Miss  Elizabeth  Seldon,  daughter  of 
Carey  Seldon.  His  daughter,  the  mother  of  Mrs- 
Leigh,  became  the  wife  of  John  Wickharu,  cele- 
brated in  the  Burr  trial. 

Of  his  general  literary  accomplishments  there 
is  a  pleasing  instance  in  some  vers  de  societe,  ac- 
cording to  the  style  of  the  day,  savoring  somewhat 
of  the  English  Cowley,  entitled  The  Belles  of  Wil- 
liamsburg, which  were  written  and  circulated  in 
that  capital  in  1777.  They  were  mostly  from  his 
pen,  a  few  having  been  supplied  by  his  intimate 
friend  Judge  St.  George  Tucker. 

TIIE   BELLES   OF  WILLIAMSBURG. 

"Wilt  thou,  advent'rous  pen,  describe 
The  gay,  delightful,  silken  tribe, 

That  maddens  all  our  city; 
Nor  dread,  lest  while  you  foolish  claim 
A  near  approach  to  beauty's  flame, 

Icarus'  fate  may  hit  ye. 

"With  singed  pinions  tumbling  down. 
The  scorn  and  laughter  of  the  town, 
Thou'lt  rue  thy  daring  flight; 


While  every  miss  with  cool  contempt, 
Affronted  by  the  bold  attempt, 

Will,  tittering,  view  thy  plight. 

Ye  girls,  to  you  devoted  ever, 
The  object  still  of  our  endeavor 

Is  somehow  to  amuse  you ; 
And  if  instead  of  higher  praise 
You  only  laugh  at  these  rude  lays, 

We'll  willingly  excuse  you. 

Advance  then,  each  illustrious  maid, 
In  order  bright  to  our  parade, 

With  Beauty's  ensigns  gay; 
And  first,  two  nymphs  who  rural  plains 
Forsook,  disdaining  rural  swains, 

And  here  exert  their  sway. 

Myrtilla's  beauties  who  can  paint? 

The  well-turned  form,  the  glowing  teint, 

May  deck  a  common  creature ; 
But  who  can  make  th'  expressive  soul 
With  lively  sense  inform  the  whole, 

And  light  up  every  feature. 

At  church  Myrtilla  lowly  kneels, 
No  passion  but  devotion  feels, 

No  smiles  her  looks  environ ; 
But  let  her  thoughts  to  pleasure  fly, 
The  basilisk  is  in  her  eye 

And  on  her  tongue  the  Syren. 

More  vivid  beauty — fresher  bloom, 
With  teints  from  nature's  richest  loom 

In  Sylvia's  features  glow; 
Would  she  Myrtilla's  aits  apply, 
And  catch  the  magic  of  her  eye, 

She'd  rule  the  world  below. 

See  Laura,  sprightly  nymph,  advance, 
Through  all  the  mazes  of  the  dance, 

With  light  fantastic  toe; 
See  laughter  sparkle  in  her  eyes — 
At  her  approach  new  joys  arise, 

New  fires  within  us  glow. 

Such  sweetness  in  her  look  is  seen 
Such  brilliant  elegance  of  mien, 

So  jauntie  and  so  airy; 
Her  image  in  our  fancy  reigns, 
All  night  she  gallops  through  our  veins, 

Like  little  Mab  the  fairy. 

Aspasia  next,  with  kindred  soul, 
Disdains  the  passions  that  control 

Each  gentle  pleasing  art; 
Her  sportive  wit,  her  frolic  lays, 
And  graceful  form  attract  our  praise, 

And  steal  away  the  heart. 

We  see  in  gentle  Delia's  face, 
Expressed  by  every  melting  grace, 

The  sweet  complacent  mind ; 
While  hovering  round  her  soft  desires. 
And  hope  gay  smiling  fans  their  fires, 

Each  shepherd  thinks  her  kind. 

The  god  of  love  mistook  the  maid 
For  his  own  Psyche,  and  'tis  said 

He  still  remains  her  slave ; 
And  when  the  boy  directs  her  eyes 
To  pierce  where  every  passion  lies, 

Not  age  itself  can  save. 

With  pensive  look  and  head  reclined, 
Sweet  emblems  of  the  purest  mind, 

Lo !  where  Cordelia  sits ; 
On  Dion's  image  dwells  the  fair — 
Dion  the  thunderbolt  of  war, 

The  prince  of  modern  wits. 


THE  REDWOOD  LIBRARY. 


iSo 


Not  far  removed  from  her  side, 
Statira  sits  in  be:iuty's  pride, 

And  rolls  about  her  eyes; 
Thrice  happy  for  the  unwary  heart 
That  affectation  blunts  the  dart 

That  from  her  quiver  flies. 

Whence  does  that  beam  of  beauty  daw:,  ? 
What  lustre  overspreads  the  lawn? 

What  suns  those  rays  dispense  ? 
From  Artemisia's  brow  they  came, 
From  Artemisia's  eyes  the  flame 

That  dazzles  every  sense. 

At  length,  fatigued  with  beauty's  blaze 
The  feeble  muse  no  more  essays 

Her  picture  to  complete ; 
The  promised  charms  of  younger  girls 
When  nature  the  gay  scene  unfurls, 

Some  happier  bard  shall  treat. 

BEQtTEL  TO  TIIE   BELLES  OF  WILLIAMSBURG. 

Ye  bards  that  haunt  the  tufted  shade, 
Where  murmurs  thro'  the  hallowed  glade, 

The  Heliconian  spring. 
Who  bend  before  Apollo's  shrine, 
And  dance  and  frolic  with  the  nine, 

Or  touch  the  trembling  string. 

And  ye  who  bask  in  beauty's  blaze, 
Enlivening  as  the  orient  rays 

From  fair  Aurora's  brow, 
Or  those  which  form  her  crescent  shrine, 
Where  Cynthia  with  a  look  benign 

Regards  the  world  below. 

Say  why,  amidst  the  vernal  throng, 
Whose  vernal  charms  inspired  your  song 

With  sweet  poetic  lore, 
With  e:iger  look  the  enraptured  swain, 
For  Isidore's  form  in  vain, 

The  picture  should  explore. 

Shall  sprightly  Isidora  yield 
To  Laura  the  distinguished  field, 

Amidst  the  vernal  throng? 
Or  shall  Aspasia's  frolic  lays 
From  Leouella  snatch  the  bays, 

The  tribute  of  the  song  ? 

Like  hers,  I  ween,  the  blushing  rose, 
On  Sylvia's  polished  cheek  that  glows, 

And  hers  the  velvet  lip, 
To  which  the  cherry  yields  its  hue. 
Its  plumpness  and  ambrosial  dew 

Which  even  Gods  might  sip. 

What  partial  eye  a  charm  can  find, 
In  Delia's  look,  or  Delia's  mind, 

Or  Delia's  melting  grace, 
Which  cannot  in  Miranda's  mien, 
Or  winning  smile  or  brow  serene, 

A  rival  beauty  trace. 

Sweet  as  the  balmy  breath  of  spring, 
Or  odors  from  the  painted  wing 

Of  Zephyr  as  he  flies, 
Brunette's  charms  might  surely  claim, 
Amidst  the  votaries  of  fame, 

A  title  to  the  prize. 

What  giddy  raptures  fill  the  brain, 
When  tripping  o'er  the  verdant  plain, 

Florella  joins  the  throng! 
Her  look  each  throbbing  pain  beguiles, 
Beneath  her  footsteps  Nature  smiles, 

And  joins  the  poet's  song. 

Here  even  critic  Spleen  shall  find 
Each  beauty  that  adorns  the  mind, 
Or  decks  the  virgin's  brow ; 


Here  Envy  with  her  venomed  dart, 
Shall  find  no  vulnerable  part, 
To  aim  the  deadly  blow. 

Could  such  perfection  naught  avail? 
Or  could  the  fair  Belinda  fail 

To  animate  your  lays? 
For  might  not  such  a  nymph  inspire 
With  sportive  notes  the  trembling  lyre 

Attuned  to  virgin  praise  ? 

The  sister  graces  met  the  maid, 
Beneath  the  myrtle's  fragrant  shade, 

When  love  the  season  warms ; 
Deluded  by  her  graceful  mien, 
They  fancied  her  the  Cyprian  queen, 

And  decked  her  with  their  charms. 

Say  then  why  thus  with  heedless  flight, 
The  panegyric  muse  should  slight 

A  train  so  blythe  and  fair, 
Or  why  so  soon  fatigued,  she  flies 
No  longer  in  her  native  skies, 

But  tumbles  through  the  air. 

A  portion  of  these  lines  on  the  fair  belles  of 
Williamsburg  has  been  happily  introduced  in 
the  excellent  novel  by  John  Esten  Cooke,  of  the 
Virginia  Comedians,  which  introduces  us  in  a 
spirit  of  delicate  sentiment  and  elevated  romance 
to  the  chivalric  olden  time  of  the  state.  In  the 
romantic  sketch  from  the  same  pen,  of  the  Youth 
of  Jefferson,  Dr.  M'Clurg  is  introduced  as  one 
of  the  tine  spirits  of  that  day. 

Dr.  M'Clurg's  talents  as  a  medical  writer  are 
spoken  of  with  great  respect.  Dr.  J.  W.  Francis, 
in  the  article  in  Thaclier's  Medical  Biography, 
speaks  in  reference  to  his  discourse  On  Reason- 
ing: i?i  Nedieine*  that  "  in  his  extensive  views 
of  the  study  of  physic,  he  considered  every 
branch  of  science  as  kindred  and  capable  of 
mutual  illustration,"  and  also  notices  "his  purity 
and  classical  elegance  of  style  seldom  attained  by 
writers  on  professional  or  scientific  subjects." 

THE  REDWOOD  LIBEAEY. 

In  1730,  an  association  of  gentlemen  at  New- 
port met  together  and  formed  themselves  into  a 
"  Society  for  the  Promotion  of  Knowledge  and 
Virtue."  The  town  then  included  some  of  the 
most  cultivated  men  of  the  country,  whose  intel- 
lectual activity  was  stimulated  by  the  presence  of 
Berkeley.  The  original  members  of  this  club,  or 
association,  similar  to  Franklin's  Junto,  were 
Daniel  Updike,  the  Attorney  General  of  the  Colo- 
ny, a  distinguished  lawyer  and  an  intimate  friend 
of  the  dean;  Peter  Bours,  a  member  of  the  Go- 
vernment Council;  James  Searing;  Edward 
Scott;  Henry  Collins,  a  merchant  of  taste  and 
liberality;  Nathan  Townsend;  Jeremiah  Condy, 
and  James  Honey  man,  Jun.,  the  son  of  the  Rector 
of  Trinity.  It  was  chiefly,  at  first,  a  debating 
society,  but  the  collection  of  books  soon  became 
an  object,  and  a  wealthy  gentleman  of  the  town, 
Abraham  Redwood,  gave  five  hundred  pounds 
sterling  for  the  purchase  of  standard  works  in 
London,  recommending  the  erection  of  a  library 
building.  To  secure  this,  the  Society  procured  a 
charter  of  incorporation  from  the  Colony  in  1747, 


*  Published  in  the  Phila.  Journal  of  the  Medical  and  Physi- 
cal Sciences,  edited  by  Prof.  Chapman, 


2S6 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


by  the  name  of  the  Company  of  the  Redwood 
Library,  in  honor  of  its  leading  benefactor.     Hen-  i 
ry  Collins  gave  the  lot  of  land  on  which  the  ; 
building  now  stands,  and  the  wealthy  citizens  of 
the  place  subscribed  five  thousand  pounds.     The 
library  building  was  commenced   in   1748,   and  ] 
completed  in  1750.     The  plan  of  the  building, 
which  was  furnished  by  Joseph  Harrison,  who  l 
had  been  engaged  at  Blenheim,  has  been  much   | 
admired  for  its  simple  Doric  elegance;  the  wings 
on  either  side,  which  interfere  with  its  propor- 
tions, not  belonging  to  the  original  conception. 


The  Eedwood  Library. 

A  Abraham  Redwood  had  removed  to  Newport 
from  Antigua.  He  possessed  great  wealth, 
liberally  expending  it  for  charitable  objects.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  He 
died  at  Newport  in  1788,  in  the  seventy-ninth 
year  of  his  age. 

Callender,  the  author  of  the  Centennial  His- 
torical Discourse  of  Rhode  Island,  was  one  of  the 
members  of  the  Society.  Dr.  Stiles,  during  his 
residence  on  the  island,  consulted  its  literary 
treasures,  then  rare  in  the  country,  and  procured 
additional  volumes  for  its  shelves.  Channing  has 
recorded  his  debt  of  gratitude  to  its  stores  in  the 
culture  of  his  youthful  powers.  "  I  had,"  he  says, 
"  no  professor  or  teacher  to  guide  me,  but  I  had 
two  noble  places  of  study.  One  was  yonder  beau- 
tiful edifice,  now  so  frequented  and  so  useful  as  a 
public  library,  then  so  deserted  that  I  spent  day 
after  dajr,  and  sometimes  week  after  week, 
amidst  its  dusty  volumes,  without  interruption 
from  a  single  visitor.  The  other  place  was  yon- 
der beach,  the  roar  of  which  has  so  often  mingled 
with  the  worship  of  this  place,  my  daily  resort, 
dear  to  me  in  the  sunshine,  still  more  attractive 
in  the  storm."* 

The  library  suffered  somewhat  in  the  Revolu- 
tion, the  British  troops  at  their  departure  carry- 
ing off  some  of  the  finest  works.  There  are  now 
between  six  and  seven  thousand  volumes.  The 
late  Judah  Touro,  a  native  of  Newport,  bequeathed 
three  thousand  dollars  to  the  library  company. 
It  has  received,  from  time,  to  time,  other  valuable 
donations,  including  the  folio  collection  of  the 
English  Historical  Records,  and  gifts  of  land  from 
Solomon  Southwick,  of  Albany,  in  1813,  and  from 


*  Discourse  at  Newport,  Works,  iv.  337. 


Abraham  Redwood,  of  England,  in  1834.  The 
Baron  Ilottinguer,  the  Parisian  hunker,  connected 
by  marriage  with  the  Redwood  family,  in  1837, 
gave  a  thousand  francs  for  the  restoration  of  the 
building* 

JONATHAN  MITCHEL  SEW  ALL. 

The  couplet, 

No  pent-up  Utica  contracts  your  powers, 
But  the  whole  boundless  continent  is  yours, 

is  far  better  known  than  the  poem  of  which  it 
forms  a  part.t  than  the  remaining  writings,  or  than 
even  the  name  of  its  author,  Jonathan  Mitchel 
Sewall.  It  is  a  name  that  should  be  better 
known  and  cherished,  for  it  was  borne  by  one 
whose  lyrics  warmed  the  patriotism  and  cheered 
the  hearts  of  the  soldiers  of  the  Revolution  in  the 
perils  of  the  battle  and  the  privations  of  the 
camp. 

Sewall  was  born  at  the  old  town  of  Salem, 
Mass.,  in  1748.  He  was  adopted  at  an  early  age, 
on  the  deatli  of  his  parents,  by  his  uncle,  Stephen 
Sewall,  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
Massachusetts;  and  after  passing  through  Harvard 
College,  devoted  himself  to  merchandise,  a  pur- 
suit which  he  soon  abandoned  for  the  study  and 
practice  of  the  law.  In  1774  he  was  Register  of 
Probate  for  Grafton  county,  N.  II.  He  afterwards 
removed  to  Portsmouth  in  the  same  state,  where 
he  resided  until  his  death,  March  29,  1808. 

He  published  a  collection  of  his  poems  in  a 
small  volume,  in  18014  They  are  for  the  most 
part  the  productions  of  his  youth,  and  consist  of 
paraphrases  of  Ossian,  patriotic  odes,  epilogues, 
and  a  few  epigrams.  His  War  and  Washington 
was  composed  at  the  beginning  of  the  American 
Revolution,  and  sung  by  the  army  in  all  parts  of 
the  country. 

The  couplet  we  have  quoted  is  found  in  an 
epilogue  to  the  tragedy  of  Cato,  written  in  1778. 
It  is  occupied  by  a  parallel  between  the  scenes 
and  characters  which  have  just  passed  before  the 
spectators'  eyes  and  those  in  which  author  and 
audience  were  alike  participants. 

EPILOGUE    TO    CATO. 

Written  ia  1778. 
You  see  mankind  the  same  in  ev'ry  age: 
Heroic  fortitude,  tyrannic  rage, 
Boundless  ambition,  patriotic  truth, 
And  hoary  treason,  and  untainted  youth, 
Have  deeply  niark'd  all  periods,  and  all  climes: 
The  noblest  virtues,  and  the  blackest  crimes ! 

Britannia's  daring  sins,  and  virtues  both, 
Perhaps  once  mark'd  the  Vandal  and  the  Goth. 
And  what  now  gleams  with  dawning  ray  at  home, 
Onee  blaz'd  in  full-orb'd  majesty  at  Rome. 

Did  Caesar,  drunk  with  pow'r,  and  madly  brave, 
Insatiate  burn,  his  country  to  enslave? 
Did  he  for  this  lead  forth  a  servile  host, 
And  spill  the  choicest  blood  that  Rome  could  boasl. 
Our  British  Caesar  too  has  done  the  same, 
And  damn'd  this  age  to  everlasting  fame. 


*  Jewett's  Public  Libraries,  pp.  48-53.  Elton's  Memoir  of 
Callender.    Mason's  Newport  Illustrated. 

t  It  was  brought  into  vogue,  witli  a  slight  change,  as  tho 
motto  of  Park  Benjamin's  newspaper,  the  New  World. 

%  Miscellaneous  Poems,  with  several  specimens  from  tho 
Author's  Manuscript  version  of  the  Poems  of  Ossian.  by  J.  M. 
Sewall,  Esq.,  Portsmouth.  Printed  by  William  Treadwcll  & 
Co.  for  the  Author,  1801. 


JONATHAN  MITCHEL  SEW  ALL. 


287 


Columbia's  erimson'il  fields  still  smoke  with  gore! 
Her  bravest  heroes  cover  nil  the  shore ! 
The  tiow'r  of  Britain  too  in  martial  bloom, 
In  one  sa  1  year  seat  headlong  to  the  tomb  1 

Did  Ro. lie's  brave  senate  nobly  strive  t'  oppose 
The  mighty  torrent  of  domestic  foes? 
And  boldly  arm  the  virtuous  few,  and  dare 
The  desp'rate  perils  of  unequal  war? 

Our  senate,  too,  the  same  bold  deed  has  done. 
And  for  a  C.vro,  arm'd  a  WASHINGTON  ! 
A  chief  in  all  the  ways  of  battle  skill'd, 
Great  in  the  council,  glorious  in  tde  field! 
Thy  scourge,  O  Britain!  and  Columbia's  boast, 
The  dread,  a  id  admiration  of  each  host! 
Whose  martial  arm,  and  steady  soul,  alone 
Have  male  thy  legions  quake,  thy  empire  groan, 
A  id  thy  p  'O  1 1  monarch  tremble  on  his  throne. 
What  now  tiiou  art,  oh,  ever  uiay'st  thou  be, 
And  death  the  lot  of  any  chief  b  it  thee  ! 
We've  had  our  Decius  too,  and  Hoive  can  say 
Health,  pardon,  peace,  George  sends  America ! 
Yet  brings  d&jtruction  for  the  olive-wreath, 
For  health  contagio  i,  and  for  pardon  death. 
In  brave  Fayeti'E  young  Juba  lives  again, 
And  many  a  .Marcus  bleeds  on  yonder  plain. 
Like  Pompev,  Warkex  fell  in  martial  pride. 
x\.nd  great  Montgomery  like  Scipio  dy'd! 
In  Green  the  hero,  patriot,  sage  we  see, 
And  Lucius,  Juba,  Cato,  shine  in  thee  I 
When  Rome  receiv'd  her  last  decisive  blow, 
Hadst  thou,  immortal  Gates,  been  Cassar's  foe, 
All-perfect  discipline  had  oheck'd  his  sway, 
And  thy  superior  conduct  wo  i  the  day. 
Freedom  had  triumph'd  on  Pharsalian  ground, 
Nor  Sara-tog  Ts  heights  been  more  reuown'd  ! 
Long  as  heroic  deeds  the  soul  enflame. 
Eternal  praise  bold  Stark  will  ever  claim, 
AVlio  led  thy  glorious  way,  and  gave  thee  half  thy 

fame. 
See  persevering  Arnold  proudly  scale 
Canadia's  alpine  lulls,  a  second  Hannibal! 
In  Caesar's  days  had  such  a  daring  mind 
With  Washington's  serenity  been  join'd, 
The  tyrant  the  i  had  bled,  great  Cato  liv'd, 
Ami  Rome  in  all  her  majesty  survival. 
What  praise,  what  gratitude,  are  due  to  thee, 

Oh  brave,  experieue'd,  all-accomplish'd  Lee  ? 
The  sword,  the  pen,  thou  dost  alternate  wield, 

Nor  Julius'  self  to  thee  would  blush  to  yield. 

And  while  Sempromus'  bellowings  stun  the  ear, 

I  see  the  traitor  Churcu  his  thunders  hear. 

"  But  all  was  false,  and  hollow,  tho'  his  tongue 

Dropt  manna,"  with  the  garb  of  reason  hung. 

Ere  long  the  wily  Svpiiax  may  advance, 

And  Afric  faith  be  verify'd  in  France. 

How  long,  deluded  by  that  faithless  pow'r, 

Will  ye  dream  on,  nor  seize  the  golden  hour  i 

In  vain  do  ye  rely  on  foreign  aid, 

By  her  own  arm  and  heaven's  Columbia  must  be 
freed. 
Rise  then,  my  countrymen  !  for  fight  prepare, 

Gird  on  your  swords,  rind  fearless  rush  to  war! 

For  your  grieV'd  country  nobly  dare  to  die, 

And  empty  all  your  veins  for  liberty. 

No  pent-up  Utica  contracts  your  pow'rs, 

But  the  whole  boundless  continent  is  yours! 

"  Rouse  up,   for  shame !   your  brethren   slain  in 
war, 

Or  groaning  now  in  ignominious  bondage, 

Point  at  their  wounds  and  chains,  and  cry  aloud 

To  battle!  Washington  impatient  mourns 

His  scanty  legions,  and  demands  your  aid. 

Intrepid  Lee  still  clanks  his  galling  fetters! 

Montgomery  complains  that  we  are  slow! 

And  Wabren's  ghost  stalks  unreveng'd  among  us!" 


eulogy  on  laughing. 
Ddivered  at  an  Exhibition  by  a  Young  Lady. 
Like  merry  Momus,  while  the  Gods  were  quaffing, 
I  come — to  give  an  eulogy  on  laughing  ! 
True,  courtly  Chesterfield,  with  critic  zeal, 
Asserts  that  laughiiig's  vastly  iingentecl ! 
The  boist'rous  shake,  lie  says,  distorts  fine  faces, 
And  robs  each  pretty  feature  of  the  graces! 
But  yet  this  paragon  of  perfect  taste, 
On  other  topics  was  not  over-chaittc  ; 
He  like  the  Pharisees  in  this  appears, 
They  ruin'd  widows,  but  they  made  long  pray'rs. 
Tithe,  anise,  mint,  they  zealously  affected: 
But  the  law's  weightier  matters  lay  neglected  ; 
And  while  an  insect  strains  their  squeamish  caul, 
Down  goes  a  monstrous  camel — bunch  and  all ! 

Yet  others,  quite  as  sage,  with  warmth  dispute 
Man's  risibles  distinguish  him  from  brute; 
While  instinct,  reason,  both  in  common  own, 
To  laugh  is  man's  prerogative  alone! 

Hail,  rosy  laughter!  tnou  deserv'st  the  bays! 
Come,  with  thy  dimples,  animate  these  lays, 
Whilst  universal  peals  attest  thy  praise. 
Daughter  of  Joy  !  thro'  thee  we  health  attain, 
When  Esculapian  recipes  are  vain. 

Let  sentimentalists  ring  in  our  ears 
The  tender  joy  of  grief — the  luxury  of  tears — 
Heraclitus  may  whine — and  oh!  and  ah! — 
I  like  an  honest,  hearty,  ha,  hah,  hah! 
It  makes  the  wheels  of  nature  glibber  play; 
Dull  care  suppresses;  smooths  life's  thorny  way; 
Propels  the  dancing  current  thro'  each  vein; 
Braces  the  nerves  ;  corroborates  the  brain  ; 
Shakes  ev'ry  muscle,  and  throws  off  the  spleen. 

Old  Homer  makes  you  tenants  of  the  skies, 
His  Gods  love  langhi  g  as  they  did  their  eyes! 
It  kept  them  in  good  humour,  hush'd  their  squabbles, 
As  froward  children  are  appeas'd  by  baubles; 
Ev'n  Jove  the  tliund'rer  dearly  lov'd  a  laugh, 
When,  of  fine  nectar,  he  had  taken  a  quail! 
It  helps  digestion  when  the  feast  runs  high, 
And  dissipates  the  fumes  of  potent  Bui  gin. dy. 

But,  in  the  main,  tho'  laughing  1  approve, 
It  is  not  e\''vy  kind  of  laugh  I  love; 
For  many  laughs  e'en  candor  must  condemn! 
Some  are  too  full  of  acid,  some  of  phlegm  ; 
The  loud  horse-laugh  (improperly  so  styl'd), 
The  ideot  simper,  like  the  slumb  ring  child, 
Th'  affected  laugh,  to  show  a  dimpled  chin, 
The  sneer  contemptuous,  and  broad  vacant  grin, 
Are  despicable  all,  as  Strephon's  smile, 
To  show  his  ivory  legions,  rank  and  file. 

The  honest  laugh,  unstudied,  uuacquir'd, 
By  nature  prompted,  and  true  wit  inspir'd, 
Such  as  Quin  felt,  and  Falstaff  knew  before, 
When  humor  set  the  table  on  a  roar ; 
Alone  deserves  th'  applauding  muse's  grace  I 
The  rest — is  all  contortion  and  grimace. 
But  you  exclaim,  "  Your  Eulogy's  too  dry; 
Leave  dissertation  and  exemplify ! 
Prove,  by  experiment,  your  maxims  true; 
And,  what  you  praise  so  highly  make  us  do." 

In  troth  1  hop'd  this  was  already  done, 
And  Mirth  and  Momus  had  the  laurel  won! 
Like  honest  Hodge,  unhappy  should  1  fail, 
AVho  to  a  crowded  audience  told  his  tale. 
And  laugh'd  and  snigger'd  all  the  while  himself 
To  grace  the  story,  as  he  thought,  poor  elf! 
But  not  a  single  soul  his  suffrage  gave — 
While  each  long  phiz  was  serioun  as  the  gravel 
Laugh !    laugh !    cries   Hodge,   laugh    loi  d !   (no 
halfaig) 
I  theuglit  you  all,  e'er  this,  would  die  with  laughing ! 
This  did  the  feat;  for,  tickled  at  the  whim, 
A  burst  of  laughter,  like  the  electric  beam, 


•28S 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Shook  all  the  audience — but  it  wms  at  him! 
Like  Hodge,  should  ev'ry  stratagem  and  wile 
Thro'  my  long  story,  not  excite  a  smile, 
I'll  bear  it  with  becoming  modest}- ; 
But  should  my  feeble  efforts  move  your  glee, 
Laugh,  if  you  fairly  can — but  not  at  ME ! 

WAR  AND  WASHINGTON. 

A  Song,  Composed  at  the  beginning  of  the  American 
Revolution. 

Vain  BRITONS,  boast  no  longer  with  proud  in- 
dignity, 

By  land  your  conqu'ring  legions,  your  matchless 
strength  at  sea, 

Since  we,  your  braver  sons  ineens'd,  our  swords 
have  girded  on, 

Huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  for  WAR  and  WASH- 
INGTON. 

Urg'd  on  by  North  and  vengeance  those  valiant 

champions  came. 
Loud  bellowing  Tea  and  Treason  and  George  was  all 

on  flame, 
Yet  sacrilegious  as  it  seems,  we  rebels  still  live  on. 
And   laugh    at    all    their   empty   puffs,   huzza   for 

WASHINGTON! 

Still  deaf  to  mild  entreaties,  still  blind  to  England's 
good. 

You  have  for  thirty  pieces  betray'd  your  country's 
blood. 

Like  Esop's  greedy  cur  you'll  gain  a  shadow  for 
your  bone, 

Yet  find  us  fearful  shades  indeed,  inspir'd  by  WASH- 
INGTON. 

Mysterious!  unexampled!  incomprehensible! 
The  blimd'ring  schemes  of  Britain  their  folly,  pride, 

and  zeal, 
Like  lions  how  ye  growl  and  threat !   mere  asses 

have  you  shown, 
And  ye  shall   share   an  ass's  fate,  and  drudge  for 

WASHINGTON ! 

Your  dark,  unfathom'd  councils  our  weakest  heads 

defeat, 
Our  children  rout  your  armies,  our  boats  destroy 

your  fleet, 
And  to  complete  the  dire  disgrace,  coop'd  up  within 

a  town, 
You  live,  the  scorn  of  all  our  host,  the  slaves  of 

WASHINGTON ! 

Great  Heay'n !  is  this  the  nation  whose  thund'ring 
arms  were  hurl'd, 

Thro'  Europe,  Afric,  India  ?  whose  Navy  rul'd  a 
World? 

The  lustre  of  your  former  deeds,  whole  ages  of  re- 
nown, 

Lost  in  a  moment,  or  transferr'd  to  us  and  WASH- 
INGTON ! 

Yet  think  not  thirst  of  glory  unsheaths  our  venge- 
ful swords 

To  rend  your  bands  asunder,  and  cast  away  your 
cords. 

Tis  heav'n-born  FREEDOM  fires  us  all,  and  strength- 
ens each  brave  son, 

From  him  who  humbly  guides  the  plough,  to  god- 
like WASHINGTON. 

For  this,  Oh  could  our  wishes  your  ancient  rage 

inspire, 
Your  armies  should  be  doubled,  in  numbers,  force, 

and  fire. 
Then  might  the  glorious  conflict  prove  which  best 

deserv'd  the  boon, 
America  or  Albion,  a  George  or  WASHINGTON ! 


Fir'd   witli   the  great  idea,  our  Fathers'  shades 

would  rise, 
To  view  the  stern  contention,  the  gods  desert  their 

skies. 
Aud  Wolfe,  'midst  hosts  of  heroes,  superior  bending 

down, 
Cry   out    with    eager   transport,    God    save   great 

WASHINGTON ! 

Should  Gf.orge,  too  choice  of  Britons,  to  foreign 

realms  apply, 
And  madly  arm  half  Europe,  yet  still  we  would  defy 
Turk,  Hessian,  Jew,  and  Infidel,  or  all  those  pow'rs 

in  one, 
While  Adams   guides  our  senate,  our  camp   great 

WASHINGTON! 

Should  warlike  weapons  fail  us,  disdaining  slavish 

fears. 
To  swords  we'll  beat  our  ploughshares,  our  pruning- 

hooks  to  spears, 
And  rush,  all  desp'rate !  on  our  foe,  nor  breathe  'till 

battle  won, 
Then  shout,  and  shout  AMERICA !  and  conqu'ring 

WASHINGTON ! 

Proud  France  should  view  with  terror,  and 
haughty  Spain  revere, 

While  ev'ry  warlike  nation  would  court  alliancehere. 

Aud  George,  his  minions  trembling  round,  dismount- 
ing from  his  throne 

Pay  homage  to  AMERICA  and  glorious  WASHING- 
TON" ! 

HUGH  HENET  BEACKENEIDGE, 
Trre  democratic  politician  and  judge,  eminent 
for  his  social  wit,  and  the  author  of  one  of  the 
finest  political  satires  which  the  country  has  pro- 
duced, was  born  in  the  year  1748  near  Campbel- 
ton,  in  Scotland.  He  was  brought  by  his 
father,  a  poor  farmer,  to  America,  when  he  was 
five  years  old.  The  family  settled  down  on  a 
small  lease  farm,  in  York  county,  Pennsylvania, 
west  of  the  Susquehannah,  on  the  borders  of 
Maryland.  The  difficulties  of  his  position  did 
not  prevent  the  youth  securing  a  good  education, 
partly  from  the  country  school,  but  mainly  from 
an  intelligent  and  painstaking  clergyman  of  the 
region,  who  gave  him  some  lessons  in  Latin  and 
Greek.  The  mother  encouraged  the  bookish 
efforts  of  her  son,  who  would  travel  during  the 
Sunday's  intermission  from  work,  twenty  or 
thirty  miles,  to  secure  a  volume  or  a  newspaper. 
A  copy  of  Horace,  of  which  he  came  into  pos- 
session, he  left  one  day  in  the  field,  when  it  was 
munched  by  a  cow.  Meeting  with  a  young  man 
possessed  of  some  knowledge  of  mathematics,  lie 
exchanged  with  him  his  Latin  and  Greek  for  that 
acquisition.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  applied  for 
the  situation  of  teacher  at  a  free  school  in  Mary- 
land, and  secured  the  position.  His  juvenile 
years  exposed  him  to  some  opposition  from  his 
older  pupils,  one  of  whom  resisted  his  authority 
by  force.  Brackenridge  "  seized  a  brand  from 
the  fire,  knocked  tiie  rebel  down,  and  spread  ter- 
ror around  him."*  With  the  small  means  which 
he  laid  up  in  this  employment,  he  made  his  way 
to  the  college  at  Princeton,  then  under  the  charge 
of  President  Wither-poon.  He  was  admitted, 
and  supported  himself  in  the  higher  classes  by 

*  We  are  indebted  for  this,  as  for  the  other  anecdotes  in  tills 
account,  to  the  Biographical  Notice  by  II.  M.  Brackenridge, 
of  Pittsburgh,  appended  to  the  edition  of  Modern  Chivalry,  of 
1S46. 


HUGH  HENRY  BRAOKENRIDGE. 


289 


teaching  tlie  lower.  His  name  appears  on  the 
list  of  graduates  in  1771,  with  Gunning  Bed- 
ford, Samuel  Spring,  James  Madison,  and  Philip 
Frenean.  In  conjunction  with  the  last,  he  deli- 
vered at  the  Commencement  a  poem  in  dialogue 
between  Acasto  and  Eugenio,  on  the  Rising 
Glory  of  America,  which  was  published  the 
next  year  in  Philadelphia.*  The  part  which  he 
wrote  is  easily  separated,  since  Frcneau  after- 
wards published  his  portion  separately  in  the 
edition  of  his  poems  in  1795.  The  verse  of 
Braokenridge  is  smooth  and  glowing,  and  is  tinc- 
tured with  a  grave  religious  tone. 

Braokenridge  continued  a  tutor  in  the  college 
after  taking  his  first  degree,  and  studied  divinity. 
He  was  licensed  to  preach,  though  not  ordained, 
and  undertook,  at  a  profitable  remuneration,  for 
several  years,  the  charge  of  an  academy  in  Mary- 
land. 

His  patriotic  feeling  on  the  breaking  out  of 
the  devolution  induced  him  to  prepare  a  drama- 
tic production,  entitled  Bunker's  Hill,  which  was  ! 
recited  by  his  pupils.  It  was  published  in  177li,t 
with  a  dedication  "  to  Richard  Stockton,  Esq.,  I 
Member  of  the  Honorable  the  Continental  Con- 
gress, for  the  state  of  New  Jersey."  It  has  a 
Prologue  spoken  "  by  a  Lieutenant-Colonel  in  the 
Continental  army,"  and  an  Epilogue,  "  written  by  ! 
a  gentleman  of  the  army,  supposed  to  be  spoken  i 
immediately  after  the  battle,  by  Lieutenant-Col. 
Webb,  aide-de-camp  to  General  Putnam."  The 
dramatis  persona  are  Warren,  Putnam,  and  Gar- 
diner, for  the  American  officers;  Gage, 'Howe, 
Burgoyne,  Clinton,  and  Lord  Pigot,  for  the  Bri- 
tish. There  is  no  lady  in  the  case.  Warren 
opens  with  an  address  to  Putnam,  to  which  the 
latter  responds  in  sympathy,  and  Warren  pro- 
poses the  fortification  of  Bunker's  Hill.  Among 
the  British  at  Boston,  Burgoyne  chafes  over  the 
confinement  of  the  British  troops.  Gage  re- 
plies— 

Tiiis  mighty  paradox  will  soon  dissolve. 
Hear  first,  Burgoyne,  the  valour  of  these  men. 
Fir'd  with  the  zeal  of  fiercest  liberty, 
No  fear  of  death,  so  terrible  to  all, 
Can  stop  their  rage.     Grey-headed  clergymen, 
With  holy  bible  and  continual  prayer, 
Bear  up  their  fortitude — -and  talk  of  heav'n, 
And  tell  them  that  sweet  soul,  who  dies  iu  battle, 
Shall  walk  with  spirits  of  the  just. 

Howe  compliments  the  enemy  further — 
Not  strange  to  your  maturer  thought,  Burgoyne, 
This  matter  will  appear.     A  people  brave, 


*  A  Poem,  on  the  Rising  Glory  of  America,  being  an  Exer- 
cise delivered  at  the  Public  Commencement  at  .Nassau  Hall, 
September  25, 1TT1. 

■  Venient  annis 

Specula  seris,  quibus  oceanus 
Vincula  rerum  laset  et  ingeos 
Pateat  tellus,  Typhisque  novos 
I»etegat  orbes  :  nee  sit  terris 
Ultima  Thule. 

Seneca.    Med.  Act  iii.  v.  875. 
Philadelphia:  Printed  by  Joseph  Cruikshank,  for  E.  Aitken, 
Bookseller,  oppo.-ite  tbe  Loudon    Coffee-House,   in    Front- 
street.    1772. 

t  The  Battle  of  Bunker's  Hill.  A  dramatic  piece,  of  Are 
Acts,  in  heroic  measure  ;  by  a  Gentleman  of  Maryland. 

Pulchrumque  nrori  succurrit  in  armis. 

Virgil. 

ris  glorious  to  die  in  battle. 

Philadelphia:    Printed  aud  Sold  by  Robert  Bell,  in  Third- 
street.    1776. 
VOL.    I.— 19 


Who  never  yet,  of  luxury,  or  soft 

Delights,  effeminate  and  false,  have  tasted. 

But,  through  hate  of  chains,  and  slav'ry,  suppos'd, 

Forsake  their  mountain  tops,  and  rush  to  arms. 

Oft  have  I  heard  their  valour  published : 

Their  perseverance,  and  untameable 

Fiei'ee  mind,  when  late  they  fought  with  us,  and 

drove 
The  French,  encroaching  on  their  settlements, 
Baek  to  their  frozen  lakes.     Or  when  with  us 
On  Cape  Breton,  they  stormed  Louisburg. 
With  us.  in  Canada,  they  took  Quebec  ; 
And  at  the  Havamiah,  these  New  England  Men, 
Led  on  by  Putnam,  acted  gallantly. 

The  assault  is  made,  and  Warren  falls.     This 
is  a  portion  of  his  dying  speech : — 

Weep  not  for  him  who  first  espous'd  the  cause 
Aud  risking  life,  have  met  the  enemy, 
In  fatal  opposition.     But  rejoice — 
For  now  I  go  to  mingle  with  the  dead, 
Great  Brutus,   Hampden,  Sidney,  and  the  rest, 
Of  old  or  modern  memory,  who  liv'd, 
A  mound  to  tyrants,  and  strong  hedge  to  kings; 
Bounding  the  indignation  of  their  rage 
Against  the  happiness  and  peace  of  man. 
I  see  these  heroes,  where  they  walk  serene, 
By  chrystal  currents,  on  the  vale  of  Heaven, 
High  iu  full  converse  of  immortal  acts, 
Achiev'd  for  truth  and  innocence  on  earth. 
Meantime  the  harmony  and  thrilling  sound 
Of  mellow  lutes,  sweet  viols  aud  guitars, 
Dwell  on  the  soul,  and  ravish  ev'ry  nerve. 
Anon  the  murmur  of  the  tight-brac'd  drum. 
With  finely  varied  fifes  to  martial  airs, 
Wind  up  the  spirit  to  the  mighty  proof 
Of  siege  and  battle,  and  attempt  in  arms. 
Illustrious  group  !     They  beckon  me  along, 
To  ray  my  visage  with  immortal  light, 
And  bind  the  amaranth  around  my  brow. 
I  come,  I  come,  ye  first-born  of  true  fame; 
Fight  on,  my  countrymen  ;    Be  free,  be  free. 

Appended  to  the  Poem  are  the  two  following 
Lyrics : — 

AN  ODE  ON  TTTE  BATTLE  OF  BrTNKER'S-niLL. 

Sung  and  acted  by  a  Soldier,  in  a  Mittiary  Habit,  with  hi* 
Firelock,  tfic,  in  the  same  Meaxwewffll  aSeapiece,  entitled 
tlie  Temped. 

"  Cease,  rude  Boreas,  blustering  railer." 


You  bold  warriors,  who  resemble 

Flames  upon  tlie  distant  hill ; 
At  whose  view  the  heroes  tremble, 

Fighting  with  unequal  skill. 
Loud-sounding  drums,   now  with  hoarse  mur- 
murs, 

Rouse  the  spirit  up  to  war; 
Fear  not,  fear  not,  though  their  numbers, 

Much  to  ours  superior  are. 
Hear  brave  Warren,  bold  commanding: 
"  Gallant  souls  aud  vet'rans  brave, 
See  the  enemy  just  landing, 

From  the  navy-cover'd  wave. 
Close  the  wings — advance  the  centre — 

Engineers  point  well  your  guns — 
Clap  the  matches — let  the  rent  air 

Bellow  to  Britannia's  sons." 

n. 
Now,  think  you  see  three  thousand  moving, 

bp  the  brow  of  Bunker's  Hill; 
Many  a  gallant  vet'ran  shoving 

Cowards  on,  against  their  will. 


290 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  curling  volumes  all  behind  them, 

Dusky  clouds  of  smoke  arise ; 
Our  cannon-balls,  brave  boys,  6hall  find  them, 

At  each  shot  a  hero  dies. 
Once  more.  Warren,  'midst  this  terror, 
"  Charge,  brave  soldiers,  charge  again; 
Many  an  expert  vet'rau  warrior 

Of  the  enemy  is  slain. 
Level  "well  your  charged  pieces, 

In  direction  to  the  town ; 
They  shake,  they  shake,  their  lightning  ceases ; 

That  shot  brought  six  standards  dowu." 

m. 

Maids  in  virgin  beauty  blooming, 

On  Britannia's  sea-girt  isle, 
Say  no  more  your  swains  are  coming, 

Or  with  soi.gs  the  day  beguile. 
For  sleeping  found  in  death's  embraces, 

On  their  clay-cold  beds  they  lie ; 
Death,  grim  death,  alas,  defaces 

Youth  and  pleasure,  which  must  die. 
"  March  the  right  wing,  Gard'ner,  yonder; 

The  hero  spirit  lives  in  thunder  ; 
Take  th'  assailing  foe  in  flank, 

Close  there,  serjeants,  close  that  rank. 
The  conflict  now  doth  londly  call  on 

Highest  proof  of  martial  skill; 
Heroes  shall  sing  of  them,  who  fall  on 

The  slipp'ry  brow  of  Busker's  Hill." 

rv. 
Unkindest  fortune,  still  thou  changest, 

As  the  wind  upon  the  wave  ; 
The  good  and  bad  alike  thou  rangest, 

Undistiuguish'd  in  the  grave. 
Shall  kingly  tyrants  see  thee  6miling, 

Whilst  the  brave  and  just  must  die ; 
Them  of  sweet  hope  and  life  beguiling 

In  the  arms  of  victory. 
"  Behave  this  day,  my  lads,  with  spirit, 

Wrap  the  hill  top  as  in  flame  ; 
Oh !  if  we  fall,  let  each  one  merit 

Immortality  in  famo. 
From  this  high  ground,  like  VesiVus, 

Pour  the  floods  of  fire  along; 
Let  not,  let  not  numbers  move  us, 

We  are  yet  five  hundred  strong." 

v. 
Many  a  widow  sore  bewailing 

Tender  husbands,  shall  remain, 
With  tears  and  sorrows,  unavailing, 

From  this  hour  to  mourn  them  slain. 
The  rude  scene  striking  all  by-standers, 

Bids  the  little  band  retire; 
Who  can  live  like  salamanders, 

In  such  floods  of  liquid  fire? 
"  Ah,  our  troops  are  sorely  pressed — 

Howe  ascends  the  smoky  hill ; 
Wheel  inward,  let  these  ranks  be  faced, 

We  have  yet  some  blood  to  spill. 
Our  right  wing  push'd,  our  left  surrounded, 

Weight  of  numbers  five  to  one; 
Warren  dead,  and  Garu'.ner  wounded — 

Ammunition  is  quite  gone." 


See  the  steely  points,  bright  gleaming 

In  the  sun's  fierce  dazzling  ray ; 
Groans  arising,  life-blood  streaming, 

Purple  o'er  the  face  of  day. 
The  field  is  cover'd  with  the  dying, 

Free-men  mixt  with  tyrants  lie, 
The  living  with  each  other  yieing, 

Raise  the  shout  of  battle  high. 


Now  brave  Putnam,  aged  soldier: 

"  Come,  my  vet'rans,  we  must  yield ; 

More  equal  match'd,  we'll  yet  charge  bolder, 

For  the  present  quit  the  field. 
The  God  of  battles  shall  revisit 

On  their  heads  each  soul  that  dies; 
Take  courage,  boys,  we  yet  shan't  miss  it, 

From  a  thousand  victories." 

A  MILITARY  SONG,  BY  TnE  ABUT,  ON  GENERAL  WASHINGTON'S 
VICTORIOUS  ENTRY  INTO  THE  TOWN  OF  BOSTON. 

Sons  of  valor,  taste  the  glories 

Of  celestial  Liberty  ; 
Sing  a  triumph  o'er  the  Tories, 

Let  the  pulse  of  joy  beat  high. 

Heaven,  this  day,  hath  foil'd  the  many. 

Fallacies  of  George  their  king ; 
Let  the  echo  reach  Britany, 

Bid  her  mountain  summits  ring. 

See  yon  navy  swell  the  bosom 

Of  the  late  enraged  sea; 
Where-e'er  the\T  go  we  shall  oppose  them, 

Sons  of  valour  must  be  free. 

Should  they  touch  at  fair  Rhode-Islakk, 
There  to  combat  with  the  brave ; 

Driven  from  each  hill  and  high-land, 
They  shall  plough  the  purple  wave. 

Should  they  thence  to  fair  Virgin! 

Bend  a  squadron  to  Dunmore  ; 
Still  with  fear  and  ignominy, 

They  shall  quit  the  hostile  shore. 

To  Carolina  or  to  Georgy, 

Should  they  next  advance  their  fame, 
This  land  of  heroes  shall  disgorge  the 

Sons  of  tyranny  and  shame. 

Let  them  rove  to  climes  far  distant, 

Situate  under  Arctic  skies, 
Call  on  Hessian  troops  assistant, 

And  the  savages  to  rise 

Boast  of  wild  brigades  from  Russia, 

To  fix  down  the  galling  chain; 
Canada  and  Nova  Scotia 

Shall  discharge  these  hordes  again. 

In  New  York  state,  rejoined  by  Clinton, 
Should  their  standards  mock  the  air, 

Many  a  surgeon  shall  put  lint  on 
Wounds  of  death,  received  there. 

War,  fierce  war,  6hall  break  their  forces, 

Nerves  of  Tory  men  shall  fail, 
Seeing  Howe  with  alter'd  courses, 

Bending  to  the  western  gale. 

Thus,  from  every  bay  of  ocean, 
Flying  back,  with  sails  unfurl'd; 

Tost  with  evcr-troubl'd  motion, 
They  shall  quit  this  smiling  world. 

Like  Satan,  banished  from  Heaven, 

Never  see  the  smiling  shore, 
From  this  land  so  happy,  driven, 

Never  stain  its  bosom  more. 

On  going  to  Philadelphia  in  1776,  Brackenridge 
supported  himself  by  editing  the  United  States 
Magazine,  a  periodical  of  which  an  anecdote  of  his 
editorship  is  given  by  his  son.  "At  one  time  the 
magazine  contained  some  severe  strictures  on  the 
celebrated  General  Lte,  and  censured  him  for  his 
conduct  to  Washington.  Lee,  in  a  rage,  called  at 
the  office,  in  company  with  one  or  two  of  his 


HUGH  HENRY  BRACKENRIDGE. 


291 


aides,  with  the  intention  of  assaulting  the  editor; 
he  knocked  at  the  door,  while  Mr.  Braekenridge, 
looking  out  of  the  upper  story  window,  inquired 
what  was  wanting?  'Come  down,'  said  Lee, 
1  and  I'll  give  you  as  good  a  horse-whipping  as 
any  rascal  ever  received.'  '  Excuse  me,  general,' 
said  the  other,  '  I  would  not  go  down  for  two 
Such  favors.'  " 

Like  D  wight  and  Barlow,  Braekenridge  was  a 
chaplain  in  the  Revolutionary  army,  preaching 
political  sermons  in  the  camp.  Six"of  them  wvre- 
published  at  the  time  in  a  pamphlet,  which  had  a 
large  circulation.  He  delivered  an  oration  on  the 
4th  July,  1778,  in  honor  of  those  fallen  in  the 
war,  in  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church  in  Philadel- 
phia. 


The  hent  of  his  mind  was  not  formed  for  the 
Scotch  Presbyterian  theology,  so  lie  relinquished 
the  pulpit  for  the  bar,  and  studied  law  with  Sa-  j 
muel  Chase,  at  Annapolis.  His  son  tells  us,  in  his 
biographical  notice,  that  "  although  licensed  to  j 
preach,  he  was  never  ordained  nor  formally  con-  I 
secrated  to  tlie  ministry.  As  he  grew  older  he  j 
.became  convinced  that  his  natural  temperament  I 
called  Win  to  the  scenes  of  active  life.  Besides, 
he  found  himself  unable  to  yield  a  full  as-ent  to 
all  the  tenets  of  the  church  in  which  he  had 
been  educated.'  He  declared  that  for  two  whole 
years  he  laboured  most  sincerely  and  assiduously 
to  convince  himself,  but  in  vain ;  and  he  could 
not  think  of  publicly  maintaining  doctrines,  in 
which  he  did  not  privately  believe.  On  one  oc- 
casion, in  conversation  with  a  Scotch  clergyman, 
he  stated  his  difficulties.  The  other  replied  to 
him  that  he  was  pretty  much  in  the  same  predica- 
ment. '  Then,  how  do  you  reconcile  it  to  your 
conscience  to  preach  doctrines  of  whose  truth 
you  are  not  fully  convinced  V  '  Hoot,  man,'  said 
he,  '  I  dinna  think  much  about  it— I  explain  the 
doctrine,  as  I  wud  a  system  o'  moral  philosophy 
or  metaphysics ;  and  if  I  dinna  just  understand 
it  noo,  the  time  may  come  when  I  shall;  and  in 
the  meantime  I  put  my  faith  in  wiser  men,  who 
established  the  articles,  and  in  those  whose  heads 


are  sufficiently  clear  to  understand  them.  And 
if  we  were  tae  question  but  ane  o'  these  doctrines, 
it  wud  be  like  taking  a  stane  out  o'  a  biggin  ;  the 
whole  wa'  might  fa'  doon.' " 

In  1781,  Braekenridge  crossed  the  Alleghanies 
and  established  himself  at  Pittsburg — from  which 
region  he  was  sent  to  the  State  Legislature.  His 
subsequent  participation  with  Gallatin  in  the 
Whiskey  Insurrection  brought  him  into  general  ' 
notice  in  the  agitations  of  that  period.  As  a 
western  man  he  thought  the  excise  law  which  the 
rioters  attempted  to  put  down,  oppressive.  It 
was  impossible  not  to  engage  to  some  extent  in 
their  movements,  while  he  exerted  his  powers  to  re- 
gulate and  restrain  the  actors  from  the  commission 
of  treason.  When  that  affair  was  over  he  took 
pains  to  vindicate  his  conduct  by  procuring  letters 
from  the  most  eminent  parties  in  reply  to  a  cir- 
cular letter,  and  by  the  publication  of  his  Incidents 
of  the  Insurrection  in  the  Western  Parts  of  Penn- 
sylvania in  1794,  which  was  published  the  follow- 
ing year  at  Philadelphia. 

The  scenes  which  he  passed  through,  and  his 
experience  of  political  life,  gave  him  the  material 
for  his  Modern  Chivalry,  or  the  Adventures  of 
Captain  Farrago,  and  league  O1  Regan,  his  Ser- 
vant, the  first  part  of  which  was  published  in  • 
1796  at  Pittsburgh.  The  second  portion  was  *■ 
issued  after  an  interval  of  ten  years.  The  whole 
of  Modern  Chivalry,  with  the  last  corrections 
and  additions  of  the  author,  was  published  in  two 
volumes  at  Pittsburgh  in  1819,  a  book  which  is 
now  exceedingly  rare.  The  Philadelphia  edition 
of  1846,  illustrated  by  Darley,  contains  only  the 
contents  of  the  first  volume  of  the  former  edition. 
It  was  edited  by  the  author's  son,  II.  M.  Bracken 
ridge,  with  a  preface  and  biographical  sketch.  It 
is  there  remarked  that  this  work  "  is  believed 
to  be  entirely  unknown  in  Europe,  and  that  it  has 
never  been  noticed  by  any  review."  We  may 
quote  from  the  editor's  preface  an  anecdote  of  the 
author  and  his  reputation  in  the  West : — ■ 

The  author  used  to  relate  an  incident  which  oc- 
curred to  him  at  a  place  where  he  was  detained  a 
day,  in  consequence  of  having  missed  the  stage,  and 
feeling  ennui,  asked  the  landlord  whether  he  had 
anything  amusing  to  read.  "  That  I  have,"  said  he, 
at  the  same  time  opening  a  little  desk  in  his  bar,  and 
producing  a  torn  volume' of  "Modern  Chivalry." 
"  There,"  said  he,  "  is  something  will  make  you 
laugh;  and  the  man  that  wrote  it  was  no  fool 
neither."  When  the  author's  descendants  or  rela- 
tives happen  to  be  travelling,  the  first  question  al- 
most invariably  asked  of  them  is,  "  Are  you  related 
to  the  author  of  Modern  Chivalry?"  One  of  them 
having  landed  on  the  Mississippi,  with  the  intention 
of  going  to  St.  Louis,  a  distance  of  two  hundred 
miles  by  land,  on  making  inquiries  for  some  mode 
of  conveyance,  was  addressed  by  a  stranger  in  these 
words :  "  I  understand,  sir,  your  name  is  Braeken- 
ridge. Are  you  related  to  the  author  of  Modern 
Chivalry?"  And  on  being  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive, immediately  offered  his  horse,  telling  him  to 
keep  him  until  an  opportunity  should  offer  of  re- 
turning him. 

In  the  West,  Modern  Chivalry  is,  or  deserves 
to  be,  regarded  as  a  kind  of  aboriginal  classic.  It 
has  the  rough  flavor  of  the  frontier  settlement  in 
its  manly  sentiment,  and  not  particularly  delicate 
expression.     Braekenridge  was  an  eccentric  man 


202 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


in  his  manners,  though  of  vigorous  sense.  This 
book  shows  his  humors  in  perfection,  and  so  far 
as  his  ways  of  thinking  go  is  autobiographic.  It 
exhibits  a  warm,  generous  nature,  and  a  man  of 
much  reading  and  reflection.  The  story,  with  its 
few  incidents,  is  modelled  upon  Hudibras  and 
Don  Quixote,  and  productions  of  that  ilk.  The 
humor  is  after  Sterne  and  Fielding,  whose  exam- 
ple would  have  been  nothing  without  the  natural 
ability  of  the  writer  to  profit  by  it. 

Captain  Farrago  is  a  type  of  the  author ;  his  ser- 
vant Teague  O'liegan  is  a  humorous  invention 
which  does  capital  execution  with  the  dema- 
gogues, sciolists,  and  other  pretenders  of  the  day. 
The  work  had  an  object  to  sow  a  few  seeds  of 
political  wisdom  among  his  fellow  citizens,  then 
little  experienced  in  the  use  of  political  power, 
and  its  lessons  in  this  way  are  profitable  still. 
The  Captain  is  the  representative  of  Don  Quixote, 
a  clear-headed  man,  who-e  independent  way  of 
looking  at  things,  from  living  out  of  the  world, 
has  gained  him  the  reputation  of  eccentricity. 
He  is  withal  a  practical  wag,  setting  out  with  his 
Irish  servant  in  quest  of  adventures.  The  gist  of 
Ms  observation  and  experience  lies  in  this,  that 
the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  a  new  state  of 
society  have  been  thrust  upon  a  rao  of  men  so 
suddenly,  that,  unused  to  their  new  democratic 
privileges,  they  are  very  much  in  the  way  of 
abusing  them.  Without  political  knowledge  they 
are  ready  to  send  the  weaver  to  Congress ;  with- 
out learning  the  leatherheads  rush  in  as  members 
of  the  philosophical  society,  and  appoint,  after 
the  manner  of  Dr.  O'Toole,  a  native  Irishman  to 
a  Greek  profes^or?hip.  Teague  O'Regan  is  con- 
stantly in  danger.  He  is  in  momentary  risk  of 
being  decoyed  from  his  master,  made  a  clergy- 
man of,  elected  to  the  philosophical  society,  or 
spirited  away  to  the  legislature.  After  awhile 
Teague  learns  to  tell  one  foot  from  another  by  the 
aid  of  a  Philadelphia  dancing  master,  is  introduced 
at  the  President's  levee,  and  gets  the  appointment 
of  Collector  of  the  Excise  in  the  Alleghanies. 
This  leads  to  a  tarring  and  feathering,  which  was 
doubtless  drawn  from  the  author's  reminiscences 
of  the  Whiskey  Insurrection.  In  the  meanwhile 
the  Captain  has  procured  a  Scottish  servant,  Dun- 
can, whose  dialect  is  better  sustained  than  that 
of  his  Irish  predecessor.  Brackenridge's  law 
learning,  his  .  College  reading,  his'  schoolmaster's 
acquisition,  his  roughly  acquired  knowledge  of 
the  world,  are  all  displayed  in  this  book.  His  ex- 
planation of  bis  use  of  the  character  of  the  Irish 
clown  is  curious,  and  the  remarks  which  follow 
are  a  truthful  plea  for  fiction. 

It  has  been  asked,  why,  in  writing  this  memoir, 
have  I  taken  my  clown  from  the  Irish  nation?  The 
character  of  the  English  clown,  I  did  not  well  un- 
derstand; nor  could  I  imitate  the  manner  of  speak- 
ing That  of  the  Scotch  I  have  tried,  as  may  be 
seen,  in  the  character  of  Duncan.  But  I  found  it, 
in  my  hands,  rather  insipid.  The  character  of  the 
Irish  clown,  to  use  the  language  of  Rousseau,  "  has 
more  stuff  in  it."     He  will  attempt  anything. 

The  American  has  in  fact,  yet,  no  character; 
neither  the  clown,  nor  the  gentleman  ;  so  that  I 
eould  not  take  one  from  our  own  country ;  which  I 
would  much  rather  have  done,  as  the  scene  lay  here. 
But  the  midland  states  of  America,  and  the  western 
parts  in  general,  being  half  Ireland,  the  character 


]  of  the  Irish  clown  will  not  be  wholly  misunderstood. 
It  is  true  the  clown  is  taken  from  the  aboriginal 
Irish;  a  character  not  so  well  known  in  the  North 
of  that  country;  nevertheless,  it  is  still  so 'much 
known,  even  there,  and  amongst  the  emigrants  here 
or  their  descendants,  that  it  will  not  be  wholly 
thrown  away. 

On  the  Irish  stages  it  is  a  standing  character;  and 
on  the  theatre  in  Britain  it  is  also  introduced.  I 
have  not  been  able  to  do  it  justice,  being  but  half 
an  Irishman  myself,  and  not  so  well  acquainted 
with  the  reversions,  and  idiom,  of  the  genuine 
Thady,  as  I  could  wish.  However,  the  imitation,  at 
a  distance  from  the  original,  will  better  pass  than 
if  it  had  been  written,  and  read,  nearer  home.  For- 
eigners will  not  so  readily  distinguish  the  incongrui- 
ties ;  or,  as  it  is  the  best  we  can  produce  for  the 
present,  will  more  indulgently  consider  them. 

I  think  it  the  duty  of  every  man  who  possesses  a 
faculty,  and  perhaps  a  facility  of  drawing  such 
images,  as  will  amuse  his  neighbour,  to  lend  a  hand, 
and  do  something.  Have  those  authors  done  nothing 
for  the  world,  whose  works  would  seem  to  have  had 
no  other  object  but  to  amuse  ?  In  low  health ;  after 
the  fatigue  of  great  mental  exertion  on  solid  disqui- 
sition ;  in  pain  of  mind,  from  disappointed  passions ; 
or  broken  with  the  sensibilities  of  sympathy  and 
affection  ;  it  is  a  relief  to  try  not  to  think,  and  this 
is  attainable,  in  some  degree,  by  light  reading.  Un- 
der sensations  of  this  kind,  I  have  had  recourse 
more  than  once  to  Don  Quixote ;  which  doubtless 
contains  a  great  deal  of  excellent  moral  sentiment. 
But,  at  the  same  time,  has  much  that  can  serve  only 
to  amuse.  Even  in  health,  and  with  a  flow  of  spirits, 
from  prosperous  affairs,  it  diversifies  enjoyments,  and 
adds  to  the  happiness  of  which  the  mind  is  capable. 
I  I  trust,  therefore,  that  the  gravest  persons  will  not 
be  of  opinion  that  I  ought  to  be  put  out  of  church 
I  for  any  appearance  of  levity,  which  this  work  may 
I   seem  to  carry  with  it. 

I  know  there  have  been  instances  amongst  the 
Puritans,  of  clergymen,  degraded  for  singing  a 
Scotch  pastoral.  But  music  is  a  carnal  thing  com- 
pared with  putting  thoughts  upon  paper.  It  re- 
quires an  opening  of  the  mouth,  and  a  rolling  of 
the  tongue,  whereas  thought  is  wholly  spiritual,  and 
depends  not  on  any  modification  of  the  corporeal 
organs:  Music,  however,  even  by  the  strictest  sects, 
is  admissible  in  sacred  harmony,  whi  h  is  an  ac- 
knowledgment, that  even  sound  has  its  uses  to  soothe 
the  mind  or  to  fit  it  for  contemplation. 

I  would  ask,  which  is  the  most  entertaining  work, 
Smollet's  History  of  England:  or  his  Humphrey 
Clinker  '(  For,  as  to  the  utility,  so  far  as  that  de- 
pends upon  truth,  they  are  both  alike.  History  has 
been  well  said  to  be  the  Romance  of  the  human 
mind  ;  and  Romance  the  history  of  the  heart.  "When 
the  son  of  Robert  Walpole  asked  his  father,  whether 
he  should  read  to  him  out  of  a  book  of  history; 
he  said,  "he  was  not  fond  of  Romance."  This  minis- 
ter had  been  long  engaged  in  affairs;  and  from  what 
lie  had  seen  of  accounts  of  things  within  his  own 
knowledge  he  had  little  confidence  in  the  relation 
of  things  which  he  had  not  seen.  Except  memoirs 
of  persons'  own  times ;  biographical  sketches  by 
cotemporary  writers;  Voyages,  and  Travels,  that 
have  geographical  exactness,  there  is  little  of  the 
historical  kind,  in  point  of  truth,  before  Roderick 
Random,  or  Gil  Bias. 

The  Eastern  nations  in  their  tales  pretend  to 
nothing  but  fiction.  Nor  is  the  story  with  them  the 
less  amusing  because  it  is  not  true.  Nor  is  the  moral 
of  it  less  impressive,  because  the  actors  never  had 
existence. 

In  the  second  volume  of  the  work  the  style  is 


HUGH  HENRY  BRACKENRIDGE. 


293 


more  didactic  but  not  less  genial.  It  contains  the 
material  of  a  rare  volume  of  Essays,  fresh,  inde- 
pendent in  thought,  quaint  in  humor  and  expres- 
sion. 

When  Governor  McKean  secured  the  demo- 
i  cratic  ascendency  by  his  election  in  1799,  Brack- 
enridge  \Vas  one  of  his  appointments  as  Judge  in 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State,  where  he  pre- 
sided with  ability  till  his  death  in  1816.  Brack; 
enridge  deserves  to  be  better  known  through  his 
writing?.  His  numeri ius  miscellanies,  scattered  in 
old  pamphlets,  periodicals,  and  newspapers,  if 
collected  would  form  a  pleasing  and  instructive 
commentary  .on  his  times,  lie  had  wit,  humor, 
and  a  sound  judgment.  His  judicial  decisions 
were  celebrated  for  their  integrity  and  indepen- 
dence. 

Hildreth,  no  friend  to  his  party,  admits — "Even 
Brackenridge,  whatever  his  eccentricities  and 
faults  as  a  man  or  a  politician,  proved,  in  his  ju- 
dicial character,  no  disgrace  to  the  bench."  * 

His  social  talents  must  have  been  of  a  rare 
order.  There  is  a  capital  anecdote  narrated  by 
Paulding,  of  his  efforts  to  overcome  the  gravity 
of  Washington.  The  judge,  as  he  relates  it,  "on 
a  particular  occasion,  fell  in  with  Washington  at 
a  public-house,  where  a  large  company  had 
gathered  together  for  the  purpose  of  discussing 
the  subject  of  improving  the  navigation  of  the 
Potomac.  They  supped  at  the  same  table,  and 
Mr.  Brackenridge  essayed  all  his  powers  of 
humor  to  divert  the  General;  but  in  vain.  He 
seemed  aware. of  his  purpose,  and  listened  with- 
out a  smile.  However,  it  so  happened  that  the 
chambers  of  Washington  and  Brackenridge  ad- 
joined, and  were  only  separated  from  each  other 
by  a  thin  partition  of  pine  boards.  The  General 
had  retired  first,  and  when  the  judge  entered  his 
own  room,  he  was  delighted  to  hear  Washington, 
who  was  already  in  bed,  laughing  to  himself  with 
infinite  glee,  no  doubt  at  the  recollection  of  his 
stories."  t 

AN  ELECTION  SCENE — FROM  MODERN  CHIVALRY. 

The  Captain  rising  early  uext  morning,  and  setting 
out  on  his  way,  had  now  arrived  at  a  place  where  a 
number  of  people  were  convened,  for  the  purpose 
of  electing  persons  (o  represent  them  in  the  legisla- 
ture of  the  state.  There  was  a  weaver  who  was  a 
candidate  for  this  appointment,  and  seemed  to  have 
a  good  deal  of  interest  among  the  people.  But 
another,  who  was  a  man  of  education,  was  his  com- 
petitor. Relying  on  some  talent  of  speaking  which 
he  thought  he  possessed,  he  addressed  the  multitude. 

Fellow  citizens,  said  he,  I  pretend  not  to  any  great 
abilities ;  but  am  conscious  to  myself  that  I  have 
the  best  good  will  to  serve  you.  But  it  is  very 
astonishing  to  me,  that  this  weaver  should  conceive 
himself  qualified  for  the  trust.  For  though  my 
acquirements  are  not  great,  yet  his  are  still  less. 
The  mechanical  business  which  he  pursues,  must 
necessarily  take  up  so  much  of  his  time,  that  he 
cannot  apply  himself  to  political  studies.  I  should 
therefore  thiuk  it  would  be  more   answerable   to 


*  TTistory  of  the  United  States. 

t  Paulding's  Life  of  Washington,  ii.  l!l4  There  is  a  story- 
still  circulated  in  Philadelphia,  which  he  used  to  tell  at  the 
expense  of  the  Philosophical  Society,  of  a  member  having 
picked  up  one  of  the  small  fashionable  lady's  fans  of  those 
days,  in  the  gutter,  and  the  society  having  reported  on  it  as  the 
wing  of  a  newly  discovered  bat. 


your  dignity,  and  conducive  to  your  interest,  to  be 
represented  by  a  man  at  least  of  some  letters,  than 
by  an  illiterate  handicraftsman  like  this.  It  will  be 
more  honorable  for  himself,  to  remain  at  his  loom 
and  knot  threads  than  to  come  forward  in  a  legisla- 
tive capacity  :  because  in  the  one  case,  he  is  in  the 
sphere  suited  to  his  education ;  iu  the  other,  he  is 
like  a  fish  out  of  water,  and  must  struggle  for  breath 
in  a  new  element. 

Is  it  possible  he  can  understand  the  affairs  of 
government,  whose  mind  has  been  concentred  to  the 
small  object  of  weaving  webs,  to  the  price  by  the 
yard,  the  grist  of  the  thread,  and  such  like  matters 
as  concern  the  manufacturer  of  cloths  ?  The  feet 
of  him  who  weaves,  are  more  occupied  than  the 
head,  or  at  least  as  much  ;  and  therefore  he  must  be, 
at  least  but  in  half,  accustomed  to  exercise  his  men- 
tal powers.  F7or  these  reasons,  all  other  things  set 
aside,  the  chance  is  in  my  favour,  with  respect  to 
information.  However,  you  will  decide,  and  give 
your  suffrages  to  him  or  to  me,  as  you  shall  j  udge 
expedient. 

The  Captain  hearing  these  observations,  and  look- 
ing at  the  weaver,  could  not  help  advancing,  and 
undertaking  to  subjoin  something  in  support  of  what 
had  been  just  said.  Said  he,  I  have  no  prejudice 
against  a  weaver  more  than  another  man.  JS'or  do 
1  know  any  harm  in  the  trade  ;  save  that  from  the 
sedentary  life  in  a  damp  place,  there  is  usually  a 
paleness  of  the  countenance  ;  but  this  is  a  physical, 
not  a  moral  evil.  Such  usually  occupy  subterranean 
apartments ;  not  for  the  purpose,  like  Demosthenes, 
of  shaving  their  heads  and  writing  over  eight  times 
the  history  of  Thucydides,  and  perfecting  a  style  of 
oratory;  but  rather  to  keep  the  thread  moist;  or 
because  tins  is  considered  but  as  an  inglorious  sort 
of  trade,  and  is  frequently  thrust  away  into  cellars, 
and  damp  out-houses,  which  are  not  occupied  for  a 
better  use. 

But  to  rise  from  the.  cellar  to  the  senate  house, 
would  be  an  unnatural  hoist.  To  come  from  count- 
ing threads,  and  adjusting  them  to  the  splits  of  a 
reed,  to  regulate  the  finauces  of  a  government, 
would  be  preposterous;  there  being  no  congruity  in 
the  case.  There  is  no  analogy  between  knotting 
threads  and  framing  laws.  It  would  be  a  reversion 
of  the  order  of  things.  Not  that  a  manufacturer  of 
linen  or  woolen,  or  other  stuffs,  is  an  inferior  cha- 
racter, but  a  different  one,  from  that  which  ought  to 
be  employed  iu  affairs  of  state.  It  is  unnecessary 
to  enlarge  on  this  subject;  for  you  must  all  be  con- 
vinced of  the  truth  and  propriety  of  what  I  say. 
But  if  you  will  gi  ve  me  leave  to  take  the  manufacturer 
aside  a  little,  1  think  I  can  explain  to  hjin  my  ideas 
on  the  subject;  and  very  probably  prevail  with  him 
to  withdraw  his  pretensions.  The  people  seeming 
to  acquiesce,  and  beckoning  to  the  weaver,  they 
withdrew  aside,  and  the  Captain  addressed  him  in 
the  following  words: 

Mr.  Traddle,  said  he,  for  that  was  the  name  of  the 
manufacturer,  I  have  not  the  smallest  idea  of  wound- 
ing your  sensibility ;  but  it  would  seem  to  me,  it 
would  be  more  your  interest  to  pursue  your  occupa- 
tion, than  to  launch  out  into  that  of  which  you  have 
no  knowledge.  When  you  go  to  the  senate  house, 
the  application  to  you  will  not  be  to  warp  a  web; 
but  to  make  laws  for  the  commonwealth.  Now, 
suppose  that  the  making  these  laws  requires  a  know- 
ledge of  commerce,  or  of  the  interests  of  agriculture, 
or  those  principles  upon  which  the  different  manu- 
factures depend,  what  service  could  you  render  ?  It 
is  possible  you  might  think  justly  enough  ;  but  could 
you  speak?  You  are  not  in  the  habit  of  public 
speaking.  You  are  not  furnished  with  those  common- 
place ideas,  with  which  even  very  ignorant  men  can 


294 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


pass  for  knowing  something.  There  is  nothing 
makes  a  man  so  ridiculous,  as  to  attempt  what  is 
above  his  sphere.  You  are  no  tumbler,  for  instance; 
yet  should  you  give  out  that  you  could  vault  upon  a 
man's  back  ;  or  turn  heels  over  head  like  the  wheels 
of  a  cart;  the  stiffness  of  your  joints  would  encum- 
ber you ;  and  you  would  fall  upon  your  posteriors 
to  the  ground,  touch  a  squash  as  that,  would  do  you 
damage.  The  getting  up  to  ride  on  the  state  is  an 
unsafe  thing  to  those  who  are  not  accustomed  to 
such  horsemanship.  It  is  a  disagreeable  thing  for 
a  man  to  be  laughed  at,  and  there  is  no  way  of  keep- 
ing one's  self  from  it  but  by  avoiding  all  affectation. 
While  they  were  thus  discoursing,  a  bustle  had 
taken  place  among  the  crowd.  'league  hearing  so 
much  about  elections,  and  serving  the  government, 
took  it  into  his  head  that  he  could  be  a  legislator 
himself.  The  tiling  was  not  displeasing  to  the  peo- 
ple, who  seemed  to  favour  his  pretensions ;  owing, 
in  some  degree,  to  there  being  several  of  his  coun- 
trymen among  the  crowd ;  but  more  especially  to 
the  fluctuation  of  the  popular  mind,  and  a  disposi- 
tion to  what  is  new  and  ignoble.  For  though  the 
weaver  was  not  the  most  elevated  object  of  choice, 
yet  he  was  still  preferable  to  this  tatter-demalion, 
who  was  but  a  menial  servant,  and  had  so  much  of 
what  is  called  the  brogue  on  his  tongue,  as  to  fall 
far  short  of  an  elegant  speaker. 

The  Captain  coming  up,  and  finding  what  was  on 
the  carpet,  was  greatly  chagrined  at  not  having  been 
able  to  give  the  multitude  a  better  idea  of  the  im- 
portance of  a  legislative  trust ;  alarmed  also,  from 
an  apprehension  of  the  loss  of  his  servant.  Under 
these  impressions  he  resumed  his  address  to  the 
multitude.  Said  he,  this  is  making  the  matter  still 
worse,  gentlemen  :  this  servant  of  mine  is  but  a 
bog-trotter,  who  can  scarcely  speak  the  dialect  in 
which  your  laws  ought  to  be  written  ;  but  certainly 
has  never  read  a  single  treatise  on  any  political  sub- 
ject; for  the  truth  is,  he  cannot  read  at  all.  The 
young  people  of  the  lower  class,  in  Ireland,  have 
seldom  the  advantage  of  a  good  education  ;  espe- 
cially the  descendants  of  the  ancient  Irish,  who  have 
most  of  them  a  great  assurance  of  countenance,  but 
little  information  or  literature.  This  young  man, 
whose  family  name  is  O'Regan,  has  been  my  servant 
for  several  years ;  and,  except  a  too  great  fondness 
for  women,  which  now  and  then  brings  him  into 
scrapes,  he  has  demeaned  himself  in  a  manner  tole-  ! 
rable  enough.  But  he  is  totallj-  ignorant  of  the  ! 
great  principles  of  legislation  ;  and  more  especially 
the  particular  interests  of  the  government.  A  free  ] 
government  is  a  noble  acquisition  to  a  people:  and 
this  freedom  consists  in 'an  equal  right  to  make  laws, 
and  to  have  the  benefit  of  the  laws  when  made. 
Though  doubtless,  in  such  a  government,  the  lowest 
citizen  may  become  chief  magistrate  ;  yet  it  is  suf- 
ficient to  possess  the  right,  not  absolutely  necessary 
to  exercise  it.  Or  even  if  you  should  think  proper,  I 
now  and  then,  to  show  your  privilege,  and  exert,  in  | 
a  signal  manner,  the  democratic  prerogative,  yet  is 
it  not  descending  too  low  to  filch  away  from  me  a 
hireling,  which  I  cannot  well  spare?  You  are  surely 
carrying  the  matter  too  far,  in  thinking  to  make  a 
senator  of  this  ostler;  to  take  him  away  from  an 
employment  to  which  he  has  been  bred,  and  put  him 
to  another,  to  which  he  has  served  no  apprentice- 
ship :  to  set  those  hands  which  have  been  lately 
employed  in  currying  my  horse,  to  the  draughting 
bills,  and  preparing  business  for  the  house. 

The  people  were  tenacious  of  their  choice,  and 
insisted  on  giving  Teague  their  suffrages ;  and  by 
the  frown  upon  their  brows,  seemed  to  indicate 
resentment  at  what  had  been  said ;  as  indirectly 
charging  them  with  want  of  judgment;    or  calling 


in  question  their  privilege  to  do  what  they  thought 
proper.  It  is  a  very  strange  thing,  said  one  of  them, 
who  was  a  speaker  for  the  rest,  that  after  having 
conquered  Burgoyne  and  Cornwallis,  and  got  a 
government  of  our  own,  we  cannot  put  in  it  whom 
we  please.  This  young  man  may  be  your  servant, 
or  another  man's  servant ;  but  if  we  choose  to  make 
him  a  delegate,  what  is  that  to  you  ?  He  may  not 
be  yet  skilled  in  the  matter,  but  there  is  a  good  day 
coming.  We  will  empower  him  ;  and  it  is  better  to 
trust  a  plain  man  like  him  than  one  of  your  high- 
flyers, that  will  make  laws  to  suit  their  own  pur- 
poses. 

I  had  much  rather,  said  the  Captain,  you  would 
send  the  weaver,  though  I  thought  that  improper, 
than  to  invade  my  household,  and  thus  detract  from 
me  the  very  person  that  1  have  about  me  to  brush 
my  boots,  and  clean  my  spurs. 

The  prolocutor  of  the  people  gave  him  to  under- 
stand that  his  objections  were  useless,  for  the  people 
had  determined  on  the  choice,  and  Teague  they 
would  have,  for  a  representative. 

Finding  it  answered  no  end  to  expostulate  with 
the  multitude, 'he  requested  to  speak  a  word  with 
Teague  by  himself.  Stepping  aside,  he  said  to  him, 
composing  his  voice,  and  addressing  him  in  a  soft 
manner :  Teague,  yon  are  quite  wrong  in  this  matter 
the}'  liuve  put  into  your  head.  Do  you  know  what 
it  is  to  be  a  member  of  a  deliberative  body?  What 
qualifications  are  necessary?  Do  you  understand 
anything  of  geography?  If  a  question  should  be 
put  to  make  a  law  to  dig  a  canal  in  some  part  of  the 
state,  can  you  describe  the  bearing  of  the  mountains, 
and  the  course  of  the  rivers  ?  Or  if  commerce  is  to 
be  pushed  to  some  new  quarter,  by  the  force  of 
regulations,  are  you  competent  to  decide  in  such  a 
case?  There  will  be  questions  of  law  and  astrono- 
my on  the  carpet.  How  you  must  gape  and  stare 
like  a  fool,  when  you  come  to  be  asked  your  opinion 
on  these  subjects!  Are  you  acquainted  with  the 
abstract  principles  of  finance ;  with  the  funding 
public  securities;  the  ways  and  means  of  raising  the 
revenue;  providing  for  the  discharge  of  the  public 
debts,  and  all  other  things  which  respect  the  econo- 
my of  the  government?  Even  if  you  had  know- 
ledge, have  you  a  facility  of  speaking?  I  would 
suppose  you  would  have  too  much  pride  to  go  to 
the  house  just  to  say,  ay  or  no.  This  is  not  the  fault 
of  your  nature,  but  of  your  education;  having  been 
accustomed  to  dig  turf  in  your  early  years,  rather 
than  instructing  yourself  in  the  classics,  or  common 
school  books. 

When  a  man  becomes  a  member  of  a  public  body, 
he  is  like  a  racoon,  or  other  beast  that  climbs  up 
the  fork  of  a  tree ;  the  boys  pushing  at  him  with 
pitchforks,  or  throwing  stones  or  shooting  at  him 
with  an  arrow,  the  dogs  barking  in  the  mean  time. 
One  will  find  fault  with  j-our  not  speaking;  another 
with  your  speaking,  if  you  speak  at  all.  They  will 
put  you  in  the  newspapers,  and  ridicule  you  as  a 
perfect  beast.  There  is  what  they  call  the  cariea- 
tura ;  that  is,  representing  you  with  a  dog's  head,  or 
a  cat's  claw.  As  you  have  a  red  head,  they  will 
very  probably  make  a  fox  of  you,  or  a  sorrel  horse, . 
or  a  brindled  cow.  It  is  the  devil  in  hell  to  be 
exposed  to  the  squibs  and  crackers  of  the  gazette 
wits  and  publications.  You  know  no  more  about 
these  matters  than  a  goose ;  and  yet  you  would 
undertake  rashly,  without  advice,  to  enter  on  the. 
office ;  nay,  contrary  to  advice.  For  I  would  not 
for  a  thousand  guineas,  though  I  hare  not  the  half 
to  spare,  that  the  breed  of  the  O'Regans  should  come 
to  this;  bringing  on  them  a  worse  stain  than  steal- 
ing sheep;  to  which  they  are  addieted.  You  have 
nothing  but  your  character,  Teague,-  in  a  new  couu- 


HUGH  HENRY  BRACKENRIDGE. 


295 


try  to  depend  upon.  Let  it  never  be  said,  that  you 
quitted  an  honest  livelihood,  the  taking  care  of  my 
horse,  to  follow  the  new-fangled  whims  of  the  times, 
and  be  a  statesman. 

'league  was  moved  chiefly  with  the  last  part  of 
the  address,  and  consented  to  relinquish  his  preten- 
sions. 

The  Captain,  glad  of  this,  took  him  back  to  the 
people,  and  announced  his  disposition  to  decline  the 
honor  which  they  had  intended  him. 

Teague  acknowledged  that  he  had  changed  his 
mind,  and  was  willing  to  remain  in  a  private  station. 

The  people  did  not  seem  well  pleased  with  the 
Captain;  but  as  nothing  more  could  be  said  about 
the  matter,  they  turned  their  attention  to  the  weaver, 
aud  gave  him  their  suffrages. 

TEAGUE  A  MEMBER  OF  THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  60CIETY. 

There  was,  in  a  certain  great  city,  a  society  who 
called  themselves  Philosophers.  They  had  published 
books,  under  the  title  of  Transactions.  These  con- 
tained'dissertations  on  the  nature  and  causes  of 
things,  from  the  stars  of  heaven  to  the  fireflies  of 
the  earth;  and  from  the  sea-crab  to  the  woodland 
buffaloe.  Such  disquisitions  are  doubtless  useful 
and  entertaining  to  an  inquisitive  mind. 

There  is  no  question  but  there  were  in  this  body 
some  very  great  men ;  wdiose  investigations  of  the 
arcana  of  nature  deserve  attention.  But  so  it  was, 
there  had  been  introduced,  by  some  means,  many 
individuals,  who  were  no  philosophers  at  all.  This 
is  no  unusual  thing  with  institutions  of  this  nature; 
though,  by  the  bye,  it  is  a  very  great  fault.  For  it 
lessens  the  incentives  of  honor,  to  have  the  access 
made  so  easy  that  every  one  may  obtain  admission. 
It  has  been  a  reproach  to  some  colleges,  that  a 
diploma  could  be  purchased  for  half  a  crown.  This 
society  were  still  more  moderate ;  for  the  bare 
scratching  the  posteriors  of  a  member  has  been 
known  to  procure  a  membership,  At  least,  there 
have  been  those  admitted,  who  appeared  capable 
of  nothing  else. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  necessary,  even  in  these  cases, 
for  tlie  candidates  to  procure  some  token  of  a  philo- 
sophic turn  of  mind ,  such  as  the  skin  of  a  dead 
cat,  or  some  odd  kind  of  a  mouse-trap ;  or  have 
phrases  in  their  mouths,  about  minerals  and  petri- 
factions; so  as  just  to  support  some  idea  of  natural 
knowledge,  and  pass  muster.  There  was  one  who 
got  in,  by  finding,  accidentally,  the  tail  of  a  rabbit, 
which  had  been  taken  off  in  a  boy's  trap.  Another 
by  means  of  a  squirrel's  scalp,  which  he  had  taken 
care  to  stretch  and  dry  on  a  bit  of  osier,  bended  in 
the  form  of  a  hoop.  The  beard  of  an  old  fox,  taken 
off  and  dried  in  the  sun,  was  the  means  of  intro- 
ducing one  whom  I  knew  very  well :  or  rather,  as  I 
have  already  hinted,  it  was  beforehand  intended  he 
should  be  introduced  ;  and  these  exuviae,  or  spoils 
of  the  animal  kingdom]  were  but  the  tokens  and 
apologies  for  admission. 

It  happened  as  the  Captain  was  riding  this  day, 
and  Teague  trotting  after  him,  he  saw  a  large  owl, 
that  had  been  shot  by  somebody,  and  was  placed  in 
the  crotch  of  a  tree,  about  the  height  of  a  man's 
head  from  the  ground,  for  those  that  passed  by  to 
look  at.  The  Captain  being  struck  with  it,  as  some- 
what larger  than  such  birds  usually  are,  desired 
Teague  to  reach  it  to  him ;  and  tying  it  to  the  hinder 
part  of  his  saddle,  rode  along. 

Passing  by  the  house  of  one  who  belonged  to  the 
society,  the  bird  was  noticed  at  the  saddle-skirts,  and 
the  philosopher  coming  out,  made  enquiry  with 
regard  to  the  genus  and  nature  of  the  fowl.  Said 
the  Captain,  I  know  nothing  more  about  it  than  that 
it  is  nearly  as  large  as  a  turkey  buzzard.     It  is 


doubtless,  said  the  other,  the  great  Canada  owl,  that 
comes  from  the  Lakes ;  and  if  your  honor,  will  give 
me  leave,  I  will  take  it  and  submit  it  to  the  society, 
and  have  yourself  made  a  member.  As  to  the  first, 
the  Captain  consented;  but  as  to  the  last,  the  being 
a  member,  he  chose  rather  to  decline  it ;  conceiving 
himself  unqualified  for  a  place  in  such  a  body.  The 
other  assured  him  that  he  was  under  a  very  great 
mistake  ;  for  there  were  persons  there  who  scarcely 
knew  a  B  from  a  bull's  foot.  That  may  be,  said  the 
Captain:  but  if  others  choose  to  degrade  themselves, 
by  suffering  their  names  to  be  used  in  so  preposte- 
rous a  way  as  that,  it  was  no  reason  he  should. 

The  other  gave  him  to  understand,  that  the  society 
would  certainly  wish  to  express  their  sense  of  his 
merit,  aud  show  themselves  not  inattentive  to  a  vir- 
tuoso ;  that  as  he  declined  the  honor  himself,  he 
probably  might  not  be  averse  to  let  his  servant  take 
a  seat  among  them. 

He  is  but  a  simple  Irishman,  said  the  Captain,  and 
of  a  low  education  :  his  language  being  that  spoken 
by  the  aborigines  of  his  country.  And  if  he  speaks 
a  little  English,  it  is  with  the  brogue  on  his  tongue, 
which  would  be  unbecoming  in  a  member  of  your 
body.  It  would  seem  to  me  that  a  philosopher 
ought  to  know  how  to  write,  or  at  least  to  read  ;  but 
Teague  can  neither  write  nor  read.  He  can  sing  a 
song  or  whistle  an  Irish  tune ;  but  is  totally  illite- 
rate in  all  things  else.  I  question  much  if  he  could 
tell  you  how  many  new  moons  there  are  in  the  year; 
or  any  the  most  common  thing  you  could  ask  him. 
He  is  a  long-legged  fellow,  it  is  true  ;  and  might  be 
of  service  in  clambering  over  rocks,  or  going  to  the 
shores  of  rivers  to  gather  curiosities.  But  could 
you  not  get  persons  to  do  this,  without  making  them 
members?  I  have  more  respect  for  science,  than  to 
suffer  this  bog-trotter  to  be  so  advanced  at  its 
expense. 

In  these  American  states,  there  is  a  wide  field  for 
philosophic  research  ;  and  these  researches  may  be 
of  great  use  in  agriculture,  mechanics,  aud  astrono- 
my There  is  but  little  immediate  profit  attending 
these  pursuits;  but  if  .there  can  be  inducements  of 
honor,  these  may  supply  the  place.  What  more 
alluring  to  a  young  man,  than  the  prospect  of  being 
one  day  received  into  the  society  of  men  truly 
learned  ;  the  admission  being  a  test  and  a  proof  of 
distinguished  knowledge.  But  the  fountain  of 
honor,  thus  contaminated  by  a  sediment  foreign 
from  its  nature,  who  would  wish  to  drink  of  it  ? 

Said  the  philosopher,  at  the  first  institution  of  the 
society  by  Dr.  Franklin  and  others,  it  was  put.  upon 
a  narrow  basis,  and  only  men  of  seience  were  con- 
sidered proper  to  compose  it ;  and  this  might  be  a 
necessary  policy  at  that  time,  when  the  institution 
was  in  its  infancy,  and  could  not  bear  much  draw- 
back of  ignorance.  But  it  has  not  been  judged  so 
necessary  of  late  years.  The  matter  stands  now  on 
a  broad  and  catholic  bottom  ;  and  like  the  gospel 
itself,  it  is  our  orders,  "  to  go  out  into  the  highways 
and  hedges,  and  compel  them  to  come  in."  There 
are  hundreds,  whose  names  you  may  see  on  our  list, 
who  are  not  more  instructed  than  this  lad  of  yours. 

They  must  be  a  sad  set  indeed  then,  said  the 
Captain. 

Sad  or  no  sad,  said  the  other,  it  is  the  case;  and 
if  you  will  let  Teague  go,  I  will  engage  him  a  mem- 
bership. 

I  take  it  very  ill  of  you,  Mr.  Philosopher,  said  the 
Captain,  to  put  this  nonsense  in  his  head.  If  you 
knew  what  trouble  I  have  lately  had  with  a  parcel 
of  people  that  were  for  sending  him  to  Congress, 
you  would  be  unwilling  to  draw  him  from  me  for 
the  purpose  of  making  him  a  philosopher.  It  is  not 
an  easy  mitter  to  get  hirelings  now-a-days;    aud 


296 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


when  you  do  get  one,  it  is  a  mere  chance,  whether 
he  is  faithful,  and  will  suit  your  purpose.  It  would 
be  a  very  great  loss  to  me,  to  have  him  taken  off  at 
this  time,  when  I  have  equipped  myself  for  a 
journey. 

Teague  was  a  good  deal  incensed  at  this  refusal 
of  Iris  master,  and  insisted  that  he  would  be  a  phi- 
losopher. You  are  an  ignoramus,  said  the  Captain. 
It  is  not  the  being  among  philosophers,  will  make 
you  one. 

Teague  insisted  that  he  had  a  right  to  make  the 
best  of  his  fortune :  and  as  there  was  ,a  door  open 
to  his  advancement  he  did  not  see  why  he  might  not 
make  use  of  it. 

The  Captain  finding  that  it  answered  no  end  to 
dispute  the  matter  with  him  by  Words  of  sense  and 
reason,  took  a  contrary  way  to  manage  him. 

Teague,  said  he,  I  have  a  regard  for  you,  and 
would  wish  to  see  you  do  well.  But  before  you 
take  this  step,  I  would  wish  to  speak  a  word  or  two 
in  private.  If  you  will  go,  I  may  perhaps  suggest 
some  things  that  may  be  of  service  to  you,  for  your 
future  conduct  in  that  body. 

Teague  consenting,  they  stepped  aside;  and  the 
Captain  addressed  him  in  the  following  manner: 

Teague,  said  he,  do  you  know  what  you  are  about? 
It  is  a  fine  thing  at  first  sight  to  be  a  philosopher, 
and  get  into  this  body.  And  indeed,  if  you  were  a 
real  philosopher,  it  might  be  some  honor,  and  also 
safe,  to  take  that  leap.  But  do  you  think  it  is  to 
make  a  philosopher  of  you  that  they  want  you  ? 
Far  from  it.  It  is  their  great  study  to  find  curiosi- 
ties ;  and  because  this  man  saw  you  coming  after 
me,  with  a  red  head,  trotting  like  an  Esquimaux 
Indian,  it  has  struck  his  mind  to  pick  you  up,  and 
pass  you  for  one.  Nay,  it  is  possible  they  may 
intend  worse  ;  aDd  when  they  have  examined  you 
awhile,  take  the  skin  off  you,  and  pass  you  for  an 
overgrown  otter,  or  a  musk-rat,  or  some  outlandish 
animal,  for  which  they  will  themselves  invent  a 
name.  If  you  were  at  the  museum  of  one  of  these 
societies,  to  observe  the  quantity  of  skins  and  skele- 
tons thej'  have,  you  might  be  well  assured  they  did 
not  come  by  them  honestly.  I  know  so  much  of 
these  people,  that  I  am  well  persuaded  they  would 
think  no  more  of  throwing  you  into  a  kettle  of  boil- 
ing water,  than  they  would  a  terrapin  ;  and  having 
scraped  you  out  to  a  shell,  present  you  as  the  relics 
of  an  animal  they  had  procured  at  an  immense  price, 
from  some  Guinea  merchant.  Or  if  they  should  not 
at  once  turn  you  to  this  use,  how,  in  the  mean  time, 
will  they  dispose  of  you  ?  They  will  have  you  away 
through  the  bogs  and  marshes,  catching  flies  and 
mire-snipes ;  or  send  you  to  the  woods  to  bring  a 
polecat ;  or  oblige  you  to  descend  into  draw-wells, 
for  fog,  and  phlogistic  air,  and  the  Lord  knows  what. 
You  must  go  into  wolves'  dens,  and  catch  bears  by 
the  tail:  run  over  mountains  like  an  opossum,  and 
dig  the  earth  like  a  ground-hog.  You  will  have  to 
climb  over  trees,  and  be  bit  by  flying-squirrels. 
There  will  be  no  end  to  the  musquetoes  you  will 
have  to  dissect.  What  is  all  this,  to  diving  into 
milldams  and  rivers,  to  catch  craw-fish  ?  Or  if  you 
go  to  the  ocean,  there  are  alligators  to  devour  you 
like  a  cat-fish.  Who  knows  but  it  may  come  your 
turn,  in  a  windy  night,  to  go  aloft  to  the  heavens,  to 
rub  down  the  stars,  and  give  the  goats  and  rams 
that  are  there,  fodder?  The  keeping  the  stars  clean 
is  a  laborious  work ;  a  great  deal  worse  than  scour- 
ing andirons  or  brass  kettles.  There  is  a  bull  there, 
would  think  no  more  of  tossing  you  on  his  horns 
than  he  would  a  puppy  dog.  If  the  crab  should 
get  you  into  his  claws,  he  woidd  squeeze  you  like  a 
lobster.  But  what  is  all  that  to  30111'  having  no 
place  to  stand  on  ?     How  would  you  bike  to  be  up 


at  the  moon,  and  to  fall  down  when  you  had  missed 
your  hold,  like  a  boy  from  the  topmast  of  a  ship, 
and  have  your  brains  beat  out  upon  the  top  of  some 
great  mountain ;  where  the  devil  might  take  your 
skeleton  and  give  it  to  the  turkey-buzzards  ? 

Or  if  they  should,  in  the  mean  time,  excuse  you 
from  such  out-of-door  services,  they  will  rack  and 
torture  you  with  hard  questions.  You  must  tell 
them  how  long  the  rays  of  light  are  coming  from 
the  sun ;  how  many  drops  of  rain  fall  in  a  thunder- 
gust;  what  makes  the  grasshopper  chirp  when  the 
sun  is  hot ;  how  muscle-shells  get  up  to  the  top  of 
the  mountains;  how  the  Indians  got  over  to  Ameri- 
ca. You  will  have  to  prove  that  the  negroes  were 
once  white  ;  and  that  their  flat  noses  came  by  some 
cause  in  the  compass  of  human  means  to  produce. 
These  are  puzzling  questions:  and  yet  you  must 
solve  them  all.  Take  my  advice,  and  stay  where 
you  are.  Many  men  have  ruined  themselves  by 
their  ambition,  and  made  bad'  worse.  There  is 
another  kind  of  philosophy,  which  lies  more  within 
your  sphere ;  that  is  moral  philosophy.  '  Every 
hostler  or  hireling  can  study  this,  and  you  have  the 
most  excellent  opportunity  of  acquiring  this  know- 
ledge in  our  traverses  through  the  country,  or  com- 
munications at  the  different  taverns  or  villages, 
where  we  ma}'  happen  to  sojourn. 

Teague  had  long  ago,  in  his  own  mind,  given  up 
all  thoughts  of  the  society,  and  would  not  for  the 
world  have  any  more  to  do  with  it;  therefore,  with- 
out bidding  the  philosopher  adieu  they  pursued 
their  route  as  usual. 

CAPTAIN    FAEEAGO'S  INSTRUCTIONS  TO  TEAGUE  ON  THE  DUELLO. 

Having  thus  dismissed  the  secondary  man,  he  call- 
ed in  his  servant  Teague,  and  accosted  him  as  fol- 
lows :  Teague,  said  he,  you  have  heretofore  discover- 
ed an  ambition  to  be  employed  in  some  way  that 
would  advance  your  reputation.  There  is  now  a 
case  fallen  out,  to  which  you  are  fully  competent. 
It  is  not  a  matter  that  requires  the  head  to  contrive, 
but  the  hand  to  execute.  The  greatest  fool  is  as  fit 
for  it  as  a  wise  man.  It  is  indeed  your  greatest 
blockheads  that  chiefly  undertake  it.  The  know- 
ledge of  law,  physick,  or  divinity,  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. Literature  and  political  understanding  is 
useless.  Nothing  more  is  necessary  than  a  little 
resolution  of  the  heart.  Yet  it  is  an  undertaking 
which  is  of  much  estimation  with  the  rabble,  and  has 
a  great  many  on  its  side  to  approve'  and  praise  it. 
The  females  of  the  world,  especially,  admire  the  act, 
and  call  it  valour.  I  know  you  wish  to  stand  well 
with  the  ladies.  Here  is  an  opportunity  of  advanc- 
ing your  credit.  I  have  had  what  is  called  a  chal- 
lenge sent  me  this  morning.  It  is  from  a  certain 
Jacko,  who  is  a  suitor  to  a  Miss  Vapour,  and  has 
taken  offence  at  an  expression  of  mine,  respecting 
him,  to  this  female.  I  wish  you  to  accept  the  chal- 
lenge, and  fight  him  for  me. 

At  this  proposition,  Teague  looked  wild,  and  made 
apology  that  he  was  not  much  used  to  boxing.  Box- 
ing, said  the  Captain,  you  are  to  fight  what  is  called 
a  dud. — You  are  to  encounter  him  with  pistols,  and 
put  a  bullet  through  him  if  you  can.  It  is  true,  he 
will  have  a  chance  of  putting  one  through  you;  but 
in  that  consists  the  honour;  for  where  there  is  no 
danger,  there  is  no  glory.  You  will  provide  your- 
self a  second.  There  is  an  hostler  here  at  the  public 
house,  that  is  a  brave  fellow,  and  will  answer  the 
purpose.  Being  furnished  with  a  second,  you  will 
provide  yourself  with  a  pair  of  pistols,  powder  and 
ball  of  course.  In  the  mean  time  your  adversary, 
notified  of  your  intentions,  will  do  the  like. — Thus 
equipped,  you  will  advance  to  the  place  agreed  upon. 
The  ground  will   be  measured  out ;  ten,  seven,  or 


HUGH  HENRY  BRACKEXRIDGE. 


297 


five  steps  ;  back  to  back,  and  coming  round  to  your 
place,  fire.  Or  taking  your  ground,  stand  still  and 
fire;  or  it  may  be,  advance  and  fire  as  you  meet,  at 
what  distance  you  think  proper.  The  rules  in  this 
respect  are  not  fixed,  but  as  the  parties  can  agree,  or 
the  seconds  point  out.  When  you  come  to  fire,  be 
sure  you  keep  a  steady  hand,  and  take  good  aim. 
Remember  that  the  pistol  barrel  being  short, 
the  powder  is  apt  to  throw  the  bullet  up.  Your 
sight,  therefore,  ought  to  be  about  the  waist- 
band of  his  breeches,  so  that  you  have  the  whole 
length  of  his  body,  and  his  head  in  the  bargain, 
to  come  and  go  upon.  It  is  true,  he  in  the  mean 
time  will  take  the  same  advantage  of  you.  lie 
may  hit  you  about  the  groin,  or  tlie  bell}7.  I  have 
known  some  shot  in  the  thigh,  or  the  leg.  The 
throat  also,  anil  the  head,  are  in  themselves  vulnera- 
ble. It  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  have  an  arm  broke, 
or  a  splinter  struck  ott"  the  nose,  or  an  eye  shot  out : 
but  as  in  that  ease  the  ball  mostly  passes  through 
the  brain,  and  the  man  being  dead  at  any  rate,  the 
loss  of  sight  is  not  greatly  felt- 
As  the  Captain  spoke,  Teague  seemed  to  feel  in 
himself  every  wound  which  was  described,  the  ball 
hitting  him,  now  in  one  part,  and  now  in  another. 
At  the  last  words,  it  seemed  to  pass  through  his 
head,  and  he  was  half  dead,  in  imagination.  Making 
a  shift  to  express  himself,  he  gave  the  Captain  to  un- 
derstand, that  he  could  by  no  means  undertake  the 
office.  What !  said  the  Captain  ;  you  whom  nothing 
would  serve  some  time  ago  but  to  be  a  legislator, 
or  a  philosopher,  or  preacher,  in  order  to  gain  fame, 
will  now  decline  a  business  for  which  you  are  quali- 
fied !  This  requires  no  knowledge  of  finances,  no 
reading  of  natural  history,  or  any  study  of  the  fa- 
thers. You  have  nothing  more  to  do  than  keep  a 
steady  hand  and  a  good  eye. 

Ih  the  early  practice  of  this  exercise,  I  mean  the 
combat  of  the  duel,  it  was  customary  to  exact  an 
oatli  of  the  combatants,  before  they  entered  the  lists, 
that  they  had  no  enchantments,  or  power  of  witch- 
craft, about  them. — Whether  you  should  think  it 
necessary  to  put  him  to  his  voir  dire,  on  this  point,  I 
shall  not  say  ;  but  I  am  persuaded,  that  on  your  part 
you  have  too  much  honour,  to  make  use  of  spells,  or 
undue  means,  to  take  away  his  life  or  save  your  own. 
You  will  leave  all  to  the  chance  of  fair  shooting. 
One  thing  you  will  observe  and  which  is  allowable 
in  this  battle ;  you  will  take  care  not  to  present 
yourself  to  him  with  a  full  breast,  but  angulaHy,  and 
your  head  turned  round  over  the  left  shoulder,  like 
a  weather-cock.  For  thus  a  smaller  surface  being 
presented  to  an  adversary,  he  will  be  less  likely  to 
hit  you.  You  must  throw  your  legs  into  lines  paral- 
lel, and  keep  them  one  directly  behind  the  other. 
Thus  you  will  stand  like  a  sail  hauled  close  to  the 
wind.  Keep  a  good  countenance,  a  sharp  eye,  and 
a  sour  look  ;  and  if  you  feel  any  thing  like  acholic, 
or  a  palpitation  of  the  heart,  make  no  noise  about  it. 
If  the  ball  should  take  you  in  the  gills,  or  the  gizzard, 
fall  down  as  decently  as  you  can,  and  die  like  a  man 
of  honour. 

It  was  of  no  use  to  urge  the  matter ;  the  Irishman 
was  but  the  more  opposed  to  the  proposition,  and 
utterly  refused  to  be  after  fighting  in  any  such  man- 
ner. The  Captain,  finding  this  to  be  the  case,  dis- 
missed him  to  clean  his  boots  and  spurs,  and  rub 
duwn  his  horse  in  the  stable. 

On  reflection,  it  seemed  advisable  to  the  Captain 
to  write  an  answer  to  the  card  which   Colonel  or 
Major  Jacko,  or  whatever  his  title  may  have  been, 
had  sent  him  this  morning.     It  was  as  follows : — 
Sm, 

I  have  two  objections  to  this  duel  matter.     The 
one  is,  lest  I  should  hurt  you;  and.the  other  is,  lest 


you  should  hurt  me.  I  do  not  see  any  good  it  would 
do  me  to  put  a  bullet  thro'  any  part  of  your  body. 
I  could  make  no  use  of  you  when  dead  for  any  culi- 
nary purpose,  as  I  would  a  rabbit  or  turkey.  I  am 
no  cannibal  to  feed  on  the  flesh  of  men.  Why  then 
shoot  down  a  human  creature,  of  which  I  could  make 
no  use?  A  buffaloe  would  be  better  meat.  For 
though  your  flesh  may  be  delicate  and  tender ;  yet 
it  wants  that  firmness  and  consistency  which  takes 
and  retains  salt,  xlt  any  rate,  it  would  not  be  fit  for 
long  sea  voyages.  You  might  make  a  good  barbacue, 
it  is  true,  being  of  the  nature  of  a  racoon  or  an  opos- 
sum ;  but  people  are  not  in  the  habit  of  barbacuing 
any  thing  human  now.  As  to  your  hide,  it  is  not 
worth  talcing  off,  being  little  better  than  that  of  a 
year  old  colt. 

It  would  seem  to  me  a  strange  thing  to  shoot  at  a 
man  that  would  stand  still  to  be  shot  at;  inasmuch 
as  I  have  been  heretofore  used  to  shoot  at  things 
flying,  or  running,  or  jumping. — Were  you  on  a  tree 
now,  like  a  squirrel,  endeavouring  to  hide  yourself 
in  the  branches,  or  like  a  racoon,  that  after  much 
eyeing  and  spying,  I  observe  at  length  in  the  crutch 
of  a  tall  oak,  with  boughs  and  leaves  intervening,  so 
that  I  could  just  get  a  sight  of  his  hinder  parts,  I 
should  think  it  pleasurable  enough  to  take  a  shot  at 
you.  But  as  it  is,  there  is  no  skill  or  judgment  re- 
quisite either  to  discover  or  take  you  down. 

As  to  myself,  I  do  not  much  like  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  any  thing  harmful  I  am  under  apprehen- 
sions you  might  hit  me.  That  being  the  case,  I 
think  it  most  advisable  to  stay  at  a  distance.  If  you 
want  to  try  your  pistols,  take  some  object,  a  tree  or 
a  barn  door,  about  my  dimensions.  If  you  hit  that, 
send  me  word,  and  I  shall  acknowledge  that  if  I  had 
been  in  the  same  place  you  might  also  have  hit  me. 

J.  F. 

AN    ESSAY   ON  COMMON   SENSE. 

After  thinking  a  good  deal  upon  what  might  be 
given  as  a  definition  of  common  sense ;  in  other 
words,  what  phrase  might  be  substituted  in  lieu  of 
it ;  for  that  is  what  is  meant  by  a  definition  ;  I  would 
try  whether  the  phrase,  natural  judgment,  would  not 
do.  Getting  up  a  little  in  the  world,  and  examining 
mankind,  there  was  nothing  that  struck  me  so  much 
as  to  find  men,  thought  eminent  in  a  profession,  seem- 
ing to  want  judgment  in  matters  of.  knowledge, 
which  was  common  to  me  with  them.  I  took  it  for 
granted,  that  it  was  owing  to  the  mind  being  so 
much  employed  in  a  particular  way,  that  it  had  no 
habit  of  thinking  in  any  other;  and  doubtless  there 
is  a  good  deal  in  this.  For  a  mathematician,  capa- 
ble .  of  demonstrating  all  the  problems  of  Euclid  ; 
and  even  of  inventing  shorter  and  clearer  me- 
thods of  demonstration,  may  be  incapable  of  compar- 
ing ideas,  and  drawing  conclusions  on  a  matter 
of  domestic  economy  or  national  concern.  For 
though  a  great  deal  may  be  owing  to  a  know- 
ledge of  the  particular  subject,  and  a  habit  of  think- 
ing upon  it;  yet  as  much  or  moie  depends  upon  the 
natural  judgment.  I  will  select  the  instance  of  a 
lawyer,  because  it  is  in  that  profession  that  I  have 
had  an  opportunity,  the  most,  of  examining  the  ori- 
ginal [lowers  of  the  mind.  In  this  profession  1  have 
found  those  of  the  highest  reputation  of  legal  know- 
ledge, and  who  were  so,  and  yet  were  not  the  most 
successful  in  particular  causes.  The  reason  was,  that 
though  they  had  a  knowledge  of  rules,  they  failed  in 
the  application  of  them  and  had  not  given  good  ad- 
vice, in  bringing  or  defending  the  action  in  which 
they  had  been  .consulted.  Or  whether  the  causo 
were  good  or  bad,  they  had  wanted  judgment  in 
conducting  it.  The  attempting  to  maintain  untena- 
ble ground  ;  or  the  points  upon  which  they  put  the 


298 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


cause,  showed  a  want  of  judgment.  It  is  the  same 
thing  in  the  case  of  a  judge.  The  knowledge  of  all 
law  goes  but  a  little  way  to  the  discerning  the  jus- 
tice of  the  cause.  Because  the  application  of  the 
rule  to  the  case,  is  the  province  of  judgment.  Hence 
it  is  that  if  my  cause  is  good,  and  I  am  to  have  my 
choice  of  two  judges,  the  one  of  great  legal  science, 
.  but  deficient  in  natural  judgment ;  the  other  of  good 
natural  judgment,  but  of  no  legal  knowledge,  I  would 
take  the  one  that  had  what  we  call  common  sense. 
For  though  I  could  not  have  a  perfect  confidence  in 
the  decision  of  one  or  the  other,  3'et  I  would  think 
my  chance  best  with  the  one  that  had  common  sense. 
If  my  cause  was  bad,  I  might  think  I  stood  some 
chance  with  the  learned  judge,  deficient  in  natural 
judgment.  An  ingenious  advocate  would  lead  off 
his  mind,  upon  some  quibble,  and  calling  that  law, 
flatter  him  upon  his  knowing  the  law,  and  least  his 
knowledge  of  it  should  be  called  in  question,  the 
learned  judge  might  determine  for  him.  For  there 
is  nothing  that  alarms  a  dunce  so  much  as  the  idea 
of  reason.  It  is  a  prostrating  principle  that  puts  him 
upon  a  level  with  the  bulk  of  mankind.  The  know- 
ledge of  an  artificial  rule  sets  him  above  these,  and 
is,  therefore,  maintained  by  him  with  all  the  tenacity 
of  distinguishing  prerogative.  To  a  weak  judge,  de- 
ficient in  natural  reason,  a  knowledge  of  precedents 
is  indispensable.  In  the  language  of  Scotch  presby- 
terian  eloquence,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  liukes  and 
e'en  to  hand  up  a  crippled  Christian's  bre'eks ;  or,  in 
English,  hooks  and  ej'es,  which  wore  before  buttons 
and  button-holes,  to  answer  the  same  purpose  with 
pantaloons  or  sherryvallies.  Such  are  cases  to  a 
judge,  weak  in  understanding  ;  because  these  give 
him  the  appearance  of  learning,  and  having  made 
research. 

But  it  does  not  follow,  that  I  undervalue  legal 
knowledge  in  a  lawyer,  or  judge,  or  resolve  all  into 
common  sense  in  that  or  any  other  profession  or  oc- 
cupation. 

I  select,  in  the  next  instance,  that  of  a  physician. 
What  can  one  do  in  this  profession,  without  medical 
knowledge  ?  And  yet  without  good  sense,  the  phy- 
sician is  as  likely  to  kill  as  to  cure.  It  is  the  only 
means  that  one  who  is  not  a  physician  himself  has 
to  judge  of  the  skill  of  one  who  calls  himself  such, 
what  appears  to  be  the  grade  of  his  mind,  and  his 
understanding  upon  common  subjects.  We  say,  he 
does  not  appear  to  have  common  sense  ;  how  can  he 
be  trusted  in  his  profession  ?  Common  sense,  I  take 
to  be,  therefore,  judgment  upon  common  subjects: 
and  that  degree  of  it  which  falls  to  the  share  of  the 
bulk  of  mankind.  For  even  amongst  the  common 
people,  we  speak  of  mother  wit,  which  is  but  another 
name  for  common  sense.  Clergy  wit,  is  that  of 
school  learning  ;  or  the  lessons  of  science,  in  which 
a  dunee  may  be  eminent.  For  it  requires  but  me- 
mory and  application.  But  the  adage  is  the  dictate 
of  experience,  and  the  truth  of  it  is  eternal,  "  An 
ounce  of  mother  wit  is  worth  a  pound  of  clergy." 

We  speak  of  an  egregious  blockhead,  and  say,  he 
has  not  even  common  sense :  that  is,  he  has  not  the 
very  thing  that  is  necessary  to  begin  with ;  and 
which  every  person  is  usually  endowed  with,  that 
has  the  proportions  of  the  human  form.  It  seems  to 
be  something  bordering  on  instinct,  and  resembles  it 
in  the  uniformity  and  certainty  of  its  operations.  It 
is  that  without  which  it  is  not  worth  while  attempt- 
ing to  make  a  great  man.  What  is  a  general  with- 
out common  sense — that  is,  natural  judgment?  But 
■why  talk  of  generals,  or  lawyers,  or  judges,  or  go  so 
far  from  home  ?  Where  we  see,  as  we  sometimes 
do,  the  want  of  natural  judgment,  in  the  manage- 
ment of  a  man's  own  affairs,  on  a  small  scale ;  whe- 
ther of  merchandise,  or  of  manufactures,  or  farming, 


we  say  that  he  cannot  succeed ;  and  in  general, 
though  not  always,  the  want  of  success  in  common 
pursuits,  is  owing  to  inexperience,  or  a  want  of  natu- 
ral judgment.  The  quibbling  in  a  matter  of  con- 
tract ;  the  evasion  of  fulfilment,  is  a  want  of  natural 
judgment.     I  think  the  poet  says, 

The  want  of  honesty  is  want  of  sense. 
There  can  be  nothing  more  true.  And  1  think  it  is 
remarkable,  that  in  those  divine  writings,  which  we 
call,  by  way  of  eminence,  the  scriptures,  dishonesty 
is  called  folly  ;  and  honesty  wisdom.  Common  sense 
is  that  degree  of  understanding  which  is  given  to 
men  in  general,  though  some  are  peculiarly  favour- 
ed with  uncommon  powers.  But  no  man  can  be 
said  to  have  common  sense  who  is  a  knave.  For, 
of  all  things,  it  is  the  strongest  proof  of  a  want  of 
judgment  upon  an  extensive  scale.  Had  I  the  world 
to  begin  again,  with  all  the  experience  that  years 
have  given  me.  and  were  to  think  myself  at  liberty, 
from  all  considerations  of  duty  or  obligation  ;  yet, 
on  the  principle  of  self-injtfrest,  I  would  be  honest, 
and  exceed,  rather  than  come  short,  in  giving  to  all 
their  due.  For  it  is  the  adage,  and  as  true  as  any 
of  the  apothegms  that  we  hear,  that  honesty  is  the 
best  policy.  Indeed  all  the  rules  of  morality  are  but 
maxims  of  prudence.  They  all  lead  to  self-preserva- 
tion ;  and  had  they  no  other  foundation,  they  would 
rest  upon  this,  as  sufficient  to  support  them.  The 
discerning  mind  sees  its  interest  as  clear  as  a  ray  of 
light,  leading  it  to  do  justice.  Let  me  see  any  man 
quibble  and  evade,  cheat  or  defraud,  and  I  do  not 
say  constructively,  and  with  a  reference  to  a  future 
state,  but  in  relation  to  this  life,  and  his  temporal 
affairs,  that  he  is  unwise ;  that  is,  he  wants  the  judg- 
ment to  perceive  his  true  interest.  This  is  the  pre- 
sumption ;  and  when  knavery  is  found  to  consist  with 
strong  powers,  I  resolve  it  into  defect  of  fortitude, 
or  want  of  resolution,  to  be  what  the  man  must 
know  what  he  ought  to  be.     The 

-Video  meliora  proboqne, 


Deteriora  sequor- 


is  correct.  Present  gain  is  preferred  to  future  good ; 
like  the  child  that  wishes  the  tree  cut  down,  that  it 
may  have  all  the  fruit  at  one  season.  The  feelings 
of  resentment,  or  of  love  and  strong  passions,  ambi- 
tion or  avarice,  like  tempests  on  the  ocean,  take  away 
the  presence  of  mind,  and  baffle  the  skill  of  the  navi- 
gator. Therefore  my  reasoning  docs  not  apply  in 
cases  where  the  passions  are  concerned.  But  in  a 
case  of  dispassionate  judging,  as  in  a  matter  of  mcum 
and  tuum,  between  indifferent  persons ;  or  where 
the  question  may  be,  by  what  means  an  object  is 
most  directly  attainable,  the  strength  of  natural 
judgment,  or  common  sense,  shows  itself.  Where  the 
crooked  path  is  chosen,  or  the  false  conception  is  en- 
tertained, we  say  there  is  a  want  of  common  sense. 

PROPHECY  OF  THE  GBEATNE6S  OF  AMERICA  — FEOM  TUE  KISI>~U 
GLORY  OF  AMERICA. 

Eugenia.  'Tis  true  no  human  eye  can  penetrate 
The  veil  obscure,  and  in  fair  light  diselos'd 
Behold  the  scenes  of  dark  futurity  ; 
Yet  if  we  reason  from  the  course  of  things, 
And  downward  trace  the  vestiges  of  time, 
The  mind  prophetic  grows  and  pierces  far 
Thro'  ages  yet  unborn.     We  saw  the  states 
And  mighty  empires  of  the  East  arise 
In  swift  succession  from  the  Assyrian 
To  Macedon  and  Rome;  to  Britain  thence 
Dominion  drove  her  ear,  she  streteh'd  her  reign 
O'er  many  isles,  wide  seas  and  peopled  lands. 
IS'ow  in  the  West  a  continent  appears ; 
A  newer  world  now  opens  to  her  view; 
She  hastens  onward  to  th'  Americ  shores 


WILLIAM  WHITE. 


299 


And  bids  a  scene  of  recent  wonders  rise. 

New  states,  new  empires,  and  a  line  of  kings, 

High  raised  in  glory,  cities,  palaces, 

Fair  domes  on  each  long  bay,  sea,  shore,  or  stream, 

Circling  the  hills,  now  rear  their  lofty  heads. 

Far  in  the  Arctic  skies  a  Petersburg!), 

A  Bergen  or  Archangel  lifts  its  spires, 

Glitt'ring  with  ice,  far  in  the  West  appears 

A  new  Palmyra  or  an  Ecbatan,  ■ 

And  sees  the  slow  pac'd  caravan  return 

O'er  many  a  realm  from  the  Pacific  shore, 

Where  fleets  shall  then  convey  rich  Persia's  silks, 

Arabia's  perfumes,  and  spices  rare 

Of  Philipine,  Ceelebe,  and  Marian  isles, 

Or  from  the  Acapuleo  coast  our  India  then, 

Laden  with  pearl,  and  burning  gems  and  gold. 

Far  in  the  South  I  see  a  Babylon, 

As  once  by  Tigris  or  Euphrates  stream, 

With  blazing  watch-tow'rs  and  observatories 

Rising  to  heaven ;  from  thence  astronomers 

With  optic  glass  take  nobler  views  of  God, 

In  golden  suns  and  shining  worlds  display'd, 

Thau  the  poor  Chaldean  with  the  naked  eye. 

A  Nineveh  where  Oronoque  descends 

With  waves  discolor'd  from  the  Andes  high, 

Winding  himself  around  a  hundred  isles 

Where  golden  buildings  glitter  o'er  his  tide. 

Two  mighty  nations  shall  the  people  grow 

Which  cultivate  the  banks  of  many  a  flood, 

In  crystal  currents  poured  from  the  hills, 

Apalachia  named,  to  lave  the  sands 

Of  Carolina,  Georgia,  and  the  plains 

Stretch'd  out  from  thence  far  to  the  burning  line, 

St.  John's,  or  Clarendon,  or  Albemarle. 

And  thou  Patowmnck,  navigable  stream, 

Rolling  thy  waters  through  Virginia's  groves, 

Shall  vie  with  Thames,  the  Tiber,  or  the  Rhine, 

For  on  thy  banks  I  see  an  hundred  towns. 

And  the  tall  vessels  wafted  down  thy  tide. 

Hoarse  Niagara's  stream  now  roaring  on 

Thro'  woods  and  rocks,  and  broken  mountains  torn, 

In  days  remote,  far  from  their  ancient  beds, 

By  some  great  monarch  taught  a  better  course, 

Or  cleared  of  cataracts  shall  flow  beneath 

Unnumbcr'd  boats,  and  merchandize,  and  men; 

And  from  the  coasts  of  piny  Lubradore, 

A  thousand  navies  crowd  before  the  gale, 

And  spread  their  commerce  to  remotest  lands, 

Or  bear  their  thunder  round  the  conquer'd  world. 

Lcand'T.  And   here   fair   freedom   shall  for  ever 
reign. 
I  see  a  train,  a  glorious  train  appear, 
Of  patriots  plac'd  in  equal  fame  with  those 
Who  nobly  fell  for  Athens  or  for  Rome. 
The  sons  of  Boston  resolute  and  brave, 
The  firm  supporters  of  our  injured  rights, 
Shall  lose  their  splendors  in  the  brighter  beams 
Of  patriots  famed  and  heroes  yet  unborn. 

Acasto.  'Tis  but  the  morning  of  the  world  with  us, 
And  science  yet  but  sheds  her  orient  rays. 
I  see  the  age.  the  happy  age  roll  on 
Bright  with  the  splendors  of  her  mid-day  beams. 
1  see  a  Homer  and  a  Milton  rise 
In  all  the  pomp  .and  majesty  of  song, 
Which  gives  immortal  vigor  to  the  deeds 
Achiev'd  by  heroes  in  the  fields  of  fame. 
A  second  Pope,  like  that  Arabian  bird 
Of  which  no  age  can  boast  but  one,  may  yet 
Awake  the  muse  by  Schuylkill's  silent  stream, 
And  bid  new  forests  bloom  along  her  tide. 
And  Susquehanna's  rocky  stream  unsung, 
In  bright  meanders  winding  round  the  hills, 
Where  first  the  mountain  nymph  sweet  echo  heard 
The  uncouth  music  of  my  rural  lay. 
Shall  yet  remurmur  to  the  magic  sound 


Of  song  heroic,  when  in  future  days 
Some  noble  Hampden  rises  into  fame. 

Leauder    On  Roanoke's  and  James's  limpid  waves 
The  sound  of  music  murmurs  in  the  gale  ; 
Another  Denham  celebrates  their  flow, 
In  gliding  numbers  and  harmonious  lays. 

JEugenio.  Now  in  the  bowers  of  Tuscarora  hills, 
As  once  on  Pindus  all  the  muses  stray, 
New  Theban  bards  high  soaring  reach  the  skies, 
And  swim  along  thro'  azure  deeps  of  air. 

Leauder.    From  Alleghany    in   thick    groves  im- 
brown'd, 
Sweet  music  breathing  thro'  the  shades  of  night 
Steals  on  my  ear,  they  sing  the  origin 
Of  those  fair  lights  which  gild  the  firmament ; 
From  whence  the  gale  that  murmurs  in  the  pines ; 
Why  flows  the  stream   down  from  the  mountain's 

brow, 
And  rolls  the  ocean  lower  than  the  land? 
They  sing  the  final  destiny  of  things, 
The  great  result  of  all  our  labors  here, 
The  last  day's  glory  and  the  world  renew'd. 
Such  are  their  themes,  for  in  these  happier  days 
The  bard  enraptur'd  scorns  ignoble  strains. 
Fair  science  smiling  and  full  truth  revealed, 
The  world  at  peace,  and  all  her  tumults  o'er, 
The  blissful  prelude  to  Emanuel's  reign. 

Acasto.  This  is  thy  praise,  America,  thy  pow'r, 
Thou  best  of  climes  by  science  visited, 
By  freedom  blest,  and  richly  stor'd  with  all 
The  luxuries  of  life.     Hail,  happy  land, 
The  seat  of  empire,  the  abode  of  kings, 
The  final  stage  where  time  shall  introduce 
Renowned  characters,  and  glorious  works 
Of  high  invention  and  of  wond'rous  art, 
Which  not  the  ravages  of  time  shall  waste 
Till  he  himself  has  run  his  long  career; 
Till  all  those  glorious  orbs  of  light  on  high, 
The  rolling  wonders  that  surround  the  ball, 
Drop  from  their  spheres  extinguished  andconsum'd; 
When  final  ruin  with  her  fiery  ear 
Rides  o'er  creation,  and  all  nature's  works 
Are  lost  in  chaos  and  the  womb  of  night. 


WILLIAM    WHITE. 

William  White  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  April 
4,  17  48  (March  24,  1747,  Old  Style).  He  was  pre- 
pared for  college  at  the  Latin  school  by  the 
celebrated  teachers  Paul  Jackson  and  John  Beve- 
ridge,  the  Latin  poet,  whom  lie  calls  "a  thorough 
grammarian,  with  little  else  to  recommend  him."* 
An  anecdote  of  his  early  days  is  related  by  one 
of  his  playfellows.  We  give  it  in  tluj  words  of 
the  narrator  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wilson's  Memoir: 
"It  has  been  thought  that  the  bent  of  the  genius, 
and  the  probable  future  pursuits  in  life,  are  some- 
times indicated  by  the  amusements  most  attrac- 
tive in  early  youth.  A  few  circumstances  of  that 
nature,  occurring  while  he  was  very  young,  have 
been  communicated  to  me.  They  were  repeatedly 
related  by  a  lady  who  was  his  intimate  playmate 
from  a  very  early  age,  and  about  a  year  and  a 
half  older  than  he  was;  a  daughter  of  Mr.  Ste- 
phen Pascal,t  a  member  of  the  society  of  Friends,! 


*  Letter  to  Bp.  Ilobart. 

t  Afterwards  married  to  Mr.  Levi  ITollingswnrtU,  and  the 
mother  of  my  brother-in-law.  She  died  only  a  few  years  be- 
fore the  Bishop.  The  circumstances  were  communicated  by 
Mrs.  Susan  Eckard. 

J  Dr.  White  was  much  esteemed  and  beloved  by  the  mem- 
bers of  that  society.  After  he  became  a  bishop,  it  was  not 
uncommon  for  some  of  them,  even  of  the  most  plain  and  strict, 
to  speak  of  him  as  "  our  good  bishop." 


300 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


residing  in  the  house  adjoining  Colonel  "White's. 
That  lady  bore  testimony  to  his  early  piety,  and 
was  wont  to  say,  when  she  was  herself  advanced 
in  life,  'Billy  White  (so  she  continued  to  call 
him)  was  horn  a  bishop.  I  never  could  persuade 
him  to  play  any  thing  but  church.  He  would  tie 
his  own  or  my  apron  round  his  neck,  for  a  gown, 
and  stand  behind  alow  chair,  which  he  called  his 
pulpit;  I,  seated  before  him  on  a  little  bench,  was 
the  congregation ;  and  he  always  preached  to  me 
about  being  good.  One  day,'  she  added,  'I 
heard  him  crying,  and  saw  him  running  into  the 
street,  and  the  nuFse-inaid  after  him,  calling  to 
him  to  come  back  and  be  dressed.  He  refused, 
saying,  I  do  not  want  to  go  to  dancing-school,  and 
I  won't  be  dressed,  for  I  don't  think  it  is  good  to 
learn  to  dance.  And  that  was  the  only  time  I 
ever  knew  Billy  White  to  be  a  naughty  boy.' 
The  lady  who  gave  me  these  anecdotes,  and  in 
whose  own  language  nearly  they  are  related, 
added  that  she  had  the  pleasure  of  repeating  these 
reminiscences  of  his  childhood  to  the  Bishop : 
they  amused  him;  and  he  told  her  that  his 
mother,  finding  that  he  was  so  averse  to  learning 
to  dance,  gave  it  up;  'though,'  he  said,  'lam 
by  no  means  opposed  to  others  learning,  if  they 
like  to  dance.'  " 

He  completed  his  collegiate  course  in  his  seven- 
teenth year,  and  soon  entered  upon  a  preparation 
for  the  career  of  his  choice.  He  was  much  im- 
pressed at  this  period  of  his  life  by  the  preaching 
of  Whiteiield. 

In  1770,  White  visited  England  to  obtain  ordi- 
nation. He  was  a  neighbor  during  a  portion  of 
his  residence  in  London  of  Goldsmith,  and  de- 
scribes an  interview  with  him : — 

We  lodged,  for  some  time,  near  to  one  another,  in 
Brick  Court,  of  the  Temple.  I  bad  it  intimated  to 
him,  by  an  acquaintance  of  both,  that  I  wished  for 
the  pleasure  of  making  him  a  visit.  It  ensued ;  and 
in  our  conversation  it  took  a  turn  which  excited  in 
me  a  painful  sensation,  from  the  circumstance  that  a 
man  of  such  a  genius  should  write  for  bread.  His 
"Deserted  Village"  came  under  notice;  and  some 
remarks  were  made  by  us  on  the  principle  of  it — 
the  decay  of  the  peasantry.  He  said,  that  wei'e  he 
to  write  a  pamphlet  on  the  subject,  he  could  prove 
the' point  incontrovertibly.  On  his  being  asked,  why 
he  did  not  set  his  mind  to  this,  his  answer  was:  "  It 
is  not  worth  my  while.  A  good  poem  will  bring  me 
one  hundred  guineas :  but  the  pamphlet  would  bring 
me  nothing  "  This  was  a  short  time  before  my  leav- 
ing of  England,  and  I  saw  the  Doctor  no  more. 

He  also  visited  Johnson. 

Having  mentioned  some  literary  characters,  who 
became  personally  known  to  me  in  the  university,  I 
will  not  omit,  although  extraneous  to  it,  that  giant 
of  genius  and  literature,  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson.  My 
introduction  to  him  was  a  letter  from  the  Rev.  Jona- 
than Odell,  formerly  missionary  at  Burlington.  The 
Doctor  was  very  civil  to  me.  I  visited  him  occasion- 
ally ;  and  I  know  some  who  would  be  tempted  to 
envy  me  the  felicity  of  having  found  him,  one  morn- 
ing, in  the  act  of  preparing  his  dictionary  for  a  new 
edition.  His  harshness  of  manners  never  displayed 
itself  to  me,  except  in  one  instance ;  when  he  told 
me  that  had  he  been  prime  minister,  during  the  then 
recent  controversy  concerning  the  stamp  act,  lie 
would  have  sent  a  ship  of  war,  and  levelled  one  of 
our  principal  cities  with  the  ground.     On  the  other 


hand,,  I  have  heard  from  him  sentiments  expressive 
of  a  feeling  heart ;  and  convincing  me,  that  he  would 
not  have  done  as  he  said.  Having  dined  in  company 
with  him,  in  Kensington,  at  the  hou.se  of  Mr.  Elphin- 
stone,  well  known  to  scholars  of  that  day,  and  re- 
turning in  the  stage-coach  with  the  Doctor,  I  men- 
tioned to  him  there  being  a  Philadelphia  edition  of 
his  "  Prince  of  Abyssinia."  He  expressed  a  wish  to 
see  it.  I  promised  to  send  him  a  copy  on  my  return 
to  Philadelphia,  and  did  so.  He  returned  a  polite 
answer,  which  is  printed  in  Mr.  Boswell's  second 
edition  of  his  Life  of  the  Doctor.  Mr.  (since  the 
Rev.  Dr.)  Abercrombie's  admiration  of  Dr.  Johnson 
had  led  to  a  correspondence  with  Mr.  Boswell,  to 
whom,  with  my  consent,  the  letter  was  sent.* 

Having  been  ordained  deacon  and  priest,  he 
returned  to  his  native  city,  in  September,  1772, 
and  was  chosen  an  assistant  minister  of  Christ 
and  St. ••Peter's  churches.  In  1773,  he  married 
Miss  Mary  Harrison. 

From  the  outset  of  the  Revolution  he  sided  with 
his  countrymen,  but  took  no  active  part  in  the 
struggle.  In  his  own  words,  "  I  never  beat  the 
ecclesiastic  drum.  *  *  Being  invited  to  preach 
before  a  battalion,  I  declined;  and  mentioned  to 
the  colonel,  who  was  fine  of  the  warmest  spirits 
(jf  the  day.t  my  objections  to  the  making  of  the 
ministry  instrumental  to  the  war."  He  continued 
to  pray. for  the  king  until  the  signing  of  the 
declaration  of  independence,  when  he  took  the 
oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United  States.  During 
its  administration,  an  acquaintance  made  a  sig- 
nificant gesture  of  the  neck.  The  clergyman  re- 
marked, "I  perceived  by  your  gesture  that  you 
thought  I  was  exposing  my  neck  to  great  danger 
by  the  step  which  I  have  taken.  But  I  have  not 
taken  it  without  full  deliberation.  I  know  my 
danger,  and  that  it  is  the  greater  on  account  of 
my  being  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England. 
But  I  trust  in  Providence.  The  cause  is  a  just 
one,  and  I  am  persuaded  will  be  protected." 

In  September,  1777,  he  was  chosen  one  of  the 
chaplains  of  Congress.  "The  circumstances," 
says  his  biographer,  "attending his  acceptance  of 
this  appointment  were  sometimes  detailed  by  him, 
in  conversation  with  bis  friends,  in  a  lively  man- 
ner. Bishop  Kemper,  of  Missouri  and  Indiana, 
who  was  present  on  some  such  occasions,  men- 
tions to  me  that  he  related  them  thus:  'Thar  he 
had  removed  with  his  family  to  Maryland;  and 
being  on  a  journey,  stopped  at  a  small  village  be- 
tween Harford  county  and  Philadelphia,  at  which 
he  was  met  by  a  courier  from  Yorktown,  inform- 
ing him  of  his  being  appointed  by  Congress  their 
chaplain,  and  requesting  his  immediate  attendance: 
that  he  thought  of  it  for  a  short  time;  it  was  in 
one  of  the  gloomiest  periods  of  the  American  affairs, 
when  General  Burgoyne  was  marching,  without 
having  yet  received  a  serious  check,  so  far  as  was 
then  known,  through  the  northern  parts  of  New 


*  There  was  sent,  not  the  letter,  as  I  supposed,  but  a  copy  of 
it.  This  fact  was  not  known  to  me.  until  the  following  fnei 
dent.  Dining  at  the  taWeof  President  Washington,  and  sitting 
near  to  Mr.  Swanwick.  then  a  member  of  Congress,  this  related 
anecdote  having  been  given  by  me  to  a  few  gentlemen  within 
bearing.  Mr.  gwanwiek.  bearing  of  the  sending  of  the  letter, 
corrected  the  error:  and  declaiming  on  the  subject,  expected 
to  see  the  time  when  the  letter  would  be  worth  two  thousand 
guineas.    (Note  bv  the  Bishop  in  1880.) 

t  The  colonel  alluded  to  was  Timothy  Matlack.  whose  ar- 
dor in  the  American  cause  cannot  but  be  still  remembered  by 
many.    I^ote  by  the  Bishop  in  1630.) 


WILLIAM  WHITE. 


301 


York :  can:l  after  his  short  consideration,  instead 
of  proceeding  on  his  journey,  he  turned  his 
horses'  heads,  travelled  immediately  to  Yorktown, 
and  entered  on  the  duties  of  his  appointment.'  " 
After  the.  evacuation  of  Philadelphia  by  the 
British,  White  was  the  only  clergyman  -  of  his 
communion  who  remained  in  the  state.  As  soon 
as  peace  was  concluded  he  took  an  active  part  in 
the  re-organization  of  the  Episcopal  church,  and 
at  the  first  regular  convention  of  the  state  was 
elected  bishop.  He  soon  after  sailed  to  England, 
in  company  with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Provoost,  who 
had  been  elected  bishop  in  New  York,  to  apply 
for  consecration.  An  act  of  parliament  having 
been  passed  to  remove  the  obstacles  which  had 
prevented  action  in  the  case  of  Bishop  Seabury, 
both  were  consecrated  by  the  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, in  the  chapel  of  Lambeth  palace,  Feb.  4, 
1787.  They  soon  after  returned,  landing  at  New 
York  on  Easter  Sunday.  Bishop  White  returned 
to  Philadelphia,  where  he  resided  when  not  absent 
on  his  official  duties  daring  the  remainder  of  his 
long  lite.  He  published,  in  1813,  Lectures  on  the 
Catechism  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  : 
with  supplementary  lectures;  one  on  the  Ministry, 
the  other  on  the  Public  Service :  ami  Dissertations 
on  Select  Subjects  in  the  Lectures;  in  1817,  Com- 
'paratUe  Views  of  the  Controversy  betioeen  the 
CahinU's  awl  the  Arminims,  2  vols.  8vo. ;  in 
1820,  Memoirs  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church  iii  the  United  States  of  America,  re- 
printed in  1835,  with  a  continuation  to  that 
period.  A  number  of  Sermons,  Episcopal  Charges, 
and  Pa;tn-al  Letters,  delivered  in  the  course  of 
his  ministry,  were  published  separately.  The 
Memoirs  consist  of  a  brief  narrative  of  the  early 
conventions  and  subsequent  history  of  the  Episco- 
pal Church  after  the  Revolution.  The  charac- 
teristic modesty  of  their  author  led  him  to  touch 
very  briefly  upon  his  own  services,  and  the  his- 
torical value  of  the  work  is  consequently  less  than 
it  otherwise  would  have  been.  In  1817,  at  the 
request  of  Bishop  Ilnhart,  he  addressed  to  that 
prelate  a  letter  containing  an  account  of  his  life 
up  to  the  period  at  which  the  Memoirs  commence. 
He  commences  as  follows  : — 

A  few  years  ago  you  requested  of  me  to  prepare 
for  you  so.ne  notice*  of  the  most  material  circum- 
stances of  my  early  life.  Compliance  was  intended, 
but  lias  been  delayed,  in  common  with  many  things 
which  may  be  done  at.  any  time.  It  is  now  under- 
taken, with  a  protest  against  being  understood  to  be- 
lieve, that  the  '0  have  been  sueh  events  as  can  make 
up  a  volume  of  biography ;  otherwise  than  by  the 
hilp  of  tliat  art  ot  book-making,  which  has  been 
much  employed  of  late  years  on  private  history ;  but 
■the  exercise  of  which  [  should  be  sorry  to  foresee 
on  a  life  of  so  little  variety  or  celebrity  as  mine. 

In  consequence  of  this  caveat,  the  Bishop's 
biographer,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bird  Wilson,  has  not 
printed  this  important  letter.  He,  however,  re- 
fers to  it,  as  furnishing  the  chief  material  of  his 
Memoir,*  published  in  1839. 

We  extract  the  chief  portion  of  the  Bishop's 
"  Additional  Instructions  for  the  Missionaries  to 
China,"    prepared  and  delivered  in  his  eighty- 


*  Memoir  of  the  Life  of  the  El.  Rev.  William  White,  D.D., 
Bishop  oi  the  Protestant  Kpiseopal  Church  in  the  State  of 
Pennsylvania.  By  Bird  Wilson,  D.D..  Professor  of  Systematic 
Divinity  in  the  General  Theological  Seminary. 


!   eighth  year,  to  Messrs.  Hanson  and  Lockwood,  the 
first  missionaries  sent  out  by  the  Protestant  Epis- 
i   copal  Church  to  that  country : — 

In  the  tie  which  binds  you  to  the  Episcopal  church, 
there  is  nothing  which  places  you  in  the  attitude  of 
hostility  to  men  of  any  other  Christian  denomination, 
and  much  which  should  unite  you  in  affection  to  those 
occupied  in  the  same  cause  with  yourselves.  You 
should  rejoice  in  their  successes,  and  avoid  as  much 
as  possible  all  controversy,  and  all  discussions  which 
may  provoke  it,  on  points  on  which  they  may  differ 
from  our  communion,  without  conforming  in  any 
point  to  what  we  consider  as  erroneous.  If  contro- 
versy should  be  unavoidable,  let  it  be  conducted 
with  entire  freedom  from  that  bitterness  of  spirit,  and 
that  severity  of  language  which  cannot  serve  the 
cause  of  God  under  any  circumstances;  while  in  the 
sphere  which  you  will  occupy  they  will  be  repulsive 
from  a  religion  which  produces  no  better  fruits  on 
the  tempers  of  its  teachers.  In  the  vicissitudes  of 
European  commerce,  and  especially  in  that  of  Can- 

;  ton,  you  will  find  many  who  speak  your  language, 
and  whose  object  is  the  pursuit  of  commerce.     It  is 

1  to  be  lamented  that  no  European  government  has 
sustained  even  the  appearance  of  divine  worship 
among  these  its  distant  subjects.  Perhaps  they  may 
show  themselves  indifferent  or  even  hostile  to  your 
design.  In  either  case  you  wdll  keep  the  even  tenor 
of  your  wa3T ;  not  moved  by  the  fear  or  expectation 
of  the  favour  of  men.  It  may  happen  incidentally 
to  your  ministry  that  some  of  these  temporary  resi- 
dents shall  he  brought  by  it  to  a  better  mind  in 
regard  "to  the  things  which  belong  to  their  peace." 
Especially  they  ought  to  be  cautioned  of  the  responsi- 
bility which  they  would  incur  by  discouragement  of 
the  endeavours  for  the  conversion  of  the  heathen; 
while,  under  notice  of  missionaries  employed  for  that 
purpose,  there  are  so  many  professing  the  same  faith, 
"  yet  living  without  God  in  the  world."  You  can- 
not, be  ignorant  that  in  a  former  age  the  Christian 
religion  was  extensively  propagated  in  China ;  being 
countenanced  by  successive  emperors,  and  by  others 
of  high  rank  in  the  empire.  K  either  can  it  be  un- 
known to  you  that  this  was  succeeded  by  an  exten- 
sive persecution  of  all  wdio  owned  the  name  of  Christ, 
It  is  certain  that  the  change  arose  from  the  inter- 
ference of  the  decrees  of  a  foreign  jurisdiction  with 
immemorial  usages  of  the  Chinese.     It  is  an  old  sub- 

i  ject  of  debate  whether  those  decrees  were  called  for 
by  the  integrity  of  Christian  truth.  Without  dis- 
cussing the  question  of  them,  the  reason  of  noticing 
them  is  to  remark,  that  in  reference  to  foreign  juris- 
diction there  can  he  no  room  for  any  difficulty  con- 
cerning it  within  our  communion ;  which  holds  the 
church  in  every  country  to  be  competent  to  self 
government  in  all  matters  left  to  human  discretion. 
No  faithful  minister  of  our  church  will,  in  any  in- 
stance, relax  a  requisition  of  the  Gospel,  in  accom- 
modation to  unscripturnl  prejudices  of  his  converts; 
but  he  will  not  bind  them  in  an)'  chain  not  bound  on 

I  them  by  his  Master.  It  has  even  been  said  that  the 
court  of  Pekin  found  itself  in  danger  of  being 
brought  under  subjection  to  a  foreign  prelate.  In 
proportion  to  the  odium  of  sueh  a  charge,  the  con- 
verted Chinese  should  be  assured  of  safety  in  the 
enjoyment  of  the  liberty  ."  wherewith  Christ  hath 
made  them  free." 

In  proposing  the.  evidences  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion to  the  Chinese,  and  indeed  to  heathens  of  any 
description,  there  is  to  be  avoided  the  alternate  dan- 
ger, on  the  one  hand,  of  the  measuring  of  success  by 
any  excitement  of  sensibility,  which  may  he  short- 
lived'; and  on  the  other,  the  not  exhibiting  of  the 
subject  i;i  sueh  a  point  of  view  as  shall  show  it  to  be 


302 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAS  LITERATURE. 


congenial  with  the  best  sensibilities  of  onr  nature. 
The  ground  taken  by  the  apostles  must  certainly  be 
that  which  may  most  safely  be  taken  bj'  all  the 
ministers  of  the  Gospel.  When  St.  Peter  addressed 
a  Jewish  audience,  as  in  the  second  chapter  of  Acts, 
he  laid  the  stress  on  ancient  prophecy.  And  when 
St.  Paul  addressed  heathen  audiences,  as. in  sundry 
passages  of  the  same  book,  the  argument  used  by 
him  was  the  recent  miracle  of  the  resurrection. 
These  are  points  which  associate  themselves  with  the 
liveliest  of  our  hopes,  and  tend  to  the  excitement  of 
our  best  affections ;  yet  it  is  through  the  door  of  the 
understanding  that  truth  enters  in  order  to  the  taking 
of  possession  of  the  heart,  It  is  still  the  ground  of 
prophecy  and  of  miracles  on  which  the  truth  of 
Christianity  must  be  advocated ;  although  not  with- 
out their  connection  with  that  sinfulness  of  human 
nature  to  which  the  contents  of  the  Gospel  are  so 
admirably  adapted ;  laying  in  it  the  only  foundation 
of  trust  in  the  pardon  of  sin,  and  of  claim  of 
deliverance  from  its  thraldom ;  and  in  addition  be- 
ing fruitful  of  consolation,  and  a  sure  guide  through 
life,  and  a  stay  of  dependence  in  the  hour  of  death 
and  the  day  of  judgment.  Let  but  these  interesting 
subjects  take  possession  of  the  mind,,  and  its  na- 
tural language  will  be,  "What  shall  I  do  to  be 
saved  ?" 

When  the  Gospel  is  preached  to  a  heathen  at  the 
present  day,  we  ought  not  to  forget  to  extend  to  his 
case  that  forbearance  of  divine  mercy  which  St.  Paul 
disclosed  when  he  said  to  the  Athenians,  "  the  times 
of  this  ignorance  God  winked  at."  Even  when  we 
have  arrested  his  attention,  but  without  reaching  the 
point  of  his  conviction,  we  ought  not  to  be  hasty^  in 
assuring  ourselves  that  there  may  not  be  wanting 
something  conciliatory  in  manner;  or,  perhaps,  .that 
there  may  be  something  repulsive  in  it.  We  ought 
therefore  to  wait  in  patience  for  more  auspicious 
moments,  and  not  rashly  conclude  that  there  is  a 
"  hating  of  the  light,  lest  the  deeds  should  be  re- 
proved." When  there  is  contemplated  the  aggre- 
gate of  Christian  evidence;  when  there  is  seen  that 
through  the  long  tract  of  four  thousand  years  there 
was  a  chain  of  history,  of  prophecy,  of  miracle,  and 
of  prefiguration,  looking  forward  to  a  dispensation 
to  be  disclosed  at  the  end  of  that  portion  of  time ; 
when  it  is  seen  that  there  was  then  manifested  the 
great  sacrifice  which  fulfilled  all  thathadgonebefore; 
and  when  there  is  read  the  record  of  a  sacrifice 
commemorative  of  the  same,  to  be  perpetuated  until 
the  second  coming  of  the  divine  Ordainer,  to  sit  in 
judgment  on  the  world :  it  is  a  mass  of  proof,  which, 
properly  presented,  will  command  the  assent  of  un- 
biassed men  in  all  times  and  places ;  progressing  in 
its  influence  to  the  promised  issue,  when  "  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  shall  have  become  the  king- 
doms of  our  Lord  and  of  His  Christ." 

The  portrait  of  White,  painted  by  Inman,  re- 
presents a  countenance  of  great  purity  and  bene- 
volence; one  of  the  noblest  types  of  personal 
character  of  our  forefathers,  which  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  associate  with  the  friendships  of  Wash- 
ington. 

The  modesty  of  Bishop  White,  with  no  lack  of 
patriotic  or  Christian  firmness,  for  he  maintained 
on  proper  occasions  the  distinctive  principles  of 
his  communion,  and  he  remained  at  his  post  as  a 
city  clergyman  during  the  terrible  visitations  of 
the  yellow  fever,  was  as  remarkable  as  his  worth. 


The  memory  of  his  virtues  and  the  recollection 
of  his  appearance  are  cherished  by  his  friends,  and 
well  deserve  to  be. 

For  the  last  forty  years  of  his  life,  Dr.  White 
was  Senior  and  consequently  Presiding  Bishop  of 
the  United  States.  His  course  on  theological 
questions  was  regulated  by  the  quiet  and  mode- 
rate character  of  his  mind.  He  died  after  a  short 
illness,  during  the  time  of  morning  service  on 
Sunday,  July  17,  1836. 

ISAIAH  THOMAS, 

The  eminent  printer,  newspaper  writer,  and 
founder  of  the  American  Antiquarian  Society, 
was  born  in  Boston,  January  19th,  1749.  At  six 
years  of  age,  he  was  apprenticed  to  Zacbariah. 
Fowlc,  a  ballad  printer,  and  his  first  essay  waa 
setting  one  of  these  ballads,  "  The  Lawyer's  Pedi- 
gree," in  double  pica.  After  learning  his  profes- 
sion, andpursuing  some  wandering  adventures  from 
Nova  Scotia  to  South  Carolina,  he  returned  to  Bos- 
ton in  1770,  to  engage  with  his  old  master  in  the 
publication  of  the  Massachusetts  Spy.  In  1774, 
when  his  political  Whig  course,  carried  on  with 
spirit  in  his  paper,  became  obnoxious  to  the 
authorities,  he  conveyed  his  types  to  Worcester, 
where  he  continued  his  paper.*  In  various  ways 
Thomas  remained  connected  with  the  paper  till 
1801.  In  1788,  he  carried  on  the  publishing 
■business  at  Boston,  in  the  firm  of  Thomas  and 
Andrews.  The  Massachusetts  Magazine  was 
issued  by  them  in  eight  volumes,  from  1789  to 
1796.  He  was  connected  with  Carlisle  at  Wal- 
pole,  in  book-publishing  and  printing  the  Farmers 
Museum,  and  extended  his  business  widely  in 
other  quarters.  At  Worcester,  he  published  a 
folio  Bible,  Watts's  Psalms  and  Hymns,  with  Bar- 
low's additions,  and  a  long  series  of  the  books  in 
vogue  in  the  day,  travels,  theology,  biography, 
&c,  including  a  set  of  chap  books  for  the  enter- 
tainment, instruction,  and  love  of  the  marvellous 
throughout  the  country,  His  judgment  was  good. 
A  book  is  likely  to  be  of  some  interest  which  has 
his  name  attached.  In  1810,  he  published  his 
History  of  Printing.  It  commences  with  a  brief 
history  of  the  art  of  book  production  from  the 
earliest  known  manuscripts  to  the  date  of  its 
issue.  This  is  followed  by  a  history  of  printing 
in  America  brought  down  to  the  end  of  the  last 
century ;  an  account  of  the  progress  of  the  art  in 
each  state,  and  of  the  principal  printers,  being 
given.  The  work  also  contains  a  history  of  news- 
papers and  an  appendix  of  valuable  notes. 

Isaiah  Thomas  published  his  New  England  Al- 
manac, which  had  something  of  the  flavor  of 
Franklin's  "Poor  Richard."  It  first  appeared  in 
1775,  and  was  continued  with  several  titles  for 
forty-two  years,  twenty-six  by  the  father,  thirteen 
by  the  son,  and  three  years  by  William  Manning,  f 

His  most  beneficent  work,  however,  was  -the 
leading  part  which  he  took  in  the  foundation,  in 
1812,  of  the  American  Antiquarian  Society  at 
Worcester,  of  which  he  was  elected  the  first  Presi- 
dent. He  furnished  the  library  with  books  from  the 


*  On  the  3d  May.  1774.  "This,"  says  Buckingham,  "was 
the  first  printing  that  was  executed  in  any  inland  town  in  New 
England." 

t  A  curious  account  of  "Thomas's  Almanac."  in  the  Boston 
Saturday  Rambler,  by  T.  Y\*.  Harris,  the  librarian  of  Harvard. 


BERNARD  ROMANS. 


303 


stores  of  his  own  valuable  collection,  amounting 
in  all  to  between  seven  and  eight  thousand  bound 
volumes,  a  large  number  of  tracts,  and  one  of  the 
most  valuable  series  of  newspapers  in  the  coun- 
try ;  erected  a  building  for  their  reception  on  his 
own  ground,  and  bequeathed  the  land  and  hall  to 
the  Society,  with  a  provision  equal  to  twenty-four 
thousand  dollars  for  its  maintenance.  In  the  en- 
joyment of  this  legacy,  the  institution  now  occu- 
pies a  tine  library  building,  which  is  situated  on 
a  new  lot,  given  to  the  Society,  on  one  of  the 
finest  sites  in  the  town. 

Another  considerable  donor  to  the  Society  was 
the  Rev.  William  Bentley,  of  ( Salem,  a  zealous 
collector  of  books  and  scientific  curiosities.  At 
his  death,  in  1819,  he  bequ.  ".thee1  his  library  and 
cabinet  chiefly  to  the  college  at  Meadville,  Penn- 
sylvania, and  to  the  Antiquarian  Society.* 

One  of  the  rarities  of  the  library  is  the  Mather 
collection,  which  consists  of  about  a  thousand 
volumes,  once  belonging  to  the  three  scholars  and 
divines.  Mr.  Haven,  in  r,  communication  to  Mr. 
Jewett,  remarks,  "this  is,  perhaps,  the  oldest  "pri- 
vate library  in  the  country  that  has  been  trans- 
mitted from  one  generation  to  another.  It  was 
obtained  from  Mrs.  Hannah  Mather  Crocker, 
grand-daughter  of  Cotton  Mather,  a".1  only  re- 
maining representative  of  the  family  in  Boston, 
partly  by  gift  and  partly  by  put  chase.  It  is  called 
in  the  records,  '  The  remains  of  the  ancient 
library  of  the  Mathers,'  and  was  considered  by 
Isaiah  Thomas  as  'the  oldest  library  n  New 
England,  if  not  in  the  United  States.'  With 
these  books  was  obtained  a  large  collection  of 
tracts  and  manuscripts  belonging  to  the  Mathers, 
the  latter  consisting  of  sermons,  diaries,  correj 
pondence,  and  common-places.  Mauy  of  the 
tracts  are  political,  and  relate  to  the  period  of  the 
Revolution  and  the  Commonwealth  in  England. "t 

The  library  now  numbers  (1854)  some  twenty- 
three  thousand  volumes,  under  the  charge  of  the 
librarian,  Mr.  S.  F.  Haven,  the  author  of  a  valu- 
able contribution — the  account  of  the  Origin  of 
the  Massachusetts  Company  and  of  its  Members^ 
— to  the  historic  literature  of  New  England. 


Antiquarian  Society  Hall. 


*  Bentley,  for  nearly  twenty  years,  edited  the  Essex  Regis- 
ter, was  a  democrat  in  politics,  of  extensive  acquaintance  with 
languages,  and  constantly  employed  with  his  pen,  leaving  a 
great  number  of  MSS.  He  published  several  sermons,  a  col- 
lection of  Psalms  and  Hymns,  and  a  History  of  Salem,  in  the 
Historical  Collections.— Buckingham's  New; 
ii.  841. 

t  Letter  of  S.  F.  Haven, 
braries,  p.  46. 

X  Transactions  American  Antiquarian  Society,  vol.  iii. 


Newspaper  Literature, 
Jewett's  Notices  of  Public  Li- 


The  two  first  volumes  of  the  Society's  publica- 
tions, the  Archeeologia  Americana,  include 
Caleb  Atwater's  Description  of  Western  Anti- 
quities and  Albert  Gallatin's  Synopsis  of  the 
|  Indian  Tribes  of  North  America. 

The  light,  airy  alcoves  of  the  new  hall,  rich  in 
old  American  periodical,  newspaper,  and  other 
literature,  with  its  choice  stores  of  MSS.,  particu- 
larly of  the  old  ecclesiastical  history  of  New 
England,  seldom  preserved  with  equal  care,  are  a 
noble  monument  to  the  far-sighted  literary  zeal  of 
Isaiah  Thomas. 

The  benevolence  of  Thomas  was  not  confined 
to  his  own  town.  He  left  liberal  bequests  of 
books  and  money  to  the  library  at  Harvard  and 
the  Historical  Society  of  New  York. 

Ho  died  at  Worcester,  April  -ith,  1831,  in  his 
:  eighty-second  year. 

BERNARD  ROMANS. 
In"  1775,  Captain  Bernard  Romans  published 
at  New  York,  A  Concise  Natural  History  of 
East  and  West  Florida;  containing,  an  account 
of  the  natural  Produce  of  all  the  Southern  part 
of  British  America,  in  the  three  Kingdoms  of 
Nature,  particularly  the  Animal  and  Vegetable. 

|  Likewise,  the  Artificial  Produce  now  raised,  or 
possible  to  he  raised,  and.  manufactured  there, 
with  some  commercial  and  political  observations 
in  that  part  of  the  world,  and  a  Chorographical 
Account  of  the   amc.     To  which  is  added  by  Way 

I  of  Appendix,  Plain  and  Easy  Directions  to  Na- 
vigators over  the  Bank  of  Bahama,  the  Coast  of 

I  the  two  Floridas,  the  North  of  Cuba,  and  the 
dangerous  Gulph  Passage.  Noting,  also,  the 
hitherto  unknown  Weltering  Places  in  that  Part 
of  America,  intended  principally  for  the  use  of 

j  such  vessels  as  may  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  dis- 

j  tressed  h-j  weather  in  that  difficult  part  of  the 
world. 

This  ample  title-page  renders  an  account  of  the 
contents  of  the  work  unnecessary.  It  is  well, 
though  somewhat  grandiloquently  written,  and  its 
information  is  minute  and  well  arranged.  It  is 
"Illustrated  with  twelve  Copper  Plates,  and  two 
whole-sheet  Maps."  The  copper  plates  are  very 
rudely  executed,  and  consist  mainly  of  "  charac- 
teristic heads"  of  the  various  Indian  tribes  of  the 
country.  The  allegorical  frontispiece  is  very  cu- 
rious. It  contains  a  shield  on  which  are  inscribed 
the  letters  S.P.Q.A.  This  is  placed  beside  a 
seated  female  figure,  having  in  one  hand  a  rod  on 
the  end  of  which  is  a  liberty  cap.  She  wears  a 
helmet,  and  smiles  benignantly  at  an  Indian  who 
is  unrolling  a  map  at  her  feet.  Beside  him  is  a 
water  god  pouring  copious  streams  from  a  jar  on 
each  side  of  him,  one  of  which  is  labelled  Mis- 
sissippi. The  remaining  space  is  dry  land,  upon 
which  a  chunky  cherub  is  measuring  off  distances 
with  a  compass  on  an  outspread  map. 

Bernard  Romans,  of  Pensacola,  appears  as  the 
author  of  a  letter  on  the  compass,  dated  August, 
1773,  in  the  Transactions  of  the  American  Philo- 
sophical Society.  Romans  was  an  engineer  in 
the  British  service,  but  was  employed,  about  the 
period  of  the  publication  of  this  work,  by  the 
American  government  in  constructing  Fort  Con- 
stitution, on  the  island  opposite  West  Point.  He 
applied  for  a  commission  in  the  American  army, 


30i 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


which  was  refused  him,  and  he  soon  afterwards 
abandoned  his  task. 

In  1778  he  published  a  second  work,  Annals  of 
the  Troubles  in  the  Netherlands,  from  the  Acces- 
sion of  Charles  V.  Emperor  of  Germany.  In 
four  parts.  A  Proper  and  Seasonable  Mirror  for 
the  present  Americans.  Collected  and  Translated 
from  the  most  approved  Historians  in  the  Native 
Tongue.  Volume  1.  It  was  published  in  Hart- 
ford, and  "  dedicated  (by  permission)  to  His  Ex- 
cellency, Jonathan  Trumbull,  Esq.,  Governor  and 
Commander  in  Chief  in  and  over  the  State  of 
Connecticut  and  its  dependencies,  Captain  Gene- 
ral and  Admiral  of  the  same,  &c.  &c.  &c."  In  the 
preface  Romans  claims  the  merit  of  a  translator 
only,  and  says,  "As  a  foreigner,  it  cannot  be  ex- 
pected that  I  should  excel  in  elegance  of  compo- 
sition or  correctness  of  language.  May  the  dreary 
examples,"  he  continues,  "  through  which  I  lead 
you  be  a  comfort  to  you  (respected  Americans) 
who  are  so  highly  favored  by  Providence,  as  in 
all  appearance  to  obtain  the  glorious  blessings 
contended  for,  with  infinite  less  trouble  and  hard- 
ships than  fell  to  the  lot  of  those  heroes,  whose 
sufferings  in  freedom's  cause  are  exhibited  in  this 
work." 

The  Captain  does  not  appear  to  have  got  beyond 
one  volume  in  either  of  his  works.  The  one  on 
Florida,  from  its  rarity,  commands  a  very  high 
price;  it  exhibits  a  curious  typographical  pecu- 
liarity, the  pronoun,  I,  being  printed  throughout, 
except  at  the  commencement  of  a  sentence,  with 
a  small  i. 


Tea,  a  'despicable  wee.d,  and  of  late  attempted  to 
be'made  a  dirty  conduit,  to  lead  a  stream  of  oppres- 
sions into  these  happy  regions,  one  of  the  greatest 
causes  of  the  poverty,  which  seems  for  some  years 
past  to  have  preyed  on  the  vitals  of  Britain,  would 
not  have  deserved  my  attention  had  it  not  so  uni- 
versally become  a  necessary  of  life ;  and  were  not 
most  people  so  infatuated  as  more  and  more  to  esta- 
blish this  vile  article  of  luxury  in  America,  our  gold 
and  silver  for  this  dirty  return  is  sent  to  Europe, 
from  whence,  being  joined  by  more  from  the  mo- 
ther-country, it  finds  its  way  to  the  Chinese,  who, 
no  doubt,  find  sport  in  this  instance  of  superior  wis- 
dom of  the  Europeans.  These  considerations,  joined 
to  the  additional  evil  of  its  being  a  monopoly  of  the 
worst  kind,  and  the  frauds  of  mixing  it  with  leaves 
of  other  plants,  ought  to  raise  us  here,  to  introduce 
the  plant  (which  is  of  late  become  pretty  common 
in  Europe)  into  these  provinces,  where  the  same  cli- 
mate reigns  as  in  China,  and  where  (no  doubt)  the 
same  soil  is  to  be  found ;  by  this  means  we  may 
trample  under  foot  this  yoke  of  oppression,  which 
has  so  long  pressed  the  mother  country,  and  begins 
to  gall  us  very  sore ;  and  will  the  Europeans  (ac- 
cording to  an  unaccountable  custom  of  despising  all 
our  western  produce,  when  compared  to  oriental 
ones)  avoid  drinking  American  tea!  Be  not  ye  so 
infatuated,  ye  sons  of  America,  as  not  to  drink  of 
your  own  growth  !  Learn  to  save  your  money  at 
home!  I  cannot  think  this  advice  contrary  to  the 
interest  of  Britain,  for  whatever  is  beneficial  to  the 
colonies  will,  in  the  end,  be  at  least  equally  so  to  the 
mother  country. 

DAVID  EAMSAT. 

Ramsat,  the  historian  of   the  Revolution,  was 
born,  April  2d,  17-19,  in  Lancaster  county,  Penn- 


sylvania. He  was  the  son  of  an  Irish  emigrant. 
Before  studying  at  the  College  of  New  Jersey, 
which  lie  entered  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  he  passed 
a  year  as  assistant  tutor  in  an  academy  at  Carlisle. 
O.n  leaving  college,  he  was  for  a  while  a  tutor  in 
Maryland;  he  then  studied  medicine  at  the  Col- 
lege of  Pennsylvania,  where  he  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Rush,  which  exercised  an  import- 
ant influence  on  his  after  life.  He  settled  in 
Charleston,  S.  C,  as  a  practitioner,  and  soon  rose 
to  distinction  by  his  general  powers  of  mind, 
particularly  exerted  in  the  cause  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. He  delivered  to  the  citizens  a  patriotic 
oration  on  the  second  anniversary  of  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence,  in  1778.  He  wrote,  among 
other  occasional  papers  relating  to  the  times,  a 
Sermon  on' Tea,  from  the  text,  "Touch  not,  taste 
not,  handle  not,"  in  which  he  caricatured  Lord 
North ;  a  tract  for  the  times,  which  had  consider- 
able popularity.  He  was  army  surgeon  at  the 
siege  of  Savannah,  a  member  of  the  state  legis- 
lature, and,  in  the  fortunes  of  the  war,  was  for  a 
time  prisoner  at  St.  Augustine.  He  was  in  Con- 
gress in  1782  and  1785,  in  the  latter  year  pub- 
lishing his  History  of  the  Revolution  in  South 
Carolina,  and  preparing  his  History  of  the 
American  Revolution,  by  inspection  of  public 
documents  and  conferences  with  Franklin,  Wither- 
spoon,  whose  daughter  he  had  married,  and  with 
"Washington,  at  Mount  Vernon.  This  history  was 
published  in  1790.  It  would  appear  from  some 
verees  of  Freneau  on  the  subject,  that  the  work 
was  prohibited  in  Great  Britain  : — ■ 

But  alas !  their  chastisement  is  only  begun— 
Thirteen  are  the  states — and  the  tale  is  of  one  ; 
When  the  twelve  yet  remaining  their-  stories  have 

told, 
The  king  will  run  mad — aud  the  book  will  be  sold. 


This  work  was  translated  and  published  in 
France. 


JOHN  PARKE. 


305 


His  Life  of  Washington,  dedicated  to  the  youth 
of  the  United  States,  appeared  in  1801.  In  1808, 
he  published  his  History  of  South  Carolina,  an 
extension  of  A  Sketch  of  the  Soil,  Climate,  Wea- 
ther, and  Diseases  of  South  Carolina,  which  he 
had  published  in  1796. 

In  1811,  Ramsay  lost  his  second  wife,  the 
daughter  of  Henry  Laurens,  and  a  lady  of  great 
accomplishments  and  benevolence.  She  read 
Greek  familiarly.  Of  her  liberality  and  pious 
disposition  it  is  related,  that  when  in  France  she 
received  five  hundred  guineas  from  her  father, 
she  employed  it  for  the  purchase  and  distribution 
of  testaments  and  the  establishment  of  a  school. 
Memoirs  of  Martha  Laurens  Ramsay,  with  Ex- 
tracts from  her  Diary,  were  published  by  her 
husband  shortly  after  her  death. 

The  medical  publications  of  Ramsay  include 
A  Review  of  the  Improvements,  Progress,  and 
State  of  Medicine  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,  in 
1S00;  A  Medical  Register  for  the  year  1802;  A 
Dissertation  on  the  Means  of  Preserving  Health 
in  Charleston,  and  a  Enlogium  and  Life  of  Dr. 
Rush  before  the  Medical  Society  of  Charleston, 
June  10,  1813;  a  valuable  biographical  sketch, 
in  which  he  displays  a  warm  personal  admiration 
and  close  study  of  the  character  of  his  old  friend 
and  preceptor. 

In  1815,  Ramsay  printed  a  History  of  the  In- 
dependent or  Congregational  Church  in  Charles- 
ton, S.  C,  from  its  origin  till  the  year  1814, 
including,  in  an  Appendix,  the  speech  of  its  pas- 
tor, the  Rev.  Wm.  Tennent,  in  the  House  of 
Assembly,  Charleston,  on  the  Dissenting  Petition 
for  Equality  of  Religious  Denominations  in  the 
eye  of  the  Law. 

Ramsay  also  published  an  Oration  on  the 
Acquisition  of  Louisiana  and  a  Biographical 
Chart,  on  a  New  Plan,  to  facilitate  the  Study  of 
History. 

His  industry  was  a  proverb — carrying  out  the 
economy  of  time  of  Franklin  and  Rush  to  its 
maximum.  He  slept  but  four  hours,  rose  before 
daylight,  and  meditated,  book  in  hand,  while  he 
waited  for  the  dawn.  Besides  Ins  historical  com- 
positions  and  the  pursuit  of  his  profession,  he  took 
under  his  charge  the  general  philanthropic  and 
social  movements  of  the  day,  urging  them  fre- 
quently in  the  press,  ffis  private  fortune  was 
injured  by  his  enthusiastic  speculations. 

While  in  the  full  activity  of  his  intellectual  oc- 
cupations, when  he  had  just  completed  his  sixty- 
sixth  year,  he  suddenly  fell  a  victim  to  the  insane 
attack  of  a  lunatic,  by  whom,  in  open  day,  within 
a  few  paces  of  his  own  dwelling,  he  was  shot  with 
a  pistol  loaded  with  three  balls,  one  of  the  wounds 
from  which  caused  his  death  the  second  day,  May 
8th,  1815. 

His  posthumous  writings  are  voluminous:  A 
History  of  the  United  States  from  their  first  set- 
tlement, as  English  colonies  to  the  end  of  the  year 
1808,  which  was  published  in  Philadelphia  in  1816, 
with  a  continuation  to  the  Treaty  of  Ghent  by 
the  Rev.  Samuel  Stanhope  Smith,  and  a  Universal 
History  Americanized,  or  an  Historical  View  of 
the  World  from  the  Earliest  Records  to  the  Nine- 
teenth Century,  with  a  particular  reference  to 
the  State  of  Society,  Literature,  Religion,  and 
form  _  of  Government  of  the  University  of 
America,  which  found  its  way  to  the  press  in 

TOL.    I. 20 


Philadelphia,  in  twelve  volumes  octavo,  in  1819. 
This  last  work  had  occupied  its  author  for  more 
than  forty  years. 

JOHN  PAEKE. 

In  1786,  in  Philadelphia,  a  literary  novelty  for 
the  times  appeared  in  a  volume  entitled  The 
Lyric  Wor/cs  of  Horace,  translated  into  English 
verse  :  to  which  are  added,  a  number  of  original 
Poems,  by  a  Native  of  America*  This  was 
John  Parke,  of  whom  we  learn  from  Mr.  Fisher's 
notice  of  the  Early  Poets  of  Pennsylvania,  that 
he  was  probably  a  native  of  Delaware,  and  born 
about  the  year  1750,  since  he  was  in  the  college 
at  Philadelphia  in  1768;  that  "at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  war  he  entered  the  American 
army,  and  was  attached,  it  is  supposed,  to 
Washington's  division,  for  some  of  his  pieces  are. 
dated  at  camp,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Boston, 
and  others  at  Whitemarsh  and  Valley  Forge. 
After  the  peace  he  was  for  some  time  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  is  last  heard  of  in  Arundel  county, 
Virginia."t 

Parke's  use  of  the  Odes  and  Epistles  of  Horace 
is  a  glory  which  the  sanguine  anticipation  of  the 
Venusian  never  dreamt  of.  Having  done  their 
duty  nobly  in  old  Rome,  in  compliments  to  Maece- 
nas and  encouragements  to  Augustus,  in  triumph 
over  barbaric  hosts,  and  in  the  gentler  celebration 
of  love,  friendship,  and  festivity,  they  emerge 
like  the  stream  of  Arethusa  on  a  new  continent, 
in  gushing  emotions  to  General  Washington,  Ben- 
jamin Franklin,  Nathan  Rumsey,  Esq.,  A.B.,  and 
the  Reverend  Samuel  Magaw. 

'  Parke's  book,  if  the  honors  of  Horatian  feli- 
city in  poetry  be  denied  it,  can  fall  back  on  its 
claims  as  a  rather  comprehensive  Revolutionary 
directory.  The  inscriptions  at  the  head  of  the 
odes  are  quite  a  catalogue  of  the  worthies  of  tho 
time.  Augustus  does  duty  for  several  persons  : — 
The  Reverend  William  Smith,  the  late  Provost, 
the  Hon.  Thomas  M'Kean,  his  Excellency  Benja- 
min Franklin,  and  even  "  His  Most  August  Ma- 
jesty" Louis  XVI.  Maecenas,  in  the  same  way, 
is  in  turn,  the  Right  Honorable  Major-General 
William  Earl  of  Stirling;  the  Hon.  John  Vining, 
member  of  Congress  for  the  Delaware  State; 
Brigadier-General  Richard  Butler,  and  the  Hon. 
Major-General  Varnum,  of  Rhode  Island.  An 
Ode  to  Mercury  is  addressed  to  Charles  M'Knight, 
Esq.,  M.D.,  professor  of  anatomy  and  surgery  in 
Columbia  College,  New  York;  the  exquisite  one 
belonging  to  Quintus  Dellius  is  assigned  to  the 
Hon.  Colonel  Samuel  Wyllis,  of  Hartford,  Con- 
necticut; the  delicate  appeal  to  Pompeius  Gros- 
pbus  in  behalf  of  moderation  and  equanimity,  is 
laid  at  the  feet,  though  it  is  hardly  to  bo  recog- 
nised in  the  least  degree  in  the  translation,  of 
John  Carson,  M.D.,  Philadelphia.  The  ship 
which  carried  Virgil  to  Athens  is  again  refitted, 
to  bear  the  Rev.  James  Davidson  on  the  Atlantic 


*  The  Lyric  Works  of  riorace,  translated  into  English 
verse  :  to  which  are  added,  a  number  ol"  Original  Poems.  By 
a  Native  of  America. 

Qni  cupit  optatam  cursu  contingere  mctam, 

Multa  tulit  fecitque  puer 

Philadelphia:  Printed  by  Eleazer  Oswald,  at  the  Coffee  House. 
17S0.     8vo.  pp.  334. 
t  Mems.  Hist,  Soc.  Penns.  vol.  ii.  part  ii.  p.  100. 


306 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


wave.  The  bacchanal  ode?,  we  perceive,  are 
very  generally  addressed  to  officers  of  the  army. 
There  does  not  appear  to  have  been  anything 
time-serving  in  this,  for  while  he  looks  well  after 
the  great,  he  "  ne'er  forgets  the  small."  The 
thirty-eighth  ode  of  the  first  book, 

Persicos  odi  puer  apparatus, 

is  affectionately  "  addressed  to  my  waiter,  Jabez 
Trapp,  a  soldier."     For  does  he  forget  his  pub- 
lisher.    The  famous  last  ode  of  the  third  book, 
Exegi  monumentum  sere  perennius, 

is  inscribed  "  to  Lieutenant-Colonel  Eleazer  Os- 
wald, of  the  American  Artillery,"  and  is  thus 
translated : — 


TO  MELPOMENE. 


Addressed  to  Lieutenant- Colonel  Eleazee  Oswald,  of  the 
American  Artillery. 

A  monument  I've  rais'd  that  shall  surpass, 
In  firm  duration,  one  of  solid  brass  ; 
Higher  than  Egypt's  pyramid  that  stands. 
With  tow'ring  pride,  the  work  of  kingly  hands, 
Unmov'd  it  shall  outbrave  the  wasting  rain, 
While  feeble  north  winds  threaten  it  in  vain: 
The  countless  years,  and  whirling  time  may  fly; 
Tet  this  stands  fast  and  clnims  eternity. 
I  will  not  wholly  die  ;  for  fame  shall  save 
My  nobler  part,  and  rescue  from  the  grave; 
While  mitred  priests  the  Capitol  ascend, 
And  vestal  maids  the  silent  pomp  attend, 
Where  down  Ofanto  rolls  his  rapid  stream, 
And  humbler  waters,  known  by  Daunus'  name, 
Who  o'er  a  warlike  people  fix'd  his  throne. — 
There  shall  my  fnme  to  latest  time  be  known: 
While  future  ages  shall  the  bard  admire, 
Who  tun'd  to  Grecian  sounds  the  Roman  lyre. 
Then,  Muse,  assume  the  merit  justly  thine, 
And  for  my  brows  a  wreath  of  laurel  twine. 
Spottswood,  June,  1778. 

In  the  preface  there  is  further  mention  of  this, 
where  Mr.  Parke  tells  us  that  "  he  has  made  free 
to  address  the  ode  to  his  very  worthy  friend  and 
fellow-soldier,  Lieutenant  Oswald,  &c,  not  only 
on  account  of  his  ushering  this  work  into  the 
world,  but  for  his  many  eminent  virtues  as  a 
brave  soldier  and  good  citizen.  The  hardships 
he  has  suffered,  the  toils  he  has  endured,  and  the 
many  trying  vicissitudes  he  has  experienced  in 
the  defence  of  his  coimtry,  entitle  him  to  the 
esteem  of  every  patriotic  and  virtuous  American." 

This  preface  shows  Parke  to  have  been  a  man 
of  reading,  and  we  may  suppose  him  to  have  had 
access  for  its  composition  to  the  stores  of  the 
Loganian  library.  He  is  quite  learned  and  criti- 
cal in  a  miscellaneous  way,  and  has  brought  to- 
gether a  considerable  stock  of  interesting  notices, 
biographical  and  critical,  of  the  poet.  He  appears 
to  have  kept  a  scrap-book  on  this  favorite  topic, 
in  which  he  copied  such  poetical  versions  of 
Horace  as  came  to  his  hand  from  the  magazines 
and  other  English  sources.  He  has  included  a 
number  of  these  among  his  own,  sometimes 
taking  the  whole  ode,  and  at  others  interpolating 
Lines  and  verses,  but  scrupulously  pointing  out  his 
indebtedness  in  each  case,  in  his  preface.*     A 


*  We  have  seen  John  Adams,  the  clergyman  of  Newport, 
employing  his  pen  upon  Horace  (ante,  p.  134),  and  Logan  trans- 
lating the  Cato  Major.    There  is  another  early  instance  in  the    ( 


specimen  of  the  latter  is  the  ninth  ode  of  the 
third  book,  in  which  the  first,  second,  third,  and 
seventh  stanzas  belong  to  Alexander  Pope. 

TO  LOLLnjS. 

Imitated — Addressed  to  his  Eoxt llency  Benjamtn  Feanexitt, 
Esquire,  LL.D.  F.E.S.,  Minuter  Plenipotentiary  from  the 
United  States  to  the  Court  of  Versailles,  t&c.  dc. 

Lest  you  should  think  that  verse  shall  die, 
Which  sounds  the  silver  Thames  along, 

Taught  on  the  wings  of  truth  to  fly 
Above  the  reach  of  vulgar  song : 

Though  daring  Hilton  sits  sublime, 

In  Spencer,  native  muses  play ; 
Nor  yet  shall  Waller  yield  to  time, 

Or  pensive  Cowley's  moral  lay. 

Sages  and  chiefs  long  since  had  birth 

Ere  Ccesar  was,  or  Newton  nam'd; 
Those  rais'd  new  empires  o'er  the  earth, 

And  these  new  Heavens  and  systems  fram'd, 

Grosvenor  was  not  the  only  fair 

By  an  unlawful  passion  fir'd  ; 
Who,  the  gay  trappings  and  the  hair 

Of  a  young  royal  spark  admir'd. 

Mugene  and  Marlhrd ,  with  their  host 

Were  not  the  first  in  battle  fnm'd: 
Columbia  more  wars  could  boast, 

Ere  mighty  Washington  was  nam'd. 

Before  this  western  world  was  sought, 
Heroes  there  were  who  for  their  wives, 

Their  children,  and  their  country  fought, 
And  bravely  sacrific'd  their  fives. 

Vain  was  the  chief's,  the  sage's  pride, 
They  had  no  poet  and  they  died: 
In  vain  they  schem'd,  in  vain  they  bled, 
They  had  no  poet  and  are  dead. 

What  diff'rence  then  can  virtue  claim 

From  vice,  if  it  oblivious  lie? 
While  I  can  sing  your  spotless  name, 

Tour  worthy  deeds  6hall  never  die. 

Nor  shall  oblivion's  livid  power 

Your  patriotic  toils  conceal : 
Alike  in  good,  or  adverse  hour, 

A  patron  of  the  common-weaL 

Forever  faithful  and  sincere, 

Your  hands  from  gilded  baits  are  free: 

The  public  villain  stands  in  fear 
You  should  perpetual  consul  be. 

The  knave  possest  of  shining  pelf, 
Can  never  sway  your  honest  choice : 

For  justice,  emblem  of  yourself, 
Exalts  above  the  rabble's  voice. 


Rev.  Caleb  Alexander's  Works  of  Virgil  Translated  into  lite- 
ral Englishprose  ;  u-Uh  some  Explanatory  Notes.  Printed  at 
Worcester,  Mass.,  by  Leonard  Worcester,  for  David  West,  of 
Boston.  1796.  8vo.  pp.  673.  The  Latin  is  on  one  side 
and  the  English  on  the  other.  The  book  is,  doubtless,  in  the 
memory  of  the  schoolboy  days  of  some  of  the  older  scholars 
of  the  country.  In  the  preface.  Alexander  remarks  naively, 
Li  By  some  it  may  possibly  be  said,  that,  in  several  instances,  I 
have  wholly  mistaken  the  sense  of  Virgil.  If  I  have  it  is  no 
surprise.  For,  when  there  is  such  a  variety  of  meanings  to 
many  Latin  words,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  ascertain,  in 
every  instance,  the  sense  affixed  to  each  word  by  the  author. 
In  reading  English  books,  we  often  find  it  difficult  to  under- 
stand the  true  meaning  of  the  writer.  And  surely  it  can  be 
no  wonder,  if  a  translator  of  a  Latin  book  should  mistake  the 
original  sense  of  many  words."  Alexander  was  born  in  North- 
field,  Mass.,  and  was  a  graduate  of  Yale  in  1777.  He  was  set- 
tled at  Mendon,  as  a  clergyman,  made  "  an  ineffectual  attempt 
to  establish  a  college  at  Fairfield,  in  New  York,"  took  charge  of 
an  academy  at  Onondaga  Hollow,  where  he  died  in  1828.  He 
published  a  Latin  and  English  Grammar,  and  some  other 
writings. — Allen's  Biog.  Diet, 


JOHN  PARKE. 


307 


Nor  can  we  rank  him  with  the  blest, 

To  whom  large  stores  of  wealth  are  giv*n  ; 

But  him,  who  of  enough  possest, 

Knows  how  t'  enjoy  the  gifts  of  Heav'n. 

Who  poverty  serenely  bears, 

With  all  the  plagues  the  Gods  can  send ; 
Who  death  to  infamy  prefers, 

To  save  his  country  or  his  friend. 
Dover,  1781. 

To  one  of  the  odes,  the  fourteenth  of  the  third 
book,  lie  has  given  quite  an  American  turn.  It 
is  that  one  in  which  Horace  celebrates  the  return 
of  Augustus  from  his  Spanish  expedition,  where 
he  calls  upon  Li  via,  the  wife  of  the  hero,  to  greet 
his  arrival,  and  claims  the  joyful  time  as  a  true 
holiday  for  himself,  to  banish  black  cares — while 
he  summons  his  valet  to  bring  ointment,  and  gar- 
lands, and  a  cask,  with  its  old  memories  of  the 
Marsian  conflict,  if  indeed  such  a  cask  could  have 
escaped  that  nefarious  stroller,  Spartacus,  and  to 
call  the  witty  Neasra — while,  doubtful  if  she  will 
come  to  such  an  old  gentleman  as  himself,  ho 
thinks  how  age  compensates  for  neglect  by  its  in- 
difference, andheavesagentle  sigh  as  he  recalls  the 
different  treatment  he  would  have  exacted  in  his 
days  of  young  blood,  in  "  the  consulship  of  Plan- 
cus."  We  have  some  compunctions  at  intro- 
ducing Parkes's  platitudes  in  connexion  with  this 
delicately  touched  effusion ;  but  something  is  due 
to  antiquarian  curiosity,  and  the  reader  may  be 
amused  at  the  substitution  of  Martha  Washington 
for  the  spouse  of  Augustus,  the  return  of  her 
husband  after  the  surrender  of  Cornwallis  in  lieu 
of  the  CauUibrian  conquest,  and  feel  the  force  of 
the  comparison  between  the  marauding  Spartacus 
and  the  depredating  itinerant  British  officers, 
who  drank  up  so  much  of  the  best  old  wine 
stored  in  the  country.  The  remonstrance  to  the 
porter  is  a  vigorous,  but  perhaps  undignified 
translation  of  the  Roman  poet's 

Si  per  in  visum  mora  janitorem 
Fiet,  abito. 

ON  TnB  UETUKN  OF  AUGUSTUS  FEOM  SPAIN. 

Paraphrased  on  General  Washington's  Retarn  from  Virginia, 

Addressed  to  Major-General  Hf.nry  Knox,  late  Commander 
of  ArtUiery,  and  Secretary-at-  War,  New  York. 

Rejoice,  Columbia,  for  thy  son, 

As  great  Alcides  did  of  yore, 
With  laurels  crown'd,  and  fame  in  battles  won, 
Returns  victorious  from  Virginia's  shore : 
Cornwallis  vanquish'd  and  our  country  sav'd, 
The  grateful  tribute  of  our  joy  demands, 

On  ev'ry  heart  his  name's  engrav'd, 

Long  as  fch'  united  empire  stands. 

Chaste  Martha  shall  embrace  her  spouse, 

So  long  detaiu'd  by  war's  alarms; 
And  to  the  righteous  Heaven  prefer  her  vows, 
For  giving  back  her  hero  to  her  arms. 
Her  widow'J  daughter,  beautiful  in  tears, 
Shall  grace  the  scene,  and  swell  the  thankful  train, 

While  aged  matrons  bent  with  years, 

Shall  crowd  the  supplicated  fane. 

Ye  maids  in  blooming  beauty's  pride, 

Ye  lovely  youths,  a  hopeftd  race! 
Say  not,  alas !  your  dearest  friends  have  dy'd, 
Nor  let  a  frown  of  sadness  cloud  your  face: 
This  day  let  mirth  alone  your  souls  employ, 
Nor,  careless,  drop  one  inauspicious  word, 


But  join  the  great  eclat  of  joy, 
And  hail  Columbia's  valiant  lord. 

Well  pleas'd  I  give  each  anxious  care, 

To  plotting  knaves  and  coward  fools, 
No  civil  strife,  or  foreign  wars  I  fear, 
While  Washington  our  conq'ring  army  rules. 
Boy,  bring  us  oil,  and  let  our  heads  be  crown'd 
With  fragrant  wreaths,  go  tap  the  farthest  pipe, 

If  such  a  one  is  to  be  found, 

That  'scap'd  the  plund'ring  Briton's  gripe. 

Let  Mira  come  the  feast  to  grace, 

With  hair  perfum'd  in  jetty  Curl! 
But  should  her  porter  teaze  you  with  delays, 
Bid  him  be  d — d,  and  leave  the  saucy  churl. 
Now  creeping  age,  with  venerable  hoar, 
And  snowy  locks  o'ershade  my  wrinkled  brows, 

With  love  my  bosom  beats  no  more, 

No  more  my  breast  with  anger  glows. 

Such  flights  I  was  not  wont  to  bear, 
Wiien  young,  I  follow'd  Mars' s  trade; 
When  in  the  field  I  bore  the  warlike  spear, 
The  sword,  the  epaulet  and  spruce  cockade. 
Philadelphia,  1782. 

The  seventh  ode  of  the  first  book,  "  To  Muna- 
tius  Plancus,"  is  familiar,  with  its  splendid  eulogy 
of  the  echoing  waters  of  Albunea  and  the  groves 
of  Tiber,  with  that  kindling  story  of  old  Teucer. 
This  is  Mr.  Parke's  substitute  for  it : — ■ 

TO     MUNATIUS     PLANCUS. 

A  Fragment  Imitated*. 

Addressed  to  Biohabv  Howell,  Esq.,  of  New  Jersey,  late 
Major  in  the  Army. 

Let  other  bards,  in  sonorous,  lofty  song, 
Rehearse  the  glories  of  European  climes  ; 

The  charms  of  Britain  rapturously  prolong, 
Or  famed Icrnc  in  heroic  rhymes: — - 

Tell  of  New  York,  on  ev'ry  side  begirt, 

With  Hudson's  bleak,  tempestuous,  briny  wave: 

Of  Ab'ram's  Plains  their  tuneful  powers  exert, 
The  fall  of  heroes  and  of  vet'rans  brave : — 

Of  Kent,  far  distant,  with  a.  farmer  blest, 

Whose   Muse,   oppression's    out-stretch'd    canvas 
furl'd ; 

Of  Pennsylvania,  happy  in  a  West, 
The  great  Apelles  of  this  infant  world. 

Some  praise  Madeira  for  its  gen'rous  wine, 

And    Schuylkill's    pleasant    shades    and     silver 
stream ; 

Or  with  pedantic  pride,  in  strains  divine, 

Dwell  on  the  Muses'  Seat — their  fav'rite  theme. 

Then  witli  a  feign'd,  patriotic  zeal, 

Affect  the  soldier,  and  Virginia  praise, — 

Fam'd  for  her  steeds ;  while  some  the  public  weal 
Of  Penn  in  adulating  numbers  raise. 

Nor  Boston's  police,  or  the  high-ting' d  bowers 
Of  fertile  Hampstead,  please  so  much,  as  where, 

The  silver  Christiana  gently  pours, 
A  wat'ry  tribute  to  the  Delaware. 

Where  Sieanwick's  lofty  trees,  their  summits  raise, 
And  fragrant  orchards  court  the  solar  beam; 

Pleas'd  with  the  sight  the  waterman  delays, 
To  view  the  forest,  dancing  on  the  stream. 

Surrounded  by  a  verdant  grove-fring'd  mead, 

Which    from    the    northern    blasts    its     beauty 
shrouds, 

N — C — e  seems  to  rear  its  ancient  head, 
And  point  its  lustre  to  the  passing  clouds. 


308 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


There  may  I  live,  inemulous  of  fame, 
Nor  wish  the  laurel,  or  the  post's  bays: 

I  ask  not  riches,  or  a  mighty  name, 

But  there,  in  sweet  content,  to  end  my  days. 

The  volume  which  contains  these  translations 
from  Horace  has  also  a  copious  stock  of  Miscel- 
lanies— the  compositions  of  Parke  and  his  friends. 
Several  of  them  are  by  a  young  British  officer, 
John  Wilcocks,  who  appears  from  an  elegy,  after 
Tibullus,  dedicated  to  his  memory,  to  have  be- 
longed to  "  the  eighteenth,  or  Royal  regiment  of 
Ireland,"  and  to  have  died  at  the  early  age  of 
twenty-two.  Parke  tells  us  that  "  the  genius  of 
this  young  soldier  seemed  to  be  entirely  adapted 
to  pastoral  elegy  and  satire,  of  the  last  of  which 
he  was  a  master."  The  verses  which  bear  his 
signature  are  creditable  to  his  powers,  though 
they  are  but  trifles ;  for  example — 

TrrE  TWO  PEACOCKS. 

How  oft,  dear  Jack,  we  others  blame 

For  faults,  when  guilty  of  the  same ! 

But  so  it  is,  my  friend,  with  man, 

See  his  own  faults  he  never  can ; 

But  quickly  with  discerning  eyes, 

His  neighbour's  imperfection  spies. 

The  beau  oft  blames  his  tawdry  brother. 

And  coquettes  laugh  at  one  another : 

Delia  Chloe  can't  abide, 

Yet  blames  her  own  in  Delia's  pride. 

But  to  illustrate  and  make  clear 

What  I  advance,  this  Fable  hear. 

Two  peacocks  as  they're  wont  to  be. 

Elate  with  pride  and  vanity, 

Were  strutting  in  a  farmer's  yard, 

Viewing  with  envious  regard 

Each  other's  dress,  replete  with  spleen, 

As  fops  at  balls  are  often  seen. 

At  length  his  plumage  to  the  sun 

Wide-spreading,  one  of  them  begun; 

"  God  bless  me,  friend,  you're  very  fine ! 

Your  feathers  almost  equal  mine ; 

But  then,  your  legs!  I  vow  and  swear, 

Your  legs  are  not  the  thing,  my  dear: 

Your  voice,  too,  poh  !  it  is  so  squalling! 

Pray,  friend,  correct  that  hideous  bawling." 

To  which  the  other  thus  replies. 

"  Remove  the  mote  from  out  your  eyes, 

View  your  own  legs,  then  say  if  thine, 

Proud  thing,  can  be  compar'd  to  mine? 

Your  voice !  but  see  the  farmer  there, 

Let  hint  be  judge  in  this  affair." 

The  farmer,  laughing  at  their  pride. 

Proceeds,  the  matter  to  decide. 

"  No  difference  in  your  legs,  I  see, 

Your  voices  sound  alike  to  me." 

Thus  spoke  the  swain, — the  peacocks  cry 
"  A  silly  judge !"  and  off  they  fly. 

PAKODT  ON  MR.  POPE'S  ODE  TO  SOLITUDE. 

Happy  the  boy,  whose  wish  and  care 

A  little  bread  and  butter  serves; 

Content  at  meals  to  drink  small  bear, 

And  eat  preserves. 
Whose  tops,  whose  marbles  give  him  pleasure. 

Whose  balls  afford  him  great  delight; 
Whose  pennies  shine,  a  mighty  treasure 

To  charm  his  sight, 

Blest  who  can  ev'ry  morning  find 

Some  idle  lads  with  whom  to  play  ; 
When  in  the  fields  he  hath  a  mind 

From  school  to  stray. 


Nor  ferula  fears,  nor  birch  most  dire. 

But  play  all  day,  and  sleep  all  night ; 
Some  other  boy  for  cash  will  hire,. 

His  task  to  write. 

Thus  let  me  live,  thus  life  enjoy, 
Until  to  manhood  I  arrive ; 
And  thus,  like  me,  sure  ev'ry  boy 

To  live  will  strive. 

Mr.  John  Prior,  of  Delaware,  is  another 
writer  of  verses,  who  figures  in  this  collection, 
in  an  ambitious  patriotic  way,  as  the  writer  of  a 
"  New  Year  Ode,  in  1779,  for  the  Return  of 
Peace,"  and  in  several  minor  effusions,  "To 
Chloe  stung  by  a  Wasp,"  and  in  some  lines  "  Writ- 
ten in  a  Young  Lady's  Pocket-book."  The  vo- 
lume "winds  up"  with  Virginia;  a  Pastoral 
Drama,  on  the  Birth-day  of  an  Illustrious  Per- 
sonage, and  the  Return  of  Peace,  Feb.  11,  1784, 
with  the  motto — 

Quo  nihil  majus,  meliusve  terris 
Fata  donavere,  bonique  divi, 
Nee  dabunt,  quamvis  redeant  in  aurum 
Tempora  priseum, 

which  appears  to  be  from  the  patriotic  if  not 
poetical  pen  of  Colonel  Parke. 

JOHN  TETJMBULL, 

The  author  oflPFingal,  the  humorous  epic  sketch 
of  the  Revolution,  was  born  in  the  present  town- 
ship of  Watertown,  Connecticut,  April  24,  1750, 
of  a  family  each  branch  of  which  has  contri- 
buted its  share  of  honor  to  the  state.  The 
American  head  of  the  house  came  from  England 
to  Ipswich  in  Massachusetts,  in  1645.  His  son 
removed  to  Connecticut.  Of  the  three  grand- 
sons, his  children,  John  Trumbull  the  poet  was 
the  representative  of  the  first  in  the  third  genera- 
tion; the  second  gave  the  first  governor  to  the 
state,  Jonathan  Trumbull,*  in  the  second  genera- 
tion, and  another  Jonathan  Trumbull,  governor, 
with  his  brother  the  distinguished  painter,  in  the 
third ;  while  the  grandson  of  the  third  Benjamin 
wrote  the  history  of  the  state.t  The  father  of 
our  author  was  the  minister  of  the  Congregational 
Church  of  his  district ;  his  mother  is  spoken  of 
as  possessed  of  superior  education.  A  delicate 
child  and  fond  of  books,  of  which  the  supply  in 
general  literature  was  very  limited  at  home,  being 
confined  to  the  Spectator  and  Watts's  Hymns,  he 


*  Jonathan  Trumbull  passed  half  a  century  in  public  life,  for 
the  last  fifteen  years  of  which  he  was  Governor  of  Connecti- 
cut, declining  the  annual  election  in  17S3.  after  the  close  of  the 
war,  of  which  he  had  been  a  zealous  supporter.  Washington 
wrote  of  him  "as  the  first  of  patriots:  in  his  social  duties  yield- 
ing to  none."  He  died  in  1785.  aged  74.  W.  Chastelln'x,  the 
traveller,  who  saw  him  when  he  was  seventy, describes  him  as 
possessing  "  all  the  simplicity  in  his  dress,  all  the  importance 
and  even  all  the  pedantry,  becoming  the  great  magistrate  of  a 
small  republic.  He  brought  to  my  mind  the  burgomasters  of 
Holland,  the  Heinsiuses  and  the  Earneveldts." 

T  Benjamin  Trumbull  was  a  graduate  of  Tale  College,  and 
was  assisted  in  his  education  by  Dr.  Wheelock.  the  energetic 
founder  of  Dartmouth  College,  who  preached  the  sermon  at  his 
ordination,  commending  him  to  the  people  as  not "  a  sensual, 
sleepy,  lazy,  dumb  dog.  that  cannot  Dark."  From  that  time 
till  his  death,  he  passed  nearly  sixty  years  in  the  ministry  at 
North  Haven,  Connecticut.  His  publications  were,  besides 
several  occasional  sermons  and  discourses  od  the  divine  origin 
of  the  Scriptures,  A  Complete  History  of  Connecticut,  Civil 
and  Ecclesiastical,  from  the  emigration  of  its  first  planted 
from  England,  in  the  year  1680,  to  the  year  1764;  and  to  the 
close  of  the  Indian  wars.  2  vols.  8vo.  1797, 1S18,  and  a  History 
of  the  United  States  to  1705.    Vol.  i.  in  1S19. 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


309 


Birth-place  of  Trumbull. 

was  early  trained  by  his  father  for  Yale  College,  of 
■which  institution  he  was  admitted  a  member  on 
examination  at  the  precocious  age  of  seven,* 
though  his  actual  residence  at  college  was  wisely 
adjourned  till  six  years  afterwards.  During  this 
period  he  became  acquainted  with  some  of  the 
best  English  classics,  and  subsequently  took  up 
their  defence,  as  a  branch  of  study,  in  opposition 
to  the  exclusive  preference  of  the  college  for  the 
ancient  languages,  mathematics,  and  theology. 
He  was  a  fellow-student  with  Timothy  Dwight, 
with  whom  he  formed  an  intimate  and  lasting 
friendship.  They  wrote  together  papers  in  the 
style  of  the  Spectator,  then  the  standard  model 
for  this  class  of  compositions,  which  they  pub- 
lished in  the  journals  of  Boston  and  New  Haven. 
The  two  friends  in  1771  became  tutors  together 
in  the  college,  and  the  next  year  Trumbull  pub- 
lished his  Progress  of  Dulness,  a  year  after  en- 
larging it  by  a  second  and  third  part.  The  lite- 
rary quartette  was  completed  by  the  junction  of 
Humphreys  and  Barlow. 

Under  cover  of  the  tutorship,  Trumbull  studying 
law  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  Connecticut,  in 
1773,  and  as  he  had  entered  college  first  and  pre- 
pared himself  afterw  irds,  so  upon  his  admission  as 
an  attorney,  he  proceeded  to  Boston  and  became 
a  student  in  the  office  of  John  Adams,  the  sub- 
sequent President  of  the  United  States.  In  this 
patriotic  society  he  learnt  the  lesson  of  American 
Independence  in  its  elements,  and  learnt  it  well ; 
recording  his  impressions  of  the  rising  spirit  of 
freedom  and  resistance  in  An  Elegy  on  th-e  Times, 
a  poem  of  sixty-eight  stanzas,  which  celebrates 
the  Port  Bill  and  non-consumption  of  foreign 
luxuries,  the  strength  of  the  country,  and  its 
future  glories  contrasted  with  the  final  downfall 
of  England. 

At  the  end  of  1774,  Trumbull  returned  to  New 
Haven,  and  wrote  what  now  stands  as  the  first, 
second,  and  third  cantos  of  M'Fingal.  The  period 
of  the  war  was  chiefly  passed  by  him  in  his 
native  place.  In  17S1  he  took  up  his  residence  at 
Stratford,  and  at  the  termination  of  the  war  in 
1782  completed  M'Fingal,  revising  his  early 
sketches,  and  adding  the  concluding  canto.     Its 


*  "With  Trumbull,  Dr.  Emmons  was  particularly  intimate, 
aud  held  him  in  his  lap  when,  at  the  aire  of  seven  or  eight,  the 
author  of  M'Fingal  passed  a  satisfactory  examination  on  the 
studies  required  for  admission  to  College."— Prof.  Park's 
Notices  of  Dr.  Emuious. 


popularity  was  very  great.  There  were  more 
than  thirty  different  pirated  impressions,  in 
pamphlet  and  other  forms,  which  were  circulated 
by  "  the  newsmongers,  hawkers,  pedlars,  and 
petty  chapmen"  of  the  day. 

Having  served  his  country  during  the  Revolu- 
tion, he  employed  lus  pen  again  in  the  second 
and  not  inferior  work  of  preserving  it  for  union 
and  the  constitution.  He  was  one  of  the  writers 
of  the  Anarchiad,  a  newspaper  series  of  papers  at 
Hartford,  a  production  levelled  at  the  irregulari- 
ties of  the  day,  and  of  which  an  account  will  be 
found  in  the  life  of  his  associate  in  the  work, 
Lemuel  Hopkins.  He  was  afterwards  called  into 
public  life  as  a  member  of  the  State  Legislature, 
and  in  1301  became  Judge  of  the  Superior  Court 
of  the  State,  continuing  to  reside  at  Hartford  till 
1S25,  when  he  removed  to  Detroit,  Michigan,  the 
residence  of  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Woodbridge,  where 
he  died,  May  12,  1831,  of  a  gradual  decline,  at 
the  age  of  eighty-one,  a  mature  period  for  a  life 
which  had  been  visited  by  ill  health  at  intervals 
from  childhood. 

The  collection  of  his  Poems*  appeared  at  Hart- 
ford in  1820,  with  a  prefatory  memoir  closing 
with  a  broken  sentence,  interrupted  by  asterisks 
— which,  with  the  absence  of  critical  commenda- 
tion, suggests  that  the  author  himself  was  holding 
the  pen.  This  edition  was  published  by  sub- 
scription, and  it  is  not  to  the  credit  of  the  public 
of  that  year  that  only  a  small  subscription  was 
obtained.  The  publisher,  Mr.  S.  G.  Goodrich,  lost 
money  by  the  undertaking,  but  a  thousand  dollars 
and  a  hundred  copies  of  the  work  had  been 
secured  to  the  author. 

Of  the  miscellaneous  productions  of  Trumbull, 
The  Progress  of  Dullness,  a  satirical  poem,  com- 
posed in  bis  twenty-second  year,  is  the  most  im- 
portant. It  is  in  the  octosyllabic  measure,  in  three 
parts. 

The  first  recounts  the  adventures  of  Tom 
Brainless.  That  hero  is  sent  to  college,  where 
his  natural  dulness  is  rather  strengthened  than 
abated  by  his  smattering  of  unprofitable  studies, 
and  the  cheap  protection  of  his  diploma.  Find- 
ing it  necessary  to  do  something  for  himself  in 
the  world,  he  learns  "the  art  of  preaching,"  and 
of  stealing  judiciously  out  of  Pool  and  Henry, 
which  accomplishments  acquired,  he  ascends  the 
pulpit. 

Now  in  the  desk,  with  solemn  air, 
Our  hero  makes  his  audience  stare  ; 
Asserts  with  all  dogmatic  boldness, 
Where  impudence  is  yoked  with  dulness ; 
Reads  o'er  his  notes  with  halting  pace 
Mask'd  in  the  stiffness  of  his  face ; 
With  gestures  such  as  might  become 
Those  6tatues  once  that  spoke  at  Rome, 
Or  Livy's  ox,  that  to  the  state 
Declared  the  oracles  of  fate. 
In  awkward  tones,  nor  said,  nor  sung, 
Slow  rumbling  o'er  the  falt'ring  tongue, 
Two  hours  his  drawling  speech  holds  on, 
And  names  it  preaching,  when  he's  done. 


*  The  Poetical  Works  of  John  Trumbull.  LL.D.,  containing 
M'Fingal,  a  Modern  Epic  Poem,  revised  and  corrected,  with 
copious  explanatory  notes;  the  Progress  of  Dulness;  and  a 
collection  of  Poems  on  various  subjects,  written  before  and 
during  the  Revolutionary  war.  2  vols.  Hartford :  Printed  for 
S.  G.  Goodrich.    1S20. 


510 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Dick  Hairbrain  is  introduced  to  us  in  the 
second  part,  a  town  fop,  the  son  of  a  wealthy 
farmer,  ridiculous  in  dress,  empty  of  knowledge, 
but  profound  in  swearing  and  cheap  infidelity 
picked  up  second-hand  from  Hume  and  Voltaire. 
His  college  course  was  as  dull  in  point  of  learn- 
ing, though  a  little  more  animated  in  profligacy, 
than  that  of  his  predecessor. 

What  though  in  algebra,  his  station 
Was  negative  in  each  equation  ; 
Though  in  astronomy  survey'd, 
His  constant  course  was  retrograde ; 
O'er  Newton's  system  though  he  sleeps, 
And  finds  his  wits  in  dark  eclipse! 
His  talents  proved  of  highest  price 
At  all  the  arts  of  card  and  dice ; 
His  genius  turn'd  with  greatest  skill, 
To  whist,  loo,  cribbnge,  and  quadrille, 
And  taught,  to  every  rival's  shame, 
Each  nice  distinction  of  the  game. 

He  becomes  a  travelled  fool,  of  course,  and 
runs  through  his  coxcombry  and  dissipation,  till 
the  jail  and  the  palsy  relieve  him,  and  the  poor 
creature  sinks  out  of  6ight,  to  give  place  to 
another  shifting  of  the  poet's  drop-scene,  when 
the  counterpart  of  this  delectable  gentleman,  Miss 
Harriet  Simper,  makes  her  appearance  on  the 
stage.  She  illustrates  the  slender  stock  of  female 
education,  formerly  in  vogue,  and  the  life  of  the 
coquette  in  those  good  old  times  of  our  fore- 
fathers, when,  among  the  many  who  were  valiant 
and  industrious,  and  led  simple  honest  lives,  there 
was  room  as  usual  for  some  who  were  indolent 
and  conceited.  The  fops  and  beaux  surrounding 
this  lady  present  a  curious  scene  of  the  day 
when  the  Sunday  meeting  was  the  battle-held  for 
the  artillery  of  love  and  fashion  : — 

As  though  they  meant  to  take  by  blowi 
Th'  opposing  galleries  of  beaux, 
To  church  the  female  squadron  move, 
All  arm'd  with  weapons  used  in  love. 
Like  colour'd  ensigns  gay  and  fair, 
High  caps  rise  floating  in  the  air; 
Bright  silk  its  varied  radiance  flings, 
And  streamers  wave  in  kissing-strings  ; 
Each  bears  th'  artill'ry  of  her  charms, 
Like  training  bands  at  viewing  arms. 
So  once  in  fear  of  Indian  beating, 
Our  grandsires  bore  their  guns  to  meeting, 
Each  man  equipp'd  on  Sunday  morn, 
AVith  Psalm-book,  shot  and  powder-horn ; 
And  look'd  in  form,  as  all  must  grant, 
Like  th'  ancient,  true  church  militant; 
Or  fierce,  like  modern  deep  divines, 
"Who  fight  with  quills,  like  porcupines; — 

when  the  fortunes  of  gallantry  and  domestic 
happiness  were  read  out  of  tea-cups ;  when  the 
ladies  grew  ecstatic  over  the  hazards  of  virtuous 
Pamela,  and  the  gentleman  swore  by  Lovelace,  or 
sported  philosophy  out  of  Tristram  Shandy — for 
whose  humors,  by  the  way,  our  author  should 
have  had  a  better  fellow-feeling.  He  speaks,  in  a 
note,  of  the  transitory  reputation  of  that  not  yet 
quite  or  likely  soon-to-be-forgotten  publication. 
Miss  Harriet  Simper,  after  jilting  her  admirers  by 
scores,  falls  a  victim  to  Hairbrain,  who  proves  as 
great  a  flirt  as  herself,  and  rejects  her  advances. 
Thrown  off  by  the  beau,  she  finally  accepts  our 
dull  old  friend  of  the  first  canto,  Brainless,  for 
whom,  in  consideration  of  the  marriage, 


The  parish  vote  him  five  pounds  clear 
T  increase  his  salary  every  year. 
Then  swift  the  tag-rag  gentry  come 
To  welcome  Madame  Brainless  home ; 
Wish  their  good  Parson  joy  ;  with  pride 
In  order  round  salute  the  bride : 
At  home,  at  visits  and  at  meetings, 
To  Madam  all  allow  precedence ; 
Greet  her  at  church  with  rev'rence  due, 
And  next  the  pulpit  fix  her  pew. 

The  manners  of  this  poem  are  well  painted, 
the  satire  is  just,  and  the  reflections  natural  and 
pointed.  It  may  still  be  read  with  pleasure. 
The  plea  for  the  humanities,  as  opposed  to  the  dry 
abstractions  and  pedantries  of  college  education, 
is  not  yet  exhausted  in  its  application;  and  the 
demand  for  higher  studies  and  a  more  profound 
respect  for  woman,  have  been  enough  agitated  of 
late  to  commend  the  early  effort  of  Trumbull  in 
this  enlightened  cause.  In  his  case,  as  in  many 
others  of  the  kind,  the  perceptions  of  the  wit 
outran  the  slower  judgments  of  duller  men. 


^__^y^r^i^y^tt^^^Cc^^y' 


The  poem  of  MTingal  is  Trumbull's  lasting 
work  for  fame.  The  author  himself  has  described 
its  purpose  and  method  in  a  letter  written  in 
1785  to  the  Marquis  de  Chastellux,  who  had 
complimented  him,  from  the  French  capital,  upon 
fulfilling  the  conditions  of  burlesque  poetry  ac- 
cording to  the  approved  laws  from  the  days  of 
Homer.  In  reply,  Trumbull  says  he  would  have 
been  happy  to  have  seen  the  rules  alluded  to 
before  he  composed  the  poem ;  but  he  had  not 
written  it  without  design  or  attempt  at  construc- 
tion. It  had  been  undertaken  "  with  a  political 
view,  at  the  instigation'  of  some  leading  members 
of  the  first  Congress,  who  urged  him  to  compose 
a  satirical  poem  on  the  events  of  the  campaign  in 
the  year  1775,"  and  he  had  aimed  at  expressing, 
"  in  a  poetical  manner,  a  general  account  of  the 
American  contest,  with  a  particular  description 
of  the  character  and  manners  of  the  times,  inter- 
spersed with  anecdotes,  which  no  history  could 


JOHN  TRUMBULL), 


311 


probably  record  or  display:  and  with  as  much 
impartiality  as   possible,  satirize  the  follies  and 
extravagances  of  my  countrymen  as  well  as  of 
their  enemies.     I  determined  to  describe  every 
subject  in  the  manner  it  struck  my  own  imagina- 
tion, and  without  confining  myself  to  a  perpetual 
effort  at  wit,  drollery,  and  humour,  indulge  every 
variety  of  manner,   as   my  subject  varied,  and 
insert  all  the  ridicule,  satire,  sense,  sprightliness, 
and  elevation,  of  which  I  was  master."     In  car- 
rying out  this  design,  M'Fingal,  a  burly  type  of 
the  monarchy-loving  squires  of  New  England,  is 
chosen  as  the  representative  of  the  general  Tory 
interests  and  personages  of  the  country.     Hono- 
rius  is  the  Whig  champion  of  freedom  and  oppo- 
sition,  and    the  poem  is  mostly  an   harangue 
between   the   two.      It   opens   with,  a   meeting 
assembled  for  political  discussion  in  the  church 
of  M'Fingal's  native  town,  whither  he  has  just 
arrived  from  Boston.     Honorius  commences  with 
a  general  attack  on  the  decay  of  Britain,  and  her 
injurious  course  towards  the  colonies,  with  free 
allusion  to  court  lawyers,  clergymen,  and  interested 
merchants,  when  he  is  suddenly  interrupted  by 
M'Fingal,  with  a  fierce  diatribe  of  reproach  and 
expostulation,  the   humor  of  which    consists   in 
clinching  every  nail  driven  in  by  his  opponent ; 
for  the  squire  was  one  of  those  arguers  more  dan- 
gerous to  his  friends  than  his  foes. 

As  some  muskets  so  contrive  it, 
As  oft  to  miss  the  mark  they  drive  at, 
And  though  well  aim'd  at  duek  or  plover, 
Bear  wide,  and  kick  their  owners  over: 
So  fared  our  Squire,  whose  reas'ning  toil 
Would  often  on  himself  recoil, 
And  so  much  injured  more  his  side, 
The  stronger  arguments  he  applied; 
As  old  war-elephants,  disuury'd, 
Trod  down  the  troops  they  came  to  aid, 
And  hurt  their  own  side  more  in  battle, 
Than  less  and  ordinary  cattle. 

The  clergy,  with  their  divine  right  for  the 
powers  that  be,  the  royal  editors  and  council- 
men  are  brought  before  us,  and  their  pretensions 
knocked  about  as  shuttlecocks  from  one  arguer 
to  the  other. 

Canto  first  is  adjourned  for  dinner,  which  re- 
freshment being  secured,  the  parties  meet  to 
battle  again  witli  renewed  vigor  in  the  afternoon. 
M'Fingal  taunts  the  company  with  the  blessings 
of  Puritan  exile,  and  the  various  measures  of 
government;  and  after  this  ironical  appeal  to  their 
gratitude,  throws  in  an  alarm  for  their  fears,  in 
a  glance  at  the  movements  of  General  Gage. 
Honorius  sneers  at  the  Boston  general,  and 
M'Fingal  gets  the  floor  again,  pouring  forth  an 
eloquent  flood  of  declamation  upon  British  vic- 
tories, and  confiscations  in  prospect,  the  rise  of 
Tories  and  fall  of  Wings.  Honorius,  in  turn, 
sounds  a  trumpet-tongued  harangue  for  freedom. 
The  Tories  lose  tiieir  temper,  and  the  contest  for 
order  is  louder  and  louder,  till  the  attention  of 
the  combatants  is  diverted  by  a  movement  with- 
out. This  is  the  famous  gathering  for  the  conse- 
cration of  the  liberty  pole,  which  is  the  central 
point  of  the  third  canto.  M'Fingal  endeavors  to  ! 
disperse  the  mob  by  tongue  and  constable,  but  at  j 
the  first  note  of  the  riot  act  and  proclamation,  | 
';  Our  Sovereign  Lord  the  King"  arguments  are  i 


seconded  by  stones  and  clubs;  a  general  fight 
ensues,  M'Fingal's  sword  enacts  prodigies,  but 
a  revolutionary  spade,  which  had  planted  the 
liberty  pole,  wielded  by  a  stout  Whig,  disarms 
him.  The  constable,  who  had  skulked  at  the 
beginning  of  the  fray,  is  twisted  midway  in  air 
by  the  breech,  a  philosophical  position  compared 
to  Socrates  in  his  basket,  a  height  from  which  he 
soon  sees  the  error  of  his  ways ;  while  a  court, 
hastily  assembled  on  the  spot,  assigns  the  graver 
fate  of  tarring  and  feathering  to  M'Fingal — a 
comic  invention  of  the  Revolution,  a  huge  prac- 
tical joke  partaki  ng  something  of  the  jocular  Puri- 
tan humors  of  old  Cromwell;  inconvenient,  doubt- 
less, but  better  every  way  for  all  parties  than  the 
prison  ships  and  cruelties  of  the  British.*  The 
decree  having  been  executed  in  an  exemplary 
manner — 

And  now  the  mob,  dispersed  and  gone, 
Left  Squire  and  Constable  alone. 
The  Constable  with  rueful  face 
Lean'd  sad  and  solemn  o'er  a  brace; 
And  fast  beside  him,  cheek  by  jowl, 
Stuck  'Squire  M'Fingal  'gainst  the  pole, 
Glued  by  the  tar  t'  his  rear  applied, 
Like  barnacle  on  vessel's  side. 

M'Fingal,  at  the  opening  of  the  fourth  canto, 
retires  under  cover  of  night  to  the  cellar  of  his 
mansion,  where  there  is  a  secret  Tory  muster, 
burlesqued  from  Satan  and  his  pandemonium, 
the  chiefs  sitting  about  on  ale  kegs  and  cider 
barrels,  the  Squire  discoursing  from  the  rostrum 
of  the  potato  bin.  His  Scotch  descent  enables 
him  to  close  the  poem  with  a  vision  of  second 
sight,  an  excellent  piece  of  machinery.  This  por- 
tion being  written  after  the  war,  has  the  benefit 
of  history  for  its  predictions.  It  is  an  eloquent 
recapitulation  of  the  varied  fortunes  of  the  strug- 
gle. The  humor  is  exquisite,  and  refined  by  the 
truthful  force  and  occasionally  elevated  treatment 
of  the  subject.  When  the  last  battle  of  the  Revo- 
lution has  been  fought,  and  the  narrowing  ge- 
nius of  England  been  contrasted  in  the  uninvited 
inspiration  of  the  Squire  with  the  expansive  force 
of  America,  the  mob  discovers  the  retreat;  the 
assembly  is  dispersed,  M'Fingal  escapes  out  of  a 
window  en  route  to  Boston,  and  the  poem  is 
closed. 

M'Fingal  is  modelled  upon  Hudibras  in  a  cer- 
tain general  treatment,  the  construction  of  its 
verse,  and  many  of  its  turns  of  humor  ;f  but  it  is 


*  Brackenridge,  in  his  Modem  Chivalry,  assigns  the  origin 
of  this  custom  to  "the  town  of  Boston,  just  before  the  com- 
mencement of  the  American  Revolution ;"  though  he  admits 
in  a  note,  "this  mode  of  punishment  is  said  to  be  alluded  to  in 
the  laws  of  Oleron."  He  pronounces  it  '•  to  be  what  may  be 
called  a  revolutionary  punishment,  beyond  what  in  a  settled 
state  of  government  may  be  inflicted  by  the  opprobrium  of 
opinion,  and  yet  short  of  the  coercion  or  the  laws.  It  took  rise 
in  thesea-coast  towns  in  America,  and  I  would  suppose  it  to 
be  owing  to  some  accidental  conjunction  of  the  seamen  and 
the  citizens,  devising  a  mode  of  punishment  for  a  person 
obnoxious.  The  sailors  naturally  thought  of  tar,  and  the 
women,  who  used  to  be  assisting  on  the-e  occasions,  thought 
of  bolsters  and  pillow-cases."  The  "phimeopicean  robe"  is, 
however,  as  old  as  the  crusaders:  Richard  Cceur  do  Lion  hav- 
ing, among  other  laws  for  the  regulation  of  his  followers  on 
shipboard,  ordered  that  "A  man  convicted  of  theft  or  'pickerie1 
was  to  have  his  head  shaved,  and  hot  pitch  poured  upon  his 
bare  pate,  and  over  the  pitch  the  feathers  of  some  pillow  or 
cushion  were  to  be  shaken,  as  a  mark  whereby  he  might  be 
known  as  a  thief."— Pictorial  History  of  England,  i.  487. 
t  As  to  the  comparative  execution  of  the  two  productions, 


312 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATI' RE 


so  thoroughly  American  in  its  ideas  and  subject 
matter,  that  it  soon  ceases  to  be  an  imitation,  and 
we  look  upon  it  solely  as  it  was — an  original  pro- 
duct of  the  times.  The  Hudibrastic  body  is  tho- 
roughly interpenetrated  by  its  American  spirit. 
The  illustrations,  where  there  was  the  greatest 
temptation  to  plagiarism,  are  drawn  from  the  wri- 
ter's own  biblical  and  classical  reading,  and  the 
colloquial  familiarities  of  the  times.  For  the 
manners  of  the  poem  there  is  no  record  of  the 
period  which  supplies  so  vivid  a  presentation  of 
the  old  Revolutionary  Whig  habits  of  thinking 
and  acting.  We  are  among  the  actors  of  the  day, 
the  town  committees,  the  yeomanry,  the  politi- 
cians, and  soldiers,  participating  the  rough  hu- 
mor of  the  times;  for  nothing  is  more  character- 
istic of  the  struggle  than  a  certain  vein  of  plea- 
santry and  hearty  animal  spirits  which  entered 
into  it.  Hardships  were  endured  with  fortitude,  for 
which  there  was  occasion  enough,  but  the  contest 
was  carried  on  with  wit  as  with  other  weapons. 
The  fathers  of  the  Revolution  were  as  ready  to  take 
a  joke  as  a  bullet,  though  there  might  be  as  much 
lead  in  one  as  the  other.  There  were  pleasant 
fellows  on  both  sides,  but  if  the  palm  of  victory 
were  to  be  assigned  to  the  wits,  the  Freneaus, 
Trumbulls,  Hopkinsuns,  and  Ilopkinses,  would 
carry  the  day  against  the  Myles  Coopers,  Mather 
Biles,  Rivingtons,  Scovills,  Burgoynes,  and  Major 
Andres. 

AN  EPITHALAMIITM. 

Ye  nine  great  daughters  of  Jupiter, 

Born  of  one  mother  at  a  litter, 

Virgins,  who  ne'er  submit  to  wifedom, 

But  sing  and  fiddle  all  your  lifetime, 

In  verse  and  rhyme  great  wholesale  dealers, 

Of  which  we  bards  are  but  retailers, 

Assist.     But  chiefly  thou,  my  Muse, 

Who  never  didst  thine  aid  refuse, 

Whether  I  sung  in  high  bombastick, 

Or  sunk  to  simple  Hudibrastic, 

Or  in  dire  dumps  proclaim'd  my  moan, 

Taught  rocks  to  weep,  aud  hills  to  groan, 


there  are  certainly  lines  in  Trumbull  which  may  be  readily 
mistaken  lor  Butler.    The  couplet  from  M'Fiugal, 

But  optics  sharp  it  needs.  I  ween, 
To  see  what  is  not  to  be  seen, 

would  be  assigned  by 'nine  cultivated  persons  out  of  ten,  decid- 
ing from  the  ear  and  sense,  to  be  from  Hudibl'as.  A  story  is 
told  of  a  Virginia  legislator  quoting  the  pithy  sentence  of 
M'Fiugal— 

A  thief  ne'er  felt  the  halter  draw 

With  good  opinion  of  the  law, 

from  Hudibras.  and  of  its  so  standing  entered  in  his  speech  on 
the  official  debates  of  the  State  convention.  (Art.  M'Fiugal, 
Southern  Literary  Messenger.  April,  1841.) 

President  Dwight,  whose  gravity  and  judgment,  at  the  late 
period  of  his  life  when  he  wrote  this  opinion,  weie  not  likely  to 
be  unfairly  sacrificed  to  his  regard  for  an  old  friend,  says  of 
Trumbull's  poem:  "It  may  be  observed,  without  any  partial- 
ity, that  M'Fingal  is  not  inferior  in  wit  and  humour  tit  Hu- 
dibras; aud  in  every  other  respect  is  superior.  It  has  a  regu- 
lar plan,  in  which  all  the  parts  are  well  proportioned  and  con- 
nected. The  subject  is  fairly  proposed,  and  the  story  con- 
ducted correctly  through  a  series  of  advancements  and  retard- ' 
ations  to  a  catastrophe,  wbicb  is  natural  and  complete.  The 
versification  is  tar  better,  the  poetry  is  in  several  instances  in  a 
good  degree  elegant,  and  in  some  even  sublime.  It  is  also  free 
from  those  endless  digressions,  which,  notwithstanding  the 
wit  discovered  in  them,  are  so  tedious  in  Hudibras;  the  pro- 
tuberances of  which  are  a  much  larger  mass  than  the  body  on 
which  they  grow.*1  The  opinion  is  worth  quoting  in  connexion 
with  the  reputation  of  a  poem,  the  history  of  which  will  at 
least  not  decrease  in  interest  hereafter.  Touching  the  supe- 
riority of  the  versification  to  Hudibras.  probably  Dwiirht's  pu- 
ritan feelings  and  distrust  of  the  subject  matter  did  not  permit 
him  to  enjoy  all  the  harmonies  of  Butler's  exquisite  rhythm. 


Or  chang'd  the  style  to  love  and  dearee, 
Till  even  Echo  blush'd  to  hear  ye, 
These  mournful  themes  no  longer  usurp, 
But  turn  to  sweeter  sounds  thy  jewsharp. 

Now  from  his  hammock  in  the  skies 
Phoebus  junip'd  up,  and  rubb'd  his  eyes, 
Clapp'd  on  his  daylight  round  his  ears, 
Saddl'd  his  horse,  and  fix'd  his  spurs. 
Night  turn'd  her  backside  ;  so  in  turn  he 
Mounted,  and  set  forth  on  his  journey. 
Our  wedding  folks  were  yet  a-bed, 
Nor  dreatn'd  what's  doing  overhead. 

At  leisure  now  for  episodes, 
We'll  introduce  our  set  of  gods. 
Sing  then,  my  Muse,  in  lofty  crambo, 
How  Hymen  came,  with  lighted  flambeau. 
Juno,  it  seems,  by  sad  mishaps, 
O'er  night  with  Jove  was  pulling  caps; 
For  by  the  way  she's  wont  to  govern 
(So  Homer  says)  the  henpeek'd  sov'ieign. 
But  now  stole  off  and  left  him  fretting, 
And  rode  post-haste  to  come  to  wedding. 
Lucina  was  not  there  that  morning ; 
But  ready  stood  at  nine  months'  warning. 
The  Nymphs,  of  ev'ry  form  and  size, 
Came  there  before  the  bride  could  rise. 
The  Mountain  JS'ymphs  skipp'd  down  like  fleas, 
Dryads  crept  out  from  hollow  trees ; 
The  Water  Nymphs,  from  swamps  and  flats, 
Came  dripping  on,  like  half-diown'd  rats; 
The  birds  around  on  sprays  and  thistles 
Began  to  light,  and  tune  their  whistles; 
The  coek,  when  daylight  had  begun, 
Being  chorister,  struck  up  the  tune, 
And  sung  an  hymn  in  strains  sonorous, 
While  ev'ry  quailpipe  join'd  the  chorus. 

But  we  must  quit  this  singing  sport,  else 
Mischance  may  seize  our  sleeping  mortals, 
Who  now  'gan  bustle  round  the  fabriek, 
Finding  they'd  slept  till  after  daybreak. 
Our  bridegroom,  ere  he  did  arise, 
Rubb'd  sleep's  soft  dews  from  both  his  eyes, 
Look'd  out  to  see  what  kind  of  weather, 
And  jump'd  from  bed  as  light  as  feather, 
Joyful  as  Dick,  after  obtaining 
His  Master's  leave  to  go  to  training. 
Here,  did  not  rhyming  greatly  harass  one. 
Were  a  fine  place  to  make  comparison; 
Call  up  the  ghosts  of  heroes  pristine, 
Egyptian,  Trojan,  Greek,  Philistine', 
Those  rogues  renown'd  in  ancient  days, 
So  sweetly  sung  in  ancient  lays, 
Set  them  in  order  by  our  gallant, 
To  prove  him  handsome,  wise,  and  valiant. 
He  now  came  forth  and  stood  before 
His  lovely  goddess'  chamber  door, 
Addressed  her  with  three  gentle  hollo's, 
Then  read,  or  said,  or  sung  as  follows. 


Arise  my  love,  and  come  away, 
To  cheer  the  world,  and  gild  the  day. 
Which  fades  by  wanting  fresh  supplies 
From  the  bright  moonshine  of  thine  eyes. 


How  beautiful  art  thou,  my  love, 
Surpassing  all  the  dames  above; 
Venus  with  thee  might  strive  again, 
Venus  with  thee  would  strive  in  vain. 

in. 
Though  ev'ry  muse,  and  ev'ry  grace, 
Conspire  to  deck  bright  Venus'  lace. 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


O  1  o 

Oil) 


Thou'rt  handsomer  than  all  this  trash, 
By  full  three  hundred  pounds  in  cash. 

IV 

Rise  then,  my  love,  and  come  away, 
To  cheer  the  world,  and  gild  the  day, 
Which  fades  by  wanting  fresh  supplies 
From  the  bright  moonshine  of  thine  eyes. 

And  now  came  forth  our  lovely  bride, 
Array'd  in  all  her  charms  and  pride. 
Note  here,  lest  we  should  be  misguided, 
Lovers  and  bar  Is  are  so  quiek-siglited, 
In  ev'ry  charm  they  spy  a  Cupid, 
Though  other  people  are  more  stupid ; 
So  our  fair  bride,  our  lover  swore, 
Was  deck'd  with  Cupids  o'er  and  o'er; 
(Thus  Virgil's  goddess  Fame  appears 
From  head  to  feet  o'erhung  with  ears.) 

Here,  if  our  Muse  we  did  not  cheek  first, 
We  might  go  ou  and  sing  of  breakfast ; 
Of  nymphs  in  gardens  picking  tulips, 
Of  maids  preparing  cordial  juleps, 
With  otlier  matters  of  this  sort,  whence 
We  come  to  tilings  of  more  importance. 

The  sun,  who  never  stops  to  bait, 
Now  riding  at  his  usual  rate, 
Had  hardly  passed  his  midway  course, 
And  spurr'd  along  his  downward  horse, 
Our  bridegroom,  and  his  lovely  virgin 
Set  forth  to  church  with  little  urging. 
A  solemn  show  before,  behind  'em 
A  lengtlie j'd  cavalcade  attend  'em, 
Of  nymphs  and  swains  a  mingled  crew, 
Of  ev'ry  shape  and  ev'ry  line. 
In  midst  of  these,  with  solemn  wag, 
Our  priest  bestrode  his  ambling  nag; 
His  dress  and  air  right  well  accouter'd, 
His  hat  new  bi'ush'd,  his  wig  new  powder'd, 
His  formal  band,  of 's  trade  the  sign, 
Depending  decent  from  his  chin, 
His  threadbare  coat,  late  turn'd  by  Snip, 
With  scripture  book,  and  cane  for  whip, 
Unnotic'd  pass'd  among  the  throng, 
And  look'd  demure,  and  jogg'd  along, 
Yet  laymen  ne'er  his  power  could  equal, 
As  we  s'lall  show  you  in  tile  sequel. 
For  when  this  priest  o'er  man  and  maid 
A  set  of  Scripture  words  had  said, 
You'd  find  them  closely  link'd  together 
For  life,  in  strange  enchanted  tether, 
(Like  spirits  in  magician's  circle,) 
Till  friendly  death  did  him  or  her  kill ; 
Tied  up  in  wondrous  Gordian  knot 
They  neither  can  untie  nor  cut, 
Inclos'd  in  cage  where  all  may  see  'em, 
But  all  the  world  can  never  free  'em. 
For  once  by  priest  in  bands  of  wedlock 
When  tied  and  hamper'd  by  the  fetlock, 
They  fight,  or  strive,  or  fly  in  vain, 
And"  still  drag  alter  them  their  chain. 

Trifles  skipt  o'er,  our  next  proceeding 
Shall  give  description  of  the  wedding; 
Where  though  we  Pagan  mix  with  Christian, 
And  gods  a. id  goddesses  with  priest  join, 
Truth  need  not  stand  to  make  objection, 
We  poets  have  the  right  of  fiction. 
And  first  great  Hymen  in  the  porch, 
Like  link-boy  stood,  with  flaming  torch, 
Around,  in  all  the  vacant  places, 
Stood  gods,  and  goddesses,  and  graces; 
Yenus,  and  Cupid,  god  of  love, 
Witli  all  the  rabble  from  above. 
In  midst  our  groom  and  bride  appear, 


With  wedding  guests  in  wing  and  rear. 

Our  priest  now  show'd  his  slight  of  hand, 

Roll'd  up  his  eyes,  and  strok'd  his  band, 

Then  join'd  their  hands  m  terms  concise, 

And  struck  the  bargain  in  a  trice, 

First  for  the  bridegroom  thus  began  he: 

Saying,  "  you  Stephen  take  her  Hannah," 

And  then,  to  make  both  parties  even, 

For  her,  "  you  Hannah  take  him  Stephen  ;" 

Then  told  them  to  avoid  temptation, 

To  Jo  the  duties  of  their  station, 

In  state  of  sickness  nurse  and  nourish, 

In  health  cleave  fast,  and  love,  and  cherish. 

To  all  the  parson  said  or  meant, 

Our  bride  and  bridegroom  gave  consent, 

He  bow'd  to  what  the  priest  did  say, 

She  blush'd,  and  curt'sy'd,  and  cry'd  "  ay." 

The  bargain  made,  he  gave  his  blessing. 

And  bade  them  sign  and  seal  with  kissing;  . 

The  smack  being  given,  neat  and  fresh, 

He  strait  pronouue'd  them  both  one  flesh. 

By  mathematicks,  'tis  well  known, 

It  takes  two  halves  to  make  up  one, 

And  Adam,  as  our  priests  believe, 

Was  but  an  half  without  Miss  Eve; 

So  every  mortal  man  in  life, 

Is  but  an  half  without  his  wife ; 

And  hence,  by  natural  enaction, 

Man  seeks  so  much  his  other  fraction, 

Which  found,  no  tinker  'tis  coufest, 

Can  splice  or  sodder,  but  a  priest. 

The  rites  now  o'er,  the  priest  drew  near. 
And  kiss'd  the  bride's  sinister  ear  ; 
Told  them  he  hop'd  they'd  make  good  neighbours, 
And  begg'd  a  blessing  on  their  labours. 
Him  follow'd  every  mincing  couple, 
Licking  their  lips  to  make  them  supple, 
Each  got  a  kiss  from  one  or  t'other, 
And  wish'd  they  long  might  live  together. 

The  wedding  o'er,  with  joy  and  revelry, 
Back  to  their  brides  return'd  the  cavalry: 
And,  as  when  armies  take  a  town, 
Which  costs  theni  long  to  batter  down, 
That  Fame  may  raise  her  voice  the  louder, 
They  fire  whole  magazines  of  powder, 
And  heaps  of  fuel  lay  upon  fires, 
To  celebrate  their  joy  with  bonfires, 
So  now  the  bride  had  chang'd  her  station, 
Surrender'd  prisoner  at  discretion, 
Submitting  to  our  hero's  fancies, 
Herself  with  all  appurtenances. 
The  well  pleas'd  crowd  (for  greatest  joya 
Are  always  shown  with  greatest  noise) 
Triumph'd  by  firing,  shouting,  ringing, 
By  dancing,  drinking,  wiue,  and  singing. 

But  yet  our  groom  (time  march'd  so  lazy) 
Sat  hitching,  nestling,  and  uneasy, 
Thought  daylight  never  would  be  gone, 
And  called  the  sun  a  lagging  drone. 
The  sun,  just  when  'twas  time  to  sup, 
Came  to  the  sea  where  lie  puts  up. 
Sent  his  last  rays  o'er  earth  to  scatter, 
And  div'd  down  headlong  into  water. 
Here  is  the  place,  if  we  would  choose 
To  tire  our  reader,  and  our  Muse, 
To  name  and  number  every  guest, 
To  tell  what  fare  eompos'd  the  feast. 
With  otlier  tilings  that  did  betide. 
As  how  they  kiss'd  and  jok'd  the  bride, 
How  frolicksome  the  liquor  made  'em, 
And  how  the  fiddler  came  to  aid  'em. 
And  tun'd  his  lyre  witli  such  a  scraping, 
It  set  the  people  all  a  capering. 


314 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


When  Orpheus  fiddled,  at  his  guidance 

Thus  trees  leap'd  forth,  and  joiu'd  in  set  dance. 

Grim  night  at  length  in  sable  waggon, 
Drawn  by  a  sooty,  bat-wing' d  dragon, 
Rode  till  she  came  right  overhead, 
And  on  the  earth  her  blanket  spread. 
The  moon  was  out  upon  patrole, 
Stars  danc'd  as  usual  round  the  pole; 
All  nature  now  with  drowsy  head 
Had  thrown  by  care,  and  gone  to  bed. 
Sleep  reign'd  o'er  all,  but  wolves  and  rovers, 
Owls,  bats,  and  ghosts,  and  thieves,  and  lovers. 
No  alderman's  invited  guest 
To  gormandize  at  turtle  feast, 
"VVlien  first  he  sees  the  dish  brought  in, 
And  'gins  to  dip  and  grease  his  chin, 
E'er  feels  such  raptures  as  our  lover, 
Now  all  his  griefs  and  fears  were  over. 
Th'  events  that  afterwards  befel 
Our  bashful  Muse  would  blush  to  tell. 

THE   LIBEETY  POLE. — m'fINGAL.      CANTO  III. 

Now  warm  with  ministerial  ire, 

Fierce  sallied  forth  our  loyal  'Squire, 

And  on  his  striding  steps  attends 

His  desperate  clan  of  Tory  friends. 

When  sudden  met  his  wrathful  eye 

A  pole  ascending  through  the  sky. 

Which  numerous  throngs  of  whiggish  race 

Were  raising  in  the  market-place. 

Not  higher  school-boys'  kites  aspire, 

Or  royal  mast,  or  country  spire  ; 

Like  spears  at  Brobdignagian  tilting, 

Or  Satan's  walking-statf  in  Milton. 

And  on  its  top,  the  flag  unfurl'd 

Wav'd  triumph  o'er  the  gazing  world, 

Inscribed  with  inconsistent  types 

Of  Liberty  and  thirteen  stripes* 

Beneath,  the  crowd  without  delay-, 

The  dedication-rites  essay, 

And  gladly  pay,  in  (indent  fashion, 

The  ceremonies  of  libation  ; 

While  briskly  to  each  patriot  lip 

Walks  eager  round  the  inspiring  flip  :| 

Delicious  draught  ?  whose  powers  inherit 

The  quintessence  of  public  spirit ; 

Which  whoso  tastes,  perceives  his  mind 

To  nobler  politics  refined ; 

Or  roused  to  martial  controversy, 

As  from  transforming  cups  of  Circe  ; 

Or  warm'd  with  Homer's  nectnr'd  liquor, 

That  fill'd  the  veins  of  gods  with  ichor. 

At  hand  for  new  supplies  in  store, 

The  tavern  opes  its  friendly  door. 

Whence  to  and  fro  the  waiters  run, 

Like  bucket-men  at  fires  in  tow-D. 

Then  witli  three  shouts  that  tore  the  sky, 

'Tis  consecrate  to  Liberty. 

To  guard  it  from  th'  attacks  of  Tories, 

A  grand  Committee  cull'd  of  four  is ; 

Who  foremost  on  the  patriot  spot 

Had  brought  the  flip,  and  paid  the  shot. 

By  this,  M'Finoal  with  his  train 
Advanced  upon  th'  adjacent  plain, 
And  full  with  loyalty  possest, 
Pour'd  forth  the  zeal,  that  fired  his  breast. 


?^p>  The  notes  to  this  canto  a-e  from  the  author's  edition. 
Those  marked  London  Ldition  aie  from  the  filth  English  edi- 
tion of  London.  1792. 

*  The  American  Flag.  It  would  doubtless  be  wronir  to 
imagine  that  the  stripes  bear  any  allusion  to  the  slave  trade. 

tFIip,  a  liquor  composed  of  beer,  rum,  and  sugar;  the  com- 
mon treat  at  that  time  in  the  country  towns  of  Kew  Eng- 
land. 


"  What  mad-brain'd  rebel  gave  commission, 
To  raise  this  May-pole  of  sedition  ? 
Like  Babel,  rear'd  by  bawling  throngs, 
With  like  confusion  too  of  tongues, 
To  point  at  heaven  and  summon  down 
The  thunders  of  the  British  crown? 
Say,  will  this  paltry  Pole  secure 
Your  forfeit  heads  from  Gage's  power? 
Attack'd  by  heroes  brave  and  crafty, 
Is  this  to  stand  your  ark  of  safety ; 
Or  driven  by  Scottish  laird  and  laddie, 
Think  ye  to  rest  beneath  its  shadow? 
When  bombs,  like  fiery  serpents,  fly, 
And  balls  rush  hissing  through  the  sky, 
Will  this  vile  Pole,  devote  to  freedom, 
Save  like  the  Jewish  pole  in  Edom  : 
Or  like  the  brazen  snake  of  Moses, 
Cure  your  erackt  skulls  and  batter'd  noses? 

"  Ye  dupes  to  every  factious  rogue 
And  tavern-prating  demagogue, 
Whose  tongue  but  rings,  with  sound  more  full, 
On  th'  empty  drumhead  of  his  scull ; 
Behold  you  not  what  noisy  fools 
Use  you,  worse  simpletons,  for  tools? 
For  Liberty,  in  your  own  by-sense, 
Is  but  for  crimes  a  patent  license, 
To  break  of  law  th'  Egyptian  yoke, 
And  throw  the  world  in  common  stock ; 
Reduce  all  grievances  and  ills 
To  Magna  Charta  of  your  wills ; 
Establish  cheats  and  frauds  and  nonsense, 
Framed  to  the  model  of  your  conscience; 
Cry  justice  down,  as  out  of  fashion, 
And  fix  its  scale  of  depreciation  ;* 
Defy  all  creditors  to  trouble  ye, 
And  keep  new  years  of  Jewish  jubilee ; 
Drive  judges  out,f  like  Aaron's  calves, 
By  jurisdiction  of  white  staves, 
And  make  the  bar  and  bench  and  steeple 
Submit  t'  our  Sovereign  Lord,  The  People; 
By  plunder  rise  to  power  and  glory, 
And  brand  all  property,  as  Tory ; 
Expose  all  wares  to  lawful  seizures 
By  mobbers  or  monopolizers; 
Break  heads  and  windows  and  the  peace, 
For  your  own  interest  and  increase  ; 
Dispute  and  pray  and  fight  and  groan 
For  public  good,  and  mean  your  own; 
Prevent  the  law  by  fierce  attacks 
From  quitting  scores  upon  your  backs ; 
Lay  your  old  dread,  the  gallows,  low, 
And  seize  the  stocks,  your  ancient  foe, 
And  turn  them  to  convenient  engines 
To  wreak  your  patriotic  vergeai.ee: 
While  all,  your  rights  who  understand, 
Confess  them  in  their  owner's  hand; 
And  when  by  clamours  and  confusions, 
Your  freedom's  grown  a  public  nuisance, 
Cry  "  Liberty,"  with  powerful  yearning, 
As  he  does  "  Fire !"  whose  house  is  burning ; 
Though  he  already  has  much  more 
Than  he  can  find  occasion  for. 
While  every  clown,  that  tills  the  plains, 
Though  bankrupt  in  estate  and  brains, 
By  this  new  light  trausfonn'd  to  traitor, 
Forsakes  his  plough  to  turn  dictator. 
Starts  an  haranguing  chief  of  Whigs 


*  Alluding  to  the  depreciation  of  the  Continental  paper  mo- 
ney. Congress  finally  ascertained  the  course  of  its  declension 
at  different  periods,  by  what  was  called  A  Scale  of  Deprecia- 
tion. 

t  On  the  commencement  of  the  war.  the  courts  of  justice 
were  everywhere  shut  up.  In  some  instances,  the  judges  were 
forced  to  retire  by  the  people,  who  assembled  in  multitudes, 
armed  with  white  staves. 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


315 


And  drags  you  by  the  ears,  like  pigs. 

All  bluster,  arm'd  with  factious  licence, 

New  born  at  once  to  politicians. 

Each  leather-aprou'd  dunce,  grown  wise, 

Presents  his  forward  face  t'  advise, 

And  tatter'd  legislators  meet, 

From  every  workshop  through  the  street. 

His  goose  the  tailor  finds  new  use  in, 

To  patch  and  turn  the  Constitution  ; 

The  blacksmith  comes  with  sledge  and  grate 

To  iron-bind  the  wheels  of  state ; 

The  quack  forbears  his  patients'  souse 

To  purge  the  Council  and  the  House ; 

The  tinker  quits  his  moulds  and  doxies, 

To  cast  assembly-men  and  proxies. 

From  dunghills  deep  of  blackest  hue, 

Your  dirt-bred  patriots  spring  to  view, 

To  wealth  and  power  and  honors  rise, 

Like  new-wing'd  maggots  changed  to  flies, 

And  fluttering  round  in  high  parade, 

Strut  in  the  robe,  or  gay  cockade. 

See  Arnold  quits,  for  ways  more  certain, 

His  bankrupt-perj'riesfor  his  fortune, 

Brews  rum  no  longer  in  his  store, 

Jockey  and  skipper*iow  no  more, 

******* 
And  cleansed  by  patriotism  from  shame 
Grows  general  of  the  foremost  name. 
For  in  this  ferment  of  the  stream 
The  dregs  have  work'd  up  to  the  brim. 
And  by  the  rule  of  topsy-turvies, 
The  scum  stands  foaming  on  the  surface. 
You've  caused  your  pyramid  t'  ascend, 
And  set  it  on  the  little  end. 
Like  Hudibras,  your  empire's  made, 
Whose  crupper  had  o'ertopp'd  his  head. 
You've  push'd  and  turn'd  the  whole  world  up- 
Side  down,  and  got  yourselves  at  top, 
While  all  the  great  ones  of  your  state 
Are  erush'd  beneath  the  popular  weight ; 
Nor  can  you  boast,  this  present  hour, 
The  shadow  of  the  form  of  power. 
For  what's  yTour  Congress*  or  its  end? 
A  power,  t'  advise  and  recommend  ; 
To  call  forth  troops,  adjust  your  quotas — 
And  yet  no  soul  is  bound  to  notice  ; 
To  pawn  your  faith  to  th'  utmost  limit, 
But  cannot  bind  you  to  redeem  it ; 
And  when  in  want  no  more  in  them  lies, 
Than  begging  from  your  State- Assemblies  ; 
Can  utter  oracles  of  dread, 
Like  friar  Bacon's  brazen  head, 
But  when  a  faction  dares  dispute  'em, 
Has  ne'er  an  arm  to  execute  'em: 
As  tho'  you  chose  supreme  dictators, 
And  put  them  under  conservators. 
You've  but  pursued  the  self-same  way 
With  Shakespeare's  Trine'lo-f-  in  the  play; 
"You  shall  be  Viceroys  here,  'tis  true, 
"  But  we'll  be  Viceroys  over  you." 
What  wild  confusion  hence  must  ensue? 
Tho'  common  danger  yet  cements  you : 
So  some  wreek'd  vessel,  all  in  shatters, 
Is  held  up  by  surrounding  waters, 
But  stranded,  when  the  pressure  ceases, 
Falls  by  its  rottenness  to  pieces. 


*  The  author  here,  in  a  true  strain  of  patriotic  censure, 
pointed  out  the  principal  defects  in  the  first  federal  constitution 
of  the  United  States:  all  which  have  been  since  removed  in 
the  new  Constitution,  estahlished  in  the  year  17S9.  So  that 
the  prophecy  below,  You'll  ne'er  have  seme  enouf/h  to  mend 
ft, must  he  ranked  among  the  other  sage  blunders  of  Ids  second- 
sighted  hero.     Land.  Edit, 

f  This  political  plan  of  Trinoulo  in  the  Tempest,  may  be 
found  in  the  old  folio  edition  of  Shakspenre.  It  lias  since  been 
expunged  by  some  of  his  wise  commentators. 


And  fall  it  must :  if  wars  were  ended, 

You'll  ne'er  have  sense  enough  to  mend  it: 

But  creeping  on,  by  low  intrigues, 

Like  vermin  of  a  thousand  legs,* 

'Twill  rind  as  short  a  life  assign'd, 

As  all  things  else  of  reptile  kind. 

Your  Commonwealth's  a  common  harlot, 

The  property  of  every  varlet; 

Which  now  in  taste,  and  full  employ, 

All  sorts  admire,  as  all  enjoy  : 

But  soon  a  batter'd  strumpet  grown, 

You'll  curse  and  drum  her  out  of  towu. 

Such  is  the  government  you  chose ; 

For  this  you  bade  the  world  be  foes; 

For  this,  so  niark'd  for  dissolution, 

You  scorn  the  British  Constitution, 

That  constitution  form'd  by  sages, 

The  wonder  of  all  modern  ages  ; 

Which  owns  no  failure  in  reality, 

Except  corruption  and  venality  ; 

And  merely  proves  the  adage  just, 

That  best  things  spoil'd  corrupt  to  worst: 

So  man  supreme  m  earthly  station, 

And  mighty  lord  of  this  creation, 

When  once  his  corse  is  dead  as  herring, 

Becomes  the  most  offensive  carrion, 

And  sooner  breeds  the  plague,  'tis  found, 

Than  all  beasts  rotting  on  the  ground. 

Yet  with  republics  to  dismay  us, 

You've  call'd  up  Anarchy  from  chaos, 

With  all  the  followers  of  her  school, 

Uproar  and  Rage  and  wild  Misrule  : 

For  whom  this  rout  of  Whigs  distracted, 

And  ravings  dire  of  every  erack'd  head ; 

These  new-cast  legislative  engines 

Of  County-meetings  and  Conventions  : 

Committees  vile  of  correspondence, 

And  mobs,  whose  tricks  have  almost  undone  's : 

While  reason  fails  to  check  your  course, 

And  Loyalty's  kick'd  out  of  doors, 

And  folly,  like  inviting  landlord, 

Hoists  on  your  poles  her  royal  standard ; 

While  the  king's  friends,  in  doleful  dumps, 

Have  worn  their  courage  to  the  stumps, 

And  leaving  George  in  sad  disaster, 

Most  sinfully  deny  their  master. 

What  furies  raged  when  you,  in  sea, 

In  shape  of  Indians,  drown'd  the  tea:-)- 

When  your  gay  sparks,  fatigued  to  watch  it, 

Assumed  the  moggison  and  hatchet, 

With  wampum'd  blankets  hid  their  laces 

And  like  their  sweethearts,  primed]:  their  faces : 

While  not  a  red-coat  dared  oppose, 

And  scarce  a  Tory  show'd  his  nose ; 

While  Hutchinson, §  for  sure  retreat, 


*  Millepedes. 

t  The  cargo  of  tea  sent  to  Boston,  after  being  guarded  for 
twenty  nights,  by  voluntary  parties  of  the  Whigs,  to  prevent 
its  being  clandestinely  brought  ashore,  was  thiown  into  the 
sea,  by  a  party  of  about  two  hundred  young  men,  dressed, 
armed,  and  painted  like  Indians:  but  many  a  ruffled  shirt  and 
laced  vest  appeared  under  their  blankets. 
J  Primed,  i.  e.  painted. 

§  When  the  leading  Whirrs  in  Boston  found  it  impossible  to 
procure  tlve  Tea  to  be  sent  back,  they  secretly  resolved  on  its 
destruction,  and  prepared  all  the  necessary  means.  To  cover 
the  design,  a  meeting  of  the  people  of  the' whole  County  was 
convened  on  the  day  appointed,  and  spent  their  time  in  ;rrave 
consultation  on  the  question,  what  should  be  done  to  prevent 
its  being  landed  and  sold.  The  arrival  of  the  Indians  put  an 
end  to  the  debate,  at  the  moment  when  one  of  the  foremost  of 
the  whig-orators  was  declaiming  against  all  violent  measures. 
Hutchinson  was  alarmed  at  the  meeting,  and  retired  privately 
in  the  morning,  to  bis  country-seat  at  Milton.  Whether  from 
mistake  or  design,  information  was  sent  to  him  that  the  mob 
was  coming  to  pull  down  ins  house.  Heescapedin  the  utmost 
haste  across  the  fields.  The  story  of  the  day  was,  that  the 
alarm  was  given,  at  the  time  when  he  sat  half-shaved  uuder 
the  hands  of  his  barber. 


316 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Manceuvred  to  his  country  seat, 
And  thence  affrighted,  in  the  suds, 
Stole  off  bareheaded  through  the  woods. 

"  Have  you  not  roused  your  mobs  to  join, 
And  make  Mandamus-men  resign, 
Call'd  forth  each  duffil-drest  curmudgeon, 
With  dirty  trowsers  and  white  bludgeon, 
Forced  all  our  Councils  through  the  land, 
To  yield  their  necks  at  your  command ; 
While  paleness  marks  their  late  disgraces, 
Through  all  their  rueful  lej  gth  of  faces? 

"  Have  you  not  caused  as  woeful  work 
In  our  good  city  of  New  York, 
When  all  the  rabble,  well  cockaded, 
In  triumph  through  the  streets  paraded, 
And  mobb'd  the  Tories,  scared  their  spouses, 
And  ransack'd  all  the  custom-houses  ;* 
Made  such  a  tumult,  bluster,  jarring, 
That  mid  the  clash  of  tempests  waning, 
Smith'sf  weather-cock,  in  veers  forlorn, 
Could  hardly  tell  which  way  to  turn? 
Burn'd  effigies  of  higher  powers, 
Contrived  in  planetary  hours; 
As  witches  with  clay-images 
Destroy  or  torture  whom  they  please: 
Till  fired  with  rage,  th'  ungrateful  club 
Spared  not  your  best  friend  Beelzebub, 
O'erlook'd  his  favors,  and  forgot 
The  reverence  due  his  cloven  foot, 
And  in  the  selfsame  furnace  frying, 
Stew'd  him,  and  Korth  and  Bute  and  Tryon?| 
Did  you  not,  in  as  vile  and  shallow  way, 
Flight  our  poor  Pliiladelphhin,  Galloway, 
Your  Congress,  wdien  the  loyal  ribald 
Belied,  berated  and  bescribbled? 
What  ropes  and  halters  did  you  send, 
Terrific  emblems  of  his  end, 
Till,  least  he'd  hang  in  more  than  effigy, 
Fled  in  a  fog  the  trembling  refugee  ? 
Now  rising  in  progression  fatal, 
Have  you  not  ventured  to  give  battle  ? 
When  Treason  chaced  our  heroes  troubled, 
With  rusty  gun, 8  and  leathern  doublet ; 
Turn'd  all  stone-walls  and  groves  and  bushes, 
To  batteries  arm'd  with  blunderbusses; 
And  with  deep  wounds,  that  fate  portend, 
Gaul'd  many  a  Briton's  latter  end; 
Drove  them  to  Boston,  as  in  jail, 
Confincl  without  mainprise  or  bail. 
Were  not  these  deeds  enough  betimes, 
To  heap  the  measure  of  your  crimes : 
But  in  this  loyal  town  and  dwelling, 
You  raise  these  ensigns  of  rebellion  ? 
'Tis  done !  fair  Mercy  shuts  her  door ; 
And  Vengeance  now  shall  sleep  no  more. 
Rise  then,  my  friends,  in  terror  rise ; 
And  sweep  this  scandal  from  the  skies. 
You'll  see  their  Dagon,  though  well  jointed 
Will  shrink  before  the  Lord's  anointed ;  II 


*  The  custom-house  was  broken  open  at  New- York,  and  all 
public  monies  seized. 

T  William  Smith,  an  eminent  law)-er  in  New  York.  He  at 
first  opposed  the  claims  of  Britain,  but  after  wavering  some 
time,  at  last  joined  our  enemy.  He  has  since  been  Chief  Justice 
in  Canada. 

X  Tryon  was  Governor  of  New  York  and  a  British  General 
during  the  war.  He  had  the  glory  of  destroying  the  towns  of 
Fairfield  and  Norwalk.  Burnings  in  effigy  were  frequently 
the  amusements  of  the  mob  at  that  period,  and  in  imitation 
of  the  former  custom  of  the  English  in  burning  annually  the 
Pope,  the  Devil  and  the  Pretender,  Beelzebub,  with  his  usual 
figure  and  accoutrements,  was  always  joio'd  in  the  conflagra- 
tion with  the  other  obnoxious  characters. 

§  At  the  battle  of  Lexington. 

J  The  Tory  clergy  always  styled  the  King,  the  Lord's 
Anointed.  The  language  of  Cromwell's  and  Charles's  days 
was  yet  frequent  in  New  England, 


And  like  old  Jericho's  proud  wall, 
Before  our  ram's  horns  prostrate  fall." 

This  said,  our  'Squire,  yet  uudismay'J, 
Call'd  forth  the  Constable  to  aid, 
And  bade  him  read,  in  nearer  station, 
The  Riot-act  and  Proclamation. 
He  swift,  advancing  to  the  ring, 
Began,  "  Our  Sovereign  Lord,  the  King" — ■ 
When  thousand  clam'rous  tongues  he  heaia, 
And  clubs  aud  stones  assail  his  ears. 
To  fly  was  vain  ;  to  fight  was  idle ; 
By  foes  encompass'd  in  the  middle, 
His  hope,  in  stratagems,  he  found, 
And  fell  right  craftily  to  ground ; 
Then  crept  to  seek  an  hiding  place, 
'Twas  all  he  could,  beneath  a  brace ; 
Where  soon  the  conq'ring  crew  espied  him, 
And  where  he  lurk'd,  they  caught  and  tied  him. 

At  once  with  resolution  fatal, 
Both  Whigs  and  Tories  rueh'd  to  battle. 
Instead  of  weapons,  either  band 
Seized  on  such  arms  as  came  to  hand. 
And  as  famed  Ovid*  paints  th'  adventures 
Of  wrangling  Lapiths  and  Centaurs, 
Who  at  their  feast,  by  Bat*hus  led, 
Threw  bottles  at  each  other's  head ; 
And  these  arms  failing  in  their  scuffles, 
Attack'd  with  andirons,  tongs  and  shovels ; 
So  clubs  and  billets,  staves  and  stones 
Met  fierce,  encountering  every  sconce, 
And  cover'd  o'er  with  knobs  and  pains 
Each  void  receptacle  for  brains ; 
Their  clamours  rend  the  skies  around, 
The  hills  rebellow  to  the  sound; 
And  many  a  groan  increas'd  the  din 
From  batter'd  nose  and  broken  shin 
M'Fingal,  rising  at  the  word, 
Drew  forth  his  old  militia-sword; 
Thrice  cried  "  King  George,"  as  erst  in  distress, 
Knights  of  romance  invoked  a  mistress  ; 
And  brandishing  the  blade  in  air, 
Struck  terror  through  th'  opposing  war. 
The  Whigs,  unsafe  within  the  wind 
Of  such  commotion,  shrunk  behind. 
With  whirling  steel  around  address'd, 
Fierce  through  their  thickest  throng  he  press'd 
(Who  roll'd  on  either  side  in  arch, 
Like  Red  Sea  waves  in  Israel's  march) 
And  like  a  meteor  rushing  through, 
Struck  on  their  Pole  a  vengeful  blow. 
Around,  the  Whigs,  of  clubs  and  stones 
Discharged  whole  vollies,  in  platoons, 
That  o'er  in  whistling  fury  fly ; 
But  not  a  foe  dares  venture  nigh. 
And  now  perhaps  with  glory  crown'd 
Our  'Squire  had  fell'd  the  pole  to  ground, 
Had  not  some  Pow'r,  a  whig  at  heart, 
Descended  down  and  took  their  part  ;\ 
(Whether  'twere  Pallas,  Mars  or  Ins, 
'Tis  scarce  worth  while  to  make  inquiries) 
Who  at  the  nick  of  time  alarming, 
Assum'd  the  solemn  form  of  Chairman, 
Address'd  a  Whig,  in  every  scene 
The  stoutest  wrestler  on  the  green, 
And  pointed  where  the  spade  was  found. 
Late  used  to  set  their  pole  in  ground, 
And  urged,  with  equal  arms  and  might, 
To  dare  our  'Squire  to  single  fight. 
The  Whig  thus  arm'd,  untaught  to  yield, 


*  See  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  book  12th. 

t  The  learned  reader  will  readily  observe  the  allusions  In 
this  scene,  to  the  single  combats  of  Paris  and  Menelaus  in  Ho- 
mer, jEneas  and  Turuus  in  Virgil,  and  Michael  and  Satan  ia 
Milton, 


JOHN  TKUMBUIX. 


317 


Advanced  tremendous  to  the  field  : 
Nor  did  M'Fingal  shun  the  foe, 
But  stood  to  brave  the  desp'rate  blow ; 
While  all  the  party  gazed,  suspended 
To  see  the  deadly  combat  ended  ; 
Aud  Jove*  in  equal  balance  weigh'd 
The  sword  against  the  brandish'd  spade, 
He  weigh'd :   but  lighter  than  a  dream, 
The  sword  flew  up  and  kick'd  the  beam. 
Our  'Squire  on  tiptoe  rising  fail- 
Lifts  high  a  noble  stroke  in  air, 
Which  hung  not,  but  like  dreadful  engines, 
Descended  on  his  foe  in  vengeance. 
But  ah !  in  danger,  with  dishonor 
The  sword  perfidious  fails  its  owner; 
That  sword,  which  oft  had  stood  its  ground, 
By  huge  trainbands  encircled  round; 
And  on  the  bench,  with  blade  right  loyal, 
Had  won  the  day  at  many  a  trial, f 
Of  stones  and  clubs  had  braved  th'  alarms, 
Shrunk  from  these  new  Vulcaniau  arms.t. 
The  spade  so  temper'd  from  the  sledge, 
Nor  keen  nor  solid  harm'd  its  edge, 
Now  met  it,  from  his  arm  of  might, 
Descending  with  steep  force  to  smite; 
The  blade  snapp'd  short — -aud  from  his  hand, 
With  rust  embrowu'd  the  glittering  sand. 
Swift  turn'd  M'Fixqal  at  the  view, 
And  call'd  to  aid  th'  attendant  crew, 
In  vain  ;  the  Tories  all  had  run, 
When  scarce  the  fight  was  well  begun: 
Their  setting  wigs  lie  saw  decreas'd 
Far  in  th'  horizon  tow'rd  the  west- 
Amazed  he  view'd  the  shameful  sight, 
And  saw  no  refuge,  but  in  flight : 
But  age  unwieldy  check'd  his  pace, 
Though  fear  had  wing'd  his  flying  race  ; 
For  not  a  trifling  prize  at  stake; 
No  less  than  great  M'Fingal's  back.§ 
With  legs  and  arms  he  work'd  his  course, 
Like  rider  that  outgoes  his  horse, 
And  labor'd  hard  to  get  away,  as 
Old  Satan]  struggling  on  through  chaos; 
'Till  looking  back,  he  spied  in  rear 
The  spade-arm'd  chief  advanced  too  near : 
Then  stopp'd  and  seiz'd  a  stone  that  lay 
An  ancient  landmark  near  the  way; 
Nor  shall  we  as  old  bards  have  done, 
Affirm  it  weigh'd  an  hundred  ton  ;■([ 
But  such  a  stone,  as  at  a  shift 
A  modern  might  suffice  to  lift, 
Since  men,  to  credit  their  enigmas, 
Are  dwindled  down  to  dwarfs  and  pigmies, 
And  giants  exiled  with  their  cronies 
To  Brobdignags  and  Patagonias. 
But  while  our  Hero  turn'd  him  round, 
And  tugg'd  to  raise  it  from  the  ground, 
The  fatal  spade  discharged  a  blow 
Tremendous  on  his  rear  below : 


*  Jupiter  ipse  duas  ffiquato  examine  lances 
Sustinet  &  fata  impouit  diversa  daorum, 
Quern  damnet  labor,  &c.  sEneid,  xii. 

t  It  was  the  fashion  in  New-England  at  that  time  forjudges 
to  wear  swords  on  the  bench. 

X Postquam  arma  Dei  ad  Vulcania  ventum  est, 

Mortalis  macro,  glacies  ecu  futilis,  icta 
^Dissiluit;  fulva  resplendent  fragmina  arena.         Virgil. 

The  sword 

"Was  given  him  temper'd  so,  that  neither  keen 
Nor  solid  might  resist  that  edge;  it  met 
The  sword  of  Satan  with  steep  force  to  smite 
Descending  and  in  half  cut  sheer.  MiUon. 

§ Nee  onim  levia  aut  ludicra  petuntur 

Prffimia,  sed  Tumi  de  vita  et  sanguine  certant.         Virgil. 
!  In  Milton. 
^  This  thought  is  taken  from  Juvenal,  Satire  13. 


His  bent  knee  fail'd,*  and  void  of  strength 

Stretch'd  on  the  ground  his  manly  length. 

Like  ancient  oak  o'erturu'd,  he  lay, 

Or  tower  to  tempests  fall'n  a  prey, 

Or  mountain  sunk  with  all  his  pines, 

Or  flow'r  the  plow  to  dust  consigns, 

And  more  things  else — but  all  men  know  'em, 

If  slightly  versed  in  epic  poem. 

At  once  the  crew,  at  this  dread  crisis, 

Fall  on,  and  bind  him,  ere  he  rises; 

And  with  loud  shouts  and  joyful  soul, 

Conduct  him  prisoner  to  the  pole. 

When  now  the  mob  in  lucky  hour 

Had  got  their  eu'mies  in  their  power, 

They  first  proceed,  by  grave  command, 

To  take  the  Constable  in  hand. 

Then  from  the  pole's  sublimest  top 

The  active  crew  let  down  the  rope, 

At  once  its  other  end  in  haste  bind, 

And  make  it  fast  upon  his  waistband; 

Till  like  the  earth,  as  stretch'd  on  tenter, 

He  hung  self-balanced  on  his  centre. f 

Then  upwards,  all  hands  hoisting  sail, 

They  swung  him,  like  a  keg  of  ale, 

Till  to  the  pinnacle  in  height 

He  vaulted,  like  balloon  or  kite. 

As  Socratest.  of  old  at  first  did 

To  aid  philosophy  get  hoisted, 

And  found  his  thoughts  flow  strangely  clear, 

Swung  in  a  basket  in  mid  air; 

Our  culprit  thus,  in  purer  sky, 

With  like  advantage  raised  his  eye, 

And  looking  forth  in  prospect  wide, 

His  Tory  errors  clearly  spied, 

And  from  his  elevated  station, 

Witli  bawling  voice  began  addressing. 

"  Good  gentlemen  and  friends  and  kin, 
For  heaven's  sake  hear,  if  not  for  mine  1 
I  here  renounce  the  Pope,  the  Turks, 
The  King,  the  Devil,  aud  all  their  works; 
Ami  will,  set  me  but  once  at  ease. 
Turn  Whig  or  Christian,  what  you  please; 
And  always  mind  your  rules  so  justly, 
Should  I  live  long  as  old  Jlethus'lah," 
I'll  never  join  in  British  rage, 
Nor  help  Lord  North,  nor  Gen'ral  Gage ; 
Nor  lift  my  gun  in  future  fights, 
Nor  take  away  your  Charter-rights ; 
Nor  overcome  your  new-raised  levies, 
Destroy  your  towns,  nor  burn  your  navies ; 
Nor  cut  your  poles  down  while  I've  breath, 
Though  raised  more  thick  than  hatchel-teeth  ; 
But  leave  King  George  and  all  his  elves 
To  do  their  conq'ring  work  themselves." 

This  said,  they  lower'd  him  down  in  state, 
Spread  at  all  points,  like  falling  cat ; 
But  took  a  vote  first  on  the  question, 
That  they'd  accept  this  full  confession, 
And  to  their  fellowship  and  favor. 
Restore  him  on  his  good  behaviour. 

Not  so  our  'Squire  submits  to  rule, 
But  stood,  heroic  as  a  mule. 
"  You'll  find  it  all  in  vain,  quoth  he, 
To  play  your  rebel  tricks  on  me. 
All  punishments,  the  world  can  render, 
Serve  only  to  provoke  th'  offender ; 
The  will  gains  strength  from  treatment  horrid. 
As  hides  grow  harder  when  they're  curried. 
No  man  e'er  felt  the  halter  draw, 


*  Genua  labant- 


-incidit  ictus. 


u,.,, nn    IL1UJIII IlieiUlb    11.KIS. 

Ingens  ad  terrain  duplicato  popllte  Turuus.         Virgil. 
t  And  earth  self-balanced  on  her  centre  hung.    MiUon. 
X  In  Aristophnnes's  Comedy  of  the  Clouds,  Socrates  is  repre- 
sented as  hoisted  iu  a  basket  to  aid  contemplation. 


318 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


With  good  opinion  of  the  law ; 

Or  held  in  method  orthodox 

His  love  of  justice,  in  the  stocks: 

Or  fiiil'd  to  lose  by  sheriff's  shears 

At  once  his  loyalty  and  ears. 

Have  you  made  Murray*  look  less  big, 

Or  smoked  old  Williams*  to  a  Whig? 

Did  our  niobb'd  Ol'verf  quit  his  station, 

Or  heed  his  vows  of  resignation? 

Has  Rivington,J  in  dread  of  stripes, 

Ceased  lying  since  you  stole  his  types? 

And  can  you  think  my  faith  will  alter, 

By  tarring,  whipping,  or  the  halter? 

I'll  stand  the  worst ;  for  recompense 

I  trust  King  George  and  Providence. 

And  when  with  conquest  gain'd  I  come, 

Array'd  in  law  and  terror  home, 

Ye'll  rue  this  inauspicious  morn, 

And  curse  the  day,  when  ye  were  born, 

In  Job's  high  style  of  imprecations, 

With  all  his  plagues,  without  his  patienee." 

Meanwhile  beside  the  pole,  the  guard 
A  Bench  of  Justice  had  prepared, § 
Where  sitting  round  in  awful  sort 
The  grand  Committee  hold  their  Court ; 
While  all  the  crew,  in  silent  awe, 
Wait  from  their  lips  the  lore  of  law. 
Few  moments  with  deliberation 
They  hold  the  solemn  consultation  ; 
When  soon  in  judgment  all  agree, 
And  Cleric  proclaims  the  dread  decree ; 
"That  'Squire  M'Fingal  having  grown 
The  vilest  Tory  in  the  town, 
And  now  in  full  examination 
Convicted  by  his  own  confession, 
Finding  no  tokens  of  repentance, 
This  Court  proceeds  to  render  sentence: 
That  first  the  Hob  a  slip-knot  single 
Tie  round  the  neck  of  said  M'Fingal, 
And  in  due  form  do  tar  him  next, 
And  feather,  as  the  law  directs ; 
Then  through  the  town  attendant  ride  him 
In  cart  with  Constable  beside  him, 
And  having  held  him  up  to  shame, 
Bring  to  the  pole,  from  whence  he  came;" 

Forthwith  the  crowd  proceed  to  deck 
WTith  halter'd  noose  M'Fingal's  neck, 
While  he  in  peril  of  his  soul 
Stood  tied  half-hanging  to  the  pole; 
Then  lifting  high  the  ponderous  jar, 
Pour'd  o'er  his  head  the  smoaking  tar. 
With  less  profusion  once  was  spread 
Oil  on  the  Jewish  monarch's  head, 
That  down  his  beard  and  vestments  ran, 
And  eover'd  all  his  outward  man. 
As  when  (so  ClaudianJ  sings)  the  Gods 
And  earth-born  Giants  fell  at  odds, 
The  stout  Enceladus  in  malice 
Tore  mountains  up  to  throw  at  Pallas ; 
And  while  he  held  them  o'er  his  head, 
The  river,  from  their  fountains  fed, 
Pour'd  down  his  back  its  copious  tide, 


*  Members  of  the  Mandamus  Council  in  Massachusetts. 
The  operation  of  smoking  Tories  was  thus  performed.  The 
victim  was  confined  in  a  close  room  before  a  large  fire  of  green 
wood,  and  a  cover  applied  to  the  top  of  the  chimney. 

t  Thomas  Oliver,  Esq.  Lieut.  Governor  of  Massachusetts. 
He  was  surrounded  at  his  seat  in  the  country  and  intimidated 
by  the  mob  into  the  signing  of  his  resignation. 

t  Kivington  was  a  tory  Printer  in  New  York.  Just  before 
the  commencement  of  the  war.  a  party  from  New  Haven  at- 
tacked his  press,  and  carried  otf  or  destroyed  the  types. 

§  An  imitation  of  legal  forms  was  universally  practised  by 
the  mobs  in  New-England,  in  the  trial  and  condemnation  of 
Tories.    This  marks  a  curious  trait  of  nutional  character. 

';  Claudian's  Gigantomachia, 


And  wore  its  channels  in  his  hide : 

So  from  the  high-raised  urn  the  torrents 

Spread  down  his  side  their  various  currents  : 

His  flowing  wig,  as  next  the  brim, 

First  met  and  drank  the  sable  stream  ; 

Adown  his  visage  stern  and  grave 

Roll'd  and  adhered  the  viscid  wave; 

With  arms  depending  as  he  stood, 

Each  cuff  capacious  holds  the  flood; 

From  nose  and  chin's  remotest  end, 

The  tarry  icicles  descend ; 

Till  all  o'erspread,  with  colors  gay, 

He  glitter'd  to  the  western  ray, 

Like  sleet-bound  trees  in  wintry  skies, 

Or  Lapland  idol  carved  in  ice. 

And  now  the  feather-bag  displayed 

Is  waved  in  triumph  o'er  his  head, 

And  clouds  him  o'er  with  feathers  missive, 

And  down,  upon  the  tar,  adhesive: 

Not  Maia's*  son,  with  wings  for  ears, 

Such  plumage  round  his  visage  wears; 

Nor  Milton's  six-wing'df  angel  gathers 

Such  superfluity  of  feathers. 

Now  all  complete  appears  our  'Squire, 

Like  Gorgon  or  Chimsera  dire ; 

Kor  more  could  boast  on  Plato's^  plan 

To  rank  among  the  race  of  man, 

Or  prove  his  claim  to  human  nature, 

As  a  two-legg'd,  unfeather'd  creature. 

Then  on  the  fatal  cart,  in  state 
They  raised  our  grand  Duumvirate. 
And  as  at  Rome§  a  like  committee, 
Who  found  an  owl  within  their  city, 
With  solemn  rites  and  grave  processions 
At  every  shrine  perform'd  lustrations ; 
And  least  infection  might  take  place 
From  such  grim  fowl  with  feather'd  face, 
All  Rome  attends  him  through  the  street 
In  triumph  to  his  country  seat: 
With  like  devotion  all  the  choir 
Paraded  round  our  awful  'Squire ; 
In  front  the  martial  music  comes 
Of  horns  and  fiddles,  fifes  and  drum9, 
With  jingling  sound  of  carriage  bells, 
And  treble  creak  of  rusted  wheels. 
Behind,  the  crowd,  in  lengthen'd  row 
With  proud  procession,  closed  the  show. 
And  at  fit  periods  every  throat 
Combined  in  universal  shout ; 
And  hail'd  great  Liberty  in  chorus, 
Or  bawl'd  "  confusion  to  the  Tories." 
Not  louder  storm  the  welkin  braves 
From  clamors  of  conflicting  waves ; 
Less  dire  in  Lybian  wilds  the  noise 
When  rav'ning  lions  lift  their  voice; 
Or  triumphs  at  town-meetings  made, 
On  passing  votes  to  regulate  trade.] 

Thus  having  borne  them  round  the  town, 
Last  at  the  pole  they  set  them  down ; 
And  to  the  tavern  take  their  way 
To  end  in  mirth  the  festal  day. 

And  now  the  Mob,  dispersed  and  gone, 
Left  'Squire  and  Constable  alone. 
The  constable  with  rueful  face 
Lean'd  sad  and  solemn  o'er  a  brace ; 
And  fast  beside  him,  cheek  by  jowl, 


*  Mercury,  described  by  the  Poets  with  wings  on  his  head 
and  feet. 

t  And  angel  wing'd — six  wings  he  wore. — Milton. 

%  Alluding  to  Plato's  famous  definition  of  Man,  Animal 
Mpef>  i/trtplumc — a  two-legged  animal  without  feathers. 

§  Livy's  History. 

\  Such  votes  were  frequently  passed  at  town-meetings,  with 
the  view  to  prevent  the  augmentation  of  prices,  and  stop  the 
depreciation  of  the  paper  money. 


LEMUEL  HOPKINS. 


319 


Stuck  'Squire  M'Fmgal  'gainst  the  pole, 

Glued  by  the  tar  t'  his  rear  applied, 

Like  barnacle  on  vessel's  side. 

But  though  his  body  lack'd  physician, 

His  spirit  was  in  worse  condition. 

He  found  his  fears  of  whips  and  ropes 

By  many  a  drachm  outweigh'd  his  hopes. 

As  men  in  jail  without  mainprize 

View  everything  with  other  eyes, 

And  all  goes  wrong  in  church  and  state, 

Seen  through  perspective  of  the  grate : 

So  now  M'Finoal's  Second-sight 

Beheld  all  things  m  gloomier  light; 

His  visual  nerve,  well  purged  with  tar, 

Saw  all  the  coming  scenes  of  war. 

As  his  prophetic  soul  grew  stronger, 

He  found  he  could  hold  in  no  longer. 

First  from  the  pole,  as  fierce  lie  shook, 

His  wig  from  pitchy  durance  broke, 

His  mouth  unglued,  his  feathers  flutter'd, 

His  tarr'd  skirts  crack'd,  and  thus  he  uttered. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Constable,  in  vain 
We  strive  'gainst  wind  and  tide  and  rain! 
Behold  my  doom  !   this  feathery  omen 
Portends  what  dismal  times  are  coming. 
Now  future  scenes,  before  my  eyes, 
And  second-sighted  forms  arise. 
I  hear  a  voice,*  that  calls  away, 
And  cries  '  The  Whigs  will  win  the  day.' 
Mybeck'ning  Genius  gives  command, 
And  bids  me  fly  the  fatal  land ; 
Where  changing  name  and  constitution, 
Rebellion  turns  to  Revolution, 
While  Loyalty,  oppress'd,  in  tears, 
Stands  trembling  for  its  neck  and  ears. 

"  Go,  summon  all  our  brethren,  greeting, 
To  muster  at  our  usual  meeting ; 
There  my  prophetic  voice  shall  warn  'em 
Of  all  things  future  that  concern  'em, 
And  scenes  disclose  on  which,  my  friend, 
Their  conduct  and  their  lives  depend. 
There  1* — but  first  'tis  more  of  use, 
From  this  vile  pole  to  set  me  loose; 
Then  go  with  cautious  steps  and  steady, 
While  I  steer  home  and  make  all  ready." 

LEMUEL  HOPKINS. 

Dr.  Lemuel  Hopkins,  one  of  the  Hartford  poets 
of  the  Revolutionary  era,  was  born  at  Waterbury, 
Connecticut,  June  19,  1750.  He  was  the  son  of 
a  farmer,  and  was  well  educated.  Constitutional 
ill  health  is  said  to  have  determined  him  to  the 
study  of  medicine.  He  became  a  practitioner  at 
Litchfield  about  1776,  and  served  for  a  short  time 
as  a  volunteer  in  the  American  army.  He  re- 
moved to  Hartford  about  1784,  where  he  passed 
the  remainder  of  his  life,  his  death  occurring  on 
the  14th  April,  1801,  in  his  fifty-first  year.  It  is 
a  little  singular  that  while  he  wrote  most  pun- 
gently  against  quacks  and  quackery,  his  own 
over-solicitude  as  to  disease  should  have  hastened 
his  deal^.  He  feared  an  attack  of  pulmonary 
consumption,  and  to  ward  it  off,  caused  himself 
to  be  bled  repeatedly,  till  the  weakness  induced  a 
dropsy  in  the  chest.  The  sensitiveness  of  his 
body  probably  sharpened  his  satirical  powers, 
which  were  keen  enough  when  his  pen  fastened 
upon  Ethan   Allen.      The  lines  appear  in  the 


*  I  hear  a  voice,  you  cannot  hear, 
That  says,  I  must  not  stay—  Tkkell's  BaUad. 

t  Quos  ego — sed  inotos  praestat  coinponere  fluctus. 

Virgil. 


Litchfield  collection  of  "American  Poems,"  pub- 
lished in  1793* 

ON  GENERAL  ETHAN  ALLEN. 

Lo,  Allen  'scaped  from  British  jails, 

His  tushes  broke  by  biting  nails, 

Appears  in  Hyperborean  skies, 

To  tell  the  world  the  Bible  lies. 

See  him  on  green  hills  north  afar 

Glow  like  a  self-enkindled  star, 

Prepar'd  (with  mob-collecting  club 

Black  from  the  forge  of  Belzebub, 

And  grim  with  metaphysic  scowl, 

With  quill  just  plucked  from  wing  of  owl) 

As  rage  or  reason  rise  or  sink, 

To  shed  his  blood,  or  shed  his  ink. 

Behold  inspired  from  Vermont  dens, 

The  seer  of  Antichrist  descends, 

To  feed  new  mobs  with  Hell-born  manna 

In  Gentile  lands  of  Susquehanna  ; 

And  teach  the  Pennsylvania  quaker, 

High  blasphemies  against  his  maker. 

Behold  him  move,  ye  staunch  divines! 

His  tall  head  bustling  through  the  pines; 

All  front  he  seems  like  wall  of  brass,  . 

And  brays  tremendous  as  an  ass ; 

One  hand  is  clench'd  to  batter  noses, 

While  t'other  scrawls  'gainst  Paul  and  Moses. 

Hopkins's  poetical  reputation  had  been  gained 
by  association  with  Humphreys,  Trumbull,  and 
Barlow,  in  the  political  essays  in  verse  which 


appeared  in  the  series  of  the  AnarcMad  and  the 
Echo.  The  former  was  written  for  the  Hartford 
and  New  Haven  newspapers,  and  reached  twen- 
ty-four numbers.  The  Anarchiad  is  a  descriptive 
and  satiric  poem  in  the  ten-syllable  measure, 
levelled  at  the  state  of  political  disruption  pre- 
ceding the  establishment  of  the  Federal  Constitu- 
tion. Its  plan  is  thus  described  by  Everest — 
"  Public  curiosity  had  been  awakened  by  the  dis- 


*  This  production  was  printed  by  Co 
marked   Vol.   I.    It  contains  poems  by  Trumbull,  Dwight, 


and   Buel  and 


Barlow,  Hopkins,  Humphreys,  llopkinson,  William  Living- 
ston, Mrs.  Morton,  James  Allen,  aud  others.  A  postscript 
announces  the  intention  of  the  editors  to  pursue  their  design, 
and  "■  should  sufficient  encouragement  appeal',  to  publish  a 
second  volume  in  the  course  of  the  next  two  years.  Many  dis- 
appointments, the  ill  health  of  one  of  the  editors,  and  other 
circumstances,  too  complicated  and  painful  to  mention,  have 
contributed  to  render  their  work  less  perfect  than  their  expec- 
tations and  promises."  All  this  pai;;l'ul  apoiogy  over  a  single 
12mo.  volume  at  the  cud  of  the  last  century. 


320 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


covery  of  ancient  Indian  fortifications,  with  their 
singular  relics:  the  story  of  the  early  emigration 
of  a  body  of  Britons  and  Welsh  to  this  country, 
and  of  an  existing  tribe  of  their  descendants  in  the 
interior  of  the  continent,  was  revived  and  circu- 
lated :  and  our  writers  assumed  that,  in  digging 
among  the  ruins  of  one  of  these  fortifications,  an 
ancient  heroic  poem  in  the  English  language  had 
been  discovered.  This  was  the  Anarchiad,  and 
the  essays  were  supposed  extracts  from  it."* 

A  letter  to  Oliver  Woloott  of  this  date,  on  the 
Genet  times,  lias  a  profound  social  and  political 
truth  well  expressed,  and  shows  Hopkins  a  skilful 
prose  writer.  "The  southern  democrats  appear 
in  newspapers,  in  speeches  in  Congress,  &c,  to 
come  much  nearer  effecting  their  measures  than 
is  really  the  case.  It  never  was  nor  can  be,  that 
the  measures  of  such  men  should  be  popular  in 
New  England.  There  is  no  such  tiling  as  know- 
ing such  a  people  as  the  New  Englanders,  so  as 
to  calculate  crooked  politics  to  their  taste,  with- 
out living  among  them  from  early  youth.  Ha- 
rangues, ever  so  well  peppered  with  'well-born,' 
'  monocrats,'  'aristocrats,'  'hell  of  monarchy,' 
&c.  &c,  are  so  far  from  really  effecting  anything 
in  these  parts,  that  whenever  the  still  thinking 
part  of  the  community  can  be  brought  to  manifest 
their  minds  on  any  measure  of  consequence,  they 
will  at  once  drown  a  din  of  complaining  politics 
which,  of  itself,  would  seem  formidable.  The 
more  a  man  is  among  all  sorts  of  people,  the  more 
fully  will  he  learn  the  unmeasured  difference 
there  is  between  the  sentiment  of  newspapers, 
replete  with  local  politics,  and  the  opinions  of  an 
enlightened  people  in  the  peaceable  and  successful 
pursuit  of  wealth  and  happiness.  I  find  more 
and  more,  that  a  busy  set  of  wrongheads  can  at 
pleasure  stir  up  for  a  time  any  sentiments  they 
please  in  cities,  and  that  there  is  a  great  aptitude 
in  most  men  to  consider  cities  as  worlds,  or  at 
least  as  the  manufactories  of  sentiments  for  whole 
countries,  and  much  of  this  may  be  true  in  the 
old  world ;  but  in  New  England  the  contrary  is 
and  ever  will  be  true  as  long  as  our  schools, 
presses,  and  town  corporations  last.''t 

To  the  Eclio  he  contributed  only  the  two  New 
Year's  Addresses  for  the  Connecticut  Couraut  of 
17U5  and  'G,  and  portions  of  The  Political  Green 
House  for  the  year  1798.*  In  these  passages  he 
celebrates  the  arrival  of  Genet. 

But  though  the  French  are  giant  sinners, 
Yet  have  we  not  Tom  Thumb  beginners? 
Which  though  a  molish  sort  of  mice, 
May  grow  to  rats  like  nits  to  lice. 
Gnaw  thro'  our  vessel's  lower  quarter. 
And  fill,  and  sink  her  in  deep  water. 
See  fraught  with  democratic  lore, 
Genet  arriv'd  on  Charleston  shore. 
But,  as  was  meet,  first  broach'd  his  mission, 
To  men  of  sans-culotte  condition  ; 
Who  throiig'd  around  with  open  throat'-, 
As  round  old  Crusoe  flock'd  the  goats, 
And  learn'd  his  sermon,  to  his  wishes, 
As  Austin  taught  huge  shoals  of  fishes  ; 
Made  all  the  antifederal  presses, 
Screech  shrill hosaunas,  styl'd  addresses; 
And  while  to  Court  he  took  his  way, 


«  Poets  of  Connecticut,  p.  39. 

t  Gibbs's  Administration  of  Washington  and  Adams,  ii.  105 


Sung  hallelujahs  to  Genet ; 

But  still  our  Palinurus  saw, 

With  cool  contempt  this  stormy  flaw, 

And,  spite  of  all  the  Belial  band, 

Steer'd  safe  our  leaky  bark  to  land. 

Like  Hessian  flies,  imported  o'er, 

Clubs  self-create  infest  our  shore. 

And  see  yon  western  rebel  band, 

A  medley  mix'd  from  ev'ry  land  ; 

Scotch,  Irish,  renegadoes  rude, 

From  Faction's  dregs  fermenting  brew'd ; 

Misguided  tools  of  antifeds, 

With  clubs  anarchical  for  your  heads, 

Why  would  ye  make  this  cost  and  trouble 

Yourselves  of  warlike  flnmes  the  stubble? 

Tire  down  the  arm  out-stretch'd  to  save, 

And  freedom's  cradle  make  her  grave  ? 

The  fatal  year  of  Robespierre,  and  the  hope 
of  Poland  in  Kosciusko,  and  such  home  matters 
as  the  mania  for  land  speculation,  Wayne's  Indian 
victory,  and  Washington's  second  appointment  as 
Commander-in-CIiief  by  President  Adams. 

Eas'd  now  of  much  incumbent  weight, 
Proceeds  the  business  of  the  State, 
Rais'd  by  the  sounds  of  war's  alarms, 
Our  ardent  youth  all  fly  to  arms, 
And  from  the  work-shop  and  the  field, 
The  active  labourers  seize  the  shield ; 
While  on  the  silver'd  brow  of  age, 
Relumes  the  fire  of  martial  rage. 
Our  veteran  Chiefs,  whose  honour'd  scars 
Are  trophies  still  of  former  wars, 
Appointed  move  beneath  their  shield, 
To  reap  the  ripen'd  martial  field, 
Aud  lo  !   from  Vernon's  sacred  hill, 
Where  peaceful  spirits  love  to  dwell — 
Where  twice  retir'd  from  war's  alarms, 
Slept,  and  awoke,  his  conquering  arms, 
The  Hero  comes ! — whose  Laurels  green, 
In  bloom  eternal  shall  be  seen ; 
While  Gallic  Ivy  fades  away, 
Before  the  scorching  eye  of  Day. 
He  comes ! — he  comes !  to  re-array 
Your  hosts,  ye  heroes,  for  th'  affray ! 
Him  for  your  head — collect  from  far 
The  shield,  the  sword,  and  plume  of  war; 
Indignant  earth  rejoicing  hears, 
Fell  insult  bristling  up  your  spears, 
And  joins  her  busts  to  crush  the  foes, 
Of  virtue  and  her  own  repose. 

Jefferson  had  nothing  to  thank  Dr.  Lemuel 
Hopkins  for,  if  the  lines  which  follow  are  from 
his  pen: — 

Great  sire  of  stories  past  belief, 
Historian  of  the  Mingo  chief, 
Philosopher  of  Indian's  hair, 
Inventor  of  a  rocking  chair. 
The  correspondent  of  M.izze 
And  Banneker  less  black  than  he! 
With  joy  we  find  you  rise  from  coguing 
With  Judge  M'Kean  and  "foolish  Lj|gau," 
And  reeling  down  the  factious  dance, 
Dispatch  the  Doctor  off  to  France, 
To  tell  the  Frenchmen,  to  their  cost, 
They  reckon'd  here  without  their  host. 

Allen,  who  brings  his  characters  to  a  religious 
test  in  his  "American  Biographical  Dictionary,'' 
intimates  that  Hopkins  himself  at  one  time  had 
some  sympathies  in  common  with  Jefferson.  "  In 
his  early  life,"  says  he,  "he  admired  the  infidel 
philosophers  of  France ;  in  his  last  days  he  read 


LEMUEL  HOPKINS. 


321 


the  Bible."  His  personal  appearance  was  peculiar, 
"  tall,  lean,  stooping,  and  long-limbed,  with  large 
features  and  light  eyes,"  says  Kettell,  to  which 
description  Allen  supplies  a  corresponding  anec- 
dote, connected  with  his  medical  practice. — "As 
a  physician,  he  was  remarkable  for  his  unceasing 
attentions  to  his  patients,  sometimes  devoting  to 
one  patient  whole  days  and  nights.  Once,  on 
being  called  to  a  child  sick  with  the  scarlet  fever 
in  a  family  to  which  he  was  a  stranger,  he 
entered  the  room  without  saying  a  word,  and, 
seeing  the  child  loaded  with  bed-clothes  in  a 
heated  room,  he  seized  the  child  in  his  arms,  and 
rushed  out  of  the  house,  followed  with  cries  and 
broomsticks,  for  his  appearance  was  uncouth  and 
ugly.  But  resting  in  a  cool  shade,  he  called  fir 
wine,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  child 
restored  to  health." 

There  has  been  no  separate  collection  of  Dr. 
Hopkins's  poetry. 

A  PLEA    FOP.  TTNION  A?H>  TFTR  COKSTITCTTON. — FT.OM  THE 
ANAECHIAD. 

Ye  sire?  of  nations,  call'd  in  high  debate. 
From  kindred  realms,  to  save  the  sinking  state, 
A  boundless  sway  on  one  broad  base  to  rear — 
My  voice  paternal  claims  your  lingering  ear; 
O'er  the  wide  clime  my  fostering  cares  extend, 
Your  guardian  genius  and  your  deathless  friend. 

When  splendid  victory  oa  her  trophied  car, 
Swept  from  these  shores  the  last  remains  of  war, 
Bade  each  glad  state,  that  boasts  Columbia's  name, 
Exult  in  freedom  and  ascend  to  fame. 
To  bliss  unbounded  stretch  their  ardent  eyes, 
And  wealth  and  empire  from  their  labor  rise, 
My  raptured  sons  beheld  the  discord  cease, 
And  soothed  their  sorrows  in  the  songs  of  peace. 

Shall   these  bright  scenes,  with  happiest  omens 
born, 
Fade  like  the  fleeting  visions  of  the  morn  ? 
Shall  this  fair  fabric  from  its  base  be  hurl'd. 
And  whelm  ill  dust  the  glories  of  the  world? 
Will  ye,  who  s;iw  the  heavens  tempestuous  lower, 
Who  felt  the  arm  of  irritated  power, 
Whose  soils  distending  with  the  waiting  flood, 
Prepare!  the  firm  foundations,  built  in  blood, 
By  discord  seized,  will  ye  desert  the  plan? 
The  unfiaish'd  Babel  of  the  bliss  of  man  ? 

Go  search  the  field  of  death,  where  heroes,  lost 
In  graves  obscure,  can  tell  what  freedom  cost. 
Tho;igh  conquest  smiled ;  there  slain  amid  the  crowd, 
And  plung'd  promiscuous  with  no  winding  shroud, 
No  friendly  hand  their  gory  wounds  to  lave. 
The  thousands  moulder  in  a  common  grave, 
Not  so  thy  soa,  oh  Laurens!  gasping  lies. 
Too  daring  youth,  war's  latest  sacrifice; 
His  snow-white  bosom  heaves  with  writhing  pain, 
The  purple  drops  his  snow-white  bosom  stain; 
His  cheek  of  rose  is  wan,  a  deadly  hue 
Sits  oa  his  face,  that  chills  with  lucid  dew. — 
There  Warren,  glorious  with  expiring  breath, 
A  comely  corse  that  smiles  in  ghostly  death  : 
Sea  Mercer  bleeJ,  and  o'er  yon  wintry  wall, 
'Mil  heips  of  slain,  see  great  Montgomerv  fall ! 

Behold  those  veterans  worn  with  want  and  care, 
Their  si.icws'stiffen'd,  silver'd  o'er  their  hair, 
Weak  in  their  steps  of  age,  they  move  forlorn, 
Their  toils  forgotten  by  the  sons  of  scorn  ; 
This  hateful  truth  still  aggravates  the  pain. 
In  vain  they  conquer'd,  and  they  bled  in  vain. 
Go  then,  ye  remnants  of  inglorious  wars, 
Disown  your  marks  of  merit,  hide  your  fears, 
Of  lust,  of  power,  of  titled  pride  accused, 
Steal  to  your  graves  dishouor'd  and  abused. 

VOL.  I. — 21 


For  see,  proud  faction  waves  her  flaming  brand. 
And  discord  riots  o'er  the  ungrateful  land; 
Lo,  to  the  north  a  wild  adventurous  crew* 
In  desperate  mobs  the  savage  state  renew; 
Each  felon  chief  his  maddening  thousands  draws, 
And  claims  bold  license  from  the  bond  of  laws ; 
In  other  states  the  chosen  sires  of  shame, 
Stamp  their  vile  knaveries  with  a  legal  name ; 
In  honor's  seat  the  sons  of  meanness  swarm, 
And  senates  base,  the  work  of  mobs  perform, 
To  wealth,  to  power  the  sons  of  union  rise, 
While  foes  deride  you  and  while  friends  despise. 
Stand  forth,  ye  traitors,  at  your  country's  bar, 
Inglorious  authors  of  intestine  war, 
What  countless  mischiefs  from  their  labors  rise ! 
Pens  dipped  in  gall,  and  lips  inspired  with  lies! 
Ye  sires  of  ruin,  prime  detested  cause 
Of  bankrupt  faith,  annihilated  laws, 
Of  selfish  systems,  jealous,  local  schemes, 
And  union'd  empire  lost  in  empty  dreams: 
Your  names  expanding  with  your  growing  crime, 
Shall  float  disgustful  down  the  stream  of  time, 
Each  future  age  applaud  the  avenging  song, 
And  outraged  nature  vindicate  the  wrong. 

Yes,  there  are  men.  who,  touch' d  with  heavenly  fire, 
Beyond  the  confines  of  these  climes  aspire, 
Beyond  the  praises  of  a  tyrant  age, 
To  live  immortal  in  the  patriot  page ; 
Who  greatly  dare,  though  warning  worlds  oppose, 
To  pour  just  vengeance  on  their  country's  foes. 

And  lo !  the  etherial  worlds  assert  your  cause, 
Celestial  aid  the  voice  of  virtue  draws ; 
The  curtains  blue  of  yon  expansion  rend: 
From  opening  skies  heroic  shades  descend. 
See,  robed  in  light,  the  forms  of  heaven  appear, 
The  warrior  spirits  of  your  friends  are  near; 
Each  on  his  steed  of  fire  (his  quiver  stored 
With  shafts  of  vengeance)  grasps  his  flaming  sword: 
The  burning  blade  waves  high,  and  dipp'd  in  blood, 
Hurls  plagues  and  death  on  discord's  faithless  brood. 
Yet  wdiat  the  hope?  the  dreams  of  congress  fade, 
The  federal  union  sinks  in  endless  shade, 
Each  feeble  call,  that  warns  the  realms  around, 
Seems  the  faint  echo  of  a  dying  sound, 
Each  requisition  wafts  in  fleeting  air, 
And  not  one  state  regards  the  powerless  prayer. 
Ye   wanton    states,    by  heaven's    best   blessings 
cursed, 
Long  on  the  lap  of  fostering  luxury  nursed, 
What  fickle  frenzy  raves,  what  visions  strange. 
Inspire  }-our  bosoms  with  the  Inst  of  change  i 
And  frames  the  wish  to  fly  from  fancied  ill, 
And  yield  your  freedom  to  a  monarch's  will  ? 
Go  view  the  lands  to  lawdess  power  a  prey. 
Where  tyrants  govern  with  unbounded  sway  ; 
See  the  long  pomp  in  gorgeous  state  display'd, 
The  tinsel'd  guards,  the  squadron'd  horse  parade  ; 
See  heralds  gay  with  emblems  on  their  vest, 
In  tissued  robes  tall  beauteous  pages  drest; 
Where  moves  the  pageant,  throng  unnumber'd  slaves, 
Lords,  dukes,  and  princes,  titulary  knaves 
Confusedly  shine,  the  purple  gemm'd  with  stars, 
Sceptres,  and  globes,  and  crowns,  and  rubie  1  cars, 
On  jyilded  orbs  the  thundering  chariots  roll'd, 
Steeds  snorting  fire,  and  champing  bitts  of  gold, 
Prance  to  the  trumpet's  voice — while  each  assumes 
A  loftier  gait,  and  lifts  his  neck  of  plumes. 
High  on  the  moving  throne,  and  uear  the  van, 
The  tyrant  rides,  the  chosen  scourge  of  man ; 
Clarions,  and  flutes,  and  drums  his  way  prepare, 
Ami  shouting  millions  rend  the  conscious  air ; 
Millions,  whose  ceaseless  toils  the  pomp  sustain, 
Whose  hour  of  stupid  joy  repays  an  age  of  pain. 
From  years  of  darkness  springs  the  regal  line, 
Hereditary  kings  by  right  divine ; 


322 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Tis  theirs  to  riot  on  all  nature's  spoils, 
For  them  "with  pangs  unblest  the  peasant  toils, 
For  them  the  earth  prolific  teems  with  grain, 
Theirs,  the  dread  labors  of  the  devious  main, 
Annual  for  them  the  wasted  land  renews 
The  gifts  oppressive,  and  extorted  dues. 
For  them  when  slaughter  spreads  the  gory  plains, 
The  life-blood  gushes  from  a  thousand  veins, 
"While  the  dull  herd,  of  earth-born  pomp  afraid, 
Adore  the  power  that  coward  meanness  made. 
Let  Poland  tell  what  woe  returning  springs, 
Where  light  elective  yields  the  crown  to  kings ! 
War  guides  the  choice — each  candidate  abhorr'd 
Founds  his  firm  title  on  the  wasting  sword, 
Wades  to  the  throne  amid  the  sanguine  flood, 
And  dips  his  purple  in  the  nation's  blood. 

Behold,  where  Venice  rears  her  sea-girt  towers, 
O'er  the  vile  crowd  proud  oligarchy  lowers; 
While  each  Aristocrat  affects  a  throne, 
Beneath  a  thousand  kings  the  poor  plebeians  groan. 

Nor  less  abhorr'd  the  certain  woe  that  waits 
The  giddy  rage  of  democratic  states; 
Whose  popular  breath,  high  blown  in  restless  tide, 
No  laws  can  temper,  and  no  reason  guide; 
An  equal  sway  their  mind  indignant  spurns, 
To  wanton  change  the  bliss  of  freedom  turns, 
Led  by  wild  demagogues  the  factious  crowd, 
Mean,  fierce,  imperious,  insolent  and  loud, 
Nor  fame  nor  wealth  nor  power  nor  system  draws, 
They  see  no  object  and  perceive  no  cause, 
But  feel  by  turns,  in  one  disastrous  hour, 
Th'  extremes  of  license  and  th'  extremes  of  power. 

What  madness  prompts,  or  what  ill-omen'd  fates, 
Your  realm  to  parcel  into  petty  states  ? 
Shall  lordly  Hudson  part  contending  powers? 
And  broad  Potomac  lave  two  hostile  shores? 
Must  Allegany's  sacred  summits  bear 
The  impious  bulwarks  of  perpetual  war? 
Bis  hundred  streams  receive  your  heroes  slain? 
And  bear  your  sons  inglorious  to  the  main  ? 
Will  states  cement  by  feebler  bonds  allied  ? 
Or  join  more  closely  as  they  more  divide  ? 
Will  this  vain  scheme  bid  restless  factious  cease? 
Check  foreign  wars  or  fix  internal  peace? 
Call  public  credit  from  her  grave  to  rise? 
Or  gain  in  grandeur  what  they  lose  in  size? 
In  this  weak  realm  can  countless  kingdoms  start, 
Strong  with  new  force  in  each  divided  part? 
While  empire's  head,  divided  into  four, 
Gains  life  by  severance  of  diminish'd  power? 
So  when  the  philosophic  hand  divides 
The  full  grown  polypus  in  genial  tides, 
Each  sevcr'd  part,  inform'd  with  latent  life, 
Acquires  new  vigor  from  the  friendly  knife, 
O'er  peopled  sands  the  puny  insects  creep, 
Till  the  next  wave  absorbs  them  in  the  deep. 

What  then  remains?  must  pilgrim  freedom  ily 
From  these  loved  regions  to  her  native  sky  ? 
When  the  fair  fugitive  the  orient  chased, 
She  fix'd  her  seat  beyond  the  watery  waste ; 
Her  docile  sons  (enough  of  power  resign'd, 
And  natural  rites  in  social  leagues  combined,) 
In  virtue  firm,  though  jealous  in  her  cause, 
Gave  senates  force  and  energy  to  laws,  • 

From  ancient  habit  local  powers  obey, 
Yet  feel  no  reverence  for  one  general  sway. 
For  breach  of  faith  no  keen  compulsion  feel, 
And  feel  no  interest  in  the  federal  weal. 
But  know,  ye  favored  race,  one  potent  head, 
Must  rule  your  states,  and  strike  your  foes  with 

dread, 
The  finance  regulate,  the  trade  control, 
Live  through  the  empire,  and  accord  the  whole. 

Ere  death  invades,  and  night's  deep  curtain  falls, 
Through  ruin'd  realms  the  voice  of  Union  calls, 


Loud  as  the  trump  of  heaven  through  darkness 

roars, 
When  gyral  gusts  entomb  Caribbean  towers, 
When  nature  trembles  through  the  deeps  convulsed, 
And  ocean  foams  from  craggy  cliffs  repulsed, 
On  you  she  calls!  attend  the  warning  cry, 
"  Ye  live  united,  or  divided  die." 

THE  HYPOCRmf6  nOPE, 

Blest  is  the  man,  who  from  the  womb 

To  saintship  him  betakes, 
And  when  too  soon  his  child  shall  come, 

A  long  confession  makes. 

When  next  in  Broad  Chureh-alley  he 

Shall  take  his  former  place, 
Relates  his  past  iniquity, 

And  consequential  grace ; 

Declares  how  long  by  Satan  vexM, 

From  truth  he  did  depart, 
And  tells  the  time,  and  tells  the  te?.  t, 

That  smote  his  flinty  heart. 

He  stands  in  half-way-covenant  sure ; 

Full  five  long  years  or  more, 
One  foot  in  church's  pale  secure, 

The  other  out  of  door. 

Then  riper  grown  in  gifts  and  grace. 

With  every  rite  complies, 
And  deeper  lengthens  down  his  face, 

And  higher  rolls  his  eyes. 

He  tones  like  Pharisee  sublime, 

Two  lengthy  prayers  a  day, 
The  same  that  lie  from  early  prime, 

Has  heard  his  father  say. 

Each  Sunday  perch'd  on  bench  of  pew, 

To  passing  priest  he  bows, 
Then  loudly  'mid  the  quavering  crew, 

Attunes  his  vocal  nose. 

With  awful  look  then  rises  slow, 

And  prayerful  visage  sour, 
More  fit  to  fright  the  apostate  foe, 

Than  seek  a  pardoning  power. 

Then  nodding  hears  the  sermon  next, 

From  priest  haranguing  loud, 
And  doubles  down  each  quoted  text, 

From  Genesis  to  Jude. 

And  when  the  priest  holds  forth  address, 

To  old  ones  born  nnew\ 
With  holy  pride  and  wrinkled  face, 

He  rises  in  his  pew. 

Good  works  he  eareth  nought  about, 

But  faith  alone  will  seek, 
"While  Sunday's  pieties  blot  out, 

The  knaveries  of  the  week. 

He  makes  the  poor  his  daily  prayer, 

Yet  drives  them  from  his  board  ; 
And  though  to  his  own  good  he  swear. 

Through  habit  breaks  his  word. 

This  man  advancing  fresh  and  fair, 

Shall  all  his  race  complete ; 
And  wave  at  last  his  hoary  hair, 

Arrived  at  deacon's  seat. 

There  shall  he  all  church  honors  have, 

By  joyous  brethren  given — 
Till  priest  in  funeral  sermon  grave, 

Shall  send  him  straight  to  heaven. 

JAMES  MADISON. 

The  name  of  Madison  is  identified  with  the  poli- 
tical literature  of  the  country,  beyond  the  share  - 


JAMES  MADISON. 


323 


which  his  official  state  papers  must  claim,  by  his 
defence  of  the  Constitution  in  the  Federalist,  and 
his  faithful  history  of  the  Debates  in  the  great 
Assembly  which  gave  bounds  and  authority  to 
our  national  government.  In  these  he  will  be 
remembered  by  the  political  student  in  the  li- 
brary, when  the  eye  is  withdrawn  from  the  pub- 
lic acts  of  his  administration. 

He  was  born  March  5  (Old  Style),  1751,  at  the 
house  of  his  maternal  grandmother,  on  the  Rappa- 
hannock river,  in  King  George  county,  Virginia. 
His  home,  and  the  residence  of  his  parents,  was 
at  Montpellier,  in  Orange  county,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Montieello.  His  early  studies  were  under 
the  charge  of  a  Scottish  teacher,  Donald  Robinson, 
and  of  the  Episcopal  minister  of  the  parish,  the 
Rev.  Thomas  Martin.  A  residence  at  the  College 
of  William  and  Mary  being  considered  unhealthy 
for  a  mountaineer,  he  was  sent  to  Princeton, 
where  he  took  his  degree  in  1772,  and  so  secured 
the  respect  of  its  president,  Dr.  Witherspoon,  that 
he  subsequently  remarked  to  Jefferson,  that  in  his 
whole  career  at  the  college  he  had  never  known 
him  say  or  do  an  indiscreet  tiling*  Thus  early 
were  the  prudence  and  purity  of  his  character 
established.  He  remained  with  Witherspoon, 
continuing  his  course  of  reading  under  his  direc- 
tion beyond  the  college  term.  The  two' men 
understood  each  other's  high  qualities.  Madison's 
studies  at  Princeton  injured  his  health  for  some 
years.  He  allowed  at  times  but  three  hours  out 
of  the  twenty-four  to  sleep,  the  rest  was  given 
to  his  books.t  On  Ins  return  to  Virginia  he 
gave  some  attention  to  law.  Political  life,  how- 
ever, was  his  vocation,  lie  gave  the  first  proof 
of  his  advocacy  of  liberty  in  his  efforts  in  behalf 
of  the  Baptist  clergy,  who  fell  under  the  penalties 
of  the  existing  laws  against  the  preaching  of  dis- 
senters from  the  established  Episcopal  Church. 
In  1776  he  was  a  member  of  the  Convention 
which  formed  the  first  constitution  of  Virginia; 
then  in  the  State  Legislature,  and  member  of  the 
Council  of  State,  assisting  Henry  and  Jefferson, 
who  were  then  Governors  of  Virginia;  in  the 
Revolutionary  Congress,  in  1780,  writing  the 
state  papers  to  Jay  in  Spain,  of  instructions  as  to 
the  Right  on  the  Mississippi,  to  the  states  on  the 
payment  due  the  army.  Again,  from  1784-6, 
in  his  State  Legislature,  distinguishing  himself  by 
the  liberality  and  integrity  of  his  views.  In 
1787  he  was  a  delegate  to  the  Convention  which 
formed  the  Constitution,  in  which  he  bore  so 
active  a  part  in  counsel  and  deliberation.  He 
was  unwearied  in  his  attendance  on  this  body : 
and  fully  conscious  of  the  vast  importance  of  all 
its  counsels,  kept  with  the  diligence  of  a  hired 


*  John  Quiney  Adams's  Discourse  on  the  Life  of  Madison. 

t  The  writer  of  a  Memoir  in  the  Democratic  Review,  proba- 
bly its  Editor.  S.  D.  Langtree,  the  publisher  of  the  Madison 
Papers,  draws  this  noticeable  lesson  from  the  early  and  pro- 
tracted ill-health,  with  the  long  life  of  Madison.  "We  learn.'1 
he  says,  "from  good  authority,  that  for  more  than  sixty  years 
he  suffered  from  organic  bodily  irregularity,  which  is  men- 
tioned only  for  the  purpose  of  the  encouraging  reflection,  how 
loni'.  how  cheerful,  and  how  useful  life  may  he,  witli  tolerable 
health,  and  how  much  enjoyment  may  be  had,  notwithstand- 
ing bodily  misfortunes,  which  are  a  constant  source  of  uneasi- 
ness " 


reporter,  ftdl  and  accurate  reports  of  all  its  de- 
bates. These  lie  prepared  for  publication,  and 
left  as  a  legacy  to  his  family  and  his  country. 
In  the  preface,  which  he  himself  wrote  to  the 
manuscript,  he  gives  this  noble  motive  for  the 
vast  labor  encountered  in  the  work : — "  The  curi- 
osity I  had  felt  during  my  researches  into  the 
history  of  the  most  distinguished  confederacies, 
particularly  those  of  antiquity,  and  the  deficiency 
I  found  in  the  means  of  satisfying  it,  more  espe- 
cially in  what  related  to  the  process,  the  princi- 
ples, the  reasons,  and  the  anticipations  which 
prevailed  in  the  formation  of  them,  determined 
me  to  preserve,  as  far  as  I  could,  an  exact  ac- 
count of  what  might  pass  in  the  Convention 
whilst  executing  its  trust,  with  the  magnitude  of 
which  I  was  duly  impressed,  as  I  was  by  the 
gratification  promised  to  future  curiosity  by  an 
authentic  exhibition  of  the  objects,  the  opinions, 
and  the  reasonings  from  which  the  riew  system 
of  government  was  to  receive  its  peculiar  struc- 
ture and  organization.  Nor  was  I  unaware  of 
the  value  of  such  a  contribution  to  the  fund  of 
materials  for  the  history  of  a  Constitution  on 
which  would  be  staked' the  happiness  of  a  people, 
great  even  in  its  infancy,  and  possibly  the  cause 
of  liberty  throughout  the  world."  A  half  cen- 
tury afterwards,  in  18i0,  these  Debates,  with  por- 
tions of  his  Correspondence,  were  published  by 
order  of  Congress,  at  the  instigation  of  a  message 
from  General  Jackson ;  thirty  thousand  dollars 
being  paid  by  Government  to  Mrs.  Madison 
for  the  work.  When  the  result  of  the  debates 
was  brought  before  the  country  for  adoption,  he 
urged  their  acceptance  by  a  powerful  chain  of 
argument,  in  clear  succinct  phrase,  in  conjunction 
with  Hamilton,  in  the  Federalist,  the  labors  of 
the  two  being  sometimes  united  in  the  same  arti- 
cle. The  papers  which  Madison  wrote,  and  in 
which  he  bore  a  part,  twenty-nine  in  number, 
discuss  the  tendencies  of  associated  governments 
to  anarchy  rather  than  despotism,  the  powers 
proposed  to  be  vested  in  the  Union,  the  relations 
of  the  general  with  the  state  authorities,  and  the 
separation  and  mutual  dependence  of  the  forces 
of  the  central  authority.  He  secured  the  Consti- 
tution which  he  thus  urged  upon  the  people,  by 
his  personal  exertions  in  the  convention  of  his 
own  state  for  its  adoption.  When  his  friend 
Jefferson  became  Secretary  of  State,  he  looked 
to  Madison  for  counsel  when  Hamilton  attacked 
his  views  in  his  papers  of  Pacificus  on  Neutrality 
with  France,  securing  the  pen  of  Madison  in 
reply,  in  the  letters  of  Hekidius. 

Becoming  President,  Madison  filled  the  Secre- 
taryship during  his  administration,  succeeding  to 
the  Presidency  itself  in  1809.  On  the  comple- 
tion of  his  second  term  he  withdrew  to  his  home 
in  Virginia,  where,  with  the  exception  of  a  couple 
of  months  while  he  was  engaged  in  the  revision 
of  the  state  constitution  at  Richmond,  and  las 
visits  to  the  University  at  Charlottesville,  where 
he  succeeded  Jefferson  as  Rector,  he  never  after- 
wards went  beyond  the  limits  of  his  county.  He 
passed  his  time  in  the  retirement  of  his  family,  in 
the  pursuits  of  literature  and  the  study  of  natural 
history;  his  native  mildness  of  character  tem- 
pered by  his  chronic  illness,  till  he  expired  calmly, 
June  28,  1836,  at  the  advanced  age,  for  a  life- 
long invalid,  of  eighty-five.     Shortly  before  his 


32i 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


death,  as  if  to  gather  up  the  great  constitutional 
lessons  of  his  life,  he  penned  these  sentences  of 
advice  to  his  countrymen : — "  The  advice  nearest 
to  my  heart  and  dearest  to  my  convictions  is, 
that  the  Union  of  the  States  he  cherished  and 
perpetuated.  Let  the  avowed  enemy  to  it  be  re- 
garded as  a  Pandora  with  her  box  opened,  and 
the  disguised  one  as  the  serpent,  creeping  with 
deadly  wiles  into  Paradise."* 

JOHN  LEDYARD. 

JonN  Ledtard,  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
of  travellers,  was  born  within  a  few  hundred 
yards  of  Fort  Griswold,  at  Groton,  Connecticut, 
in  1751.  He  was  the  eldest  son  of  a  sea-captain, 
who  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  leaving  a  wi- 
dow and  four  children.  Soon  after  the  father's 
death,  the  deed  of  the  small  family  estate  at  Gro- 
ton disappeared,  and  the  property  reverted  to  the 
former  owner,  the  father  of  the  deceased.  In  con- 
sequence of  this,  the  widow  repaired  with  her 
children  to  her  father's  residence  at  Southold, 
where  she  married  a  few  years  after,  Dr.  Moore 
of  that  place.  John  was  removed,  after  this  event, 
to  Hartford,  where  he  became  an  inmate  of  his 
grandfather's  family.  He  attended  school,  and  at 
first  studied  law  ;  but  abandoning  that  profession, 
at  the  age  of  nineteen  accepted  the  invitation  of 
Dr.  Wheelock,  an  intimate  friend  of  his  grand- 
father, who  died  shortly  before,  this  time,  to  enter 
Dartmouth  College,  and  determined  to  fit  himself 
for  a  missionary  life  among  the  Indians. 

The  college  had  been  established  but  two  years 
before  at  Hanover — a  place  yet  surrounded  by 
the  "  forest  primaeval."  Ledyard  brought  with 
him  a  quantity  of  calico  and  other  articles  de- 
signed for  use  in  theatrical  representations,  to 
which  he  seems  to  have  been  very  partial. 
A  stage  was  fitted  up,  on  which  he  performed 
Syphax  in  the  tragedy  of  Cato.  College  life, 
however,  even  with  the  aid  of  these  amusements, 
proved  too  monotonous  for  his  taste ;  and  at  the 
expiration  of  four  months  he  disappeared,  and 
wandered  among  the  Indians,  visiting  the  Six  Na- 
tions, to  the  borders  of  Canada.  During  his  ab- 
sence of  three  and  a  half  months,  he  acquired  a 
familiarity  witli  the  language  and  habits  of  this 
people  which  were  of  great  service  to  him  in  his 
future  travels.  He  returned  to  college  and  quiet- 
ly resumed  his  studies;  in  the  depth  of  the  follow- 
ing winter  he  led  a  part)7  of  his  fellow  students 
through  an  untracked  route  to  the  summit  of  a 
neighboring  mountain,  where  they  passed  the 
night,  returning  next  day. 

He  seems  to  have  gradually  abandoned  a  mis- 
sionary life  ;  and  after  passing  a  few  months 
more  at  college,  determined  to  depart.  "With  the 
aid  of  some  of  his  friends,  he  cut  down  a  large 
tree,  from  which  they  fashioned  a  canoe  three 
feet  wide  and  fifty  long.  On  its  completion,  it 
was  launched  in  the  Connecticut;  and  Ledyard, 
having  equipped  himself  with  a  bearskin  and  pro- 
visions, started  to  descend  a  river,  of  which  he 
knew  little  or  nothing  beyond  its  general  course. 
He  floated  along  witli  the  stream,  stopping  only 
at  night,  and  was  busily  engaged  in  reading  one 


*  Art.  Madison.  Enc.  Amer.  Ait.  Madisnn  and  the  Madison 
Papers.  Dem.  Review,  Mareh,  1S39.  Benton's  Thirty  Years 
in  U.  S.  Senate,  i.  078. 


of  the  two  books,  the  Greek  Testament  and  Ovid, 
he  had  provided  himself  with,  when  he  was  arous- 
ed by  the  sound  of  the  rushing  water  at  Bellows' 
Falls.  ■  He  narrowly  escaped  destruction,  but  suc- 
ceeded in  pushing  his  canoe  to  the  shore,  where 
it  was  drawn  round  to  the  stream  below  by  the 
oxen  of  the  neighbors,  who  naturally  took  an  in- 
terest in  his  adventurous  course.  He  soon  after 
astonished  his  friends  by  appearing  at  Hartford, 
having  accomplished  his  dangerous  voyage  in  safe- 
ty. A  correspondence  followed  with  Dr.  Whee- 
lock, who  was  justly  displeased  with  his  pupil's 
vagaries.  Ledyard  adhered  to  his  intention  of 
studying  theology;  and  after  a  consultation  with 
the  neighboring  clergy,  went  to  East  Hampton, 
where  he  passed  a  month  "  with  intense  applica- 
tion to  study"*  under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Buell,  a  clergyman  in  high  repute  as  a  scholar  and 
orator;  and  afterwards  travelled  through  Long 
Island.*  He  finally  presented  himself  as  a  candi- 
date for  ordination,  and  was  rejected.  He  was 
disheartened  for  a  short  time,  but  soon  after  en- 
tered on  a  career  for  which  he  was  much  better 
fitted  by  nature,  embarking  as  a  sailor  at  New 
London  in  a  vessel  bound  to  Gibraltar.  He  was 
missed  on  arriving  at  that  port,  and  on  inquiry 
being  made,  found  in  full  uniform  in  the  ranks  of 
the  British  garrison.  On  being  remonstrated 
with,  he  consented  to  return  if  his  release  could 
be  procured.  This  was  granted  by  the  command- 
ing officer,  and  Ledyard  rejoined  his  ship.  The 
vessel  touched  at  Barbary  for  a  cargo  of  mules, 
and  returned  home  by  way  of  the  West  Indies 
about  a  year  after  her  departure. 

His  next  enterprise  was  to  visit  England  in  quest . 
of  certain  wealthy  relatives.  He  found  the  fami- 
ly name  oh  a  carriage,  and  made  his  way  to  its 
owner's  residence,  lie  was  received  by  a  son  of 
this  gentleman  with  some  distrust,  as  the  latter 
had  never  heard  of  any  American  kinsmen.  Led- 
yard's  pride  was  hurt,  and  though  afterwards  in- 
vited by  the  father,  he  would  not  avail  himself  of 
any  proffered  kindness. 

Again  disappointed,  lie  looked  about  him  for 
employment;  and  joined  the  expedition  which 
was  fitting  out  by  Captain  Cook,  for  his  third 
voyage.  He  entered  the  marine  service,  and  was 
appointed  by  Cook  a  corporal.  In  this  humble 
situation  he  accompanied  the  celebrated  expedi- 
tion, whose  movements  are  weil  known  from  the 
widespread  popularity  of  the  "  Voyages"  which 
bear  the  name  of  its  commander. 

Ledyard  passed  two  years  in  England  after  the 
return  of  the  expedition,  and  then  returned  in  a 
British  man-of-war  to  Huntington  Bay,  Long 
Island  Sound.  He  obtained  seven  days'  leave  of 
absence,  and  proceeded  to  Southold,  where  he  met 
his  mother. 

"  She  kept,"  says  his  biographer,  Sparks,  "  a 
boarding-house,  which  was  at  that  time  occupied 
chiefly  by  British  officers.  He  rode  up  to  the 
door,  alighted,  went  in,  and  asked  if  he  could  be 
accommodated  in  her  house  as  a  lodger.  She  re- 
plied that,  he  could,  and  showed  him  a  room  into 
which  his  baggage  was  conveyed.  After  having 
adjusted  his  dress,  he  came  out  and  took  a  seat  by 
the  fire,  in  company  with  several  other  officers. 


*  Letter  by  Ledyard,  quoted  by  Sparks,  Life,  p.  24. 


JOHN"  LEDYARD. 


325 


without  making  himself  known  to  his  mother,  or 
entering  into  conversation  with  .any  person.  She 
frequently  passed  and  repassed  through  the  room, 
and  her  eye  was  observed  to  be  attracted  towards 
him  with  more  than  usual  attention.  He  still 
remained  silent.  At  last,  after  looking  at  him 
steadily  for  some  minutes,  she  deliberately  put  on 
her  spectacles,  approached  nearer  to  him,  begging 
his  pardon  for  her  rudeness,  and  telling  him  that 
he  so  much  resembled  a  son  of  hers,  who  had  been 
absent  eight  years,  that  she  could  not  resist  her 
inclination  to  view  him  more  closely.  The  scene 
that  followed  may  be  imagined  but  not  describ- 
ed; for  Ledyard  had  a  tender  heart,  and  affection 
for  his  mother  was  among  its  deepest  and  most 
constant  emotions." 

From  Southold  he  removed  to  his  old  residence 
with  his  uncle  at  Hartford,  having  taken  an  un- 
ceremonious leave  of  the  royal  navy.  Here  he 
prepared  for  the  press  his  narrative  of  Cook's 
Third  Voyage,*  availing  himself  freely  of  the 
brief  official  account  which  had  appeared  in 
England,  in  advance  of  the  full  reports. 

He  soon  after  visited  Philadelphia,  where  ho 
endeavored  to  set  on  foot  a  trading  expedition 
to  the  North  Pacific  coait  of  America.  He  had 
touched  at  this  region  in  his  late  expedition,  and 
become  convinced  of  its  advantages.  His  plan 
was  listened  to  with  favor  by  Robert  Morris,  and 
a  ship  engaged  for  the  purpose,  but  obstacles 
intervened.  Morris  finally  lost  patience,  and 
Ledyard  went  to  Paris  in  the  hope  of  there 
accomplishing  his  plans.  He  crossed  to  Cadi? 
and  thence  made  his  way  to  Brest,  'and  by  land 
to  L'Orient,  where  he  passed  the  winter,  the  mer- 
chants of  the  place  promising  to  fit  out  an  expedi- 
tion in  the  spring.  When  the  time  came  they 
failed  to  do  so,  and  Ledyard  went  to  Paris.  Here 
he  mat  Jefferson,  who  took  a  great  interest  in  his 
project,  foreseeing  its  ultimata  importance  to  the 
United  States.  Paul  Jones  also  favored  the 
scheme,  and  a  plan  was  arranged  by  winch  that 
gallant  officer  was  to  be  placed  in  command  of 
two  vessels  to  proceed  to  the  coast,  which  at  that 
time  had  been  visited  only  by  Cook's  expedition 
and  by  the  Russians,  who  had  established  a  few 
slight  trading  posts  on  the  adjacent  islands.  The 
Vessels  were  to  collect  furs,  to  be  exchanged  for 
silks  and  teas  in  China,  and  return  home  by  the 
Caoe  of  Good  Hope,  Ledyard  being  left  on  the 
Pacific  to  establish  a  trading  depot,  and  eventually 
to  return  home  across  the  continent.  The  plan 
was  not  attempted,  and  in  pursuance  of  the  same 
idea  he  projected  an  overland  journey  through 
the  north  of  Europe  and  Asia  to  Behring's  Straits.t 


*  Journal  of  Capt.  Cook's  last  vovage.  faithfully  narrated 
from  the  original  manuscript  of  Mr.  John  Ledyard.  Hartford, 
17&3. 

tin  his  autobiography,  Jefferson  speaks  of  Ledyard  as  "a 
man  of  senilis,  of  some  science,  and  of  fearless  courage  and 
enterprise."  and  says  that  after  his  failure  to  carry  through  his 
scheme  of  a  trading  voyage  to  the  North  Pacific,  he  sug- 
gested to  him  an  overland  journey  through  Siberia  to  Beh- 
rings  Straits,  and  thence  across  the  continent  to  the  United 
Stat-s.  He  gave  Ledvard  a  letter  of  introduction  to  La  Fay- 
ette, dated  Paris,  Feb.  9.  1780,  in  which  he  says:— 

"He  accompanied  Captain  Cook  in  his  list  vovage  to  the 
northwestern  parts  of  America,  and  rendered  hifnseif  nseful 
to  tint  officer  on  some  occasions  bv  a  spirit  of  enterprise 
which  has  distinguished  his  whole  life.  He  has  genius  and 
education  better  than  the  common,  and  a  talent  for  useful  and 
interesting  observation.  I  believe  him  to  be  an  honest  man, 
and  a  man  of  truth.  To  all  this  he  adds  just  as  much  singular- 
ity of  character,  and  of  that  particular  kind  too,  as  was  neces. 


After  long  and  wearisome  delays  he  was  enabled 
,  by  a  subscription  obtained  in  London  by  the  aid 
of  Sir  Joseph  Banks  and  other  friends,  to  start  on 
this  journey.  He  crossed  from  London  to  Ham- 
burgh in  December,  next,  visited  Copenhagen, 
where  he  shared  his  remaining  funds  with  a  Ma- 
jor Lnnghorn,  a  countryman,  whom  he  endea- 
voured to  induce  to  join  him  in  his  Siberian  tour. 
Disappointed  in  this,  the  Major  remarking,  "I 
esteem  yon,  but  I  can  travel  in  the  way  I  do, 
with  no  man  on  earth,"*  Ledyard  started  off 
alone,  and  made  his  way  round  the  Gulf  of  Bothnia 
on  foot,  the  state  of  the  ice  rendering  it  impossi- 
ble to  pass  over  in  sledges  or  force- a  passage  in  a 
boat.  He  arrived  at  St.  Petersburg  seven  weeks 
after  leaving  Stockholm.  Here  lie  waited  for 
some  time  for  a  passport.  The  Empress  Catha- 
rine was  absent  on  her  magnificent  progress 
through  her  dominions,  and  the  traveller's  peti- 
tion seems  never  to  have  been  presented  to  bot- 
hy the  French  ambassador  to  whom  it  was  in- 
trusted. The  document  was  finally  obtained  and 
Ledyard  departed.  He  travelled  to  Moscow,  and 
thence  to  Kazan,  Tobolsk,  and  Barnaoul,  a  dis- 
tance of  three  thousand  miles,  in  company  with  a 
Scotch  physician  in  the  employ  of  the  Empress. 
From  thence  he  proceeded  with  the  mail  courier 
to  Irkutsk.  Here  he  embarked  with  a  Swedish 
lieutenant  on  a  voyage  of  fourteen  hundred  miles 
down  the  river  Lena  to  Yakutsk,  their  boat  being 
propelled  by  the  current  at  the  rate  of  eighty  to  a 
hundred  miles  a  day.  He  arrived  at  Yakutsk  on 
the  18th  of  September,  where  he  endeavored  to 
obtain  permission  to  push  forward  to  Okotsk,  but 
this  was  refused  on  the  plea  that  the  season  was 
too  far  advanced.  His  journal  at  this  period  con- 
tains the  following  passage : — 

"  What,  alas,  shall  I  do,  for  I  am  miserably  pre- 
pared for  this  unlocked  for  delay.  By  remaining 
here  through  the  winter,  I  cannot  expect  to  resume 
my  march  u.itil  May,  winch  will  be  eight  months. 
My  funds !  I  have  but  two  long  frozen  stages  more, 
and  I  shall  be  beyond  the  want,  or  aid  of  money, 
until,  emerging  from  the  deep  deserts,  I  gain  the 
American  Atlantic  States;  and  then,  thy  glowing 
climates,  Africa,  explored,  I  will  lay  me  down,  and 
claim  my  little  portion  of  the  globe  I  have  viewed; 
may  it  not  be  before.  How  many  of  the  noble- 
minded  have  been  subsidiary  to  me,  or  to  my  enter- 
prises ;  yet  that  meagre  demon,  Poverty,  lias  tra- 
velled with  me  hand  in  hand  over  half  the  globe, 
and  witnessed  what — the  tale  I  will  not  unfold! 
Ye  children  of  wealth  and  idleness,  what  a  profitable 
I  commerce  might  be  made  between  us.  A  little  of 
my  toil  might  better  brace  your  bodies,  give  spring 
to  mind  and  zest  to  enjoyment ;  and  a  very  little  of 
that  wealth,  which  you  scatter  around  you,  would 
put  it  beyond  the  powrer  of  anything  but  death  to 
oppose  my  kindred  greetings  with  all  on  earth,  that 
bear  the  stamp  of  man.  This  is  the  third  time,  that 
I  have  been  overtaken  and  arrested  by  winter ;  and 


Fary  to  make  him  undertake  the  journey  he  proposes.  Should 
he  got  safe  through  it.  I  think'  he  will  give  an  interesting 
account  of  what  be  shall  have  seen." 

*  Lanchorn  seems  to  have  had  a  passion  for  travelling  in  out 
of  the  way  parts  of  the  world.  After  parting  with  Ledyard  ho 
wandered  over  Sweden,  Norway,  and  Lapland.  Accrbi,  in 
1799,  found  the  following  entry  in  the  travellers'  book  at 
Tornea,  which  then  contained  but  seven  names — ''Justice  bids 
me  record  thv  hospitable  fame,  and  testify  It  by  my  name. 
W.  Lanfrtiorn,  United  States,  July  23.  1787.''  Acerbi  says  ho 
travelled  on  foot  from  Norway  to  Archangel. — Sparks's  Lifo  of 
Ledyard,  183. 


326 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


both  the  others,  by  giving  time  for  my  evil  genius  I 
to  rally  his  hosts  about  me,  have  defeated  the  enter-  j 
prise.  Fortune,  thou  hast  humbled  me  at  last,  for  I 
am  this  moment  the  slave  of  cowardly  solicitude, 
lest  in  the  heart  of  this  dread  winter,  there  lurk  the 
seeds  of  disappointment  to  uiy  ardent  desire  of  gain- 
ing the  opposite  continent.     But  t  submit." 

To  avail  himself  of  a  companion,  Captain  Bil- 
lings, employed  by  the  Russian  government  on  an 
exploration  of  the  Pacific  coast,  for  his  voyage  in  , 
the  spring,  he  returned  with  that  gentleman  to 
Irkutsk,  the  journey  being  made  on  the  frozen 
surface  of  the  river.  Here  on  the  24-th  of  Febru- 
ar}',  he  was  arrested  and  immediately  hurried 
pack  over  the  long  route  which  lie  had  travelled, 
to  Moscow,  where  he  was  examined  on  the  pre-  ! 
text  that  he  was  a  French  spy.  He  was  forward- 
ed on  to  the  frontier  of  Poland,  where  his  guards 
took  their  leave  with  an  intimation  that  if  he 
again  set  foot  on  Russian  territory  he  would  be 
hanged. 

He  drew  a  small  draft  on  his  friend  Sir  Joseph 
Banks,  and  was  thus  enabled  to  reach  London, 
where  he  called  on  Bank1;,  from  whom  he  learned 
that  the  "African  Association,"  formed  for  the 
exploration  of  that  country,  were  desirous  of 
sending  a  traveller  on  a  tour  of  discovery.  Banks 
gave  him  a  letter  to  the  secretary  of  the  company, 
to  whom  Ledyard  expressed  his  great  desire  to 
receive  the  proposed  appointment.  On  being 
asked  when  he  would  set  out,  he  replied,  "  To- 
morrow." 

He  was  equipped  in  a  few  weeks,  and  for  the 
first  time  properly  backed  by  friends  at  home  and 
provided  with  means,  set  forth.  He  proceeded  to 
Cairo,  and  was  just  about  starting  on  the  adven- 
turous portion  of  his  journey  when  he  was  at- 
tacked by  a  bilious  complaint,  caused  by  exposure 
to  the  sun.  He  took  a  large  and,  as  it  proved, 
over  dose  of  vitriolic  acid  to  remove  the  disorder. 
An  antidote  was  administered,  but  without  effect, 
and  he  soon  breathed  his  last,  in  November,  1788. 

Ledyard  kept  a  brief  journal  of  a  portion  of  his 
travels.  Extracts  from  this  and  from  Ids  letters 
to  Jefferson  and  others,  forming  with  his  account 
of  Cook's  voyage  the  whole  of  his  literary  pro- 
ductions, are  given  in  the  Life  published  by  Jared 
Sparks  in  1S2S* 

The  short  passage  which  has  done  most  for  the 
popular  reputation  of  Ledyard,  his  eulogy  on 
woman,  occurs  in  his  Siberian  journal,  and  was 
first  published  in  a  eulogy  printed  in  the  Transac- 
tions of  the  African  Society,  by  Mr.  Beaufoy,  the 
secretary,  shortly  after  Ledyard's  death. 

"  I  have  observed  among  all  nations,  that  the  wo- 
men ornament  themselves  more  than  the  men ;  that, 
wherever  found,  they  are  the  same  kind,  civil,  oblig- 
ing, humane,  tender  beings;  that  they  are  ever  in- 
clined to  be  gay  and  cheerful,  timorous  and  modest. 
They  do  not  hesitate,  like  man,  to  perform  a  hospi- 
table or  generous  action  :  not  haughty,  nor  arrogant, 


*  An  advertisement  in  Freneau's  Time-Piece,  New  York, 
March  16, 17''?,  announces  a  contemplated  publication  of  "  The 
Interesting  Travels  of  John  Ledyard,  with  a  summary  of  his 
Life,''  and  proposes  a  subscription.  The  Ltproposals"  state  that 
the  work  is  to  be  printed  on  fine  paper,  "With  a  full  length 
portrait  of  the  Author,  in  the  attitude  of  taking  leave,  on 
his  departure  for  Africa,"  that  it  was  to  form  a  volume  of  from 
four  to  five  hundred  pages,  and  the  price  to  subscribers  to  be 
two  dollars  a  volume.    No  publisher's  name  is  appended. 


nor  supercilious,  but  full  of  courtesy  and  fond  of  so- 
ciety ;  industrious,  economical,  ingenuous  ;  more 
liable  in  general  to  err  than  man,  but  in  general,  also, 
more  virtuous,  and  performing  more  good  actions 
than  he.  I  never  addressed  myself  in  the  laLguage 
of  decency  and  friendship  to  a  woman,  whether  civi- 
lized or  savage,  without  receiving  a  decent  and 
friendly  answer.  With  man  it  has  often  been  other- 
wise. In  wandering  over  the  barren  plains  of  inhos- 
pitable Denmark,  through  honest  Sweden,  fiozen 
Lapland,  rude  and  churlish  Finland,  unprincipled 
Russia,  and  the  wide-spread  regions  of  the  wander- 
ing Tartar,  if  hungry,  dry,  cold,  wet,  or  sick,  wo- 
man has  ever  been  friendly  to  me,  and  uniformly -so ; 
and  to  add  to  this  virtue,  so  worthy  of  the  appella- 
tion  of  benevolence,  these  actions  have  been  per- 
formed in  so  free  and  so  kind  a  manner,  that,  if  I  wa» 
dry,  I  drank  the  sweet  draught,  and,  if  hungry,  ate 
the  coarse  morsel,  with  a  double  relish." 

WILLIAM    LINN. 

The  grandfather  of  the  Rev.  William  Linn  was 
an  emigrant  from  Ireland,  who  built  himself  a 
cabin  near  Shippensburgh,  Pennsylvania,  and 
lived  there  in  the  wilderness,  to  the  extraordinary 
age  of  over  one  hundred  V'ears.  The  eldest  son 
of  the  eldest  son  of  this  veteran  was  born  in  1752. 
At  an  early  age  he  married  the  third  daughter  of 
the  Rev.  John  Blair  ;  he  was  graduated  at  the  col- 
lege of  New  Jersey  in  1772,  and  was  ordained  a 
Presbyterian  minister,  officiating  during  the  Re- 
volutionary War  as  a  chaplain  of  the  American 
army.  Soon  after  the  peace  he  joined  the  Dutch 
Reformed  denomination,  and  became  one  of  the 
ministers  of  the  Collegiate  churches  in  the  city 


of  New  York.  He  enjoyed  a  high  reputation  as 
a  pulriit  orator.  Y\"ansey,  an  English  traveller, 
who  visited  New  York  in  1794,  speaks  of  going 
to  hear  him  preach  on  a  Sunday  afternoon,  as 
one  of  the  noteworthy  occurrences  of  his  visit. 
He  describes  the  sermon  as  extempore,  but  the 
clergyman  probably  pursued  on  the  occasion 
his  usual  method  of  committing  his  discourse  to 
memory,  and  repeating  it  without  having  the 
manuscript  before  him.  His  delivery  was  very 
emphatic,  and  his  gesticulation  often  violent.  He 
was  in  great  demand  on  charitable  and  public 
occasions,  and  a  number  of  his  sermons  of  this 
description  were  printed.  In  addition  to  these, 
he  published,  in  1791,  a  volume  of  Discourses  on 
the  leading  jicrsonages  of  Scripture  History  ;  and 
in  1794,  a  series  on  The  Signs  of  the  Times,  the 
delivery  of  which  had  excited  great  interest  and 
much  opposition  among  a  certain  class,  owing  to 
the  strong  ground  taken  in  them  in  favor  of  the 
French  Revolution,  a  movement  of  which  the 
Doctor  was  a  warm  partisan,  until  it  became 
identified  with  infidelity  and  anarchy.  His  ser- 
mon on  the  blessings  of  America,  before  the 
Tammany  Society,  preached  in  the  Middle  Dutch 
Church,  on  the  4th  of  July,  1791,  expresses  the 
same  views.  In  it,  after  claiming  with  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson, that  "  making  due  allowance  for  our  age 
and  numbers,  we  have  produced  as  many  emi- 


PHILIP  FIIENEAU. 


327 


nent  men  as  fall  to  our  share ;"  and  invoking  the 
patriotism  of  the  country,  he  plunges  into  an 
attack  on  the  foes  of  liberty,  Edmund  Burke  in 
particular,  and  a  glorification  of  the  French  Re- 
volution. "  May  we  not  indulge  the  pleasing 
thought,  that  the  time  is  not  far  distant,  when 
tyranny  everywhere  shall  be  destroyed;  when 
mankind  shall  be  the  slaves  of  monsters  and 
idiots  no  more,  but  recover  the  true  dignity  of 
their  nature !  The  cause  of  liberty  is  continually 
gathering  strength.  The  advocates  of  despotic 
rule  must  fail.  The  British  orator,  though  he 
sublimely  rave,  he  raves  in  vain.  No  force  of 
getaus,  no  brilliancy  of  fancy,  and  no  ornament 
of  language  can  support  his  wretched  cause.  He 
and  his  abettors  only  hasten  its  downfall.  The 
Revolution  in  France  is  great,  is  astonishing,  is 
glorious.  It  is,  perhaps,  not  just  to  say,  that 
the  iiame  was  kindled  by  us,  but  certainly  we 
continued  to  blow  and  increase  it,  as  France  will 
in  other  nations,  until  blaze  joining  blaze,  shall 
illumine  the  darkest  and  remotest  corners  of  the 
earth."  On  the  same  occasion  an  ode  was  sung, 
composed  by  Dr.  William  Pitt  Smith,  with  the 
line — 

To  God,  Columbia's  King,  we  homage  pay. 

In  his  preface  to  his  Sermon  on  National  Sins, 
delivered  May  9,  1798,  the  day  recommended  by 
the  President  of  the  United  States  to  be  observed 
as  a  day  of  General  Fast  (T.  &  J.  Swords,  1798), 
he  says  of  his  sermons  on  the  "  Signs  of  the 
Times  :" — ■"  If,  in  prosecuting  my  main  object,  I 
expressed  sanguine  expectations  from  the  Revolu- 
tion in  France,  both  as  to  herself  and  to  the 
world,  thousands  in  all  countries,  at  the  time, 
entertained  the  same,  and  have  been  equally  dis- 
appointed. If  the  French  nation  have  departed 
from  their  original  principles,  I  am  not  obliged  to 
follow  them.  I  will  be  no  advocate  for  enor- 
mities unequalled  in  the  annals  of  mankind ; 
for  principles  which  subvert  all  religion,  morality, 
and  order,  and  which  threaten  to  involve  us, 
with  the  whole  human  race,  in  the  utmost  con- 
fusion and  misery." 

His  Funeral  Sermon  on  the  Death  of  "Wash- 
ington was  printed  in  1800.  He  was  shortly 
after  compelled  to  give  up  his  clerical  charge  in 
consequence  of  ill  health,  and  retired  to  Albany, 
where  he  died  in  January,  1808,  in  the  fifty-fifth 
year  of  his  age.  His  sermons  are  plainly  written, 
tut  concise,  and  often  forcible  in  expression.  He 
left  a  daughter,  who  gave  indications  of  poetical 
ability,  but  died  at  an  early  age.  Another 
daughter  married  Charles  Brockden  Brown,  and 
a  third  Simeon  De  Witt. 

WASHINGTON.* 

"There  was  in  him  that  assemblage  of  qualities 
which  constitutes  real  greatness ;  and  these  qualities 
were  remarkably  adapted  to  the  conspicuous  part 
which  he  was  called  to  perform.  He  was  not  tinsel, 
but  gold ;  not  a  pebble,  but  a  diamond ;  not  a  me- 
teor, but  a  sun.     Were  he  compared  with  the  sages 


*From  a Funeral  Eulogy,  occasioned  by  the  death  oi'  General 
Washington,  delivered  February  22d,  1800.  before  the  New 
York  State  Society  of  the  Cincinnati.  Bv  William  Linn,  D.D. 
New  York:  Muted  by  Isaac  Collins,  No.  189  Pearl  street. 
pp.  44. 


and  the  Neroes  of  antiquity,  he  would  gain  by  the 
comparison,  or  rather,  he  would  be  found  to  be  free 
from  the  blemishes,  and  to  unite  the  excellencies  of 
them  all.  Like  Fabius,  he  was  prudent ;  like  Han- 
nibal, he  was  unappalled  by  difficulties ;  like  Cyrus, 
he  conciliated  affection  ;  like  Cimon,  he  was  frugal ; 
like  Philopemon,  he  was  humble ;  and  like  Pompey, 
he  was  successful.  If  we  compare  him  with  charac- 
ters in  the  Sacred  Records,  he  combined  the  exploits 
of  Moses  and  Joshua,  not  only  by  conducting  us 
safely  across  the  Red  Sea,  and  through  the  wilder- 
ness, but  by  bringing  us  into  the  promised  land  ; 
like  David,  he  conquered  an  insulting  Goliath,  and 
rose  to  the  highest  honors  from  an  humble  station; 
like  Hezekiah  he  ruled  ;  and  like  Josiah  at  his  death, 
there  is  a  mourning  "  as  the  mourning  of  Hadad- 
ritnmon,  in  the  valley  of  Megiddon."  Nor  is  the 
mourning  confined  to  us,  but  extends  to  all  the  wise 
and  good  who  ever  heard  of  his  name.  The  Gene- 
rals whom  he  opposed  will  wrap  their  hilts  in  black, 
and  stern  Cornwallis  drop  a  tear. 

He  was  honored  even  in  death.  After  all  his  fa- 
tigues, and  though  he  had  arrived  near  to  the  limit 
fixed  for  human  life,  yet  his  understanding  was  not 
impaired,  nor  his  frame  wasted  by  any  lingering 
disease.  We  did  not  hear  of  his  siekuess  until  we 
heard  that  he  was  no  more. 

PHILIP  FF.ENEATJ. 

Freneac,  the  popular  political  versifier  of  the 
days  of  the  Revolution,  the  newspaper  advocate 
of  the  republican  party  afterwards,  and  a  true 
poet  in  Iris  best  moments,  was  born  in  New  York, 
in  Frankfort  street,  Jan.  2,  1752,  of  a  family 
which  hud  emigrated  from  France  on  the  Revo- 
cation of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  His  ancestors  bad 
been  among  the  founders  of  the  St.  Esprit  Church, 
in  Pine  street,  New  York.  The  house  from  which 
his  grandfather  was  buried,  was  formerly  pointed 
out  in  Hanover  square*  In  1771,  we  find  Philip 
Freneau  a  graduate  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey, 
in  the  same  class  with  Madison,  the  future  Presi- 
dent, with  whom  ho  was  on  terms  of  close  inti- 
macy, and  associated  with  Brackenridge  iD  the 
composition  and  delivery  of  a  Commencement 
poem  on  the  Mining  (flory  of  America^  Freneau's 
portion  of  which  is  included  in  two  of  the  editions 
of  his  writings.  It  is  animated  and  vigorous  in 
description  and  sentiment.  A  line  in  his  picture 
of  a  supposed  settlement  of  the  western  conti- 
nent by  a  stray  ship  of  the  Carthaginians,  is 
poetic : — 

In  the  course  of  long  revolving  yeai'9 

A  numerous  progeny  from  these  arose, 

And  spread  throughout  the  coasts — those  whom  we 

call 
Brazibans,  Mexicans,  Peruvians  rich, 
The  tribes  of  Chili,  I'atagon,  and  those 
Who  till  the  shores  of  Amazons  long  stream. 

There  is  a  pleasing  sketch  of  rural  life  in  this 
production,  with  other  proof  that  though  a  youth- 
ful poem,  it  contained  something  more  than  the 
required  declamation  for  the  hour. 

We  next  hear  of  Freneau  as  a  victim  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  taken  pri- 
soner by  the  British,  and  condemned  to  the  bar- 
barities of  the  prison-ship  at  New  York,  a  treat- 


*  A  brief  notice  of  Frencan,  attributed  to  John  Pintard,  in 
the  New  York  Mirror,  Jan.  12, 1S33. 
t  Ante,  p.  2S9. 


328 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


merit  -which  he  did  not  forget  in  his  Cantos  from 
a  Prison- Ship.  These  are  dated  in  1780,  and 
celebrate  his  capture  on  the  coast  of  Delaware,  in 
a  vessel,  gallantly  described,  in  which  he  was 
sailing  to  St.  Eustatia,  by  a  British  frigate,  which 
carried  him  to  NeW  York.*  Here  he  speedily 
made  the  intimate  acquaintanceship  of  the  Scor- 
pion, moored  on  the  Hudson,  whose  "mountain 
stream''  sent  no  cooling  breath  to  the  victims  in 
their  ghastly  dungeons. 

O'er  distant  streams  appenrs  the  dewy  green, 
And  leafy  trees  on  mountain  tops  are  seen, 
But  they  no  groves  nor  grassy  mountains  tread, 
Mark'd  for  a  longer  journey  to  the  dead. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  island  was  stationed 
the  Hunter  hospital  ship,  "  a  slaughter-house, 
yet  hospital  in  name,"  where  a  Hessian  doctor, 
remarkable  for  his  stupidity,  visited  the  fever- 
stricken  prisoners. 

Some  with  his  pills  he  sent  to  Pluto's  reign, 
And  some  he  blister' d  with  his  flies  of  Spain  ; 

On  our  lost  comrades  built  his  future  fame, 
And  scatter'd  fate  where'er  his  footsteps  came. 

"When  the  merciful  angel  death  came,  the  pri- 
soners were  buried  on  the  shore,  and  the  poet 
invokes  the  tenderness  of  posterity  for  their 
graves;  an  appeal  not  now  out  of  place,  when 
"sapient  trouble-tombs"  would  remove  the  fine 
monument  erecting  in  memory  of  these  things 
on  Broadway,  in  the  grave-yard  of  Trinity,  where 
others  of  these  unfortunates  lie  buried. 

When  to  your  arms  these  fatal  islands  fall 
(For  first,  or  last,  they  must  be  conquei'd  all), 
Americans!  to  rites  sepulchral  just, 
With  gentlest  footstep  press  this  kindred  dust, 
And  o'er  the  tombs,  if  tombs  can  then  be  found, 
Place  the  green  turf,  and  plant  the  myrtle  round. 

Some  of  Freneau's  poems,  according  to  the  title- 

Sage  of  the  octavo  edition,  which  he  printed  at 
lonmouth,  N.  J.,  were  written  as  early  as  1768, 
when  he  was  in  his  seventeenth  year.  The  Poeti- 
cal History  of  the  Prophet  Jonah,  written  with 
propriety  and  spirit,  and  the  humorous  tale  of 
The  Village  Merchant,  bear  that  date.  At  what 
time  and  In  what  way  Freneau  escaped  from  the 
prison-ship,  we  are  not  informed ;  hut.  we  may 
gather  some  of  his  subsequent  movements  from 
the  dates  of  his  poems  and  essays. 


His  prose  sketches,  The  Philosopher  of  the 
Forest,  were  first  printed  in  the  Freernan^s  Jour- 
nal of  Philadelphia,  in  November,  1781. 


In  1782,  he  pens  at  Philadelphia  A  Discourse 
on  Esquires,  with  a  short  Narrative  of  his  Honor 


*  The  British  Prison-Ship,  a  Poem,  in  four  Cartos,  viz.: — 
Canto  1.  The  Capture.  2.  The  Prison-ship.  3.  The  Prison- 
Ship  continued.  4.  The  Hospital  Pn'son-Shiii — to  which  is 
added  a  Poem  on  the  Death  of  Capt.  K.  Biddle.  Phila.:  F. 
Bailey.    17S1. 


the  President  of  the  Bebtors1  Club,  one  of  his 
prose  essays.  In  1784,  we  have  Lines  Written 
at  Port  Royal,  in  the  Island  of  Jamaica,  and 
the  next  year  some  verses,  The  Departure,  in 
which  he  takes  leave  of  the  Hudson  for  a  sea 
voyage,  from  which  we  may  infer  that  he  had 
already  some  pretensions  to  the  title  of  Captain, 
by  which  he  was  generally  known  in  his  later 
days.  His  Journey  from  Philadelphia  to  New 
York  ly  way  of  Burlington  and  South  An.loy, 
written  in  verse,  shows  an  intimate  acquaintance 
with  nautical  slang.  His  New  Year's  Verses, 
written  for  the  Carriers  of  the  Columbian  Herald; 
are  dated  Charleston,  Jan.,  1786.  At  one  time 
Philip  Freneau  commanded  a  vessel  sailing  out  of 
that  port. 

The  first  edition  of  Freneau's  poems  was  in  i 
Philadelphia  in  1786,  The  Poems  of  Philip  Fre- 
neau, written  chiefly  during  the  lute  War:  It  is 
very  neatly  printed,  in  a  single  duodecimo  volume. 
In  1788,  a  second  volume  followed,  The  Miscel- 
laneous Worls  of  Mr.  Philip  Freneau,  contain- 
ing his  Essays  and  Additional  Poems,  Philadel- 
phia, printed  by  Francis  Bailey,  at  Yorick's  Head, 
in  Market  street,  a  neat  duodecimo  volume  of 
429  pages,  with  an  advertisement  from  the 
printer  : — "  The  following  essays  and  poems, 
selected  from  some  printed  and  manuscript  papers 
of  Mr.  Freneau.  are  now  presented  to  the  pub- 
lic  of  the  United  States,  in  hopes  they  will 
prove  at  least  equally  acceptable  with  his\olume 
of  poems  pulti-hed  last  year.  Some  few  of  the 
pieces  in  this  volume  have  heretofore  appeared  in 
American  newspapers;  but  through  a  fatality 
not  unusually  attending  publications  of  that  kind, 
are  now,  perhaps,  forgotten ;  and,  at  any  time, 
may  possibly  never  have  been  seen,  or  attended 
to,  but  by  very  few."  This  is  the  only  volume 
of  Freneau's  writings,  in  book  form,  which  con- 
tains any  of  his  prose  compositions.  It  was  pub- 
lished, as  usual  in  those  days  even  for  small 
duodecimo  volumes,  by  subscription.  De  "Witt 
|  Clinton  takes  a  copy  in  New  York,  and  John  Pin- 
i  tard  subscribes  for  two.  Some  of  Freneau's  best 
j  pieces  are  in  this  volume  : — The  Pictures  of 
'  Columbus,  The  Indian  Student,  The  Indian 
Burying  Ground,  The  Man  of  Ninety,  and  that 
delicate  little  poem  May  to  April. 

The  prose  essays  are  pleasant  papers.  They 
are  at  once  simple  and  elegant  in  style,  indepen- 
dent in  thought,  playful  and  humorous.  They 
were  for  the  most  part  written  with  the  signature 
of  Robert  Slender,  whom  the  author  took  the 
liberty  of  burying,  that  he  might  publish  his 
manuscripts.  The  Adtice  to  Authors,  with  which 
they  open,  is,  with  its  playful  irony,  a  fresh, 
manly  essay.  These  miscellaneous  essays  are  all 
clever  productions.  They  are  grouped  in  several 
little  collections,  Tracts  and  Essays  on  Sexeial 
Subjects,  by  Mr.  Slender;  Essays,  lales,  and 
Poems,  by  Mr.  Slender ;  The  Philosopher  of 
the  Forest.  They  embrace  the  usual  reper- 
tory of  the  essayist,  in  description,  apologue, 
and  gentle  satire.  One  of  these  time-honored 
inventions  consecrated  by  Voltaire  and  Gold- 
j  smith,  is  an  account  of  the  Voyage  of  Timberoo- 
tc/bo-cede,  an  Otaheite  Indian,  who  visits  foreign 
countries  at  the  command  of  his  sovereign,  and 
reports  on  their  absurdities  on  his  return.  A 
paragraph  will  show  its  spirit,  a  corrective  for 


PHILIP  FRENEAU. 


329 


hasty  observation,  •which  may  still  be  of  service 
to  ethnologists : — "  During  the  time  ot  eating,  we 
were  encircled  by  a  number  of  black  people  of 
both  sexes,  who  had  green  branches  in  their 
hands,  which  we  at  first  supposed  were  emble- 
matical of  peace  and  friendship,  but,  as  we  soon 
after  discovered,  were  only  meant  tu  brush  away 
the  flies  from  our  victuals." 

-  The  third  publication  of  Freneau's  writings 
was  made  by  himself  at  his  press  at  Monmouth, 
New  Jersey,  in  170o,*  and  is  much  the  most 
complete  collection.  It  is  an  octavo  volume  of 
four  hundred  and  fifty-six  pages,  and  contains 
nearly  three  hundred  articles  in  verse,  in  most  of 
the  popular  forms  of  composition,  of  description, 
tale,  satire,  song,  and  epigram. 

The  next  edition  of  the  Poems,  a  revision  of 
the  whole,  was  issued  by  subscription,  in  two 
volumes,  in  Philadelphia,  in  1809.+  Tbis  con- 
tained two  translations  from  Ovid  and  Lucretius. 

An  author's  advertisement  appeals  to  the  pub- 
lic on  patriotic  grounds.  The  collection  has  been 
mostly  restricted  to  "  Poems  that  arose  from  the 
incidents  of  the  American  revolutionary  content, 
down  to  the  date  of  1793.  These  were  intended, 
in  part,  to  expose  to  vice  and  treason,  their  own 
hideous  deformity;  to  depict  virtue,  honour,  and 
patriotism  in  their  native  beauty.  To  his  coun- 
trymen, the  real  Patriotic  Americans,  the  Revo- 
lutionary Republicans,  ami  the  rising  generation 
who  are*  attached  to  their  sentiments  and  princi- 
ples, the  writer  hopes  this  collection  will  not 
prove  unacceptable."  In  1815,  a  fourth  publica- 
tion appeared,  from  the  press  of  Long  worth  of 


•POEMS 
Weitten  between  the  Yeabs  17GS  &  1794, 

B    V 

PHILIP    FRENEAU, 

O  F 
NEW       JERSEY. 

A  New  Edition,  Revised  and  Corrected  by  the 

Autuoe;  Including  a  considerable  number  of 
Pieces  never  before  published. 


Audax  inde  aohora  eteVoA  e  pluribus  unum. 
Ardua  pyramidos  tollls  ad  a-ttra  caput. 

page  435. 


MO  N  MO  U  T  II 

[N.  J.] 

P  R  IKIB  D 

At  tbc  Press  of  the  Author,  at  Mount-Pleasant,  near 

MIDDLETOWN-POINT  ;  M.DCC.XCV  :  and,  of 

— American  Independence — 

XIX. 

+  Pooms  Written  and  Published  during  the  American  Revo- 
lutionary War,  and  now  Republished  from  the  Original 
Manuscripts;  interspersed  with  Translations  from  the  An- 
cients, and  other  Pieces  not  heretofore  in  print.  By  Philip 
Freneau. 

-Justly  to  record  the  deeds  of  fame. 

A  musefrom  heaven  should  touch  the  soul  with  flame; 

Some  powerful  spirit  in  superior  luys 

Should  tell  the  conflicts  of  the  stormy  days. 

The  third  edition,  in  two  volumes.    Phila.,  from  the  press  of 
tydia  R.  Bailey,  No.  1:)  North  Alley,  18C9. 


New  York,  in  two  duodecimo  volumes,  A  Col- 
lection of  Poems,  on  American  Affairs,  and  a 
variety  of  other  subjects,  chiefly  Moral  and  Poli- 
tical; written  between  the  year  1797  and  the 
present  time.  The  title-page  appeals  to  the  war 
feeling  of  the  period. 

Then  England  come! — a  sense  of  wrong  requires 
To  meet  with  thirteen  stars  your  thousand  fires : 
Through  these  stern  times  the  conflict  to  maintain, 
Or  drown  them,  witli  year  commerce,  in  the  main. 

The  contents  show  (hat  Freneau  had  lost  no- 
thing of  his  national  ardor  with  age.  He  is  still 
sensitive  to  the  feelings  of  the  times,  and  cele- 
brates most  passing  themes,  from  the  death  of  a 
Russian  Empress  to  the  rebuilding  of  Nassau 
Hull,  and  tho  city  encroachments  on  the  Hudson 
River.  Tho  military  events  of  the  war  are  his 
special  care,  as  ho  devotes  himself  to  the  denun- 
ciation of  the  foe  and  the  encouragement  of  his 
countrymen,  frequently  mingling  with  his  higher 
themes  the  humorous  incidents  of  the  camp. 

A  largo  portion  of  Freneau's  occupations  must 
be  looked  for  in  his  employments  upon  the  press. 

In  1701,  Freneau  edited  the  National  Gazette,  in 
Philadelphia,  a  journal  supported  in  opposition 
to  Pcnno's  Gaze'te,  under  the  alleged  influence 
of  Hamilton.  At  the  same  time,  Jefferson,  11-en 
Secretary  of  State,  gave  him  a  post  in  his  office, 
of  translating  clerk.  Hamilton  did  not  relish  the 
attacks  of  Freneau  in  his  paper,  which  he  described 
as  "i ntem peratel}-  devoted  to  the  abuse  of  the 
government,  and  all  the  conspicuous  actors  in.it, 
except  the  Secretary  of  State  and  his  coadjutors, 
who  were  tho  constant  theme  of  its  panegyric," 
and  commented  strongly  upon  the  impropriety  of 
Jefferson's  official  support  of  the  editor,  in  a 
series  of  political,  assaults,  signed  An  American, 
and  contributed  to  the  Gazette  of  the  United 
States,  in  August,  1792.  The  articles  are  pub- 
lished in  the  Hamilton  Correspondence.  From 
these  it  appears  that  "Mr.  Freneau,  before  he 
came  to  Philadelphia  to  conduct  the  National 
Gazette,  was  employed  by  Childs  &  Sprague, 
printers  of  the  Daily  Advertiser  in  New  York,  in 
the  capacity  of  editor  or  snperintendant,"  and 
that  the  first  number  of  the  National  Gazette 
appeared  under  his  direction  Oct.  31,  1791.  The 
New  York  Daily  Advertiser  of  Oct.  2t>  had  tho 
announcement :  "  We  hear  from  Philadelphia 
that  the  Hon.  Thomas  Jefferson,  Esq.,  Secretary 
of  State  for  the  United  States,  has  appointed 
Captain  Philip  Freneau  interpreter  of  the  French 
language  for  the  Department  of  State."  On  these 
facts,  and  some  hearsay  evidence,  which  failed  to 
be  substantiated,  Hamilton  made  his  charge  uppn 
Jefferson  of  c  uitrolling  the  paper,  and  using  the 
patronage  of  his  office  for  the  support  of  its  editor. 
Jefferson,  in  a  letter  to  Washington,  dated  Sept. 
9,  1792,  disposes  of  this  matter.  While  tho 
government,  says  he,  was  at  New  York,  he  was 
appealed  to  on  behalf  of  Freneau,  to  know  if  there 
was  any  place  within  his  department  to  which  lie 
could  be  appointed.  There  was  no  vacancy,  but 
when  tho  removal  to  Philadelphia  took  place, 
Mr.  Pintard,  the  translating  clerk,  did  not 
choose  to  follow,  so  Freneau  succeeded  him, 
I  with  a  salary  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
per  annum.  As  for  the  connexion  with  the 
paper,  Jefferson  said  he  gave  Freneau  tho  prefer- 


330 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ence  for  the  office  "  as  a  man'  of  genius,"  as  he  l>ad 
recommended  Eittenhouse,  Barlow,  and  others,  to 
Washington ;  that  he  was  anxious  that  the  material 
parts  of  the  Ley  den  Gazette  should  be  republished  ; 
and  as"  Freneau's  newspaper  arrangements  ottered 
facilities  for  the  publication,  he  gave  them  to  him ; 
that  he  had  procured  subscriptions  for  his  paper, 
and  in  advance,  but  that  he  had  never  written  or 
dictated,  or  been  instrumental  in  furnishing  aline 
for  the  journal.* 

'  On  occasion  of  the  great  entertainment  given 
to  Genet,  in  Philadelphia,  in  1793,  after  his  muti- 
lated reception  by  the  President,  citizen  Freneau 
was  present,  and  was  requested  to  translate  the 
French  ode  written  by  Duponceau,  the  singing  of 
which  was  one  of  the  items  of  this  extraordinary 
festivity.  Freneau  was  a  great  advocate  of  France 
through  this  period,  and  annoyed  Washington  by 
liis  assaults  on  the  administration.  There  was 
"  that  rascal  Freneau,"  said  he,  "  sent  him  three 
of  his  papers  every  day,  as  if  he  would  become 
the  distributor  of  them,  an  act  in  which  he  could 
see  nothing  but  an  impudent  design  to  insult 
him."t 

A  series  of  Probationary  Odes,  by  Jonathan 
Pindar,  Esq.,  a  cousin  of  Peter's,  and  candidate 
for  the  post  of  Poet  Laureat,  published  in  the 
Gazette  for  1793,  were  probably  written  by 
Freneau.  Adams,  Knox,  Hamilton,  and  others, 
are  satirized,  and  there  are  seven  stanzas  of  advice 
"  to  a  truly  Great  Man,"  George  Washington, 
touching  the  establishment  of  banks. 


TO  A  TEULY  CHEAT  MAN. 

"Jiistiim  et  tcnaceni  propositivirum." — Hor. 

George,  on  thy  virtues  often  have  I  dwelt ; 

And  still  the  theme  is  grateful  to  mine  ear ; 
Thy  gold  let  chemists  ten  times  c-ver  melt, 

From  dross  and  base  alloy  they'll  find  it  clear. 

Yet  thou'rt  a  man — although,  perhaps,  the  first ; 

But  man  at  best  is  but  a  being  frail ; 
And  since  with  error  human  nature's  curst, 

I  marvel  not  that  thou  shouldst  sometimes  fail. 

That  thou  hast  long  and  nobly  served  the  state, 
The  nation  oimis,  and  freely  gives  thee  thanks: 

But  Sir! — whatever  speculators  prate, 

She  gave  thee  not  the  power  to  establish  Banks. 

No  doubt  thou  thought'st  it.  was  a  phenix  nest, 
"Which  Congress  were  so  busy  to  build  up : 

But  there  a  crocodile  had  fixed  his  rest, 
And  snapped  the  nation's  bowels  at  a  sup. 

The  greedy  monster  is  not  yet  half  cloyed, 
Nor  will  be,  whilst  a  leg  or  arm  remains ; 

Those  parts  the  last  of  all  should  be  destroyed ; 
The  next  delicious  morsel  is  her  brains. 

I  trust  thou'st  seen  the  monster  by  this  time, 
And  hast  prepared  thy  knife  to  cut  his  throat; 

His  scales  are  so  damned  hard,  that  in  thy  prime, 
"fwould  take  thee  twenty  years  to  make  it  out. 

God  grant  thee  life  to  do  it: — Fare  thee  well ! 
Another  time  examine  well  the  nest; 


*  Hamilton's  Works,  iv.  Son. 

t  May  23, 1793.  "Washington  adverted  to  a  piece  in  Freneau's 
paper  of  yesterday.  His  paper  lias  saved  our  constitution, 
which  was  galloping  fast  into  monarchy,  and  has  heen  checked 
by  no  one  means  so  powerfully  as  by  that  paper.  It  is  well 
and  universally  known  that  it  has  heen  that  paper  which  lias 
cheeked  the  career  of  the  uiouocrats."— Jefferson's  Ana,  Works, 
iv.  466,  401,  Ed.  1830. 


Though  of  Arabia's  spices  it  should  smell 
It  may  produce  some  foul  internal  pest. 

These  were  the  verses  on  John  Adams : — 

TO  A  WOULD-BE  GREAT  MAN. 

Jonathan  defendeth  the  Giieat  Defender;    mngni- 
fieth  and  exalteth  his  works ;  and  eonfesseth  his 
own  littleness  of  understanding. 
"  Certat  tergeminis  tollere  honoribus." — Hoh. 

Daddy  Vice,  Daddy  Vice, 
One  may  see  in  a  trice 
The  drift  of  your  fine  publication ; 
As  sure  as  a  gun, 
The  thing  was  just  done, 
To  secure  you — a  pretty  high  station. 

Defences  you  call 

To  knock  down  our  wall, 
And  batter  the  States  to  the  ground,  sir; 

So  thick  were  your  shot, 

And  so  hellish  fire-hot, 
They've  scarce  a  whole  bone  to  be  found,  sir — 

When  you  tell  us  of  kings, 

And  such  pretty  thiigs, 
Good  mercy !  how  brilliant  your  page  is  1 

So  bright  in  each  line 

I  vow  now  you'll  shine 
Like — a  glow-worm  to  all  future  ages. 

When  you  handle  your  balance, 

So  vast  are  your  talents, 
Like  Atlas  your  wonderful  strength  is^ 

You  know  every  state 

To  a  barley-corn  weight, 
For  your  steel-yard  the  continent  length  is. 

On  Davila's  page 

Your  discourses  so  sage 
Democralical  numseulls  bepuzzle, 

With  arguments  tough 

As  white  leather  or  buff, 
The  republican  lull-dogs  to  muzzle. 

'Tis  labor  in  vain, 

Your  senses  to  strain 
Cur  brains  any  longer  to  muddle; 

Like  Colossus  you  stride 

O'er  our  noddles  so  wide, 
We  look  up  like  feogs  in  a  puddle.* 

The  Gazette  was  published  till  the  conclusion 
of  a  second  volume  and  the  second  vear,  October 
26,  1793. 

Freneau  had  a  genius  for  newspapers.  At  his 
own  press  at  Mount  Pleasant,  near  Middletown 
Point,  May  2,  1795,  "and  of  American  Indepen- 
dence xix.,"  as  he  adds,  he  published  the  first 
number  of  his  Jersey  Chronicle,  on  eight  small 
quarto  pages  of  the  precise  size  of  seven  inches 
by  eight.  His  address  "to  the  Public"  is,  as 
usual,  very  neat,- — commencing  with  a  motto  from 
Horace,  in  reference  to  his  rural  press — "  Inter 
sylvas  Academi  quajrere  verum,"  and  this  an- 
nouncement of  the  design  : — "  the  editor  in  the 
publication  of  this  paper  proposes  among  other 
objects,  to  present  his  readers  with  a  complete 
history  of  the  foreign  and  domestic  events  of  the 
times,  together  with  such  essays,  remarks  and 
observations  as  shall  tend  to  illustrate  the  politics, 
or  mark  the  general  character  of  the  age  and 


*  These  verses  are  quoted  by  Mr.  J.  T.  Buckingham,  in  his 
Specimens  of  Newspaper  Literature.  Art.  National  Gazette, 
ii.  139, 140. 


PHILH  FRENEAU. 


331 


country  in  which  we  live."  The  paper  is  dated 
"  Mount-Pleasant,  near  Middlctown  Point : — print- 
ed by  P.  Frenean — by  whom  Advertisements, 
Hand  Bills,  &c,  are  done  at  the  shortest  notice, 
and  on  the  most  reasonable  terms."  With  the 
third  number  it  grew  in  dimensions,  and  extended 
to  a  third  column  in  width.  To  the  foreign  af- 
fairs and  "American  advices"  were  added  the 
essays  entitled  Tomo  Cheeki  and  an  occasional 
poem — the  Republican  Genius  of  Europe,  the 
Rival  Suitors  for  America.  Apropos  to  the  na- 
tional anniversary  of  1795  at  Monmouth,  he  pub- 
lishes one  of  the  English  songs  of  the  day,  this 

HYMN  TO   LIBEETY. 

God  save  the  lights  of  man! 
Give  us  a  heart  to  scan 

Blessings  so  dear: 
Let  them  be  spread  around 
Wherever  man  is  found, 
And  with  a  welcome  sound 

Ravish  each  ear. 

See.  from  the  universe 
Dai-kness  and  clouds  disperse, 

Mankind  awake ; 
Reason  and  truth  appear, 
Freedom  advances  near, 
Muuarchs.  with  terror,  hear — 

See  how  they  quake. 

Long  have  we  felt  the  stroke, 
Long  have  we  bore  the  yoke, 

Sluggish  and  tame : 
But  now  the  lion  roars 
And  a  loud  note  he  pours, 
Spreading  to  distant  shores 

Liberty's  fame. 

Godlike  and  great  the  strife, 
Life  will,  indeed,  be  life 

When  we  prevail. 
Death,  in  so  just  a  cause, 
Crown  us  with  loud  applause 
And  from  tyrannic  laws 

Bid  us — all  hail  ! 

O'er  the  Germanic  powers 
Big  indignation  lours 

Ready  to  fall— 
Let  the  rude  savage  host 
Of  their  long  numbers  boast, 
Freedom's  almighty  trust 

Laughs  at  them  all ! 

Fame,  let  thy  trumpet  sound — 
Tell  all  the  world  around 

Frenchmen  are  free! 
Tell  ribbons,  crowns  and  stars, 
Kings,  traitors,  troops  and  wars, 
Plans,  councils,  plots  and  jars, 

America's  free. 

t  About  the  same  time  he  announces  the  edition 
of  his  poems  of  1795,  which  he  published  at  the 
same  press.  With  the  fifty  -second  number  at  the 
close  of  the  year,  April  30, 1796,  Frenean  winds  up 
the  paper  with  a  notice  "  to  subscribers"  stati  ng  that 

in  number  one  of  the  Jersey  Chronicle  the  Editor 
announced  his  intention  of  extending  the  publica- 
tion beyond  the  first  year,  provided  the  attempt 
should  in  the  meantime  be  suitably  encouraged  and 
found  practicable.  But  the  necessary  number  of 
subscribers  having  not  yet  appeared,  scarcely  to 
defray  the  expenses  of  the  undertaking',  notwith- 
standing the  very  low  rate  (it  was  published  at 


twelve  shillings  per  annum)  at  which  it  has  been 
offered,  the  editor  with  some  regret  declines  a  fur- 
ther prosecution  of  Ids  plan  at  this  time.  He  em- 
braces the  present  opportunity  to  return  his  sincere 
thanks  to  such  persons  in  this  and  the  neighboring 
counties  as  have  favored  1dm  with  their  subscrip- 
tions; and  have  also  by  their  punctuality  in  com- 
plying with  the  terms  originally  proposed,  thus  far 
enabled  him  to  issue  a  free,  independent  and  repub- 
lican paper. 

It  is  from  some  such  printing-ofnc3  as  that 
which  sent  forth  his  Jersey  Chronicle,  that  we 
may  fancy  Frenean  inditing  his  poem  of  the 
Country  Printer,  a  purely  American  description 
of  the  village  and  associations  of  the  place:  the 
arrival  of  the  old-time  coach,  the  odd  farrago  of 
the  editor's  page,  the  office  itself: — 

Here  lie  the  types,  in  curious  order  rang'd, 
Ready  alike  to  imprint  your  prose  or  ver^e  ; 
Ready  to  speak,  their  order  only  chang'd, 
Creek-Indian  lingo,  Dutch  or  Highland  Erse; 
These  types  have  printed  Erskine's  Gospel  Treat, 
Tom  Durfey's songs,  and  Banyan's  works,  complete: 

and  the  editor  himself,— with  something  more 
than  a  suggestion  of  Philip  Freneau.  The  change 
from  the  Srats  House  to  Saratoga  in  the  last 
stanza  which  we  quote  is  a  powerful  thrust  of 
satire. 

He,  ia  his  time,  the  patriot  of  his  town, 

"With  press  and  pen  attaek'd  the  royal  side, 

Did  what  he  could  to  pull  their  Lioa  down, 

Clipp'd  at  his  heard,  and  twitched  his  sacred  hide, 

Mimiek'd  his  roarings,  trod  upon  his  toes, 

Pelted  young  whelps,  and  tweak'd  the  old  one  s  nos'e. 

Rous'd  by  his  page,  at  church  or  court-house  read, 
From  depths  of  woods  the  willing  rustics  ran, 
Now  by  a  priest,  and  now  soins  deaeon  led. 
With  clubs  and  spits  to  guard  the  rights  of  man ; 
Lads  from  the  spade,  the  pick-axe,  or  the  plough   . 
Marching  afar  to  fight  Burgoyne  or  Howe. 

Where  are  they  now? — the  Village  asks  with  grief, 
What  were   their   toils,   their   conquests,   or   their 

gains? — 
Perhaps,  they  near  some  State-House  beg  relief, 
Perhaps,  they  sleep  on  Saratoga's  plains  ; 
Doom'd  not  to  live,  their  country  to  reproach 
For  seven-years'  pay  transferred  to  Mammon's  coach. 

Freneau  was  probably  at  .all  times  busy,  more 
or  less,  with  the  newspapers.  His  next  impor- 
tant venture  of  this  kind  was  of  a  literary  cha- 
racter at  New  York. 

The  first  number  of  his  Time-Piece  and  Lite- 
rary Companion  was  issued  at  New  York,  March 
13,  1797.  It  was  printed  three  times  a  week — on 
Monday,  Wednesday,  and  Friday  mornings,  in  a 
neat  folio  form,  paged,  at  the  price  of  thirty  shil- 
lings, New  York  currency,  per  annum.  Its  editor 
seems  to  have  formed  a  partnership  in  the  print- 
ing business,  for  the  purpose  of  its  publication, 
''In  order,"  he  says,  "to  render  this  work  the 
more  interesting  and  acceptable  to  the  public  at 
large,  in  regard  to  neatness  and  elegance  of 
mechanical  execution,  the  subscriber  informs  all 
wdio  have  or  may  favor  him  with  their  names, 
that  he  has  associated  himself  as  a  partner  in  the 
typographical  line  of  business  with  Mr.  Alexander 
Menut,  of  that  profession,  some  time  since  from 
Canada,  and  who  is  become,  and  means  to  con- 


332 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURK 


tinue,  a  citizen  of  the  United  States."  The  pro- 
posals signed  by  Freneau  announce  thenewpaper 
as  "  intended  for  the  diffusion  of  useful  as  well  as 
ornamental  knowledge,  news,  and  liberal  amuse- 
ment in  general,"  and  its  editor  pledges  himself 
to  use  his  best  endeavors  to  render  the  Time- 
Piecc  and  Literary  Companion,  "  a  work  of  merit, 
and  as  far  as  his  exertions  or  abilities  will  permit, 
worthy  the  patronage  of  the  public."  The  pro- 
mise was  well  fulfilled  during  the  year  or  more  of 
Freneau's  editorship.  Sept.  15,  1797,  with  the 
beginning  of  the  second  volume,  the  name  of 
M.  L.  Davis  appears  associated  with  Freneau 
as  the  publisher,  when  the  notice  of  the  printer's) 
partnership  with  Menut  is  dropped.  Freneau 
and  Davis  appear  at  the  head  of  the  paper  till 
No.  81,  March  21,  1798,  when  the  publishers  are 
changed  to  M.  L.  Davis  &,  Co. ;  and  with  No. 
118,  June  15,  1798,  R.  Saunders  appears  for  the 
proprietors.  Saunders  disappears  with  No.  128, 
Jul}'  9  of  the  same  year,  and  the  paper  is  pub- 
lished for  the  proprietors  at  25  Maiden  Lane,  at 
least  till  No.  150,  Aug.  30,  1798,  where  the  file 
closes  in  the  rare  volume  preserved  in  the  New 
York  Historical  Society.  The  evidence  of  Fre- 
neau's ability  had  departed  from  its  columns  some 
time  before.  For  along  time,  however,  it  wa* 
admirably  sustained  by  Freneau,  whose  tact  at 
administering  to  the  tastes  of  the  public  was 
shown  in  the  skill  of  the  selection  and  the  general 
elegance  of  the  material.  There  were  news  of 
the  day  carefully  digested,  biographies,  corres- 
pondence, anecdotes,  and  occasional  poems  ad 
libitum.  In  the  second  number  he  commences  a 
translation  of  the  travels  of  M.  Abbe  Kobin, 
"  Chaplain  in  Count  Roohambeau's  army,  giv- 
ing a  general  account  of  the  progress  of  the 
French  army  from  Rhode  Island,  the  place  of 
their  landing,  to  Yorktown  in  Virginia;  and  of 
some  other  occurrences."     This,  we  are  told,  he 


had  made  fourteen  years  before ;  but  as  a. 


all 


edition  was  printed  off,  the  work  is  now  in  the 
hands  of  very  few.*  Freneau  also  republishes  his 
series  of  Tomo  Chceli,  the  Creek  Indian  in  Phi- 
ladelphia, with  this  preliminary  notice :  "  A  num- 
ber of  eccentric  writings  under  this  title,  and  to 
the  amount  of  a  considerable  volume,  are  in  the 
hands  of  the  editor  of  the  Time-Piece,  said  to  be 
translated  from  one  of  the  Indian  languages  of 
this  country.  They  were  transmitted  to  him 
more  than  two  years  ago,  and  a  few  numbers  pub- 
lished in  a  gazette,  edited  by  him  in  a  neighbor- 
ing state  ;  but  discontinued  with  that  paper.  If 
the  lucubrations  of  a  rude  aboriginal  of  America 
shall  appear  to  afford  any  gratification  to  the 
generality  of  our  readers,  the  whole  will  be  occa- 
sionally offered  to  the  public  through  the  medium 
of  the  Time-Piece."1  The  politics  were  republican 
for  both  sides  of  the  water.  If  Freneau  was  hard 
pressed  by  an  adversary,  he  could  always  bring 
his  muse  to  his  aid  as  in  this  sharp  hit  at  Cob- 
bett,  in  the  paper  of  Sept.  13,  1797,  in  reply  to 
"a  despicable  mess  of  scurrility  in  one  of  Porcu- 
pine's Gazettes  of  last  week,  in  which  he  men- 
tions he  was  plagued  with  the  Time-Piece  for 
several  months,"  coupled  with  the  explanation 
that  the  Time-Piece  had  at  first  been  sent  to 


:  It  woa  printed  at  Philadelphia  in  17S3. 


Porcupine,  according  to  editorial  custom,  "  till 
finding  the  hoggishness  of  the  fellow,  in  not 
consenting  to  an  exchange,  the  transmission  was 
discontinued."* 

From  Penn's  famous  city  what  hosts  have  departed, 
The  streets  and  the  houses  are  nearly  deserted, 

But  still  there  remain! 

Two  Vipers,  that's  plain, 
Who  soon,  it  is  thought,  yellow  flag  will  display ; 

Old  Porcupine  preaching, 

And  Fenno  beseeching 
Some  dung-cart  to  wheel  him  away. 

Phibidelphians,  we're  sorry  you  suffer  by  fevers, 
Or  suffer  such  scullions  to  be  your  deceivers  ; 

Will  Pitt's  noisy  whelp 

With  his  red  foxy  scalp 
Whom  the  kennels  of  London  spew'd  out  in  a  fright, 

Has  sculk'd  over  here 

To  snuffle  and  sneer, 
Like  a  puppy  to  snap,  or  a  bull-dog  to  bite. 

If  cut  from  the  gallows,  or  kiek'd  from  the  post, 
Such  fellows  as  these  are  of  England  the  boast, 

But  Columbia's  disgrace! 

Begone  from  that  place 
That  was  dignified  once  by  a  Franklin  and  Penn, 

But  infested  by  "you 

And  your  damnable  crew 
Will  soon  be  deserted  by  aU  honest  men. 

Captain  Freneau,  having  concluded  his  active 
political  career  and' his  voyages  to  Madeira'  and 
the  West  Indies,  passed  his  latter  days  in  New 
Jersey,  occasionally  visiting  New  York,  where  he 
saw  his  friends  in  the  democratic  ranks  of  the 
day. 

Of  his  associations  at  this  time  we  have  a 
pleasing  reminiscence  in  the  following  original 
sketch,  kindly  written  in  answer  to  our  inquiries 
on  the  subject,  by  Dr.  John  W.  Francis  of  New 
York. 

"  To  the  young,  the  ingenuous,  and  the  inquiring 
the  City  of  New  York,  some  thirty  or  forty  years 
ago,  presented  an  interest  which  we  in  vain  look 
for  at  the  present  day ;  and  consequently  excited 
emotions  of  patriotism  and  induced  historical 
research,  by  the  accidental  associations  inherent  in 
the  very  character  of  the  personages  and  occur- 
rences of  those  remoter  times.  Our  metropolis  at 
that  period  was  enriched  by  the  sojourn  or  tem- 
porary presence  of  a  large  number  of  Ihose  re- 
nowned individuals  who  had  labored  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  revolutionary  struggle,  and  who  in 
council  and  in  the  field  had  secured  the  triumphs 
of  those  principles  so  early  espoused  by  the 
'  Sons  of  Liberty.'  The  state  at  large  had  been 
extensively  the  area  of  warfare;  the  deliberations 
arising  out  of  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution  for 
the  Union,  the  master  spirits  engaged  in  that 
responsible  trust,  all  awakened  deep  interest  in 
New  York.  Much  of  what  was  then  speculative 
discussion  has  since  become  historical  fact;  and 
the  sires  of  those  great  actions,  who  presented 
themselves  at  every  corner  of  the  streets,  and  in 


*  Cobbett  pnbM  hed  his  Peter  Porcupine's  Works,  in  12 
vols.,  in  London,  in  1801,  including;  selections  from  his  Gazette, 
and  republications  of  various  of  his  American  political  tracts, 
with  which,  dtning  his  residence,  he  annoyed  the  Democrats 
of  America.  His  Porcupine's  Gazette,  a  villanously  printed 
sheet  bv  the  way.  was  issued  at  Philadelphia  from  the  4th 
March,  1797,  to  Jan.,  13C0. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU. 


333 


the  social  circles,  now  sleep  the  sleep  ordained 
to  mortality.  The  national  ballads  and  songs  of 
colonial  strife,  which  were  enriched  with  addi- 
tional charms  by  the  vocal  displays  of  the  very 
actors  of  those  scenes,  may  occasionally  be  recog- 
nised in  the  Metrical  Miscellany,  or  printed  in  the 
Songster's  Museum;  but  the  echo  of  applauding 
admirers  which  was  consequent  upon  the  melo- 
dist's strains  is  not  now  to  be  heard.  Even  the 
great  Hamilton  might  have  been  joined  in  such  a 
confederacy;  and  I  have  listened  to  Gates,  of 
Saratoga,  Ju  similar  efforts.  In  short  our  city 
abounded  with  the  heroes  of  revolutionary  fame, 
citizens,  and  natives  of  remote  parts  of  the  Union  ; 
add  to  all  these  the  scores  of  old  Tories,  and  the 
multitudes  of  the  once  disaffected,  who  had  es- 
caped the  trials  of  the  revolutionary  contest  hy 
the  ingenuity  of  self-interest,  and  the  sagacious 
use  of  th'eir  fiscal  resources,  and  we  have  at  least 
one  view  of  the  diversified  population  of  those 
incipient  days  of  the  American  Republic. 

"  It  was  natural  that  a  participator  in  the  occur- 
rences of  those  times  of  trial  consumed  in  the  war 
of  Independence,  who  was  an  eye-witness  to  many 
of  the  hardest  impositions  of  that  eventful  period; 
who  had,  moreover,  borne  a  notable  share  of  its 
sufferings,  who  had  felt  the  horrors  of  the  Jersey 
prison-ship,  and  had  become  intimate  with  that 
glorious  band  of  warriors  and  statesmen,  should 
desire  in  after  times,  when  the  fruits  of  peace  were 
secured,  to  renew  the  associations  of  past  events, 
recount  the  tale  of  patriotism,  and  find  consolation 
in  the  retrospect  by  converse  among  kindred 
spirits. 

"  Philip  Freneau  was  eminently  a  character  who 
would  not  heedlessly  let  pa^s  such  opportunities, 
and  we  accordingly  find  him,  when  not  engrossed 
with  oilier  avocations,  constantly  associated  with 
those  who  gratified  his  most  cherished  sympathies 
in  his  often  repeated  visits  to  New  York.  The 
various  editions  of  his  poetical  writings  hear  tes- 
timony to  his  continued  ardor  as  a  cultivator  of 
the  patriotic  muse,  and  if  we  examine  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  periodical  press  "e  must  be  satis- 
fied that  he  was  comparatively  in  fferent  to  fame 
in  his  selection,  as  many  of  his  be;  products  are 
to  be  found  elsewhere  than  in  his  collections.  An 
unpretending  popular  weekly  contains  his  beau- 
tiful address  to  the  Isle  of  Madeira;  and  in  his 
poem  on  the  Carolinas  he  gives  utterance  to  Ids 
emotions  on  revisiting  the  scenes  of  his  earlier 
days  with  the  warmth  and  tenderness  of  an  en- 
thusiast. 

"  It  is  chiefly  hy  the  several  dates  of  his  nu- 
merous productions  that  we  are  enabled  to  trace 
his  diversified  employments  and  sojourns.  As 
a  marine  captain,  he  was  employed  for  many 
years  subsequent  to  the  publication  of  his  large 
octavo  selection  of  17'J5  until  about  the  war  of 
1812. 

"  Freneau  was  widely  known  to  a  large  circle  of 
our  most  prominent  and  patriotic  New  Yorkers. 
His  native  city,  with  all  his  wanderings,  was  ever 
uppermost  in  his  mind  and  in  his  affections. 
While  in  the  employment  of  Jefferson,  as  a  trans- 
lator of  languages  in  the  department  of  state,  upon 
the  organization  of  Congress,  with  Washington  at 
its  head,  he  had  the  gratification  of  witnessing  the 
progress  of  improvement,  and  might  have  enjoyed 
increased  facilities  had  he  not  enlisted  with  an  in- 


discreet zeal  as  an  advocate  of  the  radical  doc- 
trines of  the  day.  Freneau  was,  nevertheless,  es- 
teemed a  true  patriot;  and  his  private  worth,  his 
courteous  manner,  and  his  general  bearing  won 
admiration  with  all  parties.  His  pen  was  more 
acrimonious  than  his  heart.  He  was  tolerant, 
frank  in  expression,  and  not  deficient  in  geniality. 
He  was  highly  cultivated  in  classical  knowledge, 
abounding  in  anecdotes  of  the  revolutionary  crisis, 
and  extensively  acquainted  with  prominent  cha- 
racters. 

"  It  were  easy  to  record  a  long  list  of  eminent 
citizens  who  ever  gave  him  a  cordial  welcome. 
He  was  received  with  the  warmest  greetings  by 
the  old  soldier,  Governor  George  Clinton.     He, 
also,  in  the  intimacy  of  kindred  feeling,  found  an 
agreeable  pastime  with  the  learned  Provoost,  the 
!  first  regularly  consecrated  Bishop  of  the  American 
'  Protestant  Episcopate,  who  himself  had  shoal- 
1  dered  a  musket  in  the  Revolution,  and  hence  was 
1  sometimes  called  the  fighting  bishop.     They  were 
allied  by  classical  tastes,  a  love  of  natural  science, 
I  and  ardor  in  the  cause  of  liberty.     With  Gates 
!  he  compared  the  achievements  of  Monmouth  with 
those  at  Saratoga.     With  Col.  Fish  he  reviewed 
the  capture  of  Yorktown  ;  with  Dr.  Mitchill  he  re- 
hearsed, from  his  own  sad  experience,  the  phy- 
sical sufferings  and  various  diseases  of  the  incar- 
cerated patriots  of  the  Jersey  prison-ship;    and 
descanted  on  Italian  poetry  and  the  piscatory  ec- 
logues of  Sannazarins.     He,  doubtless,  furnished 
;  Dr.  Benjamin  Dewitt  with  data  for  his  funeral 
I  discourse  on  the  remains  of  the  11,500  American 
martyrs.     With   Pintard  he  could  laud  Horace 
and  talk  largely  of  Paul  Jones.     With  Major  Fair- 
I  lie  he  discussed  the  tactics  and  chivalry  of  Baron 
I  Steuben.    With  Sylvanus  Miller  he  compared  notes 
on  the  political  clubs  of  IT'Jo  -1810.     He  shared 
;  Paine's  visions  of  an  ideal  democracy.    With  De- 
|  witt  Clinton  and  Cadwallader  D.  Colden  he  debat- 
ed the  projects  of  internal  improvement  and  arti- 
ficial navigation,  based  on  the  famous  precedent 
of  the  Languedoc  canal. 

"  I  had,  when  very  young,  read  the  poetry  of 
Freneau,  and  as  we  instinctively  become  attached 
to  the  writers  who  first  captivate  our  imagin- 
ations, it  was  with  much  zest  that  I  formed  a 
personal  acquaintance  with  the  revolutionary  bard. 
He  was  at  that  time  about  seventy-six  years  old, 
when  he  first  introduced  himself  to  me  in  my 
library.  I  gave  him  an  earnest  welcome.  He 
was  somewhat  below  the  ordinary  height;  in 
person  thin  yet  muscular,  with  a  firm  step,  though 
a  little  inclined  to  stoop;  his  countenance  wore 
traces  of  care,  yet  lightened  with  intelligence  as 
he  spoke;  he  was  mild  in  enunciation,  neither 
rapid  nor  slow,  but  clear,  distinct,  and  emphatic. 
His  forehead  was  rather  beyond  the  medium  ele- 
vation, his  eyes  a  dark  grey,  occupying  a  socket 
deeper  than  common;  his  hair  must  have  onco 
been  beautiful,  it  was  now  thinned  and  of  an  iron 
grey.  He  was  free  of  all  ambitious  displays ;  his 
habitual  expression  was  pensive.  His  dress  might 
have  passed  for  that  of  a  farmer.  New  York,  the 
city  of  his  birth,  was  his  most  interesting  theme ; 
his  collegiate  career  with  Madison,  next.  His 
story  of  many  of  his  occasional  poems  was  quite 
romantic.  As  he  had  at  command  types  and  a 
printing-press,  when  an  incident  of  moment  in  the 
Revolution  occurred,  he  would  retire  for  composi> 


334 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


tion,  or  find  shelter  under  the  shade  of  some  tree, 
indite  his  lyrics,  repair  to  the  press,  set  up  his 
types,  and  issue  his  productions.  There  was  no 
difficulty  in  versification  with  him.  I  told  him 
■what  I  Lad  heard  Jeffrey,  the  Scotch  Reviewer,  I 
say  of  his  writings,  that  the  time  would  arrive 
when  his  poetry,  like  that  of  Hudibras,  would 
command  a  commentator  like  Gray.  On  some  j 
of  the  occasions  when  Freneau  honored  me  with 
a  visit,  we  had  within  our  circle  one  of  my  earliest 
friends,  that  rare  Knickerbocker,  Gulian  C.  Ver- 
planck.  I  need  not  add  that  the  charm  of  my 
interview  with  the  bard  was  heightened  by  the 
rich  funds  of  antiquarian  lore  possessed  by  the 
latter. 

"  It  is  remarkable  how  tenaciously  Freneau  pre- 
served the  acquisitions  of  his  early  classical  stu- 
dies, notwithstanding  he  had  for  many  years,  in 
the  after  portion  of  his  life,  been  occupied  in  pur- 
suits  so  entirely  alien  to  books.  There  is  no  por- 
trait of  the  patriot  Freneau ;  he  always  firmly 
declined  the  painter's  art,  and  would  brook  no 
'counterfeit  presentment.'  " 

Some  time  after  the  conclusion  of  the  war  of   j 
1S12,  a  number  of  Freneau's  MS.  poem-,  of  which  j 
he  had  many,  were  consumed  by  fire,   in  the 
destruction  of  his  house  at  Mount  Pleasant. 

That  he  was  not  indifferent  to  his  reputation,  ! 
the  several  collections  of  his  writings  prove,  and 
we  learn  from  the  venerable  engraver  on  wood, 
Alexander  Anderson,  that  Freneau  once  applied 
to  him  to  calculate  the  cost  of  an  illustrated 
volume  of  the  poems,  which  he  found  too  great 
for  his  purse.* 

Freneau  died  Dec.  18,  1832..  The  circum- 
stances of  his  death  were  thus  announced  in  the 
Monmouth  (Sew  Jersey)  Inquirer : — "  Mr.  Fre- 
neau was  in  the  village,  and  started,  towards 
evening,  to  go"  home,  about  two  miles.  In  attempt- 
ing to  go  across  he  appears  to  have  got  lost  and 
mired  in  a  bog  meadow,  where  his  lifeless  corpse 
was  discovered  yesterday  morning.  Captain 
Freneau  was  a  staunch  "Whig  in  the  time  of  the 
Revolution,  a  good  soldier,  and  a  warm  patriot. 
The  productions  of  his  pen  animated  his  country- 
men in  the  darkest  days  of  '76,  and  the  effusions 
of  his  muse  cheered  the  desponding  soldier  as  he 
fought  the  battles  of  freedom." 

The  house  which  Freneau  occupied  at  the  time 
of  his  death  is  still  standing.  It  is  about  a  mile 
from  Freehold.  The  house  in  which  he  lived 
before  he  came  to  Freehold,  and  the  old  tavern 
in  which  he  and  his  club  of  friends  met,  are  also 
in  existence  at  Middletowu  Point.t 

*  Alexander  Anderson,  who  still  survives  in  a  hale  old  age, 
was  born  in  April,  1775.  near  Peck  Slip,  in  New  York.  He 
studied  medicine,  and  received  his  decree  of  Doctor  of  Medi- 
cine from  Columbia  College,  in  1790,  delivering  a  dissertation  j 
on  Chronic  Mania  upon  the  occasion.  He  preferred  art  to  I 
physic,  and  having  already  been  a  pupil  of  '•  a  universal 
genius"  of  the  times,  John  Roberts,  entered  upon  the  business 
of  wood-engraving.  His  copies  of  Bewick's  engravings  were 
celebrated,  and  for  the  first  quarter  of  the  present  century  he 
executed  most  of  the  better  engravings  then  published,  from  the 
illustrations  for  a  Bible  to  the  cuts  of  a  primer  and  spelling- 
book.  His  lights  and  shades  were  strongly  marked,  and  he 
worked  with  precision  and  effect.  The  collection  of  specimens 
of  his  thousands  of  engravings  in  his  scrap-books  is  a  pleasing 
and  curious  exhibition  of  the  resources  of  booksellers  in  the 
last  generation.  There  is  a  notice  of  Anderson  in  Dunlnp's 
Arte  of  Design,  ii.  p.  8,  and  his  friend.  Mr.  Benson  J.  Lossing, 
has  recently  paid  him  a  handsome  tribute  in  an  article  in  the 
Home  Journal. 

t  The  tavern  has  lately  been  repaired,  and  is  now  (1854)  oc- 
cupied as  a  private  dwelling  by  Mr.  Pittman,  a  dentist. 


To  this  account  of  Freneau,  we  are  enabled  to 
add  a  notice  of  his  brother,  who  was  settled  in 
South  Carolina,  at  Charleston,  from  the  pen  of 
Dr.  Joseph  Johnson,  of  that  city. 

"  Peter  Freneau  was  a  younger  brother  of 
Captain  Philip  Freneau.  They  were  natives  of 
New  Jersey ;  but  the  first  of  their  ancestors  who 
came  to  this  part  of  the  world,  was  called  De 
Fresneau,  and  settled  in  Connecticut,  after  effect- 
ing his  escape  from  the  persecutions  against  the 
Huguenots  in  France.  In  this  province  De  Fres- 
neau  became  the  proprietor  of  a  copper  mine, 
but  being  restrained  by  the  Colonial  Regulations 
from  smelting  the  ore,  he  shipped  a  load  of  it  to 
England,  calculating  on  profitable  returns.  In 
these  expectations  he  was  disappointed ;  the  ves- 
sel was  captured  by  a  French  cruiser ;  the  adven- 
ture proved  a  total  loss,  and  De  Fresneau  was  so 
much  reduced  that  he  could  no  longer  work  the 
mine.  By  some  means  not  well  understood,  this 
property  came  into  the  possession  of  the  State  of 
Connecticut,  and  became  the  site  of  their  Peni- 
tentiary. The  excavations  that  had  been  made 
for  copper  ore  served  extremely  well  for  the 
safe  keeping  of  their  convicts. 

"  After  completing  his  education,  Mr.  Freneau 
came  to  South  Carolina,  and  soon  attracted  gene- 
ral and  favorable  notice  from  those  best  qualified 
for  judging.  He  was  elected  Secretary  of  State, 
and  embraced  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  for 
securing  to  himself  and  Francis  Bremar,  the  Sur- 
veyor-General, grants  for  various  tracts  of  land 
then  vacant.  About  the  year  1795,  he  became 
the  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  City  Gazette,  a 
daily  paper  advocating  the  Democratic  opinions 
then  prevailing  in  the  South.  He  was  associated 
■with  Paine,  an  experienced  printer,  who  took 
charge  of  that  department,  and  the  whole  work 
was  so  well  conducted,  that  it  soon  secured  the 
patronage  of  the  state  and  city  governments.  On 
the  election  of  Mr.  Jefferson  to  the  Presidency,  in 
1801,  it  also  obtained  that  of  the  general  govern- 
ment* Mr.  Freneau  was  particularly  well  quali- 
fied for  the  office  of  editor  to  such  a  paper.  He 
was  indefatigable  in  his  studies  and  collections 
of  matter,  his  style  of  writing  was  clear,  com- 
prehensive, and  decided  in  advancing  his  own 
opinions,  but  always  liberal  and  just  to  those  who 
thought?otherwise.  Besides  a  due  knowledge  of 
Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew,  he  had  acquired  so 
much  of  the  French,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  and 
Italian  languages,  as  enabled  him  to  read,  select, 
and  translate  from  such  publications,  what  other 
papers  could  not  procure,  and  rendered  the  cir- 
culation of  his  the  more  extensive;  but  he  could 
not  converse  in  either  of  those  languages. 

"  "SVhen  Mr.  Paine  left  the  concern,  the  paper 
began  to  decline,  and  Mr.  Freneau  unfortunately 
engaged  in  some  commercial  adventures,  that  dis- 
tracted his  usual  attention  to  the  office.  He  be- 
came involved  in  a  variety  of  ways,  and  in  1810 
sold  out  his  whole  interest  in  the  City  Gazette. 

"  In  person  Mr.  Freneau  was  tall,  but  so  well 

*  In  an  unpublished  letter  addressed  to  Peter  Freneau, 
dated  Washington,  May  20, 1SCS,  Jefferson  incloses  "  a  small 
parcel  of  Egyptian  rice"  for  plantation  in  South  Carolina,  and 
reviews  closely  the  state  of  parties,  stating  the  policv  of  the 
administration  on  appointments,  assigning  to  the  federalists 
their  proportional  share  of  them — communicating  with  Fre- 
neau in  confidential  terms,  and  looking  to  him  for  a  support 
of  the  government  policy. 


PHILIP  FilENEAU. 


335 


proportioned,  that  it  was  not  remarked.  His 
features  bore  so  strong  a  resemblance  to  those  of 
Charles  James  Fox,  the  celebrated  English  states- 
man, that  all  were  struck  with  the  likeness  who 
had  ever  seen  Mr.  Fox,  or  compared  his  likeness 
with  Freneau. 

"  When  Mr.  Freneau  parted  with  his  interest 
in  the  City  Gazette,  he  endeavored  to  arrange  his 
intricate  accounts  and  money  concerns,  but  did 
not  succeed;  he  was  still  disappointed  and  ha- 
rassed, lie  then  anxiously  sought  for  retirement, 
and  having  the  lease  of  a  saw-mill  and  cottage  at 
Pinckney's  Ferry,  he  was  tempted  to  visit  them 
early  in  October,  1813,  before  the  autumnal 
frosts  had  cleared  the  atmosphere  of  malaria.  He 
returned  in  good  spirits,  and  apparently  in  good 
health,  but  was  attacked  in  a  few  days  with  the 
bilious  remittent,  resulting  from  malaria,  and 
died  on  the  tilth  day  of  the  disease,  in  the  fifty- 
seventh  year  of  his  age. 

"  Mr.  Freneau  was  never  married,  he  left  no 
relative  except  his  brother  Philip,  and  died  insol- 
vent." 

The  poems  of  Philip  Freneau  represent  his 
times,  the  war  of  wit  and  verse  no  less  than  of 
sword  and  stratagem  of  the  Revolution;  and  lie 
superadds  to  this  material  a  humorous,  homely 
simplicity  peculiarly  his  own,  in  which  he  paints 
the  life  of  village  rustics  with  their  local  manners 
fresh  about  them,  of  days  when  tavern  delights 
were  to  be  freely  spoken  of,  before  temperance 
societies  and  Maine  laws  were  thought  of;  when 
men  went  to  prison  at  the  summons  of  inexorable 
creditors,  and  when  Connecticut  deacons  rushed 
out  of  meeting  to  arrest  and  waylay  the  passing 
Sunday  traveller.  When  these  humors  of  the  day 
were  exhausted,  and  the  impulses  of  patriotism 
were  gratified  in  song,  when  he  had  paid  his  re- 
spects to  Eivington  and  Hugh  Gaine,*  he  solaced 


*  We  have  seen  his  treatment  of  Eivington  {1111U,  pp.  2S2,  8). 
lie  frequently  employed  his  pen  with  Hugh  Gaine's  humors  and 
tergiversations.  Hugh  Gaine,  a  native  of  Ireland,  commenced 
the  printing  business  in  New  York  in  175  I.  In  1752  he  started 
a  newspaper.  The  New  York  Mercury,  which  appeared  every 
Monday.  He  soon  after  opened  a  book-store,  with  the  sign  of 
the  Bible  and  Crown,  in  Hanover  square,  which  remained  in 
his  hands  for  forty  years — tiie  crown,  of  course,  disappearing 
after  the  Revolution.  On  the  approach  of  the  British  in  1770, 
he  removed  his  press  to  Newark,  but  soon  after  returned  to 
the  city.  His  paper  was  discontinued  on  the  departure  of  the 
British.  He  received  permission,  on  application  to  the  legis- 
lature, to  remain  in  New  York,  where  he  continued  until  his 
death,  April  25,  18!j7,  at  the  age  of  eighty-one.  Dr.  Francis,  in 
his  paper  on  Christopher  Colles,  tells  a  story  of  Freneau  meet- 
ing Gaiae  at  his  book-store  : — "  While  on  one  of  his  visits  at 
Gaine's,  a  customer  saluted  him  loudly  by  name,  the  sound  of 
which  arrested  the  attention  of  the  old  Royalist,  who,  lift- 
ing up  his  eyes,  interrogated  him — '  Is  your  name  Freueau  T 
*  Yes,1  answered  the  Republican  poet.  '  Philip  Freneau  ?' 
rejoined  Gaine.  'Yes,  sir;  the  same.'  'Then,  sir,1  warmly 
uttered  Gaine,  'you  are  a  very  clever  fellow.  Let  me  have 
the  pleasure  of  taking  you  by  the  hand.  Will  you  walk  round 
the  corner  and  join  ine  in  our  parlor?  We  will  take  aglass 
of  wine  together.  You,  sir,  have  L'iven  me  and  my  paper 
a  wide  ami  lasting  reputation.'11  There  is  a  good  story  of 
Gaine  which  we  have  never  seen  in  print,  showing  his  dis- 
taste for  Frenchmen,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  was  con- 
founded witli  a  barber.  On  one  occasion,  when  there  was 
a  French  frigate  in  the.Iuubor  of  New  York,  Huggins,  the 
barber,  whose  poetical  advertisements  contributed  largely  to 
the  small  humors  of  his  day,  visited  the  vessel,  and  on  tak- 
ing leave,  politely  left  his  card  wilh  the  officers,  hoping  for 
the  honor  of  a  visit.  &c.  These  gentlemen  one  day  larided, 
and  making  inquiry  for  Monsieur  Hu-ganes — as  they  pro- 
nounced the  name — were  directed  to  the  old  anti-Gallic  book- 
seller, who  turned  the  tables  upon  them  by  a  reference  to 
barber  Huggins.  Hugh  Gaine  was  a  pattern  of  old  Dutch 
steadiness,  and  would  never  give  a  note  in  payment.  A  wager 
was  once  made  that  a  note  of  hand  would  be  got  from  him, — 
aad  gained  by  a  very  low  otTer  of  goods  on  the  condition  of  a 


himself  with  higher  themes,  in  the  version  of  an 
ode  of  Horace,  a  visionary  meditation  on  the  anti- 
quities of  America,  or  a  sentimental  effusion  on  the 
loves  of  Sappho.  These  show  the  fine  tact  and 
delicate  handling  of  Freneau,  who  deserves  much 
more  consideration  in  this  respect  from  critics 
than  he  has  ever  received.  A  writer  from  whom 
the  fastidious  Campbell,  in  his  best  day,  thought 
it  worth  while  to  borrow  an  entire  line,  is  worth 
looking  into.  It  is  from  his  Indian  Burying 
Ground,  the  last  image  of  that  fine  visionary 
stanza : — 

By  midnight  moons,  o'er  moistening  dews, 
In  vestments  for  the  chase  array'd, 
The  hunter  still  the  deer  pursues, 
The  huuter  and  the  deer — a  shade. 

Campbell  has  given  the  line  a  rich  setting  in  the 
''lovelorn  fantasy"  of  C Conor's  Child: — 

Bright  as  the  bow  that  spans  the  storm, 

In  Erin's  yellow  vesture  clad, 
A  son  of  light — a  lovely  form, 

He  comes  and  makes  her  glad; 
Now  on  the  grass-green  turf  he  sits, 

His  tassel'd  horn  beside  him  laid ; 
Now  o'er  the  hills  in  ehaee  he  flits, 

The  hunter  and  the  deer  a  shade. 

There  is  also  a  line  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  which 
has  its  prototype  in  Freneau.  In  the  introduc- 
tion to  the  third  canto  of  JIarmion,  in  the  apo- 
strophe to  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  we  read — 

Lamented  chief! — not  thine  the  power 
To  save  in  that  presumptuous  hour, 
When  Prussia  hurried  to  the  field. 
And  snatch'd  the  spear  but  left  the  shield. 

In  Freneau's  poem  on  the  heroes  of  Eutaw,  we 
have  this  stanza  : — 

They  saw  their  injur'd  country's  woe; 

The  flaming  town,  the  wasted  field  ; 
Then  rushed  to  meet  the  insulting  foe  ; 

They  took  the  spear — but  left  the  shield. 

An  anecdote,  which  the  late  Henry  Brevoort 
was  accustomed  to  relate  of  hjs  visit  to  Scott, 
affords  assurance  that  the  poet  was  really  indebted 
to  Freneau,  and  that  lie  would  not,  on  a  proper 
occasion,  have  hesitated  to  acknowledge  it.  Mr. 
Brevoort  was  asked  by  Scott  respecting  the  auth<  >r- 
ship  of  certain  verses  on  the  battle  of  Entaw,  which 
he  had  seen  in  a  magazine,  and  had  by  heart,  and 
which  he  knew  were  American.  He  was  told 
that  they  were  by  Freneau,  when  he  remarked, 
the  poem  is  as  fine  a  tiling  as  there  is  of  the  kind 
in  the  language.  Scott  also  praised  one  of  the 
Indian  poems. 

We  might  add  to  these  instances,  that  in  1700, 
Freneau,  in  his  poetical  correspondence  between 
Nanny  the  Philadelphia  House-Keeper,  and  Nab- 
by  her  friend  in  New  York,  upon  the  subject  of 
the  removal  of  Congress  to  the  former  city,  had 
hit  upon  some  of  the  peculiar  pleasantry  of 
Moore's  Epistles  in  verse  of  the  present  century. 

Freneau  surprises  us  often  by  his  neatness  of 


note  in  payment;  but  the  holder  was  knocked  up  after  bed- 
time by  a  visit  from  Hugh  Gaine.  He  had  brought  the  cash 
with  him  and  must  have  the  note.  He  had  never  given  one 
before  in  his  life,  he  said,  and  could  not  sleep  with  it  on  his 
mind. 


386 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


execution  and  skill  in  versification.  He  handles 
a  triple  rhymed. stanza  in  the  octosyllabic  mea- 
sure particularly  well.  His  appreciation  of  nature 
is  tender  and  sympathetic,  one  of  the  pure  springs 
which  fed  the  more  boisterous  current  of  his 
humor  when  he  came  out  among  men  to  deal 
with  quackery,  pretence,  and  injustice.  But  what 
is  perhaps  most  worthy  of  notice  in  Freneau  is 
his  originality,  the  instinct  with  which  his  genius 
marked  out  a  path  for  itself  in  those  days  when 
most  writers  were  leaning  upon  the  old  foreign 
school  of  Pope  and  Darwin.  He  was  not  afraid 
of  home  things  and  incidents.  Dealing  with 
facts  and  realities,  and  the  life  around  him,  wher- 
ever lie  was,  his  writings  have  still  an  interest 
where  the  vague  expressions  of  other  poets  are 
forgotten.  His  poems  may  be  little  read  now — 
they  are  so  rare  that  we  have  tasked  the  resources 
of  booksellers,  and  put  friendship  to  the  proof,  to 
draw  together  the  several  editions  to  prepare  this 
article — but  they  will  be  surely  revived  and  che- 
rished among  the  historic  aud  poetic  literature 
of  the  land.  The  tree  which  plants  its  roots  most 
firmly  in  the  present,  will  survive  the  longest 
with  posterity.  The  genius  which  has  no  local 
habitation  for  its  muse,  no  personality  or  relation 
to  time  and  place  to-day  (and  how  much  poetry 
is  there  thrown  upon  the  public  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  locate),  will  be,  in  sporting  language, 
nowhere  to-morrow. 

It  is  a  little  remarkable  that  four  of  the  most 
original  writers  whom  the  country  has  produced 
have  received  the  least  attention  from  critics  and 
magazinists — Francis  Ilopkinson,  John  Trumbull, 
Brackenridge,  and  Freneau.  In  the  very  few 
notices  to  be  met  with  of  the  last,  he  is  for  the 
most  part  mentioned  in  an  apologetic  tone — as  if 
he  were  a  mere  writer  of  doggrel,  low  in  taste 
and  poor  in  expression.  Even  an  admirer,  who 
compliments  him  in  verse,  has  something  of 
this : — 

Let  Freneau  live  though  Flattery's  baleful  tongue 
Too  early  tuned  his  youthful  lyre  to  song, 
And  ripe  old  age,  in  ill-directed  zeal, 
Has  made  an  enervated  last  appeal : 
His  song  could  fire  the  sailor  on  the  wave, 
Raise  up  the  coward, — animate  the  brave, 
While  wit  and  satire  cast  their  darts  around, 
And  fools  and  cowards  tremble  at  the  sound. 
Although  Ambition  never  soar'd  to  claim 
The  meed  of  polished  verse,  or  classic  fame, 
And  caustic  critics  honour,  but  condemn, 
A  strain  of  feeling,  but  a  style  too  tame. 
Let  the  old  Bard,  whose  patriot  voice  has  fann'd 
The  fire  of  Freedom  that  redeemed  our  land, 
Live  on  the  scroll  with  kindred  names  that  swell 
The  page  of  history,  where  their  honours  dwell ; 
With  full  applause,  in  honour  to  his  age, 
Dismiss  the  veteran  poet  from  the  stage,  ' 
Crown  his  last  exit  with  distinguished  praise, 
Aud  kindly  hide  his  baldness  with  his  bays.* 

How  his  contemporaries  could  sometimes  ap- 
preciate him,  is  shown  in  an  epistle  in  Col. 
Parke's  volume  of  Horatian  translations,  and 
other  poems,  published  at  Philadelphia  in  1786. 
In  the  rarity  of  these  tributes,  it  is  worth  quot- 
ing : — 


•  American  Bards,  Phila.,  1820. 


TO  MR.   PHILIP  FRENEAU,  OS  HIS  VOLUME  OF  EXCELLENT 
POEMS,  PRINTED   BY   ME.    BAILEY. 

"  Difficile  est  aatiram  non  scribere.'"' — Juv. 
Tho'  I  know  not  your  person,  I  well  know  your 

merit, 
Your  satires  admire — your  muse  of  true  spirit; 
Who  reads  them  must  smde  at  poetical  story, 
Except  the  k — g's  printer,  or  some  such  like  tory; 
Sir  William,  Sir  Harry,  and  would-be  Sir  John, 
Cornwallis,  the  Devil,  those  bucks  of  the  ton; 
Black  Dunrnore  and  Wallace  with  sun-setting-nose, 
Who  steals  hogs  and  sheep,  secure — under  the  Rose* 
But  a  fig  for  the  anger  of  such  petty  rogues, 
To   the   devil   we    pitch   them   without    shoes    or 

brogues! 
Pythag'ras'  choice   scheme   my  belief  now  cou- 

trouls,  • 

I  sign  to  his  creed — transmigration  of  souls; 
Euphorbas's  shield  he  no  doubt  did  employ, 
And  bravely  let  blood  on  the  plains  of  old  Troy : 
The  souls  of  great  Jlartb'ro'  and  warlike  Eugene 
Conspicuous  in  Washington's  glory  are  seen  : 
Sage   Plato   beams   wisdom    from   Franklin's    rich 

brain, 
And  sky-taught  Sir  Isaac  is  seen  here  again. 
But  Hugh  when  he  migrates  may  daily  be  found 
Cracking  boues  in  a  kitchen  in  form  of  a  hound ; 
When   his  compeer   shall   die — while  no  Christina 

shall  weep  him, 
Old  Pluto,  below,  for  a  devil  will  keep  him ; 
Unless  he's  sent  up  on  some  hasty  dispatch, 
The  Whigs  to  abuse,  and  more  falsehoods  to  hatch. 
Those  red-jerkiu'd  fops,  whom  your  muse  I've  heard 

sing,  _     v 

From  Hounslow's  bold  heroes  successively  spring; 
From  Tyburn  they  tumble  as  supple  as  panders, 
Then  migrate  straightway  into  knights  and  com- 
manders. 
But  you,  worthy  poet,  whose  soul-cutting  pen 
In  gall  paints  the  crimes  of  all  time-serving  men, 
The  fiend  of  corruption,  the  wretch  of  an  hour, 
The  star-garter'd  villain,  the  scoundrel  in  pow'r ; 
From  souls  far  unlike  may  announce  your  ascension. 
The  patriot  all-worthy,  above  bribe  or  pension, 
The  martyr  who  suffer'd  for  liberty's  sake 
Grim  dungeons,  more  horrid  than  hell's  bitter  lake: 
Your  name  to  bright  honour,  the  spirits  shall  hit, 
That  glow'd  in  the  bosoms  of  Churchill  and  Swift. 

And  wdien  you  are  number'd,  alas!  with  the  dead, 
Your  works  by  true  wits  will  forever  be  read, 
Who,  pointing  the  finger,  shall  pensively  show 
The  lines^that  were  written,  alas!  by  Freneau. 
Philadelphia,  June  8,  1786. 

It  is  not  to  be  denied,  however,  that  Frenean 
was  sometimes  careless.  He  lived  and  thought 
with  improvidence.  His  jests  are  sometimes 
misdirected;  and  his  verses  are  unequal  in  exe- 
cution. Yet  it  is  not  too  much  to  predict  that 
through  the  genuine  nature  of  some  of  his  pro- 
ductions, and  the  historic  incidents  of  others, 
all  that  he  wrote  will  yet  be  called  for,  and 
find  favor  in  numerous  popular  editions. 

ADVICE  TO  AUTnOES. 

By  the  Late  Mr.  Robert  Slender. 

There  are  few  writers  of  books  in  this  new  world, 
and  amongst  these  very  few  that  deal  in  works  of 
imagination,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  fewer  still  that 
have  any  success  attending  their  lucubrations.  Per- 
haps, however,  the  world  thinks  justly  on  this  sub- 
ject.    The  productions  of  the  most  brilliant  imagi- 

*  He  commanded  the  Eose  sIood. 


PHILIP  FKENEAU. 


337 


nation  are  at  best  but  mere  beautiful  flowers,  that 
may  amuse  us  in  a  walk  through  a  garden  in  a  fine 
afternoon,  but  can  by  no  means  be  expected  to  en- 
gage much  of  that  time  -which  God  and  nature  de- 
signed to  be  spent  in  very  different  employments. 
Iq  a  country,  which  two  hundred  years  ago  was 
peopled  only  by  savages,  and  where  the  government 
has  ever,  in  effect,  since  the  first  establishment  of  the 
white  men  in  these  parts,  been  no  other  than  repub- 
lican, it  is  really  wonderful  there  should  be  any  polite 
original  authors  at  all  in  any  line,  especially  when  it 
is  considered,  that  according  to  the  common  course 
of  things,  any  particular  nation  or  people  must  have 
arrived  to,  or  rather  passed,  their  meridian  of  opu- 
lence and  refinement,  before  they  consider  the  pro- 
fessors of  the  fine  arts  in  any  other  light  than  a  nui- 
sance to  the  community.  This  is  evidently  the  case 
at  present  iu  our  age  and  country ;  all  you  have  to 
do  then,  my  good  friends,  is  to  graft  your  authorship 
upon  some  other  calling,  or  support  di'ooping  genius 
by  the  assistance  of  some  mechanical  employment, 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  helpless  ivy  takes  hold  of 
the  vigorous  oak,  and  cleaves  to  it  for  support — I 
mean  to  say,  in  plain  language,  that  you  may  make 
something  by  weaving  garters,  or  mending  old  sails, 
when  an  Epic  poem  would  be  your  utter  destruc- 
tion. 

But  I  see  no  reason  that,  because  we  are  all  striv- 
ing to  live  by  the  same  i>!le  trade,  we  should  suffer 
ourselves  to  be  imbittered  against  each  other,  like  a 
fraternity  of  rival  mechanics  in  the  same  street. 
Authors  (such  I  mean  as  are  not  possessed  of  for- 
tunes) are  at  present  considered  as  the  dregs  of  the 
community:  their  situation  and  prospects  are  truly 
humiliating,  and  any  other  set  of  men  in  a  similar 
state  of  calamitous  adversity  would  unite  together 
for  their  mutual  defence,  instead  of  worrying  and 
lampooning  each  other  for  the  amusement  of  the 
illiberal  vulgar.  And  I  cannot  do  otherwise  than 
freely  declare,  that  where  the  whole  profits  of  a 
company  amount  to  little  or  nothing  at  all,  there 
ought  not,  in  the  nature  of  things,  to  be  any  quar- 
relling about  shares  and  dividends. 

As  to  those  authors  who  have  lately  exported 
themselves  from  Britain  and  Ireland,  and  boast  that 
they  have  introduced  the  Muses  among  us  6ince  the 
conclusion  of  the  late  war,  I  really  believe  them  to 
be  a  very  good-natured  set  of  gentlemen,  notwith- 
standing they,  in  the  course  of  the  last  winter,  called 
me  poetaster  and  scribbler,  and  some  other  names 
still  more  unsavoury.  They  are,  however,  excuse- 
able  in  treating  the  American  authors  as  inferiors; 
a  political  and  a  literary  independence  oftheirnation 
being  two  very  different  things;  the  first  was  ac- 
complished in  about  seven  years,  the  latter  will  not 
be  completely  effected,  perhaps,  in  as  many  centu- 
ries. It  is  my  opinion,  nevertheless,  that  a  duty 
ought  to  be  laid  upon  all  important  authors,  the  nett 
proceeds  of  which  should  be  appropriated  to  the  be- 
nefit of  real  American  writers,  when  become  old  and 
helpless,  and  no  longer  able  to  wield  the  pen  to  ad- 
vantage. 

If  a  coach  or  a  chariot  constructed  in  Britain,  pays 
an  impost  of  twenty  pounds  at  the  custom-house, 
why  should  not  at  least  twice  that  sum  be  laid  upon 
all  imported  authors  who  are  able  to  do  twice  as 
much  mischief  with  their  rumbling  pindarie  odes, 
and  gorgeous  apparatus  of  strophes,  antistrophes, 
and  recitativos  ?  I,  for  my  own  part,  am  clearly  of 
opinion,  that  these  gentlemen  should  be  taxed ;  not 
that  I  would  wish  to  nip  their  buds  of  beauty  with 
the  untimely  frost  of  excise,  but  merely  to  teach 
them  that  our  own  natural  manufactures  ought  to 
be  primarily  attended  to  and  encouraged. 

I  will  now,  gentlemen,  with  your  leave,  lay  down 

vol.  I.— 22 


a  few  simple  rules,  to  which,  in  my  opinion,  every 
genuine  author  will  make  no  difficulty  to  conform. 

1.  "When  you  write  a  book  for  the  public,  have 
nothing  to  do  with  Epistles  dedicatory.  They  were 
first  invented  by  slaves,  and  have  been  continued  by 
fools  and  sycophants.  I  would  not  give  a  farthing 
more  for  a  book  on  account  of  its  being  patronized 
by  all  the  noblemen  or  crowned  heads  in  Christen- 
dom. If  it  does  not  possess  intrinsic  merit  enough 
to  protect  itself,  and  force  its  way  through  the 
world,  their  supposed  protection  will  be  of  no  avail: 
besides,  by  this  ridiculous  practice  you  degrade  the 
dignity  authorial,  the  honor  of  authorship,  which 
ought  evermore  to  be  uppermost  in  your  thoughts. 
The  silly  unthinking  author  addresses  a  great  man 
in  the  style  of  a  servile  dependent,  whereas  a  real 
author,  and  a  man  of  true  genius,  has  upon  all  occa- 
sions a  bold,  disinterested,  and  daring  confidence  in 
himself,  and  considers  the  common  cant  of  adulation 
to  the  sons  of  fortune  as  the  basest  and  most  abomi- 
nable of  all  prostitution. 

2.  Be  particularly  careful  to  avoid  all  connexion 
with  doctors  of  law  and  divinity,  masters  of  arts, 
professors  of  colleges,  and  in  general  all  those  that 
wear  square  black  caps.  A  mere  scholar  and  an 
original  author  are  two  animals  as  different  from 
each  other  as  a  fresh  and  salt  water  sailor.  There 
has  been  an  old  rooted  enmity  between  them  from 
the  earliest  ages,  and  which  it  is  likely  will  for  ever 
continue.  The  scholar  is  not  unlike  that  piddling 
orator,  who,  eold  and  inanimate,  not  roused  into  ac- 
tion by  the  impelling  flame  of  inspiration,  can  only 
pronounce  the  oration  he  has  learned  by  rote ;  the 
real  author,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  nervous  Demos- 
thenes, who  stored  with  an  immensity  of  ideas,  awa- 
kened within  him  he  knows  not  how,  has  them  at 
command  upon  every  occasion;  and  must  therefore 
be  disregarded  as  a  madman  or  an  enthusiast  by  the 
narrow  and  limited  capacity,  as  well  as  the  natural 
self-sufficiency  of  the  other. 

3.  It  is  risking  a  great  deal  to  propose  a  sub- 
scription for  an  original  work.  The  world  will  bo 
ready  enough  to  anticipate  your  best  endeavours ; 
and  that  which  has  been  long  and  anxiously  ex- 
pected, rarely  or  never  comes  up  to  their  expecta- 
tions at  last. 

i.  If  you  are  so  poor  that  you  are  compelled  to 
live  in  some  miserable  garret  or  cottage ;  do  not 
Repine,  but  give  thanks  to  heaven  that  you  are  not 
forced  to  pass  your  life  iu  a  tub,  as  was  the  fate  of 
Diogenes  of  old.  Few  authors  in  any  country  are 
rich,  because  a  man  must  first  be  reduced  to  a  state 
of  penury  before  he  will  commence  author.  Being 
poor  therefore  in  externals,  take  care,  gentlemen, 
that  you  say  or  do  nothing  that  may  argue  a  po- 
verty of  spirit.  Riches,  we  have  often  heard,  are  by 
no  means  the  standard  of  the  value  of  a  man.  Tins 
maxim  the  world  allows  to  be  true,  and  yet  contra- 
dicts it  every  hour  and  minute  in  the  year.  For- 
tune most  commonly  bestows  wealth  and  abundance 
upon  fools  and  idiots ;  and  men  of  the  dullest  natu- 
ral parts  are,  notwithstanding,  generally  best  calcu- 
lated to  acquire  large  estates,  and  hoard  up  immense 
sums  from  small  beginnings. 

5.  Never  borrow  money  of  any  man,  for  if  you 

i  should  once  be  mean  enough  to  fall  intosuch  a  habit, 
you  will  find  yourselves  unwelcome  giiests  every 

j  where.  If  upon  actual  trial  you  are  at  length  con- 
vinced you  possess  no  abilities  that  will  command  ■ 
the  esteem,  veneration,  or  gratitude  of  mankind, 
apply  yourselves  without  loss  of  time  to  some  of  the 
lower  arts,  since  it  is  far  more  honourable  to  be  a 

I  good  bricklayer  or  a  skilful  weaver  than  an  indiffer- 
ent poet.  If  you  cannot  at  all  exist  without  now 
and  then  gratifying  your  itch  for  scribbling,  follow 


338 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


my  example  who  can  both  weave  stockings  and 
write  poems.  But,  if  you  really  possess  that  spright- 
liness  of  fancy  and  elevation  of  soul  which  alone 
constitute  an  author,  do  not  on  that  account  be 
troublesome  to  your  friends.     A  little  reflection  will 

Eoint  out  other  means  to  extract  money  from  the 
ands  and  pockets  of  your  fellow  citizens  than  by 
poorly  borrowing  what,  perhaps,  you  will  never  be 
able  to  repay. 

6.  Never  engage  in  any  business  as  an  inferior  or 
understrapper.  I  cannot  endure  to  see  an  author 
debase  his  profession  so  far  as  to  submit  to  be  second 
or  third  in  any  office  or  emploj'ment  whatever.  If 
fortune,  or  the  ill  taste  of  the  public,  compels  you 
even  to  turn  shallopmau  on  the  Delaware,  let  it  be 
your  first  care  to  have  the  command  of  the  boat. 
Beggary  itself,  with  all  its  hideous  apparatus  of  rags 
and  misery,  becomes  at  once  respectable  whenever  it 
exhibits  the  least  token  of  independence  of  spirit  and 
a  single  spark  of  laudable  ambition. 

1.  If  you  are  in  low  circumstances,  do  not  forget 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  in  the  world  as  a  decent 
pride.  They  are  only  cowards  and  miscreants  that 
poverty  can  render  servile  in  their  behaviour.  Your 
naughtiness  should  always  rise  in  proportion  to  the 
wretchedness  and  desperation  of  your  circumstances. 
If  you  have  only  a  single  guinea  in  the  world  be 
complaisant  and  obliging  to  everyone:  if  you  are 
absolutely  destitute  of  a  shilling,  immediately  assume 
the  air  of  a  despot,  pull  off  your  hat  to  no  one,  let 
your  discourse,  in  every  company,  turn  upon  the 
vanity  of  riches,  the  insignificancy  of  the  great  men 
of  the  earth,  the  revolution  of  empires,  and  the  final 
consummation  of  all  things.  By  such  means  you 
will  at  least  conceal  a  secret  of  some  importance  to 
yourself — that  you  have  not  a  shilling  in  the  world 
to  pay  for  your  last  night's  lodging. 

8.  Should  you  ever  be  prevailed  upon  to  dedicate 
your  book  to  any  great  man  or  woman,  consider 
first,  whether  the  tenor  and  subject  of  it  be  such  as 
may  in  some  measure  coincide  with  the  age,  temper, 
education,  business,  and  general  conversation  of  the 
person  whose  patronage  is  requested.  A  friend  of 
mine  once  committed  a  great  error  on  this  score, 
lie  wrote  a  bawd}'  poem,  and  dedicated  it  to  the 
principal  in  the  department  of  finance. 

9.  Never  make  a  present  of  your  works  to  great 
men.  If  they  do  not  think  them  worth  purchasing, 
trust  me,  they  will  never  think  them  worth  reading." 

10.  If  fortune  seems  absolutely  determined  to 
starve  you,  and  you  can  by  no  means  whatever  make 
your  works  sell ;  to  keep  up  as  much  as  in  you  lies, 
the  expiring  dignity  of  authorship,  do  not  take  to 
drinking,  gambling,  or  bridge-building  as  some  have 
done,  thereby  bringing  the  trade  of  authorship  into 
disrepute  ;  but  retire  to  some  uninhabited  island  or 
desert,  and  there,  at  your  leisure,  end  your  life  with 
decency. 

The  above  is  all  that  has  yet  been  found  written  by 
Robert  Slender  relative  to  authors  and  authorship — 
and  further  the  copyist  at  this  time  sayeth.not. 


DIRECTION'S  FOP.  COirKTSniP. 

Hive  eadem  ut  sciret,  quid  non/aeiebat  Amyntas  ? — Yip.g. 
The  parson  of  our  parish  used  to  say,  in  his  hours 
of  convivial  gaiety,  that  nothing  puzzles  a  man  of 
true  delicacy  more,  tlianhow  to  make  the  first  advances 
to  the  woman  he  loves,  with  a  becoming  propriety  of 
sentiment,  lane/uayc,  and  behaviour. 

I  must  confess  I  am  somewhat  of  his  opinion  in 
this  matter,  and  having  in  my  time  observed  many 
a  promising  alliance  broken  off  by  a  mere  idle  inat- 
tention to  what  even  a  very  moderate  share  of  un- 
derstanding  ought   always   to   dictate   upon  these 


occasions,  I  shall,  for  the  benefit  of  those  whom  it 
may  concern,  set  down  a  few  easy  rules,  by  the  as- 
sistance of  which  people  may  at  least  prevent  them- 
selves from  becoming  personally  ridiculous,  if  they 
cannot  succeed  to  the  utmost  of  their  wishes  in  other 
respects. 


"Wnen  you  take  a  serious  liking  to  a  young  woman, 
never  discover  your  passion  to  her  by  way  of  letter. 
It  will  either  give  the  lady  an  idea  that  you  are  a 
bashful  booby,  or  that  you  have  not  any  address  in 
conversation ;  botli  which  defects  are  sufficient  to 
ruin  you  in  the  estimation  of  any  woman  of  only 
tolerable  good  sense. 


During  the  time  of  courtship  be  careful  never  to 
discourse  with  the  lady  upon  serious  subjects,  or 
matters  that  are  not  strictly  and  immediately  perti- 
nent to  the  purpose  you  are  upon.  If  she  asks  you 
what  news,  you  must  not  tell  her  a  long  story  out 
of  the  Dutch  or  English  gazettes  about  the  decline 
of  trade,  the  fall  of  stocks,  or  the  death  of  Mynheer 
Van  der  Possum.  She  looks  for  no  such  answers. 
You  must  rather  relate  a  melancholy  tale  of  two  or 
three  young  gentlemen  of  fortune  and  handsome  ex- 
pectations that  have  lately  drowned  themselves  in 
the  Schuylkill,  or  thrown  themselves  headlong  from 
their  third  story  windows,  and  been  dashed  to  pieces 
on  the  pavement  for  the  sake  of  a  certain  inexorable 
fair  one,  whose  name  you  cannot  recollect;  but  the 
beauty  and  shafts  of  whose  eyes  these  poor  young 
gentlemen  could  not  possibly  withstand.  Such  in- 
telligence as  this  will  instantly  put  her  into  good 
humour ;  and  upon  the  strength  of  that  lie  alone,  you 
will  be  allowed  liberties  with  her  person  that  a  re- 
capitulation of  all  the  morality  in  Tillotson,  or  the 
real  news  of  five  hundred  gazettes,  would  not  so 
effectually  enable  you  to  take. 


I  would  advise  you  never  to  make  use  of  the  dic- 
tatorial style  till  you  are  perfectly  sure  of  your  Dul- 
cinea ;  and  that  period  depends  in  a  great  measure 
upon  your  own  prudence.  Till  then,  you  must  seem 
to  give  the  preference  to  her  judgment  in  all  matters 
that  happen  to  be  discussed,  and  submit  to  be  in- 
structed by  her  in  whatever  she  apprehends  you  do 
not  understand.  Your  trade  or  occupation  in  life 
she  takes  for  granted  you  are  perfectly  acquainted 
with;  and  remember  never  to  say  a  word  on  that 
score  in  her  hearing,  unless  your  calling  happens  to 
have  no  spice  of  vulgarity  about  it.  If,  however, 
you  are  a  governor  of  an  island,  or  happen  to  be 
some  considerable  officer  of  state,  3011  may  fre- 
quently make  professional  allusions,  as  her  vanity 
will  be  gratified  thereby ;  and  women,  we  all  know, 
are  naturally  fond  of  power. 


Have  a  care  that  you  do  not  pester  her  with  de- 
scriptions of  the  Alps,  the  Appennines,  and  the  river 
Po.  A  lady  is  not  supposed  to  know  anything  of 
such  matters ;  besides,  you  must  be  a  very  cold  lover 
if  those  far-fetched  things  can  command  your  atten- 
tion a  moment  in  the  company  of  a  fine  woman. 
Whatever  she  thinks  proper  to  assert,  it  is  your 
business  to  defend,  and  prove  to  be  true.  If  she 
says  black  is  white,  it  is  not  for  men  in  your  proba- 
tionary situation  to  contradict  her.  On  the  con- 
trary, you  must  swear  and  protest  that  she  is  right; 
and,  in  demonstrating  it,  be  very  cautious  of  using 
pedantic  arguments,  making  nice  logical  distinctions, 
or  affecting  hard  and  unintelligible  terms. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU. 


339 


I  hold  it  to  be  extremely  dangerous  to  make  jocu- 
lar remarks  upon  any  of  the  inferior  parts  of  the 
lady's  dress.  The  head-dress,  indeed,  custom  and 
female  courtesy  permits  us  to  treat  "with  a  little 
more  freedom ;  but  even  this  requires  great  care  and 
a  nice  judgment,  or  you  are  sure  to  offend.  Above 
all  things  never  mention  the  words  petticoat,  gar- 
ters or  shoes  in  her  presence.  I  once,  in  my  youth- 
ful days,  introduced  a  friend  of  mine  to  a  young  lady, 
as  a  preliminary  to  future  connexions.  I  remember 
he  was  violently  in  love  with  her,  and  would  almost 
have  given  his  right  arm  to  have  had  peaceable  pos- 
session. But  he  ruined  all  by  his  unlucky  choice  of 
a  subject  in  his  very  first  conversation.  "Madam," 
said  he,  (thinking  to  be  very  smart)  "  I  have  some 
fault  to  find  with  your  shoes'."  The  lady  blushed — 
[I  endeavoured  to  turn  the  conversation  another 
way,  but  found  it  impossible.] — "Madam,"  (said  he 
again)  "  you  must  permit  me  to  criticise  a  little  upon 
your  shoes  1  the  toes  are  too  round,  the  straps  too 
short  for  the  oval  of  the  buckle,  and  the  heels  appear 
to  me  at  least  two  inches  higher  than  they  ought 
to  be." 

Now  there  was  no  great  harm  in  all  this ;  the  con- 
sequence, however,  was,  that  the  lady  immediately 
called  up  the  footman,  and  ordered  him  to  conduct 
the  gentleman  down  stairs.  I  cannot  think  (said 
she)  of  being  addressed  by  a  man,  who,  from  his  dis- 
course, appears  evidently  to  have  been  bred  up  no- 
thing more  than  a  simple  shoemaker;  and  what  is 
worse,  will  forever  continue  so! 


When  you  are  courting  a  young  lady,  be  careful 
never  to  send  her  any  presents  that  are  very  easily 
to  be  come  at,  or  such  as  particularly  appertain  to 
your  own  shop  or  line  of  business.  A  certain  French 
tobacconist  of  some  fortune  fell  in  love  with  a  girl  of 
considerable  merit  and  beauty,  but  having  never 
turned  his  attention  much  to  the  gay  world,  he  was 
not  so  well  acquainted  with  what  is  called  the  eti- 
quette of  polite  life  as  Frenchmen  in  general  are. 
By  way  of  introducing  himself  to  the  lady  he  sent 
her  his  compliments,  a  letter  full  of  love,  and  a 
basket  of  cut  tobacco,  to  the  chewing  and  smoking  of 
which  he  himself  was  extravagantly  addicted;  and 
therefore  very  rationally  concluded  that  the  whole 
world  ought  to  do  the  same. 

The  lady  returned  the  tobacco  by  the  same  ser- 
vant that  brought  it,  with  some  expressions  of  con- 
tempt and  indignation  ;  as  the  present  seemed  to 
imply,  that  she  was  fond  of  smoking  and  chewing 
this  very  vulgar  and  nauseous  weed.  The  French- 
man, fired  with  resentment  upon  seeing  his  ill-judged 
present  returned,  then  sat  down  and  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing billet  by  way  of  answer : 

"  Vat  !  you  send  home  the  tabac  ? — den  vat  shall  I 
send  in  reverse  [return] — You  will  have  me  send  my 
own  heart?  dat  I  canned  en  present — adieu." 

He  soon  after  enquired  of  one  of  the  lady's  rela- 
tions what  she  was  particularly  fond  of — some  one 
answered,  soft  cheese. 

He  accordingly  purchased  a  large  cheese  of  an 
excellent  quality,  and,  to  show  that  lie  was  in  every 
sense  her  slave,  carried  it  to  her  himself  upon  his 
shoulder.  The  lady,  you  may  be  sure,  could  do  no 
less  than  smile. 

"  Why  you  laugh,  lady  ?  Mademoiselle,  en  verite, 
you  be  in  one  tres-agreeable  good  humour,  pardie  t" 

I  am  laughing,  said  the  lady,  to  think  you  are 
turned  cheesemonger !  It  is  almost  needless  to  say, 
that  both  he  and  his  cheese  were  instantly  dismissed 
the  house  for  ever. 


If  it  can  possibly  be  avoided,  never,  in  the  houra 
of  courtship,  let  your  discourse  turn  upon  anything 
relative  to  female  anatomy. 

Few  young  ladies  can  ever  forgive  the  man  that  is 
found  guilty  of  only  insinuating  in  company,  that  the 
sex  have  anything  to  do  with  materiality.  What- 
ever, therefore,  may  be  your  private  opinion,  you 
must,  while  in  their  society,  be  an  absolute  imma- 
terialist  in  regard  to  the  rational  female  world. 
Perhaps,  an  instance  may  sufficiently  illustrate  my 
meaning. 

A  certain  juvenile  lady  of  acknowledged  good 
sense  and  beauty,  some  time  ago  had  the  misfortune 
to  fall  out  of  her  coach,  and  broke  no  less  than  three 
of  her  ribs  on  the  left  side,  dislocated  one  of  her  hips, 
and  considerably  injured  her  left  shoulder,  &c. 
This  was  for  some  days  a  topic  of  public  conversa- 
tion. Dick  Prettyman,  whom  I  have  mentioned 
upon  another  occasion,  was  at  that  time  paying  his 
addresses  to  Miss  Angelica  Evergreen.  Upon  her 
enquiring  of  Dick,  one  afternoon,  the  particulars  of 
this  untoward  accident,  he  was  silly  enough  to  blurt 
I  out  in  plain  language  before  a  polite  assembly  of 
j  young  females,  that  "  the  lady  had  fallen  out  of  the 
coach  topsy-turvy,  had  broken  three  of  the  best  and 
I  strongest  ribs  in  her  whole  body,  had  considerably 
I  damaged  one  of  her  hips,  and  that  her  legs,  etc.,  had 
not  escaped  entirely  without  injury."  The  company 
blushed  up  to  the  eyes,  unfurled  their  fans,  and  a 
general  confusion  took  place;  till  one  of  the  most 
resolute  of  the  ladies  peeped  from  behind  her  fan, 
and  exclaimed,  "  Fie,  Mr.  Prettyman !  have  you  been 
bred  up  in  a  hogstye,  sir,  to  talk  in  this  scandalous 
manner  in  the  presence  of  ladies?" 

He  was  then  turned  out  of  the  room  by  unani- 
mous consent ;  and  this  small  inattention  to  a  proper 
decorum  in  conversation  had  very  nearly  ruined  his 
expectations.  I  remember  it  was  not  till  after  a 
long  and  sincere  repentance  that  he  reinstated  him- 
self in  Miss  Angelica's  favour. 

Now,  had  he  been  a  man  of  sense  and  breeding  he 
would  have  related  the  disaster  in  this  manner: 

"  The  chariot  was  driving  along  with  vast  rapi- 
dity, pomposity,  and  an  ineffable  display  of  gran- 
deur, when  suddenly  one  of  the  rotatory  supporters, 
commonly  called  wheels,  struck  a  post,  thro'  the 
carelessness  of  the  celestial  charioteer,  and  com- 
pletely overturned  this  most  elegant  and  awful  ma- 
chine; that  divine  creature,  Miss  Myrtilla  Myrtle- 
bones,  then  tumbled  out  upon  the  dusty  pavement, 
which,  I  will  be  bold  to  say,  never  before  received 
so  heavenly  and  sky-bespangled  a  burden.  Her 
guardian  angel,  it  seems,  was  at  that  moment  ne- 
glecting his  duty.  She  fell — and,  0  lamentable! — 
that  exquisitely  delicate  frame,  which  the  immortal 
Jupiter  himself  had  put  together  with  such  won- 
derful excess  of  art;  that  heavenly  frame,  I  say, 
was  considerably  disordered  by  so  rude  and  severe 
a  shock." 

Such  a  representation  of  matters,  though,  in  rea- 
lity, giving  very  little  information  in  itself,  would 
have  thrown  the  whole  female  circle  into  the  most 
charming  humour  in  the  world  ;  whereas  the  vulgar 
way  in  which  Dick  told  it  was  only  calculated  for 
the  ears  of  the  surgeon. 

LINES    OCCASIONED    BY   A   VISIT.  TO    AN    OLD    INDIAN  BURYING  - 
GROUND. 

In  spite  of  all  the  learn'd  have  said 

I  still  my  old  opinion  keep  ; 
The  posture  that  we  give  the  dead 

Points  out  the  soul's  eternal  sleep. 

Not  so  the  ancients  of  these  lands ; — 
The  Indian,  when  from  life  releas'd, 


340 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Again  is  seated  ■with  his  friends, 
And  shares  again  the  joyous  feast. 

His  imag'd  birds,  and  painted  bowl, 
And  veu'son,  for  a  journey  drest, 

Bespeak  the  nature  of  the  soul, 
Activity,  that  "wants  no  rest. 

His  bow  for  action  ready  bent, 
And  arrows,  with  a  head  of  bone, 

Can  only  mean  that  life  is  spent, 
And. not  the  finer  essence  gone. 

Thou,  Btranger,  that  shalt  come  this  way. 
No  fraud  upon  the  dead  commit, 

Yet,  mark  the  swelling  turf,  and  say. 
They  do  not  lie,  but  here  they  sit. 

Here,  still  a  lofty  rock  remains. 

On  which  the  curious  eye  may  trace 

(Now  wasted  half  by  wearing  rains) 
The  fancies  of  a  ruder  race. 

Here,  still  an  aged  elm  aspires, 

Beneath  whose  far  projecting  shade 

(And  which  the  shepherd  still  admires) 
The  children  of  the  forest  play'd. 

There  oft  a  restless  Indian  queen, 
(Pale  Marian  with  her  braided  hair} 

And  many  a  barbarous  form  is  seen    • 
To  chide  the  man  that  lingers  there. 

By  midnight  moons,  o'er  moistening  dews. 
In  vestments  for  the  chace  array'd, 

The  hunter  still  the  deer  pursues, 
The  hunter  and  the  deer — a  shade. 

And  long  shall  timorous  Fancy  see 
The  painted  chief,  and  pointed  spear, 

And  reason's  self  shall  bow  the  knee 
To  shadows  and  delusions  here. 

THE  INDIAN  STUDENT  J    OK,  FOKCE  OF  NATURE. 

Rura  mild  et  rigid  placeanl  in  vaUih-us  anwws  : 
Flmviina  arnem,  syhiasque  ingloriit-s. 

Vino.  Gcorg.  n.  4S3. 

From  Susquehanna's  utmost  springs 

Where  savage  tribes  pursue  their  game. 

His  blanket  tied  with  yellow  strings, 
A  shepherd  of  the  forest  came. 

Not  long  before,  a  wandering  priest 
Express'd  his  wish,  with  visage  sad — 
"  Ah,  why  (he  cry'd)  in  Satan's  waste, 
Ah,  why  detain  so  fine  a  lad  ? 

"  In  Yanky  land  there  stands  a  town 

"Where  learning  may  be  purchas'd  low — 
Exchange  his  blanket  for  a  gown, 
And  let  the  lad  to  college  go." — 

From  long  debate  the  Council  rose, 

And  viewing  Shalum's  tricks  with  joy, 
To  Harvard  hall*  o'er  wastes  of  snows, 

They  sent  the  copper-colour'd  boy. 
One  generous  chief  a  bow  supply' d, 

This  gave  a  shaft,  and  that  a  skin ; 
The  feathers,  in  vermillion  dy'd. 

Himself  did  from  a  turkey  win  : 

Thus  dress'd  so  gay,  he  took  his  way 
O'er  barren  hills,  alone,  alone ! 

His  guide  a  star,  he  wander'd  far. 
His  pillow  every  night  a  stone. 

At  last  he  came,  with  leg  so  lame, 

Where  learned  men  talk  heathen  Greek, 

And  Hebrew  lore  is  gabbled  o'er, 
To  please  the  muses,  twice  a  week. 


*  Harvard  College,  at  Cambridge  in  Massachusetts. 


Awhile  he  writ,  awhile  he  read, 

Awhile  he  learn'd  the  grammar  rules — 
i-  An  Indian  savage  so  well  bred 

Great  credit  promis'd  to  their  schools. 

Some  thought  he  would  in  law  excel, 
Some  said  in  physic  he  would  shine;' 

And  one  that  knew  him  passing  well, 
Beheld,  in  him,  a  sound  divine. 

But  those  of  more  discerning  eye 

Even  then  could  other  prospects  show, 

And  saw  him  lay  his  Virgil  by 
To  wander  with  his  dearer  bow. 

The  tedious  hours  of  study  spent, 
The  heavy-moulded  lecture  done, 

He  to  the  woods  a  hunting  went, 
But  sigh'd  to  see  the  setting  sun. 

No  mystic  wonders  fir'd  his  mind  ; 

He  sought  to  gain  no  learn'd  degree, 
But  only  sense  enough  to  find 

The  squirrel  in  the  hollow  tree.  , 

The  shady  bank,  the  purling  stream, 
The  woody  wild  his  heart  possess'd, 

The  dewy  lawn,  his  morning  dream 
In  Fancy's  gayest  colours  dress'd. 

"  And  why  (he  cry'd)  did  I  forsake 

My  native  wood  for  gloomy  walls; 
The  silver  stream,  the  limpid  lake 
For  musty  books  and  college  halls. 

"  A  little  could  my  wants  supply — 

Can  wealth  and  honour  give  me  more  ? 
Or,  will  the  sylvan  god  deny 

The  humble  treat  he  gave  before  ? 

"  Let  Seraphs  reach  the  bright  abode, 
And  heaven's  sublimest  mansions  see — 
I  only  bow  to  Nature's  God — 

The  Land  of  Shades  will  do  for  me. 

"  These  dreadful  secrets  of  the  sky 
Alarm  my  soul  with  chilling  fear — 
Do  planets  in  their  orbits  fly, 

And  is  the  earth,  indeed,  a  sphere? 

"Let  planets  still  their  aims  pursue, 
And  comets  round  creation  run — 
In  him  my  faithful  friend  I  view, 
The  image  of  my  God — the  Sun. 

"  Where  Nature's  ancient  forests  grow, 

And  mingled  laurel  never  fades, 
My  heart  is  fixed, — and  I  must  go 
To  die  among  my  native  shades." 

He  spoke,  and  to  the  western  springs, 
(His  gown  discharg'd,  his  money  spent) 

His  blanket  tied  with  yellow  strings, 
The  shepherd  of  the  forest  went. 

Returning  to  the  rural  reign 

The  Indians  welcom'd  him  with  joy; 

The  council  took  him  home  again, 
And  bless'd  the  copper-colour'd  boy. 

TTIE  DYING    INDIAN. 

Dcbeinw  morti  nos,  nosiraque. 
On  yonder  lake  I  spread  the  sail  no  more  [ 
Yigour,  and  youth,  and  active  days  are  past — 
Relentless  demons  urge  me  to  that  shore 
On  whose  black  forests  all  the  dead  are  cast: 
Ye  solemn  train,  prepare  the  funeral  song, 
For  I  must  go  to  shades  below, 
Where  all  is  strange,  and  all  is  new ; 
Companion  to  the  airy  throng, 

What  solitary  streams, 

In  dull  and  dreary  dreams, 
All  melancholy,  must  I  rove  along  I 


PHILIP  FRENEAU. 


341 


To  what  strange  lands  must  Shalum  take  his  way ! 
Groves  of  the  dead  departed  mortals  trace  ; 
No  deer  along  those  gloomy  forests  stray, 
No  huntsmen  there  take  pleasure  in  the  ehace, 
But  all  are  empty  unsubstantial  shades, 
That  ramble  through  those  visionary  glades; 
No  spongy  fruits  from  verdant  trees  depend, 

But  sickly  orchards  there 

Do  fruits  as  sickly  bear. 

And  apples  a  consumptive  visage  shew, 
And  wither'd  hangs  the  hurtle-berry  blue.. 

Ah  me!   what  mischiefs  on  the  dead  attend ! 
"Wandering  a  stranger  to  the  shores  below, 
Where  shall  I  brook  or  real  fountain  find  I 
Lazy  and  sad  deluding  waters  now — 
Such  is  the  picture  in  my  boding  mind  I 

Fine  tales,  indeed,  they  tell 

Of  shades  and  purling  rills, 

"Where  our  dead  fathers  dwell 

Beyond  the  western  hills, 
But  when  did  ghost  return  his  state  to  shew ; 
Or  who  can  promise  half  the  tale  is  true  { 

I  too  must  be  a  fleeting  ghost — no  more — 
None,  none  but  shadows  to  those  mansions  go; 
I  leave  my  woods,  I  leave  the  Huron  shore, 
For  emptier  groves  below  I 
Ye  charming  solitudes, 
Ye  tall  ascending  woods, 
Ye  glassy  lakes  and  prattling  streams, 
Whose  aspect  still  was  sweet, 
Whether  the  sun  did  greet, 
Or  the  pale  moon  embrae'd  you  with  her  beams — 
Adieu  to  all ! 
To  all,  that  eharrn'd  me  where  I  stray'd. 
The  winding  stream,  the  dark  sequester' d  shade ; 
Adieu  all  triumphs  here ! 
Adieu  the  mountain's  lofty  swell, 
Adieu,  thou  little  verdant  hill, 
And  seas,  and  stars,  and  skies — farewell, 
For  some  remoter  sphere ! 

Perplex' d  with  doubts,  and  torturd  with  despair, 

Why  so  dejected  at  this  hopeless  sleep! 

Nature  at  last  these  ruins  may  repair, 

When  fate's  long  dream  is  o'er,  and  she  forgets  to 

weep ; 
Some  real  world  once  more  may  be  assign'd, 
Some  new-born  mansion  for  the  immortal  mind  ! 
Farewell,  sweet  lake;  farewell  surrounding  woods, 
To  other  groves,  through  midnight  glooms,  I  stray, 
Beyond  the  mountains,  and  beyond  the  floods, 

Beyond  the  Huron  bay  ! 
Prepare  the  hollow  tomb,  and  place  me  low, 
My  trusty  bow,  and  arrows  by  my  side, 
The  cheerful  bottle,  and  the  ven'son  store  ; 
For  long  the  journey  is  that  I  must  go. 
Without  a  partner,  and  without  a  guide. 

He  spoke,  and  bid  the  attending  mourners  weep ; 
Then  clos'd  his.  eyes,  and  sunk  to  endless  sleep  !* 

*  There  is  another  Indian  poem,  which  some  of  our  readers 
may  miss  from  this  selection,  entitled,  The  Death  Song  of  a 
Cherokee  Indian.  It  appears  as  follows,  in  Carey's  American 
Museum,  i.  77: — 

THE  DEATII-SONG    OF  A   CITEItOKBE  INDIAN. 

By  P.  Freixeau. 
The  snn  sets  in  night,  and  the  stars  shun  the  day, 
But  glory  remains' when  their  lights  fade  away. 
Begin,  ye  tormentors:  your  threats  are  in  vain, 
For  the  Son  of  Alknomoek  can  never  complain. 
Remember  the  woods,  where  in  ambush  he  lay, 
And  the  scalps  which  he  bore  from  your  nation  away  ! 
Why  do  ye  delay  ?  .  .  .  .   till  I  shrink  from  my  pain  'i 
Know  the  Sou  of  Alknomoek  can  never  complai:1.. 
Remember  the  arrows  he  shot  from  his  bow; 
Remember  your  chiefs  by  his  hatchet  laid  low, 
The  flame  rises  high,  you  exalt  in  my  pain, 
But  the  son  of  Alknomoek  will  never  comp'aia. 


mat  to  Ariux. 
i. 
"Without  your  showers 
I  breed  no  flowers 
Each  field  a  barren  waste  appears; 
If  yuu  don't  weep 
My  blossoms  sleep, 
They  take  such  pleasure  in  your  tea.  a 

n. 

As  your  decay 

Made  room  for  May, 
So  I  must  part  with  all  that's  mine  , 

My  balmy  breeze. 

My  blooming  trees, 
To  torrid  suns  their  sweets  resign. 

IIL 

.For  April  dead 

My  shades  I  spread, 
To  her  I  owe  my  dress  so  gay; 

Of  daughters  three 

It  falls  on  me 
To  close  our  triumphs  on  one  day. 

IV. 

Thus  to  repose 

All  Nature  goes ; 
Month  after  month  must  find  its  doon: 

Time  on  the  wing 

May  ends  the  Spring, 
And  Summer  frolics  o'er  her  tomb. 

THE  WILD   HONEYSUCKLE. 

Fair  flower,  that  dost  so  eomely  grow, 

Kid  in  this  silent  dull  retreat, 
Untouched  thy  honey 'd  blossoms  blow, 

Unseen  thy  little  branches  greet : 


I  go  to  the  land  where  my  father  is  gone : 
His  ghost  shall  rejoice  in  the  fame  of  his  son. 
Death  comes  like  a  frieud,  he  relieves  me  from  pain, 
Aud  thy  son,  O  Alknomoek,  has  scorn'd  to  complain. 

It  is  also  assigned  to  Freneau  by  Samuel  L.  Knapp  in  his  Lec- 
tures on  American  Literature,  169.  We  find  it,  however,  in- 
troduced, with  some  slight  variations,  in  the  dialogue  of  Maria 
Edgeworth  s  Rosamond  (Harper's  ed.  p.  304),  where  the  author- 
ship is  given  to  "  the  widow  of  the  celebrated  John  Hunter,"1 
and  the  following  author's  note  recited  from  the  volume  of 
poems  from  which  it  is  taken  : — "The  idea  of  this  ballad  wrn 
suggested  several  yeaTS  ago  by  hearing  a  gentleman,  who  had 
resided  many  years  in  America  among  the  tribe  called  the 
Clvrokees,  sing  a  wild  air,  which  he  assured  me  it  was  custo- 
mary for  those  people  to  chant  with  a  barbarous  jargon,  im- 
plying contempt  for  their  enemies  in  the  moments  of  torture 
and  death.  I  have  eudeavored  to  give  something  of  the  cha- 
racteristic spirit  and  sentiment  of  those  brave  savages." 

In  Chamber's  Cyclopedia  of  English  Literature,  ii.  279,  there 
is  a  notice  of  Mrs.  John  Hunter's  volume,  "a  retired  but  highly 
accomplished  lady,  sister  of  Sir  Everard  Home,  and  wife  of 
John  Hunter,  the  celebrated  surgeon.1'  Her  poems  were  col- 
lected and  published  in  1S06,  several  of  them  having  beeu  pre- 
viously  exteusivcly  circulated.  Chambers  prints  the  poem, 
and  as  it  has  several  lines  different  from  the  copy  circulated  in 
this  country,  we  give  it  in  Mrs.  Hunter's  language: — 

TTIE  DEATH  SONG. 

Written  for  and  adapted  to  an  original  Indian  air. 
The  sun  sets  in  night,  and  the  stars  shun  the  day, 
But  glory  remains  when  tht-ir  lights  fade  away. 
Begin,  you  tormentors!  ymir  threats  are  in  vain, 
For  the  Son  of  Aiknomook  will  never  complain. 

Remember  the  arrows  he  shot  from  his  bow, 
Remember  your  chiefs  by  his  hatehet  laid  low. 
Why  so  slow?  do  you  wait  till  I  shrink  from  the  pain? 
No;  the  Son  of  Aiknomook  shall  never  complain. 

Remember  the  wood  where  in  ambush  we  lay, 
And  the  scalps  which  we  bore  from  your  nation  away. 
Now  the  flame  rises  fast,  you  exult  in  my  pain, 
But  the  Son  uf  Aiknomook  can  never  complain. 

I  go  to  the  land  where  my  father  is  gone, 
His  ghost  shall  rejoice  in  the  fame  of  his  son  ; 
Death  comes,  like  a  friend,  to  relieve  me  from  pain  : 
And  thy  son,  O  Aiknomook  I  has  scorn'd  to  complain. 


342 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


No  roving  foot  shall  find  thee  here, 
No  busy  hand  provoke  a  tear. 

By  Nature's  self  in  white  array'd, 

She  bade  thee  shun  the  vulgar  eye, 
And  planted  here  the  guardian  shade, 
And  sent  soft  waters  murmuring  by; 
Thus  quietly  thy  summer  goes, 
Thy  days  declining  to  repose. 

Smit  with  these  charms,  that  must  decay, 

I  grieve  to  see  thy  future  doom ; 
They  died — nor  were  those  flowers  less  gay, 
(The  flowers  that  did  in  Eden  bloom) 
Unpitying  frost,  and  Autumn's  power 
Shall  leave  no  vestige  of  this  flower. 

From  morning  suns  and  evening  dews 

At  first,  thy  little  being  came: 
If  nothing  once,  you  nothing  lose, 
For  when  you  die  you  are  the  same; 
The  space  between  is  but  an  hour, 
The  mere  idea  of  a  flower. 


THE  HURRICANE. 

Happy  the  man  who  safe  on  shore, 
Now  trims,  at  home,  his  evening  fire ; 
Unmov'd,  he  hears  the  tempest's  roar, 
That  on  the  tufted  groves  expire: 
Alas !  on  us  they  doubly  fall, 
Our  feeble  barque  must  bear  them  all. 

Now  to  their  haunts  the  birds  retreat, 
The  squirrel  seeks  his  hollow  tree, 
"Wolves  in  their  shaded  caverns  meet, 
All,  all  are  blest  but  wretched  we — 
Foredoom'd  a  stranger  to  repose, 
No  rest  the  unsettled  ocean  knows. 

While  o'er  the  dark  abyss*  we  Toam, 
Perhaps,  wliate'er  the  pilots  say, 
We  saw  the  sun  descend  in  gloom, 
No  more  to  see  his  rising  ray, 
But  buried  low,  by  far  too  deep, 
On  coral  beds,  uupitied,  sleep ! 

But  what  a  strange,  uncoasted  strand 
Is  that,  where  fate  permits  no  day — 
No  charts  have  we  to  mark  that  land, 
No  compass  to  direct  that  way — 
What  pilot  shall  explore  that  realm, 
What  new  Columbus  take  the  helm ! 

While  death  and  darkness  both  surround, 
And  tempests  rage  with  lawless  power, 
Of  friendship's  voice  I  hear  no  sound, 
No  comfort  in  this  dreadful  hour — 
What  friendship  can  in  tempests  be, 
What  comfort  on  this  troubled  sea  ? 

The  barque,  accustom'd  to  obey, 
No  more  the  trembling'  pilots  guide : 
Alone  she  gropes  her  trackless  way, 
While  mountains  burst  on  either  side — 
Thus  skill  and  science  both  must  fall, 
And  ruin  is  the  lot  of  all. 

ST.  CATHARISE'S.f 

He  that  would  wish  to  rove  awhile 
In  forests  green  and  gay, 
From  Charleston  bar  to  Catharine's  isle 
Might  sigh  to  find  the  way ! 
"What  scenes  on  every  side  appear, 
What  pleasure  strikes  the  mind, 
From  Folly's  train,  thus  wandering  far, 
To  leave  the  world  behind. 


*  An  island  on  the  sea-coast  of  Georgia. 

t  Near  the  east  end  of  Jamaica.  July"30, 1784. 


The  musie  of  these  savage  grove3 

In  simple  accents  swells, 

And  freely,  here,  their  sylvan  loves 

The  feather'd  nation  tells ; 

The  panting  deer  through  mingled  shades 

Of  oaks  forever  green 

The  vegetable  world  invades, 

That  skirts  the  watery  scene. 

Thou  sailor,  now  exploring  far 

The  broad  Atlantic  wave, 

Crowd  all  your  canvass,  gallant  tar, 

Since  Neptune  never  gave 

On  barren  seas  so  fine  a  view 

As  here  allures  the  eye, 

Gay,  verdant  scenes  that  Nature  drew 

In  colors  from  the  sky. 

Ye  western  winds !  awhile  delay 

To  swell  the  expecting  sail — 

Who  would  not  here,  a  hermit,  stay 

In  yonder  fragrant  vale, 

Could  he  engage  what  few  can  find, 

That  coy,  unwilling  guest 

(All  avarice  banish'd  from  the  mind) 

Contentment,  in  the  breast ! 

NEVEESrNK. 

These  hills,  the  pride  of  all  the  coast, 
To  mighty  distance  seen, 
With  aspect  bold  and  rugged  brow, 
That  shade  the  neighbouring  main  : 
These  heights,  for  solitude  design'd, 
This  rude  resounding  shore — 
These  vales  impervious  to  the  wind, 
Tall  oaks,  that  to  the  tempest  bend, 
Half  Druid,  I  adore. 

From  distant  lands,  a  thousand  sails 

Your  hazy  summits  greet — 

You  saw  the  angry  Briton  come, 

You  saw  him,  last,  retreat! 

With  towering  crest,  you  first  appear 

The  news  of  land  to  tell ; 

To  him  that  conies,  fresh  joys  impail, 

To  him  that  goes,  a  heavy  heart, 

The  lover's  long  farewelk' 

'Tis  your's  to  see  the  sailor  bold, 

Of  persevering  mind, 

To  see  him  rove  in  search  of  care, 

And  leave  true  bliss  behind  ; 

To  see  him  spread  his  flowing  sails 

To  trace  a  tiresome  road, 

By  wintry  seas  and  tempests  chae'd 

To  see  him  o'er  the  ocean  haste, 

A  comfortless  abode ! 

Your  thousand  springs  of  waters  blue 

What  luxury  to  sip, 

As  from  the  mountain's  breast  they  flow 

To  moisten  Flora's  lip ! 

In  vast  retirements  herd  the  deer. 

Where  forests  round  them  rise, 

Dark  groves,  their  tops  in  fether  lost, 

That,  haunted  still  by  Huddj^s  ghost, 

The  trembling  rustic  flies. 

Proud  heights!  with  pain  so  often  seen, 

(With  joy  beheld  once  more) 

On  your  firm  base  I  take  my  stand, 

Tenacious  of  the  shore : — 

Let  those  who  pant  for  wealth  or  fame 

Pursue  the  watery  road  ; — 

Soft  sleep  and  ease,  blest  days  and  nights, 

And  health,  attend  these  favourite  heights, 

Retirement's  blest  abode  1 


PHILIP  FRHNEAU. 


343 


THE  MAN  OF  NINETY ;  0E,  A  VISIT  TO  THE  OAK. 

"  To  yonder  boughs  that  spread  so  wide, 
Beneath  whose  shade  soft  waters  glide, 

Once  more  I  take  the  well  known  way ; 
"With  feeble  step  and  tottering  knee 
I  sigh  to  reach  my  white-oak  tree, 

Where  rosy  health  was  wont  to  play. 

If  to  the  grave,  consuming  slow, 
The  shadow  of  myself,  I  go, 

When  I  am  gone  wilt  thou  remain  ! — 
From  dust  you  rose,  and  grew  like  me ; 
I  man  became,  and  you  a  tree, 

Both  natives  of  one  verdant  plain. 

How  much  alike ;  yet  not  the  samei 
You  could  no  kind  protector  claim; 

Alone  you  stood  to  chance  resigned : 
When  winter  came,  with  blustering  sky, 
You  fear'd  its  blasts — and  so  did  I, 

And  for  warm  suns  in  secret  pin'd. 

When  vernal  suns  began  to  glow 
You  felt  returning  vigour  flow, 

Which  once  a  year  new  leaves  supply'd ; 
Like  you,  fine  days  I  wish'd  to  see, 
And  May  was  a  sweet  month  to  me, 

But  when  November  came — I  sigh'd  1 

If  through  your  bark  some  rustic  arm 
A  mark  impress'd,  you  took  the  alarm, 

And  tears  awhile  I  saw  descend ; 
Till  Nature's  kind  maternal  aid 
A  plaister  on  your  bruises  laid, 

And  bade  your  trickling  sorrows  end. 

Like  you,  I  fear'd  the  lightning's  stroke 
Whose  flame  dissolves  the  strength  of  oak, 

And  ends  at  once  this  mortal  dream ; — 
You  saw  with  grief  the  soil  decay 
That  from  your  roots  was  torn  away; 

You  siga'd — and  curs'd  the  stream. 

With  borrow'd  earth,  and  busy  spade, 
Around  your  roots  new  life  I  laid, 

While  joy  reviv'd  in  every  vein  ; 
Once  more  that  stream  shall  death  impart! 
Though  Nature  owns  the  aid  of  ait, 

No  art  immortal  makes  her  reigu. 

How  much  alike  our  fortune — say — 
Yet  why  must  I  so  soon  decay 

When  thou  hast  scarcely  reach'd  thy  prime 
Erect  and  tall  you  joyous  stand ; 
The  staff  of  age  has  found  my  hand, 

That  guides  me  to  the  grave  of  time. 

Could  I,  fair  tree,  like  you,  resign, 
And  banish  all  these  fears  of  mine. 

Grey  hairs  would  be  no  cause  of  grief; 
Your  blossoms  die,  but  you  remain, 
Your  fruit  lies  seatter'd  o'er  the  plain. 

Learn  wisdom  from  the  falling  leaf. 

As  you  survive,  by  heaven's  decree, 
Let  wither'd  flowers  be  thrown  on  me, 

Sad  compensation  for  my  doom. 
While  Christmas  greens  and  gloomy  pines, 
And  cedars  dark,  and  barren  vines, 

Point  out  the  lonely  tomb. 

The  enlivening  sun,  that  burns  so  bright, 
Ne'e-  had  a  noon  without  a  night, 

So  life  and  de  \th  agree ; 
The  ioy*  of  man  by  years  are  broke — " 
'Twas  thus  the  man  of  ninety  spoko, 

Then  rose  and  left  his  tree. 


THE  ALMANAC  MAKEE. 

Qui  tuto  iiositus  loco 

Infra  £l>  videt  omnia 

Oceurril  .iuo  libens 

Fato,  iwc  qiterilur  mori. — Seneo. 

While  others  dwell  on  mean  affairs, 
Their  kings,  their  councils,  and  their  wars, 
Philaster  roves  among  the  stars. 

In  melancholy  silence  he 
Travels  alone  and  cannot  see 
An  equal  for  his  company. 

Not  one  of  all  the  learned  train 
Like  him  can  manage  Charlrs's  wain 
Or  motion  of  the  moon  explain. 

He  tells  us  when  the  sun  will  rise, 
Points  out  fair  days,  or  clouded  skies; — 
No  matter  if  he  sometimes  lies. 

An  annual  almanac  to  frame 

And  publish  with  pretended  name, 

Is  all  his  labour,'  all  his  aim. 

He  every  montli  has  something  new, 
Yet  mostly  deals  in  what  is  true 
Obliging  all,  and  cheating  few. 

Our  sister  moon,  the  stars,  the  sun, 
In  measur'd  circles  round  him  run ; 
He  knows  their  motions — every  one 

The  solar  system  at  his  will — 
To  mortify  such  daring  skill, 
The  comets— they  are  rebels  still 

Advancing  in  its  daily  race 
He  calculates  the  planets'  plaee, 
Nor  can  the  moon  elude  his  cliace. 

In  dark  eclipse  when  she  would  hide 
And  be  awhile  the  modest  bride, 
He  pulls  her  veil  of  crape  aside. 

Each  passing  age  must  have  its  taste; 
The  sun  is  in  the  centre  plac'd, 
And  fuel  must  supply  his  waste ; 

But  how  to  find  it  lie  despairs, 
Nor  will  he  leave  his  idle  cares 
Or  Jove  to  mind  his  own  affairs. 

lie  prophesies  the  sun's  decay  ; 
And  while  lie  would  his  fate' delay 
New  sorrows  on  his  spirits  prey. 

So  much  upon  his  shoulders  laid, 
He  reads  what  Aristotle  said  ; 
Then  calls  the  comets  to  his  aid. 

The  people  of  the  lunar  sphere 
As  lie  can  plainly  make  appear 
Are  coming  nearer  year  by  year. 

Though  others  often  gaze  in  vain 
Not  one  of  all  the  starry  train 
Could  ever  puzzle  his  strong  braiii. 

The  ram,  the  twins,  the  shining  goat, 
And  Argo,  in  the  skies  afloat. 
To  him  are  things  of  little  note ; 

And  that  which  now  adorns  the  be^r, 
(I  heard  him  say)  the  sailor's  star, 
Will  be  in  time  the  Lord  knows  where. 

Thus  nature  waiting  at  his  call, 

His  book,  in  vogue  with  great  and  sma.l, 

Is  sought,  admir'd,  and  read  by  all. 

How  happy  thus  on  earth  to  stay, 
The  planets  keeping  him  in  pay- 
And  when  'tis  time  to  post  away, 


344 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Old  Saturn  will  a  bait  prepare, 
And  hook  him  up  from  toil  and  eare 
To  make  new  calculations  there. 

THE  NEW  ENGLAND  SABEATH-DAY  CHA6E. 

{Written  undo'  the  CJiaracter  of  Hezekiali  Salem.) 
On  a  fine  Sunday  morning  I  mounted  my  steed, 
And  southward  from  Hartford  had  meant  to  pro- 
ceed; 
My  baggage  was  stow'd  in  a  cart  very  snug, 
Which  Ranger,  the  gelding,  was  fated  to  lug ; 
With  his  harness  and  buckles,  he  looui'd  very  grand, 
And  was  drove  by  young  Darby,  a  lad  of  the  land — 
On  land  or  on  water,  most  handy  was  he; 
A  jockey  on  shore,  and  a  sailor  at  sea ; 
lie  knew  all  the  roads,  he  was  so  very  keen, 
And  the  Bible  by  heart,  at  the  age  of  fifteen. 
As  thus  I  jogg'd  on,  to  my  saddle  confined, 
With  Ranger  and  Darby  a  distance  behind; 
At  last  in  full  view  of  a  steeple  we  came, 
With  a  cock  on  the  spire,  (I  suppose  he  was  game; 
A  dove  in  the  pulpit  may  suit  your  grave  people, 
But  always  remember — a  cock  on  the  steeple.) 
Cries  Darby — "  Dear  master,  I  beg  you  to  stay; 
Believe  me,  there's  danger  in  driving  this  way ; 
Our  deacons  on  Sundays  have  power  to  arrest 
And  lead  us  to  church — if  your  honor  thinks  best : 
Though  still  I  must  do  them  the  justice  to  tell, 
They  would  choose  you  should  pay  them  the  fine — 
full  as  well." 
The  fine  (said  1),  Darby,  how  much  may  it  be — 
A  shilling  or  sixpence  ?     Why,  now  let  me  see, 
Three  shillings  are  all  the  small  pence  that  remain, 
And  to  change  a  half  joe  would  be  rather  profane. 
Is  it  more  than  three  shillings,  the  fine  that  you 

speak  on  ? 
What  say  you,  good  Darby,  will   that  serve  the 
deacon  ? 
"  Three  shillings !"  (cried  Darby)  "  why,  master, 
you're  jesting ! — 
Let  us  luff  while  we  can,  and  make  sure  of  our  west- 
ing— 
Forty  shillings,  excuse  me,  is  too  much  to  pay. 
It  would  take  my  month's  wages — that's  all  I've  to 

say. 
By  taking  this  road  that  inclines  to  the  right, 
The  squire  and  the  sexton  may  bid  us  goud  night: 
If  once  to  old  Ranger  I  give  up  the  rein 
The  parson  himself  may  pursue  us  in  vain." 

"  Not  I,  my  good  Darby  (I  answer'd  the  lad). 
Leave  the  church  on  the  left !  they  would  think  we 

were  mad. 
I  would  sooner  rely  on  the  heels  of  my  steed, 
And  pass  by  them  all,  like  a  J4.hu  indeed: 
As  long  as  I'm  able  to  lead  in  the  race, 
Old  Ranger,  the  gelding,  will  go  a  good  pace ; 
As  the  deacon  pursues,  he  will  fly  like  a  swallow, 
And  you  in  the  cart  must  undoubtedly  follow." 
Then  approaching  the  church,  as  we  pass'd  by  the 
door 
The  sexton  peep'd  out,  with  a  saint  or  two  more, 
A  deacon  came  forward  and  waved  us  his  hat, 
A  signal  to  drop  him  some  money — mind  that! — 
"  Now,  Darby,  (I  whispered)  be  ready  to  skip, 
Ease  off  the  curb  bridle — give  Ranger  the  whip: 
While  you  have  the  rear,  and  myself  lead  the  way, 
No  doctor  or  deaeon  shall  catch  us  to-day." 

By  this  time  the  deacon  had  mounted  his  pony, 
And  chased  for  the  sake  of  our  souls  and — our  money: 
The  saint,  as  he  followed,  cried — "  Stop  them,  hal- 
loo !" 
As  swift  as  he  followed,  as  swiftly  we  flew. 

"  Ah,  master !  (said  Darby)  I  very  much  fear 
We  must  drop  him  some  money  to  check  his  career; 
He  is  gaining  upon  us  and  waves  with  his  hat — 


There's  nothing,  dear  master,  will  stop  him  but  that. 
Remember  the  Beaver  (you  well  know  the  fable), 
Who  flying  the  hunters  as  long  as  he's  able, 
■When  he  finds  that  his  efforts  can  nothing  avail, 
But  death  and  the  puppies  are  close  at  his  tail, 
Instead  of  desponding  at  such  a  dead  lift, 
He  bites  off  their  object,  and  makes  a  free  gift. 
Since  fortune  all  hope  of  escaping  denies, 
Better  give  them  a  little  than  lose  the  whole  prize.'' 
But  scarce  had  he  spoke,  when  we  came  to  a  place 
Whose  muddy  condition  concluded  the  chase. 
Down  settled  the  cart,  and  old  Ranger  stuck  fast. 
Aha  !  (said  the  saint),  have  I  catch  d  ye  at  last  ? 
******** 

Csetera  desunt. 

NEW  ENGLAND  AND  NEW  YORK. 

These  exiles  were  form'd  in  a  whimsical  mould, 
And  were  aw'd  by  their  priests,  like  the  Hebrews 

of  old  ; 
Disclaim'd  all  pretences  to  jesting  and  laughter, 
And  sigh'd  their  lives  through,  to  be  happy  hereafter. 

On  a  crown  immaterial  their  hearts  were  intent, 
They  look'd  towards  Zion,  wherever  they  went, 
i  Did  all  things  in  hopes  of  a  future  reward, 
j  And  worry'd  mankind — for  the  sake  of  the  Lord. 

'   With  rigour  excessive  they  strengthen'd  their  reign, 
I   Their  laws  were  conceiv'd  in  the  ill-natur'd  strain, 

With  mystical  meanings  the  saint  was  perplext. 

And  the  flesh  and  the  devil  were  slain  by  a  text. 

The  body  was  scourg'd  for  the  good  of  the  soul, 
All  folly  discourag'd  by  peevish  controul, 
A  knot  on  the  head  was  the  sign  of  no  grace, 
And  the  Pope  and  his  comrade  were  pictur'd  in  lace. 

A  stove  in  their  churches,  or  pews  lin'd  with  green, 
Were  horrid  to  think  of,  much  less  to  be  seen, 
Their  bodies  were  warm'd  with  the  linings  of  love, 
And  the  fire  was  sufficient  that  fiash'd  from  above. 

'Twas  a  crime  to  assert  that  the  moon  was  opaque. 
To  say  the  earth  mov'd,  was  to  merit  the  stake ; 
And  he  that  could  tell  an  eclipse  was  to  be, 
In  the  college  of  Satan  had  took  his  degree. 

On  Sundays  their  faces  were  dark  as  a  cloud — 

The  road  to  the  meeting  was  only  allow'd, 

And    those    they   caught  rambling,   on  business  or 

pleasure, 
Were  sent  to  the  stocks,  to  repent  at  their  leisure. 

This  day  was  the  moumfullest  day  in  the  week — 
Except  on  religion,  none  ventur'd  to  speak — 
This  day  was  the  day  to  examine  their  lives, 
To  clear  off  old  scores,  and  to  preach  to  their  wives. 

In  the  school  of  oppression  though  woefully  taught, 
'Twas  only  to  be  the  oppressors  they  sought ; 
All,  all  but  themselves  were  be-devill'd  and  blind, 
And   their   nanow-soul'd   creed   was  to   serve   ail 
mankind. 

This  beautiful  system  of  nature  below 
They  neither  consider'd,  nor  wanted  to  know, 
And  call'd  it  a  dog-house  wherein  they  were  pent. 
Unworthy  themselves,  and  their  mighty  descent. 

They  never  perceiv'd  that  in  Nature's  wide  plan 
There  must  be  that  whimsical  creature  call'd  Max, 
Far  short  of  the  rank  he  affects  to  attain, 
Yet  a  link  in  its  place,  in  creation's  vast  chain. 
***** 

Tims,  feuds  and  vexations  distracted  their  reign, 
(And  perhaps  a  few  vestiges  still  may  remain) 
But  time  has  presented  an  offspring  as  bold, 
Less  free  to  believe,  and  more  wise  than  the  old. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU. 


315 


Their  phantoms,  their  wizzards,  theii'  witches  are 

fled— 
Matthew  Paris*!!*  story  with  horror  is  read — 
His  daughters,  and  all  the  enchantments  they  bore — 
And  the  demon,  that  pinch'd  them,  is  heard  of  no 

more. 
Their  taste  for  the  fine  arts  is  strangely  increas'd, 
And  Latin's  no  longer  a  mark  of  the  Beast : 
Mathematics,  at  present,  a  farmer  may  know, 
Without  being  haug'd  for  connections  below. 

Proud,  rough,  independent,  undaunted  and  free, 
And  patient  of  hardships,  their  task  is  the  sea, 
Their  country  too  barren  their  wish  to  attain, 
They  make  up  the  loss  by  exploring  the  main. 

Wherever  bright  Phoebus  awakens  the  gales 
I  6ee  the  bold  Yankees  expanding  their  sails, 
Throughout  the  wide  ocean  pursuing  their  schemes, 
And  chaciug  the  whales  on  its  uttermost  streams. 

No  climate,  for  them,  is  too  cold  or  too  warm, 
They  reef  the  broad  canvas,   and  fight  with   the 

storm  ; 
In  war  with  the  foremost  their  standards  display, 
Or  glut  the  loud  eaunon  with  death,  for  the  fray. 

No  valour  in  fable  their  valour  exceeds, 
Their  spirits  are  fitted  for  desperate  deeds; 
No  rivals  have  they  in  our  annals  of  fame, 
Or  if  they  are  rivall'd,  'tis  York  has  the  claim. 

Inspir'd  at  the  sound,  while  the  name  she  repeats, 
Bold  fancy  conveys  me  to  Hudson's  retreats — 
Ah,  sweet  recollection  of  juvenile  dreams 
In  the  groves,  and  the  forests  that  skirted  his  streams ! 

How  often,  with  rapture,  those  streams  were  survey'd 
When,  sick  of  the  city,  I  flew  to  the  shade — ■ 
How  often  the  ba*l  and  the  peasant  shall  moxirn 
Ere  those  groves  shall  revive,  or  those  shades  shall 
return ! 

Not  a  hill,  but  some  fortress  disfigures  it  round ! 
And   ramparts   are  rais'd   where  the   cottage  was 

found ! 
The  plains  and  the  vallies  with  ruin  are  spread, 
With  graves  in  abundance,  and  bones  of  the  dead. 

The  first  that  attempted  to  enter  this  streight 
(In  anno  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  eight) 
Was  Hudson  (the  same  that  we  inention'd  before, 
Who  was  lost  in  the  gulf  that  he  went  to  explore.) 

For  a  sum  that  they  paid  him  (we  know  not  how 

much) 
This  captain  transferr'd  all  his  right  to  the  Dutch ; 
for  the  time  has  been  here,  (to  the  world  be  it 

known,) 
When  all  a  man  sail'd  by,  or  saw,  was  his  own. 

The  Dutch  on  their  purchase  sat  quietly  down, 
And  fix'd  on  an  island  to  lay  out  a  town ; 
They  modell'd  their  streets  from  the  horns  of  a  ram ; 
And   the   name   that   best  pleas'd  them  was  New 

Amsterdam. 

They  purchas'd  large  tracts  from  the  Indians  for 

beads, 
And  sadly  tormented  some  runaway  Swedes, 
Who  (none  knows  for  what)  from  their  country  had 

flown 
To  live  here  in  peace,  undisturb'd  and  alone. 
New  Belgia,  the  Dutch  call'd  their  province,  be  sure, 
But  names  never  yet  made  possession  secure, 
For  Charley  (the  second  that  honour'd  the  name) 
Sent  over  a  squadron,  asserting  his  claim. 


*  See  Neil's  History  of  New  England. 


;   (Had  his  sword  and  his  title  been  equally  slender, 
In  vain  had  they  summon'd  Mynheer  to  surrender) 
The  soil  they  demanded,  or  thrcaten'd  their  worst, 
Insisting  that  Cabot  had  look'd  at  itjirst. 

■   The  want  of  a  squadron  to  fall  on  their  rear 
Made  the  argument  perfectly  plain  to  Mynheer — 
Force  ended  the  contest — the  right  was  a  sham, 
And  the  Dutch  were  sent  packing  to  hot  Surinam. 

'Twas  hard  to  be  thus  of  their  labours  depriv'd, 
But  the  age  of  republics  had  not  yet  arriv'd — 
Fate  saw — tho'  no  wizzard  could  tell  them  as  much — 
Tliat  the  crown,  in  due  time,  was  to  fare  like  t/w 
Dutch. 


THE  ROYAL  APPRENTICE  :   A  LONDON  STORY. 

A  widow  who  some  miles  from  London  lived, 

Far  in  a  vale  obscure,  of  little  note, 

With  much  ado  a  poor  subsistence  gain'd 

From  a  spinning-wheel,  that  just  her  living  brought. 

A  son  she  had,  a  rude,  mischievous  wight, 
Who,  now  to  fifteen  years  or  more  arrived, 
Would  neither  dig  nor  thresh,  nor  hold  the  plough, 
But  simply  by  the  poor  old  woman  lived. 

Joan  thought  it  time  this  lazy,  lounging  lad, 
Should  learn   some  trade,  since  country  work   l.o 

hated : 
Jerry,  said  she,  to  London  you  must  go, 
And  learn  to  work ;  for  this  you  was  created. 

While  tarrying  here,  you  eat  up  all  my  kail, 
Scarce  leave  a  turnip-top — my  hens  you  kill, 
And  nothing  earn.     My  wheel  alone  goes  round, 
But  time  must  come,  my  boy,  when  stop  it  will. 

Tour  legs  and  arms  grow  every  day  more  stro:i:r; 
For  height  you  shortly  will  be  call'd  a  man: 
Not  so  with  me — I  am  hastening  down  the  hill, 
And  soon  must  mix  with  dust,  where  I  began ! 

Jerry  with  tears  received  the  good  advice; 
So,  up  to  London  town  next  week  they  went. 
Now  choose,  said  Joan,  the  trade  you  fancy  best 
For  to  some  trade  you  must  and  shall  be  sent. 

So  round  he  stroll'd  through  many  a  street  and  alley, 
Saw  blacksmiths  here,  like  Vulcan,  wielding  sledge's ; 
There  tailors  sitting  cross-legg'd  on  a  board, 
Next  barbers  whetting  up  their  razors'  edges. 

Now  saw  a  cobbler  cobbling  in  his  stall, 
Then  weaver  busy  with  his  warp  and  woof; 
Now  mason  raising  high  some  lordling's  wall,1 
Or  carpenter,  engaged  upon  a  roof. 

These  pleased  him  not.  All  this  was  hard-earn'd  cash. 
Tight  work  he  thought,  in  one  disguise  or  other. 
He  look'd  at  labor — saw  it  was  not  good — 
Or  oidy  good  as  managed  by  his  mother. 

He  shook  his  head,  as  if  he  meant  to  say, 
All  this  is  worse  than  threshing — learn  a  trade! 
Something  I'll  learn  that's  fine,  genteel,  and  airy. 
For  common  work  these  hands  were  never  made. 

At  last  he  chanced  to  stray  where  dwells  the  king — 
Great  George  the  Third,  in  all  his  pomp  and  glare  ; 
Well  now,  thought  Jerry,  here  must  live  a  man 
That  lias  a  trade  would  suit  me  to  a  hair. 

There's  little  doing — all  is  brisk  and  gay, 
And  dainty  dishes  go  a  begging  here: 
Some  seem  to  work,  yet  all  their  work  is  pla}7, 
I  will  be  bound  at  least  for  seven  long  year. 

So  back  he  came  where  honest  Joan  was  waiting. 
Well,  Jerry,  tell  me,  what's  the  trade  you  pitch  on? 
Mother,  said  he,  there  is  but  one  I  like, 
Or  which  a  man  is  likely  to  get  rich  on. 


346 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


"  Come,  tell  me  then  the  business  you  prefer: 
One  only  thriving  trade! — a  curious  thing! 
Out  with  it  then !"     Said  Jerry,  Mother  dear, 
Dear  mother,  bind  me  'prentice  to  the  king. 


TO  THE  MEMORY 

Of  the  brave  Americans,  under  General  Greene,  in  South  Ca- 
rolina, who  fell  in  the  action  of  September  8, 1781. 

At  Eutaw  springs  the  valiant  died: 
Their  limbs  with  dust  are  covered  o'er — 
Weep  on,  ye  springs,  your  tearful  tide; 
How  many  heroes  are  no  more ! 

If  in  this  wreck  of  ruin,  they 
Can  yet  be  thought  to  claim  a  tear, 
O  smite  thy  gentle  breast,  and  say 
The  friends  of  freedom  slumber  here! 

Thou,  who  shalt  trace  this  bloody  plain, 
If  goodness  rules  thy  generous  breast, 
Sigh  for  the  wasted  rural  reign ; 
Sigh  for  the  shepherds,  sunk  to  rest ! 

Stranger,  their  humble  graves  adorn  ; 
You  too  may  fall,  and  ask  a  tear : 
Tis  not  the  beauty  of  the  morn 
That  proves  the  evening  shall  be  clear — 

They  saw  their  injur'd  country's  woe  ; 
The  flaming  town,  the  wasted  field  ; 
Then  rush'd  to  meet  the  insulting  foe ; 
They  took  the  spear— but  left  the  shield. 

Led  by  thy  conquering  genius,  Greene, 
The  Britons  they  compell'd  to  fl}' : 
None  distant  view'd  the  fatal  plain, 
None  griev'd,  in  such  a  cause,  to  die — 

But,  like  the  Parthian,  fam'd  of  old, 
Who,  flying,  still  their  arrows  threw ; 
These  routed  Britons,  full  as  bold, 
Retreated,  and  retreating  slew. 

Now  rest  in  peace,  our  patriot  band; 
Though  far  from  Nature's  limits  thrown, 
We  trust,  they  find  a  happier  land, 
A  brighter  sunshine  of  their  own. 

ON  THE  MEMORABLE  VICTORY 

Obtained  by  the.  gallant  Captain  John  Paul  Jones  of  the  Bon 
Homme  Richard,  over  the  Scrapis,  under  the  command  of 
Captain  Pearson. 

O'er  the  rough  main,  witli  flowing  sheet, 
The  guardian  of  a  numerous  fleet, 

Seraphis  from  the  Baltic  came : 
A  ship  of  less  tremendous  force 
Sail'd  by  her  side  the  self-same  course, 

Countess  of  Scarb'ro'  was  her  name. 

And  now  their  native  coasts  appear, 
Britannia's  hills  their  summits  rear 

Above  the  German  main ; 
Fond  to  suppose  their  dangers  o'er, 
They  southward  coast  along  the  shore, 

Thy  waters,  gentle  Thames,  to  gain. 

Full  forty  guns  Seraphis  bore, 

And  Scarb'ro's  Countess  twenty-four, 

Mann'd  with  Old  England's  boldest  tars — 
What  flag  that  rides  the  Gallic  seas 
Shall  dare  attack  such  piles  as  these, 

Design'd  for  tumults  and  for  wars ! 

Now  from  the  top-mast's  giddy  height 
A  seaman  ery'd — "  Four  sail  in  sight 

Approach  w-ith  favouring  gales." 
Pearson,  resolv'd  to  save  the  fleet, 
Stood  off  to  sea,  these  ships  to  meet, 

And  closely  brae'd  his  shivering  sails. 


With  him  advane'd  the  Countess  bold, 
Like  a  black  tar  in  wars  grown  old  : 

And  now  these  floating  piles  drew  nigh 
But,  muse,  unfold,  what  chief  of  fame 
In  the  other  warlike  squadron  came, 

Whose  standards  at  his  mast-head  fly. 

'Twas  Jones,  brave  Jones,  to  battle  led 
As  bold  a  crew  as  ever  bled 

Upon  the  sky-surrounded  main ; 
The  standards  of  the  western  world 
Were  to  the  willing  winds  unfurl'd, 

Denying  Britain's  tyrant  reign. 

The  Good-Man-Richard  led  the  line ; 
The  Alliance  next :  with  these  combine 

The  Gallic  ship  they  Pallas  call, 
The  Vengeance  arm'd  with  sword  and  flame ; 
These  to  attack  the  Britons  came— 

But  two  accomplish'd  all. 

Now  Phoebus  sought  his  pearly  bed : 
But  who  can  tell  the  scenes  of  dread, 

The  horrors  of  that  fatal  night! 
Close  up  these  floating  castles  came : 
The  Good-Maii-Richard  bursts  in  flame; 

Seraphis  trembled  at  the  sight. 

She  felt  the  fury  of  her  ball : 

Down,  prostrate,  down  the  Britons  fall ; 

The  decks  were  strew'd  with  slain: 
Jones  to  the  foe  his  vessel  lash'd ; 
And,  while  the  black  artillery  flash'd, 

Loud  thunders  shook  the  main. 

Alas!  that  mortals  should  employ 
Such  murdering  engines  to  destroy 

That  frame  by  heaven  so  iiypely  join'd  ; 
Alas !  that  e'er  the  god  decreed 
That  brother  should  by  brother  bleed, 

And  pour'd  such  madness  in  the  miud. 

But  thou,  brave  Jones,  no  blame  shalt  bear 
The  rights  of  men  demand  your  care  : 

For  these  you  dare  the  greedy  waves 
No  tyrant,  on  destruction  bent, 
Has  plann'd  thy  conquests — thou  art  sent 

To  humble  tyrants  and  their  slaves. 

See ! — dread  Seraphis  flames  again — 
And  art  thou,  Jones,  among  the  slain, 

And  sunk  to  Neptune's  eaves  below — 
He  lives — though  crowds  around  him  fail, 
Still  he,  unhurt,  survives  them  all ; 

Almost  alone  he  fights  the  foe. 

And  can  your  ship  these  strokes  sustain  ? 
Behold  your  brave  companions  slain, 

All  clasp'd  in  ocean's  cold  embrace, 
Stkike,  or  be  sunk — the  Briton  cries — 
Sink  if  tou  can — the  chief  replies, 

Fierce  lightnings  blazing  in  his  face. 

Then  to  the  side  three  guns  he  drew, 
(Almost  deserted  by  his  crew,) 

And  charg'd  them  deep  with  woe ; 
By  Pearson's  flash  he  aim'd  hot  balls; 
His  main-mast  totters — down  it  falls — 

O'erwhelming  half  below. 

Pearson  had  yet  disdain'd  to  yield, 
But  scarce  his  secret  fears  concealM, 
And  thus  was  heard  to  cry  — 
'  With  hell,  not  mortals,  I  contend  ; 
What  art  thou — human,  or  a  fiend, 
That  dost  my  force  defy  ? 


PHILIP  FRENEAU. 


347 


"  PLeturn,  my  lads,  the  fight  renew !" — 
So  call'd  bold  Pearson  to  his  crew ; 

But  call'd,  alas!  in  vain  ; 
Some  on  the  decks  lay  maim'd  and  dead ; 
Some  to  their  deep  recesses  fled, 

And  hosts  "were  shrouded  in  the  niaia. 

Distressed,  forsaken,  and  alone, 

He  haul'd  his  tatter'd  standard  down, 

And  yielded  to  his  gallant  foe  ; 
Bold  Pallas  soon  the  Countess  took, — 
Thus  both  their  haughty  colours  struck, 

Confessing  what  the  brave  can  do. 

But,  Jones,  too  dearly  didst  thou  buy 
These  ships  possest  so  gloriously, 

Too  many  deaths  disgrac'd  the  fray: 
Thy  barque  that  bore  the  conquering  flam", 
That,  the  proud  Briton  overcame, 

Even  she  forsook  thee  on  thy  way ; 

For  when  the  morn  began  to  shine, 
Fatal  to  her,  the  ocean  brine 

Pour'd  through  each  spacious  wound ; 
Quick  in  the  deep  she  disappear'd : 
But  Jones  to  friendly  Belgia  steer'd, 

With  conquest  and  with  glory  crown' d. 

Go  on,  great  man,  to  scourge  the  foe, 
And  bid  these  haughty  Britons  know 

They  to  our  Thirteen  Stars  shall  ben  1 ; 
The  Stars  that,  veil'd  in  dark  attire, 
Long  glimmer'd  with  a  feeble  fire, 

But  radiant' now  ascend. 

Bend  to  the  Stars  that  flaming  rise 

On  western  worlds,  rnore  brilliant  skies, 

Fair  Freedom's  reign  restor'd— 
So  when  the  Magi,  come  from  far. 
Beheld  the  God-attending  Star, 

They  trembled  and  ador'd. 

THE  BATTLE    OF    6T0NTNGT0N,    ON  TUE   SEABOARD  OF  CONNEC- 
TICUT. 

In  an  attack  upon  the  town  and  a  small  fort  of  two  amis,  by 
Vie  Ramillies,  siventy-four  gun  ship,  commanded  by  Sir 
Tliomas  Hardy  ;  the  Pcutolm,Z%  (fan.  ship,  Despatch,  brig 
of2'2  guns,  and  a  razee,  or  bomb  ship. — August,  lbl4. 

Four  gallant  ships  from  England  came 
Freighted  d  :-ep  with  fire  and  flame, 
And  other  tilings  we  need  not  name, 
To  have  a  dash  at  Stouington. 

Now  safely  moor'd,  their  work  begun; 
They  thought  to  make  the  Yankees  run, 
And  have  a  mighty  deal  of  fun 

In  stealing  sheep  at  Stouington. 

A  deacon  then  popp'd  up  his  head, 
And  parson  Jones's  sermon  read, 
In  which  the  reverend  doctor  said 

That  they  must  fight  for  Stoningt  >:i. 

A  townsman  bade  them,  next,  attend 
To  sundry  resolutions  penn'd, 
By  which  they  promised  to  defend 

With  sword  and  gun  old  Stoning '.c:i. 

The  ships  advancing  different  ways, 
The  Britons  soon  began  to  blaze, 
And  put  th'  old  women  in  amaze, 

Who  fear'd  the  loss  of  Stoningt' o_ 

The  Yankees  to  their  fort  repair'.!, 
And  made  as  though  they  little  cared 
For  all  that  came — though  very  hard 

The  cannon  play'd  on  Stouington. 
The  Ramillies  began  the  attack, 
Despatch  came  forward— bold  and  black — 
And  none  can  tell  what  kept  them  back 
'  From  setting  fire  to  Stonmgton. 


The  bombardiers  with  bomb  and  ball, 
Soon  made  a  farmer's  barrack  fall, 
And  did  a  cow-house  sadly  maul 

That  stood  a  mile  from  Stouington. 

They  kill'd  a  goose,  they  kill'd  a  lien, 
Three  hogs  they  wounded  in  a  pen — 
They  dash'd  away,  and  pray  what  then  ? 
This  was  not  taking  Stouington. 

The  shells  were  thrown,  the  rockets  flew, 
But  not  a  shell,  of  all  they  threw. 
Though  every  house  was  full  in  view, 

Could  burn  a  house  at  Stouington.. 

To  have  their  turn  they  thought  but  fair; — 
The  Yankees  brought  two  guns  to  bear, 
And,  sir,  it  would  have  made  you  stare, 

Tliis  smoke  of  smokes  at  Stouington. 

They  bored  Pactolus  through  and  through, 
And  kill'd  and  wounded  of  her  crew 
So  many,  that  she  bade  adieu 

T'  the  gallant  boys  of  Stouington. 

The  brig  Despatch  was  hull'd  and  torn — 
So  crippled,  riddled,  so  forlorn, 
No  more  she  cast  an  eye  of  scorn 

On  the  little  fort  at  Stouington. 

The  Ramilliee  gave  up  th'  affray, 
And,  with  her  comrades,  sneak'd  away. 
Such  was  the  valor,  on  that  day, 

Of  British  tars  near  Stouington. 

But  some  assert,  on  certain  grounds, 
(Besides  the  damage  and  the  wounds), 
It  cost  the  king  ten  thousand  pounds 
To  have  a  dash  at  Stouington. 

A  BACCHANALIAN    DIALOGUE.      WRITTEN  1S03. 

Arrived  at  Madeira,  the  island  of  vines, 
Where  mountains  and  valleys  abound, 

Where  the  sun  the  mild  juice  of  the  cluster  refines, 
To  gladden  the  magical  ground: 

As  pensive  I  stray'd  in  Her  elegant  shade, 
Now  halting  and  now  on  the  move, 

Old  Bacchus  I  met,  with  a  crown  on  his  head, 
In  the  darkest  recess  of  a  grove. 

I  met  him  with  awe,  but  no  symptom  of  fear 
As  I  roved  by  his  mountains  and  springs, 

When  he  said  with  a  sneer,  "  how  dare  you  come 
here, 
You  hater  of  despots  aud  kings  ?— 

"  Do  you  know  that  a  prince,  and  a  regent  renown'd 
Presides  in  this  island  of  wine  ? 
Whose  fame  on  the  earth  has  encircled  it  round 
And  spreads  from  the  pole  to  the  line? 

"  Haste  away  with  your  barque :  on  the  foam  of 
the  main 
To  Charleston  I  bid  you  repair: 
There  drink  your  Jamaica,  that  maddens  the  brain ; 
You  shall  have  no  Madeira — I  swear." 

"  Dear  Bacchus,"  (I  answered)  for  Bacchus  it  waJ, 
That  spoke  in  this  menacing  tone: 
I  knew  by  the  smirk  and  the  flush  on  his  face 
It  was  Bacchus,  and  Bacchus  alone — 

"Dear  Bacchus  (I  answered),  nh,  why  so  severe? — 
Since  your  nectar  abundantly  flows, 
Allow  me  one  cargo — without  it  I  fear 
Some  people  will  soon  come  to  blows. 

"  I  left  them  in  wrangles,  disorder,  and  strife, 
Political  feuds  were  so  high, 
I  was  sick  of  their  quarrels,  and  sick  of  my  lire, 
And  almost  requested  to  die." 


34:8 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  deity  smiling,  replied,  "  I  relent : — 
For  the  sake  of  your  coming  so  far, 

Here,  taste  of  my  choicest — go,  tell  them  repent, 
And  cease  their  political  war. 

"  With  the  cargo  I  send,  you  may  say,  I  intend 
To  hush  tliem  to  peace  and  repose ; 
With  this  present  of  mine,  on  the  wings  of  the 
wind 
You  shall  travel,  and  tell  them,  here  goes 

"A  health  to  old  Bacchus !  who  sends  them  the  best 
Of  the  nectar  his  island  affords, 
The  soul  of  the  feast  and  the  joy  of  the  guest, 
Too  good  for  your  monarchs  and  lords. 

"  No  rivals  have  I  in  this  insular  waste, 
Alone  will  I  govern  the  isle 
With  a  king  at  my  feet,  and  a  court  to  my  taste, 
And  all  in  the  popular  style. 

'•  But  a  spirit  there  is  in  the  order  of  things,        • 
To  me  it  is  perfectly  plain, 
That  will  strike  at  the  sceptres  of  despots  and  kings, 
And  only  king  Bacchus  remain." 

GOUYEENEUE  MOEEIS. 

The  first  of  the  ancestors  of  Gouvernenr  Morris 
"who  emigrated  to  America,  was  Richard  Morris, 
who  is  said  to  have  been  an  officer  in  Cornwallis's 
army.  He  came  to  New  York,  after  a  short  resi- 
dence in  the  West  Indies,  and  purchased  an  estate 
of  three  thousand  acres  at  Harlaem,  which  was 
invested  by  the  governor  with  manorial  rights. 
His  son  Lewis  succeeded  to  the  estate ;  and  filled, 
during  the  last  eight  years  of  his  life,  the  office 
of  Governor  of  New  Jersey.  His  eldest  son, 
Lewis,  became  a  member  of  the  New  York  Legis- 
lature.in  which  he  adopted  the  liberal  side.  He  had 
eight  children,  four  of  whom  were  sons,  and  out 
of  these  sons  Gouvernenr  was  the  youngest.     He 


was  born  at  Morrisania,  Jan.  SI,  1752.  When 
quite  young  lie  was  placed  in  the  family  of  M. 
Tetar,  a  teacher  at  New  Eochelle,  where  he  ac- 
quired a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  French  lan- 
guage. He  was  a  graduate  of  King's  College  at  the 
early  age  of  sixteen,  and  distinguished  himself  at 
Commencement  by  a  florid  address  on  Wit  and 
Beauty.  He  next  studied  law  in  the  office  of 
William  Smith,  the  Colonial  historian  of  the  state; 


and  we  find  him  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  displaying 
the  future  bent  of  his  mind  by  a  series  of  anony- 
mous newspaper  articles  against  a  project  brought 
up  in  the  Assembly  for  raising  money  by  issuing 
bills  of  credit.     In  1775,  he  was  elected  a  member 
of  the  first  Provincial  Congress.     Here  he  early 
attracted  attention,  by  a  report  and  speech  on  the 
mode  of  emission  of  a  paper  currency  by  the  Con- 
tinental Congress.     The  report  was  forwarded  to 
that  body,  which  afterwards  followed  out  its  chief 
suggestions.    He  continued  in  this  position,  taking 
an  active  part  in  every  leading  question,  until  the 
year  1777,  when  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the 
1  Revolutionary  Congress.      The  winter  which  fol- 
I  lowed  his  appointment  was  passed  at  Valley  Forge, 
as  one  of  a  committee  appointed  to  examine,  with 
l  Washington,  into  the  state  of  the  army.    He  sub- 
|  sequently   maintained   a  regular   correspondence 
with  the  general,  and  was  of  much   service  in 
Congress,  promoting  measures  for  the  better  sup- 
port and  efficiency  of  the  national  forces.     He  was 
also  the  chairman  of  the  committee  of  five  ap- 
pointed in  177!)  to  consider  the  despatches  receiv- 
i  ed  from  the  American  Commissioners  in  Europe, 
i  whose  report  formed  the  basis  of  the  subsequent 
|  treaty  of  peace.   On  the  question  of  the  jurisdiction 
i  of  the  state  of  New  York  over  the  "  New  Hamp- 
!  shire  Grants,"   now  the   State  of  Vermont,  Mor- 
I  lis  was  supposed   to  be,  and  probably  was,   in 
;  favor  of  the  independence  of  the  region,  and  con- 
sequently lost  his  election  by  the  state  legislature. 
He  continued  to  reside  in  Philadelphia,  where  he 
commenced  the  practice  of  his  profession.     In  the 
early  part  of  1780,  he  published  a  series  of  essays 
in  the  "  Pennsylvania  Packet,"  signed  "  An  Ame- 
rican" on  the  state  of  the  national  finances,  which 
were  then  in  their  worst  condition.     In  these,  he 
attacks  with  ability  the  laws  passed,  making  the 
receipt  of  the  paper  currency  at  a  fixed  value  com- 
pulsory, and  also  those   regulating  prices.     An 
able  passage  is  quoted  by  Mr.  Sparks  from  one  of 
these  papers : — 

'The  last  object  I  shall  mention,'  '  is  the  preserva- 
tion of  our  federal  union,  which,  in  my  poor  opinion, 
will  greatly  depend  on  the  management  of  our  reve- 
nue. The  articles  of  confederation  were  formed 
when  the  attachment  to  Congress  was  great  and 
warm.  The  framers  of  it,  therefore,  seem  to  have 
been  only  solicitous  how  to  provide  against  the 
power  of  that  body,  which,  by  means  of  their  fore- 
sight and  care,  now  exists  by  mere  courtesy  and  suf- 
ferance. This  is  an  evil,  which  cannot  at  present  be 
remedied,  but  if,  in  addition  to  this,  a  number  of  long 
accounts,  and  quotas,  and  proportions  be  left  for  set- 
tlement,  until  the  enemy  be  removed  at  a  distance, 
and  the  fear  of  them  also  removed,  these  will  afford 
so  much  matter  for  litigation,  and  occasion  such 
heart-burnings,  and  give  such  room  for  the  intrigues, 
which  Great  Britain  has  already  attempted,  and 
which  will  doubtless  be  carried  on  by  her  or  some 
other  foreign  power,  that  our  union  will  become, 
what  our  enemies  long  since  declared  it  was,  a  mere 
rope  of  sand.  Congress  then,  like  the  traveller's 
coat  in  the  fable,  after  having  been  hugged  close 
through  the  stormy  hour  of  danger,  will  be  cast 
aside  as  a  useless  burden,  in  the  calm  and  sunshine 
of  peace  and  victory.  Surely  the  consequences  of 
such  a  measure,  the  struggles,  the  convulsions,  the 
miseries,  need  not  be  pictured  to  a  sensible  and  dis- 
cerning people.' 

In  May  of  this  year,   Morris,  while   driving 


GOUVERNEUR  MORRIS. 


349 


through  Philadelphia,  was  thrown  from  his  vehi- 
cle, and  his  leg  injured  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
render  amputation  necessary.  He  submitted  to 
the  operation  with  cheerfulness ;  and  is  said  to 
have  had  it  performed  by  a  young  surgeon,  that 
the  credit  attached  to  a  successful  treatment  of  a 
case  which  had  attracted  public  attention,  might 
be  given  to  a  friend  whom  it  would  advance  in 
fortune. 

"  The  day  after  the  accident  occurred,  a  friend 
called  to  see  him,  who  thought  it  his  duty  to  offer 
as  much  consolation  as  he  could,  on  an  event  so 
melancholy.  He  dwelt  upon  the  good  effects  which 
such  a  trial  would  produce  on  his  character  and 
moral  temperament,  and  the  diminished  induce- 
ments it  would  leave  for  seeking  the  pleasures  and 
dissipations  of  life,  into  which  young  men  are  too 
apt  to  be  led.  '  My  good  Sir,'  replied  Mr.  Morris, 
'you  argue  the  matter  so  handsomely,  and  point 
out  so  clearly  the  advantages  of  being  without 
legs,  that  I  am  almost  tempted  to  part  with  the 
other.' 

"  To  another  person,  who  visited  him  on  the 
same  occasion,  and  gave  utterance  to  his  feelings 
of  sympathy  and  regret,  he  replied  :  '  O,  Sir,  the 
loss  is  much  less  than  you  imagine;  I  shall  doubtless 
be  a  steadier  man  with  one  leg  than  with  two.'  "* 

For  the  remainder  of  his  life  he  wore  a  wooden 
leg,  preferring  this  substitute  to  one  of  cork,  which 
he  tried  afterwards  in  Paris.  The  wooden  leg  did 
him  a  better  service  than  a  real  one  on  one  occa- 
sion during  his  ministry  in  that  city.  Being 
hooted  while  riding  home  in  his  carriage,  during 
the  revolution,  he  disarmed  the  fury  of  the  mob, 
and  converted  their  cries  of  aristocrat  into  cheers 
of  approbation  by  putting  his  wooden  member 
out  of  the  window  and  exclaiming  "  An  aristocrat? 
Yes,  who  lost  his  limb  in  the  cause  of  American 
liberty."t 

In  1781,  Robert  Morris  was  placed  at  the  head 
of  the  finances  of  the  nation,  which  had  previously 
been  managed  by  a  committee  of  Congress.  His 
first  act  was  to  appoint  Gouverneur  Morris  his  as- 
sistant. He  accepted  the  situation,  and  performed 
its  duties  for  three  years  and  a  half.  He  still  re- 
mained, after  his  retirement,  connected  with  Ro- 
bert -Morris  in  various  private  financial  matters. 
In  1780,  his  mother  died.  Her  life  interest  in  the 
estate  of  Morrisania  thus  terminated  ;  it  passed 
into  the  possession  of  the  second  son,  Staats  Long 
Morris,  a  general  in  the  British  army,  the  eldest 
son  Lewis,  having  received  his  portion  in  his  fa- 
ther's lifetime.  The  other  children  were  to  re- 
ceive seven  thousand  pounds  from  Staats.  As  he 
resided  in  England  he  had  no  objection  to  a  sale, 
and  Gouverneur,  by  the  aid  of  loans  and  accom- 
modations, became  possessed  of  the  estate  by  pur- 
chase from  his  brother.  In  1787,  he  took  his  seat 
as  delegate  from  Pennsylvania,  in  the  convention 
for  the  formation  of  the  federal  constitution.  No 
record  of  his  acts  in  that  body  is  found  among 
his  papers.  An  original  letter  written  to  Mr. 
Sparks  in  reply  to  a  request  for  information  on  the 
subject  by  President  Madison,  bears  testimony  to 
Morris's  general  exertions  in  promoting  harmony, 
and  also  that  the  draft  of  the  constitution  was 
placed  in  his  hands  to  receive  its  finished  form. 


*  Sparks's  Life,  p.  224. 

t  Tuckerman's  Mental  Portraits.    Art,  Morris. 


On  the  18th  of  December,  1788,  Morris  sailed 
for  Havre.  He  arrived  at  Paris  on  the  3d  of  Feb- 
ruary following.  From  this  time  he  kept  a  mi- 
nute diary,  numerous  selections  from  which  will 
be  found  in  Mr.  Sparks's  Life. 

In  January,  1791,  Morris  visited  London  by 
appointment  of  President  Washington,  as  a  private 
agent  to  the  English  government,  to  settle  unful- 
filled articles  of  the  treaty  of  peace.  Conferences 
were  prolonged  till  September  without  result. 
During  his  stay  at  London,  he  received  the  an- 
nouncement of  his  appointment  as  Minister  to 
France.  His  course  during  the  troublesome 
period  of  his  tenure  of  this  office,  was  marked  by 
the  caution  requisite  in  his  position.  In  August, 
1794,  he  was  succeeded  by  Monroe— his  recall 
having  been  asked  by  the  French  government, 
after  the  recall  of  Citizen  Genet  at  the  request  of 
the  United  States.  He  next  made  an  extensive 
tour  in  Europe,  and  while  at  Vienna  endeavored 
to  obtain  the  release  of  La  Fayette  from  Olmutz. 
Tins  was  effected  in  September,  1797,  at  the  re- 
quisition of  Bonaparte.  In  October,  179S,  having 
arranged  the  complicated  business  affairs  which 
had  long  occupied  his  attention,  he  returned 
home.  The  voyage  from  Hamburgh,  retarded  by 
various  accidents,  occupied  eighty  daj's.  He  was 
chosen  the  next  year  to  fill  a  vacancy  in  the 
Senatorial  representation  of  New  York.  Before, 
taking  his  seat  in  May,  he  was  engaged  in  Febru- 
ary as  counsel  in  a  law  case  at  Albany,  in  which 
Hamilton  was  opposed  to  him.  He  sided  in  the 
Senate,  and  for  the  remainder  of  his  life,  with 
the  Federalists.  He  was  opposed  to  the  discon- 
tinuance of  direct  taxation,  and  in  favor  of  the 
purchase  of  Louisiana.  His  terra  closed  in  March, 
1803,  and  the  remainder  of  his  life  was  passed  at 
Morrisania. 

He  married  on  Christmas  Day,  1809,  Miss  Anne 
Carey  Randolph,  a  member  of  the  eminent  Virgi- 
nia family  of  that  name.  Without  informing 
his  relatives  of  his  intention,  he  assembled  them 
apparently  for  the  celebration  of  the  festival,  and 
while  they  were  wondering  at  the  non-appear- 
ance of  their  host,  entered  with  a  lady,  and  the 
pair  Were  forthwith  made  man  and  wife.  If  all 
present  did  not  relish  the  marriage,  they  did  the 
dinner,  and  in  this  odd  mode  of  conducting  a 
delicate  affair,  the  wary  politician  may  have 
shown  his  skill  as  well  as  in  the  wider  field  of 
national  diplomacy.  The  guests  were  again  sum- 
moned to  the  baptism  of  his  child.  A  mot  of  one 
of  the  party  deserves  record  for  its  humor,  good 
or  bad  as  the  reader  pleases.  They  were  in 
ignorance  before  the  ceremony  as  to  the  name  the 
infant  was  to  receive.  "For  my  part,"  said  one, 
near,  we  presume,  in  the  scale  of  propinquity,  "I 
think  he  had  better  call  his  boy  after  his  Russian 
friend,  Kutusoff." 

He  still  retained  his  fondness  for  travel,  and 
made  frequent  journeys.  He  delivered  funeral 
orations  on  the  occasion  of  the  deatli  of  Wash- 
ington, two  others  of  a  similar  character  on 
Hamilton  and  Governor  George  Clinton ;  an  ad- 
dress "in  celebration  of  the  Deliverance  of  Europe- 
from  the  Yoke  of  Military  Despotism,"  June  29, 
1814;  an  inaugural  Discourse  before  the  New 
York  Historical  Society,  on  his  appointment  as 
President,  and  towards  the  close  of  his  life  con- 
tributed frequently  to  the  New  York  Evening 


350 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Post,  the  Examiner,  and  the  United  States  Ga- 
zette. His  articles  consist  chief!}'  of  satires  in 
prose  and  verse  on  the  politics  of  the  day.  The 
oration  on  Hamilton  was  delivered  in  the  open 
air,  on  his  interment  at  the  porch  of  the  old 
Trinity  Church.  He  was  an  early  advocate  of  the 
Erie  Canal,  and  was  Chairman  of  the  Canal  Com- 
missioners from  their  first  appointment  in  March, 
1810,  until  his  death,  which  occurred  after  a  brief 
illness,  November  6,  1S16. 

"When  he  was  about  dying,  he  said  to  his  friend 
at  Morrisania,  "Sixty-five  years  ago  it  pleased 
the  Almighty  to  call  me  into  existence,  here,  on 
this  spot,  in  this  very  room;  and  how  shall  I  com- 
plain that  he  is  pleased  to  call  me  hence  ? "  From 
the  nature  of  his  disease,  he  was  aware  that  his 
hours  were  numbered.  On  the  morning  of  his 
death,  he  inquired  of  his  near  relative,  the  Hon. 
Martin  S.  Wilkins,  what  kind  of  a  day  it  was? 
"A  beautiful  day,"  answered  his  nephew.  "The 
air  is  soft,  the  day  cloudless,  the  water  like  crys- 
tal ;  you  hear  every  ripple,  and  even  the  plash  of 
the  steamboat  wheels  on  the  river ;  it  is  a  beauti- 
ful day."  The  dying  man  seemed  to  take  in  this 
description  with  that  zest  for  nature  which  ac- 
corded with  the  poetic  interest  of  his  character. 
Like  Webster,  his  mind  reverted  to  Gray's  Elegy  ; 
he  looked  at  the  kind  relative,  and  repeated  his 
last  words.     "  A  beautiful  day ;  yes,  but 

"  Who  to  dumb  forgetfulness  a  prey, 

This  pleasing  anxious  being  e'er  resigned, 
Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day, 
Nor  east  one  longing,  lingering  look  behind."* 

His  life,  with  selections  from  his  correspondence 
and  miscellaneous  papers,  by  Jared  Sparks,  was 
published  in  1832,  in  3  vols.  8vo.  A  large  portion 
is  occupied  with  his  public  and  private  correspond- 
ence, on  the  French  Revolution.  His  letters  con- 
tain a  mass  of  testimony  and  sagacious  comment 
on  that  great  event. 

Morris,  like  many  energetic  men,  was  in  the 
habit  of  expressing  his  opinions  with  a  freedom 
which  often  involved  hira  in  difficulties.  His 
indulgence  in  sarcasm  also  led  to  difficulties,  and 
gained  him  enemies.  His  openness  and  sincerity 
of  character  were,  however,  duly  estimated  and 
prized  by  his  friends.  His  shrewdness  enabled 
him  to  take  advantage  of  favorable  opportunities 
for  the  increase  of  his  property,  and  he  died  the 
possessor  of  a  large  estate.  In  person,  he  so 
closely  resembled  Washington,  that  he  stood  as  a 
model  of  his  form  to  Houdon  the  sculptor. 

FUNERAL  ORATION  BY  THE  DEAD  BODY  OF    nAMILTON. 

If  on  this  sad,  this  solemn  occasion,  I  should  en- 
deavor to  move  your  commiseration,  it  would  be 
doing  injustice  to  that  sensibility,  which  has  been 
so  generally  and  so  justly  manifested.  Far  from  at- 
tempting to  excite  your  emotions,  I  must  try  to  re- 
press my  own  ;  and  yet,  I  fear,  that,  instead  of  the 
language  of  a  public  speaker,  you  will  hear  only  the 
lamentations  of  a  wailing  friend.  But  I  will  struggle 
with  my  bursting  heart,  to  portray  that  Heroic 
Spirit,  which  has  flown  to  the  mansions  of  bliss. 

Students  of  Columbia — he  was  in  the  ardent 
pursuit  of  knowledge  in  your  academic  shades,  when 


*  Dr.  J.  W.  Francis's  comparison  of  Webster  and  Morris,  at 
the  celebration  of  Webster's  birth-day,  January  13, 1854,  at  the 
Astor  House. 


the  first  sound  of  the  American  war  called  him  to 
the  field.  A  young  and  unprotected  volunteer, 
such  was  his  zeal,  and  so  brilliant  his  service,  that 
we  heard  his  name  before  we  knew  his  person.  It 
seemed  as  if  God  had  called  him  suddenly  into 
existence,  that  he  might  assist  to  save  a  world  1 

The  penetrating  eye  of  Washington  soon  perceived 
the  manly  spirit  which  animated  his  youthful 
bosom.  By  that  excellent  judge  of  men,  he  was 
selected  as  an  Aid,  and  thus  he  became  early  ac- 
quainted with,  and  was  a  principal  actor  in  the  most 
important  scenes  of  our  Revolution.  At  the  siege 
of  York,  lie  pertinaciously  insisted  on — and  he  ob- 
tained the  command  of  a  Forlorn  Hope.  He  stormed 
the  redoubt ;  but  let  it  be  recorded  that  not  one 
single  man  of  the  enemy  perished.  His  gallant 
troops,  emulating  the  heroism  of  their  chief,  checked 
the  uplifted  arm,  and  spared  a  foe  no  longer  resist- 
ing.    Here  closed  his  military  career. 

Shortly  after  the  war,  your  favor — no,  your  dis- 
cernment, called  him  to  public  office.  You  sent  him 
to  the  convention  at  Philadelphia;  he  there  assisted 
in  forming  that  constitution,  which  is  now  the  bond 
of  our  union,  the  shield  of  our  defence,  and  the 
source  of  our  prosperity.  In  signing  the  compact, 
he  expressed  his  apprehension  that  it  did  not  con- 
tain sufficient  means  of  strength  for  its  own  preser- 
vation ;  and  that  in  consequence  we  should  share  the 
fate  of  many  other  Republics,  and  pass  through 
Anarchy  to  Despotism.  We  hoped  better  things. 
We  confided  in  the  good  sense  of  the  American 
people ;  and,  above  all,  we  trusted  in  the  protecting 
Providence  of  the  Almighty.  On  this  important 
subject  he  never  concealed  his  ppinion.  He  dis- 
dained concealment.  Knowing  the  purity  of  his 
heart,  he  bore  it  as  it  were  in  his  hand,  exposing  to 
every  passenger  its  inmost  recesses.  This  generous 
indiscretion  subjected  him  to  censure  from  misrepre- 
sentation. His  speculative  opinions  were  treated 
as  deliberate  designs  ;  and  yet  you  all  know  how 
strenuous,  how  unremitting  were  his  efforts  to 
establish  and  to  preserve  the  constitution.  If,  then, 
his  opinion  was  wrong,  pardon,  0 !  pardon  that 
single  error,  in  a  life  devoted  to  your  service. 

At  the  time  when  our  government  was  organized, 
we  were  without  funds,  though  not  without  re- 
sources. To  e.-ill  them  into  action,  and  establish 
order  in  the  finances,  Washington  sought  for  splendid 
talents,  for  extensive  information,  and  above  all,  he 
sought  for  sterling,  incorruptible  integrity.  All 
these  he  found  in  Hamilton.  The  sj'stem'  then 
adopted,  has  been  the  subject  of  much  animadver- 
sion. If  it  be  not  without  a  fault,  let  it  be  remem- 
bered that  nothing  human  is  perfect  Recollect  the 
circumstances  of  the  moment — recollect  the  conflict 
of  opinion — and,  above  all,  remember  that  the 
minister  of  a  Republic  must  bend  to  the  will  of  the 
people.  The  administration  which  Washington 
formed  was  one  of  the  most  efficient,  one  of  the  best 
that  any  country  was  ever  blest  with.  And  the 
result  was  a  rapid  advance  in  power  and  prosperity, 
of  which  there  is  no  example  in  any  other  nge  or 
nation.  The  part  which  Hamilton  bore  is  universally 
known. 

His  unsuspecting  confidence  in  professions,  which 
he  believed  to  be  sincere,  led  him  to  trust  too  much 
to  the  undeserving.  This  exposed  him  to  misrepre- 
sentation. He  felt  himself  obliged  to  resign.  The 
care  of  a  rising  family,  and  the  narrowness  of  his 
fortune,  made  it  a  duty  to  return  to  his  profession 
for  their  support.  But  though  he  was  compelled  to 
abandon  public  life,  never,  no,  never  for  a  moment 
did  he  abandon  the  public  service.  He  never  lost 
sight  of  your  interests.  I  declare  to  you,  before  that 
God,  in  whose  presence  we  are  now  especially  as- 


GOUVERNEUR  MORRIS. 


351 


sembled,  that  in  his  most  private  and  confidential 
conversations,  the  single  objects  of  discussion  and 
consideration  were  your  freedom  and  happiness. 
You  well  remember  the  state  of  things  which  again 
called  forth  Washington  from  his  retreat  to  lead 
your  armies.  You  know  that  he  asked  for  Hamilton 
to  be  his  second  in  command.  That  venerable  sage 
well  knew  the  dangerous  incidents  of  a  military 
profession,  and  he  felt  the  hand  of  time  pinching 
life  at  its  source.  It  was  probable  that  he  would 
soon  be  removed  from  the  scene,  and  that  his  second 
would  succeed  to  the  command.  He  knew  by  ex- 
perience the  importance  of  that  place — and  he 
thought  the  sword  of  America  might  safely  be 
confided  to  the  hand  which  now  lies  cold  in  that 
coffin.  Oh!  my  fellow-citizens,  remember  this 
solemn  testimonial  that  he  was  not  ambitious.  Yet 
he  was  charged  with  ambition,  and  wounded  by  the 
imputation,  when  he  laid  down  his  command,  he 
declared,  in  the  proud  independence  of  his  soul,  that 
he  never  would  accept  of  any  office,  unless  in  a 
foreign  war  he  should  be  called  on  to  expose  his 
life  in  defence  of  his  country.  This  determination 
was  immovable.  It  was  his  fault  that  his  opinions  and 
his  resolutions  could  not  be  changed.  Knowing  his 
own  firm  purpose,  he  was  indignant  at  the  charge 
that  he  sought  for  place  or  power.  He  was  ambi- 
tious only  for  glory,  but  he  was  deeply  solicitous  for 
you.  For  himself  lie  feared  nothing  ;  but  he  feared 
that  bad  men  might,  by  false  professions,  acquire 
your  confidence,  and  abuse  it  to  your  ruin. 

Brethren  of  the  Cincinnati — there  lies  our  chief! 
Let  him  still  be  our  model.  Like  him,  after  long  and 
faithful  public  services,  let  us  cheerfully  perform  the 
social  duties  of  private  life.  Oh !  he  was  mild  and 
gentle.  In  him  there  was  no  offence ;  no  guile. 
His  generous  hand  and  heart  were  open  to  all. 

Gentlemen  of  the  bar — you  have  lost  your  bright- 
est ornament.  Cherish  and  imitate  his  example. 
While,  like  him,  with  justifiable,  and  with  laudable 
zeal,  you  pursue  the  interests  of  your  clients,  remem- 
ber, like  him,  the  eternal  principle  of  justice. 

Fellow-citizens — you  have  long  witnessed  his  pro- 
fessional conduct,  and  felt  his  unrivalled  eloquence. 
You  know  how  well  he  performed  the  duties  of  a 
citizen — you  know  that  he  never  courted  your 
favor  by  adulation  or  the  sacrifice  of  his  own 
judgment.  You  have  seen  him  contending  against 
you,  and  saving  your  dearest  interests  as  it  were,  in 
spite  of  yourselves.  And  you  now  feel  and  enjoy 
the  benefits  resulting  from  the  firm  energy  of  his 
conduct.  Bear  this  testimony  to  the  memory  of  my 
departed  friend.  I  charge  you  to  protect  his  fame. 
It  is  all  he  has  left— all  that  these  poor  orphan  chil- 
dren will  inherit  from  their  father.  But,  my  country- 
men, that  fame  may  be  a  rich  treasure  to  you  also. 
Let  it  be  the  test  by  which  to  examine  those  who 
solicit  your  favour.  Disregarding  professions,  view 
their  conduct,  and  on  a  doubtful  occasion  ask,  would 
Hamilton  have  clone  this  tiling  ? 

You  all  know  how  he  perished.  On  this  last  scene 
I  cannot,  I  must  not  dwell.  It  might  excite  emotions 
too  strong  for  your  better  judgment.  Suffer  not 
your  indignation  to  lead  to  any  act  which  might 
again  offend  the  insulted  majesty  of  the  laws.  On 
his  part,  as  from  his  lips,  though  with  my  voice — 
for  his  voice  you  will  hear  no  more — let  me  entreat 
you  to  respect  yourselves. 

And  now,  ye  ministers  of  the  everlasting  God,  per- 
form your  holy  office,  and  commit  these  ashes  of  our 
departed  brother  to  the  bosom  of  the  grave. 

THE  KESTOUATION   OP  THE  BOURBONS — 1S14. 

Tis  done.  The  lo/ig  agony  is  over.  The  Bour- 
bons are  restored.     France  reposes  in  the  arms  of 


her  legitimate  prince.  We  may  now  express  our 
attachment  to  her  consistently  with  the  respect  we 
owe  to  ourselves.  We  recall  to  remembrance  that 
interesting  period,  when,  in  the  fellowship  of  arms, 
our  souls  were  mingled  at  the  convivial  feast,  and 
our  blood  on  the  field  of  glory.  We  look,  exulting, 
at  the  plain  of  York.  There  French  and  American 
troops  contended,  in  generous  strife,  who  first  should 
reach  the  goal  of  victory.  There  the  contest  for  in- 
dependence was  closed.  There  was  sealed  our  title 
to  be  numbered  among  the  nations. 

Thank  God,  we  can,  at  length,  avow  the  senti- 
ments of  gratitude  to  that  august  family,  under 
whose  sway  the  fleets  and  armies  of  France  and 
Spain  were  arrayed  in  defence  of  American  liberty. 
We  then  hailed  Louis  the  Sixteenth  protector  of  the 
rights  of  mankind.  We  loved  him.  We  deplored 
his  fate.  We  are  unsullied  by  the  embrace  of  his 
assassins.  Our  wishes,  our  prayers,  have  accompa- 
nied the  loyal  Spaniards  in  their  struggle ;  and  we 
blush  that  Americans  were  permitted  to  offer  only 
wishes  and  prayers. 

****** 

This  virtuous  monarch,  our  friend  in  the  hour  of 
danger,  was  the  victim  of  his  own  goodness.  Ar- 
dently desirous  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  sub- 
jects for  whom  he  felt  the  fondness  of  a  father,  lie 
thought  no  sacrifice  of  power  too  great  if  he  could 
promote  their  felicity.  He  had  been  persuaded  that 
his  prerogative,  useless  to  him,  was  oppressive  to 
them.  Dangerous  error !  He  had  been  told  and 
believed,  that  in  their  loyalty  he  had  a  perfect  de- 
fence against  the  intrigues  of  turbulent  demagogues. 
Fatal  delusion!  This  just,  this  merciful  prince,  was 
led  to  execution  amid  the  insulting  shouts  of  a  fero- 
cious mob.  He  was  guarded  by  militia  who  felt  hor- 
ror at  the  office.  The  royal  victim,  collected  in 
himself,  was  occupied,  during  the  long  procession,  in 
beseeching  the  divine  majesty  to  pardon  his  rebel- 
lious subjects.  But  the  stroke  which  severed  from 
the  body  his  innocent  head,  cut  them  off  from  for- 
giveness, until  they  should  have  expiated  the  crime 
by  lengthened  years  of  misery.  0!  it  was  a  crime 
against  nature  and  against  heaven.  A  murder  most 
foul  and  cruel.  A  deed  at  which  fiends  might  have 
wept.  I  was  in  Paris.  I  saw  the  gush  of  sorrow. 
I  heard  the  general  groan.  Every  bosom  anticipated 
the  sentence  of  an  avenging  God.  It  was  like  a  second 
fall  of  man.  An  awful  scene  of  affliction,  guilt,  and 
horror.  All  were  humbled  to  the  dust,  save  only 
those  who  exulted,  in  screams  of  diabolic  rapture, 
at  their  success  in  driving  an  assembly  over  which 
they  tyrannized  to  this  nefarious  act. 

****** 

On  the  same  scaffold,  condemned  by  the  same 
judges,  perished  Danton  himself.  He  perished,  con- 
spiring to  place  the  imprisoned  son  on  the  throne  of 
a  father  whom  he  had  laboured  to  destroy.  He  be- 
lieved that  Louis  the  Sixteenth  had  been  too  much 
disgraced  to  reign  over  a  proud  nation.  Combining, 
therefore,  the  courage  of  a  hero  with  the  energy  of 
a  conspirator,  and  unrestrained  by  religion  or  mercy, 
he  determined  to  strike  off  the  head  which  he  thought 
unfit  for  a  crown.  In  the  rapid  march  of  fate  his 
own  soon  fell.  Insulted  with  the  semblance  of  trial, 
convicted  without  proof,  condemned  unheard,  he 
roared  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  "I  have  been  told,  and 
now  believe,  that  the  punishment  of  man  is  the 
fruit  of  his  crime.  Wretches !  I  gave  you  the  pow- 
er of  dooming  innocence  to  death,  and  I,  by  your 
doom,  must  die.  The  same  justice  shall  overtake 
those  who  sent  me  here  and  you  also."  The  voice 
of  the  savage  was  prophetic. 


352 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


This  occasion  does  not  require,  neither  will  it  per- 
mit of,  .1  history,  or  even  the  rapid  recapitulation, 
of  important  events.  We  have  seen  the  tumults  of 
democracy  terminate,  in  France,  as  they  have  every- 
where terminated,  in  despotism.  "What  had  been 
foreseen  and  foretold,  arrived.  The  power  of  usur- 
pation was  directed  and  maintained  by  great  talents. 
Gigantic  schemes  of  conquest,  prepared  with  deep 
and  dark  intrigue,  vast  masses  of  force  conducted 
with  consummate  skill,  a  cold  indifference  to  the 
miseries  of  mankind,  a  profound  contempt  for  moral 
ties,  a  marble-hearted  atheism,  to  which  religion 
was  only  apolitical  instrument,  and  the  stern  perse- 
vering will  to  bend  everything  to  his  purpose,  were 
the  means  of  Napoleon  to  make  himself  the  terror, 
the  wonder,  and  the  scourge  of  nations.  The  gall- 
ing of  his  iron  yoke  taught  Frenchmen  feelingly  to 
know  how  much  they  had  lost  in  breaking  the  bands 
of  their  allegiance.  They  had,  indeed,  to  amuse 
them,  the  pomp  of  triumph,  the  shout  of  victory, 
and  the  consciousness  of  force  which  made  the 
neighboring  nations  groan.  But  the  fruits  of  their 
labour  were  wrested  from  them  to  gratify  the  extra- 
vagance of  vanity,  or  supply  the  waste  of  war. 
Their  children  were  torn  from  their  bosoms,  and 
marched  off  in  chains  to  the  altar  of  impious,  insa- 
tiable ambition.  Aged  parents,  who  with  trembling 
step  had  followed  to  bid  the  last  of  many  sons  a  fi- 
nal, fond  adieu,  in  returning  to  their  cottage,  once 
the  scene  of  humble  happiness,  but  now  stript  by 
remorseless  collectors  of  everything  which  could  be 
sold,  looking  around  in  vain  for  the  little  objects  to 
which  use  and  need  had  given  value,  and  seeing 
only  the  remnant  of  that  loaf  from  which  they  had 
taken  their  last  meal,  moistened  with  bitter  tears, 
turn  their  eyes  to  heaven,  then,  throwing  themselves 
in  each  other's  arms,  exclaim,  my  child  !  my  child ! 
Such,  France,  were  thy  sufferings.  Thus  was  the 
innocent  blood  of  thy  sovereign  visited  upon  thee. 
Frenchmen  !  by  these  woes  were  you  taught  to  feel 
the  present,  the  avenging  God.  It  was  this  deep 
agony  which  led  you  to  declare  to  your  sovereign's 
brother,  in  the  language  of  nature  and  truth,  "  Sir, 
we  bring  you  our  hearts;  the  tyrant  has  left  us 
nothing  else  to  give." 

*  *  $  $  .   #        *     * 

At  length,  after  many  battles,  the  well-planned 
movements  of  the  allies  obliged  Napoleon  to  aban- 
don Dresden.  From  that  moment  his  position  on 
the  Elbe  was  insecure.  But  pride  had  fixed  him 
there:  perhaps,  too,  the  same  blind  confidence  in 
fortune.  His  force  was  collected  at  Leipsie.  Leipsic, 
in  the  war  of  thirty  years,  had  seen  the  great  Gus- 
tavus  fall  in  the  arms  of  victory.  Leipsic  again 
witnessed  a  battle,  on  whose  issue  hung  the  inde- 
pendence, not  of  Germany  alone,  but  of  every  state 
on  the  continent  of  Europe.  Hard,  long,  and  obsti- 
nate, was  the  conflict.  On  both  sides  were  displayed 
an  union  of  the  rarest  skill,  discipline,  and  courage. 
As  the  flood-tide  waves  of  ocean,  in  approaching 
the  shore,  rush,  foam,  thunder,  break,  retire,  return 
— so  broke,  retired,  and  returned  the  allied  batta- 
lions, impetuously  propelled  by  the  pressure  of  their 
brethren  in  arms.  And  as  the  whelming  flood,  a 
passage  forced  through  the  breach,  rends,  tears,  scat- 
ters, dissipates,  and  bears  away  its  unnumbered 
sands,  so  was  the  tyrant's  host  overwhelmed,  scat- 
tered, and  borne  away; 

And  now  behold  a  scene  sublime.  Three  mightv 
monarehs  lay  down  their  crowns  and  swords.  They 
fall  on  their  knees.  Theyraise  their  eyes  and  hands 
to  heaven.  They  pour  out  thanksgiving  to  the  God 
of  Battles.  To  him,  the  King  of  kings,  sole,  self- 
existent,  in  whom  alone  is  might,  majesty,  and  do- 
minion.    With  one  voice  they  cry,  "  The  Lord  is 


with,  «s.  Brother,  the  Lord  is  with  tis.  Glory  be  to 
the  Lord."  Contrast  this  spectacle  with  that  which 
had  been  exhibited  thirteen  mouths  before  on  the 
plains  of  Russia. 

****** 

Again  the  cannon  roar.  The  long  arches  of  the 
Louvre  tremble.  The  battle  rages.  The  heights  of 
Montmartre  are  assailed.  They  are  carried.  The 
allies  look  down,  victorious,  on  the  lofty  domes  and 
spires  of  Paris.  Lo!  the  capital  of  that  nation 
which  dictated  ignominious  terms  of  peace  in  Vien- 
na and  Berlin ;  the  capital  of  that  nation  which 
wrapt  in  flames  the  capital  of  the  Czars,  is  in  the 
power  of  its  foes.  Their  troops  are  in  full  inarch. 
The  flushed  soldier  may  soon  satiate  his  lust  and  glut 
his  vengeance.  Bee  before  you,  princes,  the  school 
of  that  wildering  philosophy  which'  undermined 
your  thrones.  In  those  sumptuous  palaces  dwell 
voluptuaries,  who,  professing  philanthropy,  love 
only  themselves.  There  recline,  on  couches  of  down, 
those  polished  friends  of  man,  who,  revelling  in  the 
bosom  of  delight,  see  with  indifference  a  beggar 
I  perish,  and  calmly  issue  orders  for  the  conflagration 
!  of  cities  and  the  pillage  of  kingdoms.  Listen  to  the 
voice  of  retributive  justice.  Throw  loose  the  reins 
of  discipline.  Cry  havoc  !  avenge!  avenge!  No — 
Yonder  is  the  white  flag:  Emblem  of  peace.  It  ap- 
proaches. They  supplicate  mercy.  Halt!  Citizens 
of  America,  what,  on  such  an  occasion,  would  Napo- 
leon have  done?  Interrogate  his  conduct  during 
fifteen  years  of  triumph.  See  this  paragon  of  philo- 
sophers spread  ruin  around  him — his  iron  heart  in- 
sensible to  pity — his  ears  deaf  to  the  voice  of  reli- 
gion and  mercy.  And  liow  see  two  Christian  mo- 
narehs, after  granting  pardon  and  protection,  descend 
from  the  heights  of  jVlontmartre  and  march  through 
the  streets  of  that  great  city  in  peaceful  triumph. 
See,  following  them,  half  a  million  of  men,  women, 
and  children,  who  hail,  with  shouts  of  gratitude, 
Alexander  the  deliverer.  They  literally  kiss  his  feet. 
And,  like  those  of  old,  who  approached  the  Saviour 
of  the  world,  they  touch,  in  transport,  the  hem  of 
his  garment  and  feel  sanctified.  He  enters  the  tem- 
ple of  the  living  God.  In  humble  imitation  of  his 
divine  master,  he  proclaims  pardon  and  peace. 
Those  lips,  which,  victorious  in  the  plain  of  Leipsic, 
cried  out  Glory  to  God,  now,  again  victorious,  com- 
plete the  anthem  of  benediction.  "  Glory  be  to 
God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace.  Good  will 
toward  men."  Let  all  nature  join  in  the  triumphant 
song,  Glory!   glory!  to  God;  and  on  earth  peace. 

That  royal  house  now  reigns.  The  Bourbons  are 
restored.  Rejoice  France!  Spain!  Portugal!  You 
are  governed  by  your  legitimate  kings — Europe!  re- 
joice. The  Bourbons  are  restored.  The  family  of 
nations  is  completed.  Peace,  the  dove  descending 
from  heaven,  spreads  over  you  her  downy  pinions. 
Nations  of  Europe,  ye  are  her  brethren  once  more. 
Embrace.  Rejoice.  And  thou,  too,  my  much 
wronged  country,  my  dear  abused,  self-murdered 
country,  bleeding  as  thou  art,  rejoice.  The  Bour- 
bons are  restored.  Thy  friends  now  reign.  The 
long  agony  is  over.     The  Bourbons  are  restored. 

ALEXANDER  GRAYDON, 

The  author  of  a  choice  volume  of  personal  and 
revolutionary  memoirs  which  has  not  been  valued 
as  it  deserves  to  be,  in  our  American  literature, 
was  a  native  of  Pennsylvania,  born  in  the  then 
village  of  Bristol,  April'lO,  1752.  His  father  was 
an  Irishman,  who  engaged  in  business  in  Phila- 
delphia, where  he  was  recognised  in  society  as  a 
gentleman   of  spirit  and  literature.     Alexander 


ALEXANDER  GRAYDOK 


353 


was  educated  at  Philadelphia,  and  liad  for  his 
preceptor  a  Scotchman,  John  Beveridge,  whose 
volume  of  Latin  poems  has  already  been  no- 
ticed in  these  pages.*  The  account  of  Gray- 
don's  school-boy  days  in  the  Memoirs  is 
minute  and  entertaining,  and  the  interest  in- 
creases when  he  describes  the  characters  at  his 
mother's  boarding-house  (after  the  death  of  his 
father),  among  whom  were  Sir  William  Draper,t 
DeKalb,  and  Rivington,  the  printer  in  New  York, 
who  practised  his  theatrical  heroics  and  u  high 
jinks  "  on  the  premises.  The  youthful  follies  of  a 
lad  of  spirit  of  the  olden  time  are  duly  related 
with  the  fashionable  admiration  of  the  day  for 
Lovelace  in  the  novel  of  Richardson,  who  proba- 
bly, with  all  his  good  intentions,  made  more  rakes 
than  saints.  Possessed  of  some  knowledge  of  the 
law  at  the  age  of  twenty-three,  when  Congress 
was  raising  troops  for  the  service  in  1775,  he 
received  the  appointment  of  Captain,  and  tra- 
versed his  state  for  recruits.  He  was  soon  in- 
trusted with  carrying  a  sum  of  money  to  Schuyler 
at  Lake  George,  a  journey  which  furnishes  him 
some  characteristic  incidents  for  his  narrative. 
On  his  return  he  joined  the  forces  at  New  York, 
was  at  the  retreat  from  Long  Island,  and  was 
taken  a  prisoner  at  the  subsequent  action  on 
Harlem  heights.  He  was  retained  in  New  York, 
where  he  met  Ethan  Allen,  was  then  quartered 
at  Flatbush,  where  he  appears  to  have  passed  the 
time  in  observation  of  the  inhabitants,  anil  whence 
he  was  liberated  on  parole,  when  he  passed  through 
the  American  camp  at  Morristown,  and  witnessed 
at  Washington's  table  the  elegant  manners  of 
Hamilton,  finally  establishing  himself  at  Reading. 
In  1778  he.was  fully  released  in  the  exchange  of 
prisoners,  and  celebrated  the  event  by  marrying 
Miss  Wood  of  Berks  county.  From  that  time  he. 
was  a  spectator  of  the  war  and  a  student  of  the 
manners  and  personages  of  the  times.  In  1785 
he  received  from  the  government  of  his  state  an 
appointment  to  the  Prothonotaryship  of  the  coun- 
ty of  Dauphin,  and  removed  to  Ilarrisburgh, 
where  lie  remained  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  office 
till  he  was  removed  by  Gov.  McKean,  who 
introduced  his  system  of  political  decapitation  on 
his  induction  in  1799.  Graydon  then  lived  on  a 
small  farm  in  the  neighborhood  of  Ilarrisburgh, 
from  which  out-of-the-way  quarter  he  sent  forth, 
in  1811,  his  Memoirs  of  a  Life,  chiefly  passed  in 
Pennsylvania,  within  the  last  sixty  years  ;  with 
Occasional  Remarks  upon  the  General  Occurren- 
ces, Character,  and  Spirit  of  that  Eventful  Pc- 


riod.l     In  this  form,  in  a  small  volume,  on  dingy 


*  Ante.  p.  128. 

t  Sir  William  Draper  was  tbe  correspondent  of  Junius. 
Leaving  England  after  this  encounter  be  arrived  at  Charles- 
ton, S.  C„  in  January,  17G9,  and  travelling  to  New  York,  mar- 
ried Miss  DeLancey,  daughter  of  Governor  DeLancey,  of  New 
York.  She  died  in  177S,  when  he  was  appointed  Go'vernor  of 
Minorca. 

X  Printed  by  John  Wyeth.  12mo.  pp.  378. 
vol.  i. — 2:J 


paper,  one  of  the  most  entertaining  works,  illus- 
trating a  most  important  period  of  our  history 
and  manners,  written  with  frankness  and  scholar- 
ship, and  abounding  with  anecdote,  was  suffered  to 
languish  in  a  feeble  circulation,  known  for  the  most 
part  only  to  curious  readers,  till  Mr.  John  Stock- 
ton Littell  reissued  it  in  a  second  edition,  with  a 
biographical  preface  and  ample  historical  annota- 
tions, including  some  valuable  original  notes  by 
the  author.  He  has  also  divided  the  work  into  . 
chapters  with  appropriate  headings  and  an  indis- 
pensable index.*  Besides  its  personal  anecdotes, 
it  contains  notices  of  many  of  the  leading  per- 
sonages of  the  war,  and  in  the  latter  portions 
gives  free  expression  to  the  anti-Jeffersonian  sen- 
timents of  the  author,  for  which  he  had  sharp 
motive  in  bis  loss  of  office. 

John  Gait,  the  novelist,  and  a  student  of  Ameri- 
can affairs,  thought  so  well  of  the  work,  attracted 
by  its  anecdote  and  living  portraits  of  the  times, 
that  be  caused  it  to  be  reprinted  at  Edinburgh  in 
1822  with  a  complimentary  dedication  which  he 
wrote,  addressed  to  the  American  Minister  at 
London. 

In  1813-1-t  we  find  Graydon  contributor  of  a 
series  of  papers  to  the  Port-Folio,  entitled  Notes 
of  a  Desultory  Reader,  which  include  comments 
upon  the  Classics  and  French  ant!  English  literature 
exhibiting  a  high  order  of  cultivation.  In  1816 
he  returned  to  Philadelphia  with  the  intention  of 
improving  his  affairs  by  becoming  a  publisher, 
but  he  died,  May  2,  1818,  before  this  could  be 
carried  into  effect. 

In  the  Port-Folio  for  July  of  that  year  there  is 
a  tribute  to  his  memory,  in  which  he  is  described 
as  having  been  a  representative  of  "  that  old 
school  of  accomplished  gentlemen,  which  nou- 
rished before  our  Revolution ; — at  a  period  when 
the  courtesy  of  society  was  not  disturbed  by 
insubordination  in  systems,  nor  violated  by  laxity 
in  sentiments,"  and  in  which  the  writer  notices 
"the  elegance  of  his  person,  that  he  retained  in 
an  uncommon  degree  to  his  latest  hour." 

One  of  his  last  acts  had  been  to  send  to  the 
Port-Folio  a  translation  of  the  Latin  Epigram — 

Avulsa  e  ramo,  frons  o  miseranda,  virenti, 
Marcida  quo  vadis? — Quo  vadam,  nescio — Quoreum 
Maternam  columenque  meurn  stravere  procellra. 
Inde  milu  illudit  Zephyrus,  Boreasve;  vagamque 
Montibus  ad  valles,  sylvis  me  volvit  ad  agros : 
Nee  contra  nitor.     Quo  tendunt  omnia  tendo ; 
Quo  fertur  pariter  folium  lauri  rosajque. 

Attempted  in  English. 
Torn  from  thy  nurturing  branch,  poor,  fallen  leaf, 
What  hapless  lot  awaits  thy  withering  form? 
Alas!  I  know  not,  but  I  mourn  in  chief, 
My  parent  oak  laid  prostrate  by  the  storm. 

Hence  doomed  the  sport  of  every  vagrant  breeze 
I'm  hurried  up  the  mount,  then  down  again; 
One  while  I  mildew  under  shading  trees, 
Now,  whirl'd  afield,  I  bleach  upon  the  plain. 

In  short,  I  go  where  all  things  earthly  tend, 
And  unresisting  meet  my  wasting  foes, 


*  The  title  is  somewhat  ehanped  :  Memoirs  of  Sis  Own 
Tlm<\  with  Reminiscences  of  Vie  Men  and  Events  of  the  Itavo- 
lidwn.  By  Alexander  Graydon.  Edited  by  John  Stockton 
Littell,  Member  of  the  Historical  Society  of  Pennsylvania. 
Philadelphia.   Lindsay  &  Blakiston,  16-10.    8vo.  pp.  504. 


354 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


For  oaks  and  bramble  have  one  common  end — 
The  foliage  of  the  laurel  and  the  rose. 

BBITISH  OFFICERS  IN  PHILADELPHIA  BEFOBE  THE  EEVOLCTION. 

But  it  was  not  alone  by  hostile  alarms,  that  the 
good  people  of  Philadelphia  were  annoyed.  Their 
tranquillity  had  been  likewise  disturbed  by  the  unciti- 
zenlike  conduct  of  a  pair  of  British  officers,  who, 
for  want  of  something  better  to  do,  had  plunged 
themselves  into  an  excess  of  intemperance;  and  in 
the  plenitude  of  wine  and  hilarity,  paraded  the 
streets  at  all  hours, 

A  la  clartc  de  cieux  dans  1' ombre  de  la  nuit, 
to  the  no  small  terror  of  the  sober  and  the  timid. 
The  firm  of  this  duumvirate  was  Ogle  and  Friend, 
names  always  coupled  together,  like  those  of  Castor 
and  Pollux,"  or  of  Pyladcs  and  Orestes.  But  the 
cement  which  connected  them,  was  scarcely  so  pure 
as  that  which  had  united  those  heroes  of  antiquity. 
It  could  hardly  be  called  friendship;  but  was  rather 
a  confederacy  in  debauchery  and  riot,  exemplified 
in  a  never  ending  round  of  frolic  and  fun.  It  was 
related  of  Ogle,  that  upon  hiring  a  servant,  he  hfid 
stipulated  with  him  that  he  should  never  get  drunk 
but  when  his  master  was  sober.  But  the  fellow 
some  time  after  requested  his  discharge,  giving  for 
his  reason,  that  he  had  in  truth  no  dislike  to  a  social 
glass  himself,  but  it  had  so  happened,  that  the  terms 
of  the  agreement  had  absolutely  cut  him  off  from 
any  chance  of  ever  indulging  his  propensity. 

Many  are  the  pranks  I  have  heard  ascribed,  either 
conjointly  or  separately,  to  this  par  nobile  fratrum. 
That  of  Ogle's  first  appearance  in  Philadelphia,  has 
been  thus  related  to  me  by  Mr.  Will  Richards,  the 
apothecary,  who,  it  is  well  known,  was,  from  his 
size  and  manner,  as  fine  a  figure  for  Falstaff  as  the 
imagination  can  conceive.  "  One  afternoon,"  said 
he,  "  an  officer  in  full  regimentals,  booted  and 
spurred,  with  a  whip  in  his  hand,  spattered  with 
mud  from  top  to  toe,  and  reeling  under  the  effects 
of  an  overdose  of  liquor,  made  his  entrance  into  the 
coffee-house,  in  a  box  of  which  I  was  sitting,  perus- 
ing a  newspaper.  He  was  probably  under  the  im- 
pression, that  every  man  he  was  to  meet  would  be  a 
Quaker,  and  that  a  Quaker  was  no  other  than  a 
licensed  Simon  Pure  for  his  amusement:  for  no 
sooner  had  he  entered,  than  throwir.g  his  arms 
about  the  neck  of  Mr.  Joshua  Fisher  with  the  excla- 
mation of — "Ah,  my  dear  Broadbrim,  give  me  a 
kiss,"  he  began  to  slaver  him  most  lovingly.  As 
Joshua  was  a  good  deal  embarrassed  hy  the  saluta- 
tion, and  wholly  unable  to  parry  the  assault  or 
shake  off  the  fond  intruder,  I  interfered  in  his  be- 
half and  effected  a  separation,  when  Ogle,  turning 
to  me,  cried  out,  '  Hah!  my  jolly  fellow,  give  me  a 
smack  of  your  fat  chops,'  and  immediately  fell  to 
hugging  and  kissing  me,  as  he  had  done  Fisher. 
But  instead  of  the  coyness  he  had  shown,  I  hugged 
and  kissed  in  my  turn  as  hard  as  I  was  able,  until 
my  weight  at  length  brought  Ogle  to  the  floor,  and 
myself  on  top  of  him.  Kevertheless,  I  kept  kissing 
away,  until  nearly  mashed  and  suffocated,  he  ex- 
claimed, '  for  Heaven's  sake  let  me  up,  let  me  up, 
or  you  will  smother  me!'  Having  sufficiently  tor- 
mented him  and  avenged  Joshua  lisher,  I  permitted 
him  to  rise,  when  he  seemed  a  good  deal  sobered, 
and  finding  that  I  was  neither  a  Quaker  nor  wholly 
ignorant  of  the  world,  he  evinced  some  respect  for 
me,  took  a  seat  with  me  in  a  box,  and  entering  into 
conversation,  soon  discovered,  that  however  he 
might  be  disguised  by  intoxication,  he  well  knew 
what  belonged  to  the  character  of  a  gentleman. 
This,"  said  Richards,  "  was  the  commencement  of  an 
acquaintance  between  us ;  and  Captain  Ogle  some- 


times called  to  see  me,  upon  which  occasions  he 
always  behaved  with  the  utmost  propriety  and  de- 
corum." 

This  same  coffee-house,  the  only  one  indeed  in  the 
city,  was  also  the  scene- of  another  affray  by  Ogle 
and  Friend,  in  conjunction.  I  know  not  what  parti- 
cular acts  of  mischief  they  had  been  guilty  of,  but 
they  were  very  drunk,  and  their  conduct  so  ex- 
tremely disquieting  and  insulting  to  the  peaceable 
citizens  there  assembled,  that  being  no  longer  able 
to  endure  it,  it  was  judged  expedient  to  commit 
them;  and  Mr.  Chew  happening  to  be  there,  under- 
took, in  virtue  probably  of  his  office  of  recorder,  to 
write  their  commitment.  But  Ogle,  facetiously 
joggling  his  elbow,  and  interrupting  him  with  a  re- 
petition of  the  pitiful  interjection  of  "  Ah,  now,  Mr. 
Chew  .'"  he  was  driven  from  his  gravity,  and  obliged 
to  throw  away  the  pen.     It  was  then  taken  up  by 

Alderman  M n,   with  a   determination  to  go 

through  with  the  business,  when  the  culprits  Teeling 
round  him,  and  Ogle  in  particular,  hanging  over  his 
shoulder  and  rending  after  him  as  he  wrote,  at 
length,  with  irresistible  effect,  hit  upon  an  unfortu- 
nate oversight  of  the  alderman.  "Aye,"  says  he, 
"  my  father  was  a  justice  of  peace  too,  but  lie  did 
not  spell  that  word  as  you  do.  I  remember  per- 
fectly well,  that  instead  of  an  6  he  always  used  to 
spell  circumstance  with  a  C."  This  sarcastic  thrust 
at  the  scribe,  entirely  turned  the  tide  in  favor  of  the 
rioters  ;  and  the  company  being  disarmed  of  their 
resentment,  the  alderman  had  no  disposition  to  pro- 
voke farther  criticism  by  going  on  with  the  jnittimus. 
The  irregularities  of  these  gay  rakes  were  not 
more  eccentric  than  diversified ;  and  the  more  ex- 
travagant they  could  render  them,  the  better.  At 
one  time,  they  would  drive  full  tilt  through  the 
streets  in  a  chair ;  and  upon  one  of  these  occasions, 
on  approaching  a  boom  which  had  been  thrown 
across  the  street,  in  a  part  that  was  undergoing  the 
operation  of  paving,  they  lashed  forward  their 
steed,  and  sousing  against  the  spar  with  great  vio- 
lence, they  were  consequently  hurled  from  their 
seats,  like  Don  Quixote  in  his  temerarious  assault  of 
the  windmills.  At  another  time,  at  Doctor  Orme's 
the  apothecary,  where  Ogle  lodged,  they,  in  emula- 
tion of  the  same  mad  hero  at  the  puppet-show,  laid 
about  them  with  their  canes  upon  the  defenceless 
bottles  and  phials,  at  the  same  time  assaulting  a  di- 
minutive Maryland  parson,  whom,  in  their  frolic, 
they  kicked  from  the  street-door  to  the  kitchen.  He 
was  a  fellow  lodger  of  Ogle's ;  and,  to  make  him 
some  amends  for  the  roughness  of  this  usage,  they 
shortly  after  took  him  drunk  to  the  dancing  assem- 
bly, where,  through  the  instrumentality  of  this 
unworthy  son  of  the  church,  they  contrived  to 
excite  a  notable  hubbub.  Though  they  had  es- 
caped, as  already  mentioned,  at  the  coffee-house, 
yet  their  repeated  malfeasances  had  brought  them 
within  the  notice  of  the  civil  authority;  and  they 
had  more  than  once  been  in  the  clutches  of  the 

mayor  of  the  city.     This  was  Mr.  S ,  a  small 

man  of  a  squat,  bandy-legged  figure;  and  hence,  by 
way  of  being  revenged  on  him,  they  bribed  a  negro 
with  a  precisely  similar  pair  of  legs,  to  carry  him  a 
billet,  which  imported,  that  as  the  bearer  had  in 
vain  searched  the  town  for  a  pair  of  hose  that  might 
fit  him,  he  now  applied  to  his  honour  to  be  informed 
'   where  he  purchased  HIS  stockings. 

I  have  been  told  that  General  Lee,  when  a  cap- 
tain in  the  British  service,  had  got  involved  in  this 
|  vortex  of  dissipation;  and  although  afterwards  so 
strenuous  an  advocate  for  the  civil  rights  of  the 
Americans,  had  been  made  to  smart  severely  for 
their  violation,  by  the  mayor's  court  of  Philadel- 
phia, 


ALEXANDER  GRAYDON. 


355 


The  common  observation,  that  when  men  become 
soldiers  they  lose  the  character  and  feelings  of  citi- 
zens, was  amply  illustrated  by  the  general  conduct 
of  the  British  officers  in  America.  Their  studied 
contempt  of  the  7nohairs,  by  which  term  all  those 
who  were  not  in  uniform  were  distinguished,  was 
manifest  on  all  occasions;  and  it  is  by  no  means  im- 
probable, that  the  disgust  then  excited,  might  have 
more  easily  ripened  into  that  harvest  of  discontent, 
which  subsequent  injuries  called  forth,  and  which 
terminated  in  a  subduction  of  allegiance  from  the 
parent  land. 

JAMES  SMITH,   OF  PENNSYLVANIA,   THE  SIGNER  OF  THE  DECLA- 
EATION   OF  INDEPENDENCE. 

Besides  my  fellow  boarders  there  were  several 
young  men  in  the  town  (York,  Pa.),  whose  company 
served  to  relieve  the  dreariness  of  my  solitude ;  for 
such  it  was,  compared  with  the  scene  from  which 
I  had  removed.  These,  for  the  most  part,  are  yet 
living,  generally  known  and  respected.  There  was 
also  in  the  place  an  oddity,  who,  though  not  to  be 
classed  with  its  young  men,  I  sometimes  fell  in  with. 
This  was  Mr.  James  Smith,  the  lawyer,  then  in  con- 
siderable practice.  He  was  probably  between  forty 
and  fifty  years  of  age,  fond  of  his  bottle  and  young 
company,  and  possessed  of  an  original  species  of 
drollery.  This,  as  may  perhaps  be  said  of  all  per- 
sons in  this  way,  consisted  more  in  the  manner  than 
the  matter:  for  which  reason,  it  is  scarcely  possi- 
ble to  convey  a  just  notion  of  it  to  the  reader.  In 
him  it  much  depended  0:1. an  uncouthncss  of  gesture, 
a  certain  ludicrous  cast  of  countenance,  and  a  drawl- 
ing mode  of  utterance,  which,  taken  in  conjunction 
with  his  eccentric  ideas,  produced  an  effect  irresis- 
tibly comical ;  though  on  an  analysis  it  would  be 
difficult  to  decide,  whether  the  man  or  the  saying 
most  constituted  the  jest.  The  most  trivial  incident 
from  his  mouth  was  stamped  with  his  originality  : 
and  in  relating  one  evening  how  he  had  been  dis- 
turbed in  his  office  by  a  cow,  he  gave  inconceivable 
zest  to  his  narration,  by  his  manner  of  telling  how 
she  thrust  her  nose  into  the  door,  and  there  roared 
like  a  Nimiidian  lion.  Like  the  picture  of  Garrick 
between  tragedy  and  comedy,  his  phiz  exhibited  a 
struggle  between  tragedy  and  farce,  in  which  the 
latter  seemed  on  the  eve  of  predominating.  With 
a  sufficiency  of  various  reading  to  furnish  him  with 
materials  for  ridiculous  allusions  and  incongruous 
combinations,  he  never  was  so  successful  as  when  he 
could  find  a  learned  pedant  to  play  upon :  and  of 
all  men,  Judge  Stedman,  when  mellow,  was  best 
calculated  for  his  butt.  The  judge  was  a  Scotch- 
man, a  man  of  reading  and  erudition,  though  ex- 
tremely magisterial  and  dogmatical  in  his  cups. 
This  it  was  which  gave  point  to  the  humor  of 
Smith,  who,  as  if  desirous  of  coming  in  for  his  share 
of  the  glory,  while  Stedman  was  in  full  display  of 
his  historical  knowledge,  never  failed  to  set  him 
raving  by  some  monstrous  anachronism,  such,  for 
instance,  as  "don't  you  remember,  Mr.  Stedman, 
that  terrible  bloody  battle  which  Alexander  the 
Great  fought  with  the  Russians  near  the  Straits  of 
Babelmandel? "  "What,  sir!"  said  Stedman,  re- 
peating with  the  most  ineffable  contempt,  "  which 
Alexander  the  Great  fought  with  the  Russians! 
Where,  mon,  did  you  get  your  chronology?"  "I 
think  you  will  find  it  recorded,  Mr.  Stedman,  in 
Thucydides  or  Herodotus."  On  another  occasion, 
being  asked  for  his  authority  for  some  enormous 
assertion,  in  which  both  space  and  time  were  fairly 
annihilated,  with  unshaken  gravity  he  replied,  "  I 
am  pretty  sure  I  have  seen  an  account  of  it,  Mr. 
Stedman,  in  a  High  Dutch  almanac,  printed  at 
Alcepo"  his  drawling  way  of  pronouncing  Aleppo. 


While  every  one  at  tabic  was  holding  his  sides  at 
the  expense  of  the  judge,  he,  on  his  part,  had  no 
doubt  that  Smith  was  the  object  of  laughter,  as  he 
was  of  his  own  unutterable  disdain.  Thus  every 
thing  was  as  it  should  be,  all  parties  were  pleased  ; 
the  laughers  were  highly  tickled,  the  self-compla- 
cency of  the  real  dupe  was  flattered,  and  the  sar- 
castic vein  of  the  pretended  one  gratified  ;  and  this, 
without  the  smallest  suspicion  on  the  part  of  Sted- 
man, who,  residing  in  Philadelphia,  was  ignorant  of 
Smith's  character,  and  destitute  of  penetration  to 
develope  it. 

A  PEISONEE  OF  WAK  IN  EXILE,  AT  FLATBtTSH. 

Flat-bush  was  the  place  assigned  for  the  officers 
of  our  regiment,  as  well  as  those  of  Magaw's.  Here 
also,  were  stationed  Colonels  Miles,  Atlee,  Rawlings, 
and  Major  Williams  ;  the  indulgence  of  arranging 
ourselves  agreeably  to  our  respective  circles  of  ac- 
quaintance having  been  granted  by  Mr.  Lonng,  of 
whom,  for  my  own  part,  I  have  nothing  hard  to  say. 
Mr.  Forrest  and  myself  were  billeted  on  a  Mr. 
Jacob  Suydam.  His  house  was  pretty  large,  con- 
sisting of  buildings  which  appeared  to  have  been 
erected  at  different  times,  the  front  and  better  part 
of  which  was  in  the  occupation  of  Mr.  Thcophilact 
Bache  and  his  family,  from  New  York.  Though  we 
were  in  general  civilly  enough  received,  it  cannot 
be  supposed  that  we  were  very  welcome  to  our 
Low  Dutch  hosts,  whose  habits  of  living  were  ex- 
tremely parsimonious,  and  whose  winter  provision 
was  barely  sufficient  for  themselves.  Had  they 
been  sure  of  receiving  the  two  dollars  a-week,  it 
might  have  reconciled  them  to  the  measure ;  but 
payment  appeared  to  them  to  depend  on  the  success 
of  our  cause  (Congress,  or  ourselves,  being  looked 
upon  as  the  paymasters),  and  its  failure,  in  their 
eyes,  would  in  both  eases  induce  a  stoppage  of  pay- 
ment. They  were,  however,  a  people  who  seemed 
thoroughly  disposed  to  submit  to  any  power 
which  might  be  set  over  them ;  and  whatever  might 
have  been  their  propensities  or  demonstrations  at 
an  earlier  stage  of  the  contest,  they  were  now  the 
dutiful  and  loyal  subjects  of  His  Majesty  George  the 
Third;  and  entirely  obedient  to  the  behests  of  their 
military  masters  in  New  York.  As  it  was  at  the 
instance  of  these  that  we  were  saddled  upon  them, 
they  received  us  with  the  best  grace  they  could  put 
on.  Their  houses  and  beds  were  found  clean,  but 
their  living  extremely  poor,  and  well  calculated  to 
teach  the  luxurious,  how  infinitely  less  than  their 
pampered  appetites  require,  is  essential  to  the  suste- 
natiou  of  life.     In  the  apostrophe  of  Lucan, 

O  prodiga  rerum, 
Luxuries,  nunqnam  parvo  contenta  paratu, 
Et  quiesitorum  terra  pelagoq-ne  ciborum 
Ambitiosa  fames,  et  lautse  gloria  mensa; ! 
Discite  quam  parvo  liceat  producere  vitam. 

Thus  translated  by  Rowe : 

Behold!  ye  sons  of  luxury,  behold! 
Who  scatter  in  excess  your  lavish  gold; 
You  who  the  wealth  of  frugal  ages  waste, 
T"  indulge  a  wanton  supercilious  taste  ; 
For  whom  all  earth,  all  ocean  are  explnr'd 
To  spread  the  various  proud  voluptuous  board, 
Behold  1  how  little  thrifty  nature  craves. 

A  sorry  wash,  made  up  of  a  sprinkling  of  bohea, 
and  the  darkest  sugar  on  the  verge  of  fluidity,  with 
half-baked  bread,  fuel  being  among  the  scarcest 
articles  at  Flat-bush,  and  a  little  stale  butter,  con- 
stituted our  breakfast.  At  our  first  coming,  a  smail 
piece  of  pickled  beef  was  occasionally  boiled  for 
dinner,  but,  to  the  beef  which  wns  soon  consumed, 
succeeded  clippers  or  clams,  and  our  unvaried  supper 
was  snpon  or  mush,  sometimes  with  skimmed  milk, 
but  more  generally  with  buttermilk  blended  with 


356 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


molasses,  which  was  kept  for  weeks  in  a  elmrn,  as 
swill  is  saved  for  hogs.  I  found  it,  however,  after  a 
little  use,  very  eatable ;  and  supper  soon  became 
my  best  meal.  The  table  company  consisted  of  the 
master  of  the  house,  Mr.  Jacob  Snydarn,  an  old 
bachelor,  a  young  man,  a  shoemaker  of  the  name  of 
Pen;  Hagerman,  married  to  Jacob's  niece,  who,  with 
a  mewling  infant  in  her  arms,  never  failed  to  appear. 
A  black  boy,  too,  was  generally  in  the  room,  not  as 
a  waiter,  but  as  a 'kind  of  enfant  de  maison,  who 
walked  about  or  took  post  in  the  chimney  corner 
with  his  hat  on,  and  occasionally  joined  in  the  con- 
versation. It  is  probable,  that  but  for  us,  he  would 
have  been  placed  at  the  table ;  and  that  it  had  been 
the  custom  before  we  came.  Certain  it  is,  that  the 
idea  of  equality  was  more  fully  and  fairly  acted 
upon  in  this  house  of  a  British  subject  than  ever  I 
have  seen  it  practised  by  the  most  vehement  de- 
claimed for  the  rights  of  mau  among  ourselves.  It 
is  but  fair,  however,  to  mention,  that  I  have  never 
been  among  our  transcendent  republicans  of  Virgi- 
nia, and  her  dependencies.  But  notwithstanding 
some  unpleasant  circumstances  in  our  establishment, 
every  member  of  the  family,  the  black  fellow,  to 
whom  we  had  been  the  cause  of  some"  privations, 
excepted,  was  exceedingly  courteous  and  accommo- 
dating. Rem  Hagerman,  and  Yonichy,  his  wife, 
gave  themselves  no  airs ;  nor  was  our  harmony 
with  uncle  Jacob  ever  interrupted,  but  on  a  single 
occasion,  when,  soured  a  little  by  I  know  not  what 
provocation,  he  made  a  show  of  knocking  down 
Forrest  with  a  pair  of  yarn  stockings  he  had  just 
drawn  from  his  legs,  as  he  sat  in  the  chimney-corner 
one  evening  preparing  for  bed.  It  was,  indeed, 
but  an  offer,  though  it  might,  for  aught  I  know, 
have  amounted  to  an  assault  in  law,  as  Jacob  was 
not  so  far  from  the  person  menaced,  but  that  the 
feet  of  the  stockings,  if  held  by  the  other  extremity, 
and  projected  from  an  extended  arm,  might  possibly 
have  reached  him ;  and  a  pair  of  long-worn  yarn 
stockings,  might,  from  daily  alluvian,  have  acquired 
somewhat  of  the  properties  of  a  cudgel.  But  mo- 
ments of  peevishness  were  allowable  to  our  host ; 
since,  though  we  had  for  some  time  been  consuming 
his  provisions,  he  had  never  seen  a  penny  of  our 
money,  and  it  was  somewhat  doubtful,  to  s:iy  the 
truth,  whether  he  ever  would ;  for,  considering  the 
contractors  for  our  boarding  liable  for  it,  we  never 
thought  of  paying  it  ourselves.  As  the  Low  Dutch 
are  a  people  little  known  in  Pennsylvania,  and 
more  especially,  as  it  is  my  avowed  intention  to  ad- 
vert to  the  character  of  the  time,  this  sketch  of  their 
domestic  economy  and  manners  may  not  be  thought 
impertinent.  In  a  word,  from  what  I  saw  of  them 
on  Long  Island,  I  was  led  to  consider  them  as  a 
people,  quiet  and  inoffensive  beyond  any  I  had  seen; 
such,  from  whom  no  enthusiastic  efforts,  either  of 
good  or  evil  tendency,  were  to  be  looked  for;  who 
were  neither  prolific  of  Catos  nor  Catilines  ;  and 
who,  had  they  been  the  sole  occupants  of  this  great 
continent  of  ours,  would  still  have  been  colonists, 
and  never  known  what  it  was  to  be  independent  re- 
publicans. Their  religious,  like  their  other  habits, 
were  unostentatious  and  plain  ;  and  a  silent  grace  * 


*  Mrs.  Grant,  in  her  "  Memoirs  of  an  American  Lady." 
speaking  of  the  state  of  religion  among  the  settlers  about 
Albany,  says,  "Their  religion,  like  their  original  rational  cha- 
racter, had  in  it  little  of  fervor  or  enthusiasm  ;  their  manner 
of  performing  religious  duties  was  regular  and  decent,  but 
calm,  and  to  more  ardent  imaginations  might  appear  mechani- 
cal. iNone  ever  doubted  of  the  great  truths  of  revelation,  yet 
few  seemed  to  dwell  on  the  result  with  that  lively  delight 
which  devotion  produces  in  minds  of  keener  sensibility.  If 
their  piety,  however,  was  without  enthusiasm,  it  was  also 
without  bigotry;  they  wished  others  to  think  as  they  did, 
without  showing  rancour  or  contempt  towards  those  who  did 


before  meat,  prevailed  at  the  table  of  Jacob  Suydam. 
When  we  were  all  seated,  he  suddenly  clasped  his 
hands  together,  threw  his  head  on  one  side,  closed 
his  eyes,  and  remained  mute  and  motionless  for 
about  a  minute.  His  niece  and  nephew  followed  his 
example  ;  but  with  such  an  eager  solicitude  that  the 
copied  attitude  should  be  prompt  and  simultaneous, 
as  to  give  an  air  of  absurdity  to  what  might  other- 
wise have  been  very  decent.  Although  little  of  the 
vernacular  accent  remained  on  the  tongue  of  these 
people,  they  had  some  peculiarities  in  their  phrase- 
ology. Among  these,  instead  of  asking  you  to  sit, 
or  sit  down  to  table,  they  invited  you  to  sit  by ; 
:and  this  I  even  observed  in  General  Schuyler,  when 
I  was  at  Lake  George.  It  might  be  asked  by  a 
stickling  New  Yorker,  if  "  sit  by"  is  not  as  proper, 
and  even  more  so,  than  "  sit  down,"  which,  in  strict- 
ness, is  a  redundancy. 

OEATOKY. — FEOM  NOTES   OF  A   DESTTLTOEY  EEADEE. 

Ben  Jonson  thus  speaks  of  the  eloquence  of  Lord 
Bacon:  "There  happened  in  my  time  one  noble 
speaker  (Lord  A7"erulam)  who  was  full  of  gravity  in 
his  speaking.  His  language,  where  he  could  spare 
or  pass  by  a  jest,  was  nobly  censorious.  No  man 
ever  spake  more  neatly,  more  prestly,  more  weightily, 
or  suffered  less  emptiness,  less  idleness  in  what  he 
uttered.  No  member  of  his  speech  but  consisted  of 
his  own  graces.  His  hearers  could  not  cough  or  look 
aside  from  him  without  loss.  He  commanded  where 
he  spoke ;  and  had  his  judges  aDgry  or  pleased  at  his 
devotion.  The  fear  of  every  one  that  heard  him  was, 
lest  he  should  make  an  end." 

This  is  certainly  high  praise ;  but  there  has  been 
no  time  or  place,  perhaps,  in  which  eloquent  men 
have  not  appeared,  upon  whom  some  of  their  cotem- 
poraries  might  not  be  disposed  to  pass  an  equally 
lofty  panegyric.  The  parliamentary  oratory  of 
Lord  Bolingbroke  has  been  extolled  as  unrivalled : 
so,  in  later  times,  have  been  the  speeches  of  Lords 
Chatham  and  Mansfield  by  their  respective  friends  ; 
and  still  more  recently,  those  of  Burke,  Pitt,  Fox, 
Sheridan,  Erskine,  and  Curran. 

It  seems  to  be  matter  of  just  regret,  that  we  have 
no  method  of  perpetuating  the  merit  of  those  who 
have  excelled  in  this  captivating  art.  The  genius  of 
the  writer  is  displayed  in  his  works ;  that  of  the 
painter  in  his  pictures ;  that  of  the  composer  of  music 
in  the  note-book  which  records  the  "  concords  of 
sweet  sounds,"  of  which  he  has  been  the  eliciter  or 
combiner.  But,  if  even  the  words  of  the  orator  are 
preserved,  his  manner,  his  voice,  his  tones,  his  looks, 
his  gestures,  are  lost  to  future  ages ;  and  the  circum- 
stances which  constitute  the  essence  of  his  art,  his 
action,  never  go  down  to  posterity.  Hence  it  is  that 
the  comparative  excellence  of  Demosthenes  and  Ci- 
cero, and  that  of  the  other  great  names  which  have 
been  mentioned,  cannot  be  estimated;  and  for  the 
same  reason,  no  scale  can  be  established  whereby  to 
determine  the  relative  merits  of  the  "  well  graced 
actors,"  of  past  times  with  those  of  the  present,  or 
one  with  the  other,  of  those  who  have  left  the  scene. 
Whether,  therefore,  with  due  allowance  for  na- 
tional manners  and  tastes,  Le  Kain  and  Clairon  of 
the  French  stage,  were  superior  to  Garrick  and  Sid- 
dons  of  the  English  ;  or  whether  Betterton,  the  para- 
gon of  his  day,  was  superior,  or  in  any  degree  com- 
parable to  Garrick,  the  paragon  of  his,  must  ever 
remain  a  mere  matter   of  conjecture,  as  probably  it 


not.  In  many  individuals,  whose  lives  seemed  governed  by 
the  principles  of  religion,  the  spirit  of  devotion  seemed  to  be 
quiescent  in  the  heart,  and  to  break  forth  in  exigencies;  yet 
that  monster  in  nature,  an  impious  woman,  was  never  heaid 
of  amoDg  them." 


TIMOTHY  DWIGHT. 


357 


WOtil<3  be  of  dispute  were  they  all  alive  and  mar- 
shalled for  comparison  before  the  most  exquisitely 
refilled  audience  that  ever  crowded  a  theatre. 

But  it  is  further  to  be  remarked,  that  there  is  a 
fashion  in  these  things,  as  in  all  others  that  are  the 
objects  of  taste;  and  that  what  is  called  a  new 
school  is  nothing  more  than  a  new  fashion,  which 
puts  down  an  old  one.  They  who  will  not  accede 
to  this,  but  insist  that  every  innovation  is  an  improve- 
ment, are  advocates  for  human  perfectibility,  or  at 
least  for  man's  continued  progression  towards  per- 
fection— a  doctrine  in  which,  however  well  disposed 
to  acquiesce  in  the  orthodoxy  of  new  schools,  and 
new  modes,  and  new  fashions,  I  must  profess  myself 
a  sceptic.  Hence,  though  I  might  be  disposed  to 
believe  that  Garriek  was  a  better  actor  than  any  of 
his  predecessors,  that  belief  would  not  be  at  all 
founded  on  the  circumstance  of  his  coining  after 
them.  This  celebrated  performer  has  indeed  the 
credit  of  correcting  some  of  the  acknowledged  er- 
rors of  the  English  stage,  particularly  the  starch  and 
formal  manner  of  its  declamation  ;  and  a  similar  re- 
form, we  are  told  by  Marmontel,  was,  through  his 
suggestion,  effected  by  Clairon  in  France.  But  there 
may  be  room  for  doubting  whether,  by  Garriek,  the 
innovation  was  not  carried  too  far,  since  it  lias  been 
said,  that  the  poetry  of  English  tragedy,  from  the 
adoption  of  his  manner,  has  been  utterly  disregarded 
through  an  extreme  sedulity  to  eop3?  nature :  For, 
without  recurring  to  Voltaire's  strong  illustration  of 
neahmoins  je  ports  les  culotte.%  I  take  it  for  granted 
it  will  be  ceded;  that  tragedy  should  be  written  in 
verse,  and  that  the  heroes  of  this  sort  of  drama 
should  continue  to  mouth  heroics,  the  natural  pro- 
pensity of  human  beings  to  hold  discourses  in  humble 
prose  notwithstanding. 

NOVELS. 

No  one,  I  believe,  reads  less  for  the  sake  of  a  story 
than  myself;  of  course,  I  am  but  a  poor  novel  reader, 
and  never  complain  that  Tristram  Shandy  has  no 
story  at  all.  In  a  book  I  look  for  thought,  senti- 
ment, language,  humour,  wit,  and  sometimes  instruc- 
tion ;  if  it  has  these  I  care  little  for  the  tale;  though 
no  doubt  where  this  is  the  main  object  it  ought  to  be 
a  good  one.  But,  of  all  things,  in  a  novel  or  play, 
I  hate  a  series  of  perplexities  and  cross  accidents; 
for  which  reason,  however  admiring  Miss  Barney's 
talent  for  painting  life  and  drawing  characters,  I 
always  get  out  of  patience  with  her  at  the  winding 
up  of  her  plots,  as  then  it  is  she  never  fails  to  pelt 
her  poor  hero  or  heroine  with  a  tempest  of  unforeseen 
and  distressing  occurrences.  When  the  reader,  good 
easy  man  or  woman,  fancies  that  all  difficulties  at 
length  are  over,  and  is  ready  to  join  in  congratula- 
tions with  the  wedding  guests,  already  invited  or 
about  to  be  invited,  there  comes  a  frost,  a  nipping 
frost,  and  the  already  opening  buds  of  connubial 
felicity  are  thrown  back  to  undergo  the  process  of  a 
new  vegetation. 

But,  of  all  productions,  the  most  monstrous  in  my 
eyes  are  those  in  which  fiction  is  engrafted  on  history. 
Let  me  have  fact  or  fable,  but  not  a  preposterous 
mixture  of  both.  There  are  many,  however,  who 
think  differently,  and  I  am  by  no  means  disposed  to 
impugn  the  correctness  of  their  opinion.  Let  each 
enjoy  his  own.     De  gustibus  non  est  disputandum. 

TIMOTHY  DWIGHT. 
The  first  American  ancestor  of  Timothy  Dwiglit 
eame  from  Dedham,  England,  to  Dedham,  Mas- 
sachusetts, in  1637.  Five  generations  intervened 
when  the  poet  and  theologian  of  the  name  was 
born,  in  the  oldest  male  line,  at  Northampton, 
Mass.,  May  li,   1752.     His  father  was  a  mer- 


chant  of  the  town  and  a  graduate  of  Yale ;  his 
mother  was  the  third  daughter  of  the  metaphy- 
sician Jonathan  Edwards — so  Dwight  came  in 
regular  succession  to  his  future  reputation,  and 
lie  probably  owed  much  of  it  directly  to  this  lady, 
for  lie  received  his  early  education  at  home.  His 
mother  taught  him  the  alphabet  in  one  lesson,  and 
he  read  the  Bible  when  he  was  but  four  years  of 
age.  Latin  ho  studied  by  himself  at  six,  and 
would  have  been  ready  for  college  at  eight,  had 
not  his  school  been  discontinued  when  he  came 
home  to  learn  his  favorite  studies  of  geography 
and  history  from  his  mother.  He  entered  Yale 
College  when  he  was  thirteen,  in  1765,  where  for 
the  first  two  years,  it  is  said  by  one  of  his  biogra- 
phers, that,  "  through  the  folly  of  youth  much  of 
his  time  was  misspent,"  a  statement  which  is 
explained  by  an  intimation  from  another  biogra- 
pher that  gambling  was  a  vice  of  the  place,  and 
that  Dwight,  though  he  played  for  amusement 
and  never  for  money,  let  the  sport  engross  too 
much  of  his  time.  At  fifteen,  however,  he  took 
up  study  in  earnest,  occupying  fourteen  hours  a 
day  with  his  books.  He  was  graduated  in  1769, 
ami  for  two  years  was  a  teacher  at  New  Haven, 
still  continuing  his  studies.  Ho  then  became  a 
tutor  in  his  college  when  he  was  nineteen,  and 
began  the  composition  of  his  poem  the  Conquest  of 
Canaan.  It  was  finished  within  three  years, 
though  not  published  till  the  conclusion  of  the 
Revolutionary  war  gave  literature  a  hearing  in 
1785,  when  it  appeared  with  a  dedication  to 
Washington.  It  was  reprinted  by  J.  Johnson,  in 
London,  in  1788.  Dwight  taught  mathematics, 
rhetoric,  and  oratory,  in  the  college  for  six  years. 
His  theme  on  taking  his  mastership  of  arts,  was 
The  History,  Eloquence,  and  Poetry  of  tko  Bible, 
an  oration,  which  was  published  at  the  time,* 


*  A  Dissertation  on  the  History,  Eloquence,  and  Poetry  of 
the  Bible,  delivered  at  the  Public  Commencement  at  New 
Haven.    New  Haven :  Thos.  &  Sam.  Green.  1772.    8vo.  pp.  16. 


358 


CYCLOP JiDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


and  greatly  advanced  his  reputation  by  its  glow- 
ing declamation.  It  has  a  warm  tribute  to  the 
eloquence  of  St.  Paul,  and  instances  the  noble 
literature  of  the  Old  Testament  in  the  Book  of 
Job,  the  perfect  example  of  the  ode  in  the  one 
hundred  and  fourth  P^alm,  and  the  beauties  of 
others,  particularly  the  eighteenth,  where  "  the 
poet's  imagination  rises  to  such  a  height  as  Pin- 
dar, Dryden,  and. Gray  must  look  up  to  with  as- 
tonishment and  despair." 

Dwight  returned  to  Northampton  to  recruit 
his  health  wasted  by  study,  and  establish  a  con- 
stitution which  remained  unimpaired  till  he  was 
more  than  sixty.  In  1777  he  was  married  to 
the  daughter  of  an  old  college  companion  of  his 
father,  Benjamin  Woolsey,  of  Long  Island;  and 
the  same  year  being  licenced  to  preach,  his  services 
were  accepted  as  chaplain  in  the  army,  which  he 
joined  at  West  Point,  in  which  national  atmo- 
sphere, at  that  national  moment,  he  wrote  his  fa- 
mous song  of  Columbia,  which  was  received  with 
enthusiasm,  was  published  in  all  the  popular  col- 
lections, and  has  not  lost  its  place  in  similar  quar- 
ters since.  Though  somewhat  ornate,  its  spirit 
and  success  are  not  to  be  questioned.  He  was 
with  the  arm}*  a  year  when  his  lather's  death  re- 
called him  to  the  family  at  Northampton,  where 
for  five  j-ears  he  labored,  as  preacher  and  farmer, 
for  their  support.  He  was  a  member  of  the  state 
legislature  in  1781,  and  his  popularity  would  have 
detained  him  in  civil  life  had  lie  not  deliberately 
preferred  the  ministry,  the  duties  of  which  he  ac- 
cepted at  Greenfield,  Ct.,  in  1783,  and  discharged 
in  the  tame  place  for  twelve  years,  adding  to  his 
small  stipend  of  five  hundred  dollars  per  annum 
by  the  profits  of  an  academy.  His  poem  Green- 
field Hill,  inspired  by  the  neighborhood,  ap- 
peared in  17t)4,  with  a  dedication  to  John  Ad- 
ams,* and  with  its  predecessor  it  was  republished 
in  England. 

The  next  year  Dwight  was  chosen  to  succeed 
Dr.  Stiles  in  the  presidency  of  Yale  College,  a 
post  which  he  filled  till  his  death,  twenty-one 
years  after.  The  chief  literary  fruits  of  his  new 
college  life  were  the  series  of  divinity  discourses 
delivered  by  him  to  the  students,,and  which  were 
published  after  his  death,  in  five  volumes,  with 
the  title,  Theology;  Explained  and  Defended: 
a  work  which  has  exercised  an  important  influ- 
ence in  the  congregational  denomination  of  which 
it  is  the  exponent,  has  been  widely  circulated  in 
England,  and  which  has  been  greatly  admired  by 
the  author's  friends  for  "  its  philosophical  arrange- 
ment, its  luminous  reasonings,  its  bold  and  lofty 
eloquence,  and  the  ability  wdiich  it  evinces  to  em- 
ploy different  faculties  with  the  best  effect,  and 
to  do  everything  in  an  exceedingly  graceful  and 
perfect  manner.''! 

In  the  year  1800  he  revised  Watts's  Psalms,  at 
the  request  of  the  General  Association  of  Con- 
necticut, adding  translations  of  his  own,  which 
Watts  had  not  attempted,  and  annexing  a  selec- 


*  Greenfield  Hill :  a  Poem  in  Seven  Parts.  I.  The  Pros- 
pect. II.  The  Flourishing  Village.  III.  The  BurniDgof  Fair- 
field. IV.  The  Destruction  of  the  Pequods.  V.  The  Clergy- 
man's Advice  to  the  Villagers.  VI.  The  Farmer's  Advice  to 
the  Villagers.  VII.  The  Vision ;  or.  Prospect  of  the  Future 
Happiness  of  America.  By  Timothy  Dwight,  D.D.  New 
York  :  Printed  by  Childs  &°SwaiDe,  1794.    8vo.  pp.  188. 

t  Dr.  William  B.  Sprague's  Life  of  Dwight.  Sparks' s  Am. 
Biog.,  Second  Series,  vol.  iv. 


tion  of  Hymns;  both  of  which  were  approved  of 
and  adopted  by  the  General  Assembly  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church.  As  a  favorable  specimen 
of  his  execution  in  this  fine,  the  version  of  the 
one  hundred  and  thirty-seventh  Psalm,  which 
Joel  Barlow  had  previously  as  well  succeeded 
with,  may  be  instanced : — 

/" 

PSALM  exxxvxr. 
I  love  thy  kingdom,  Lord, 
The  house  of  thine  abode, 
The  church,  our  blest  Redeemer  sav'd 
With  his  own  precious  blood. 

I  love  thy  Church,  0  God ! 
Her  walls  before  the"e  stand, 
Dear  as  the  apple  of  thine  eye, 
And  graven  on  thy  hand. 

If  e'er  to  bless  thy  sons 
My  voice,  or  hands,  deny, 
These  hands  let  useful  skill  forsake, 
This  voice  in  silence  die. 

If  e'er  my  heart  forget 
Her  welfare,  or  her  wo, 
Let  every  joy  this  heart  forsake, 
And  every  grief  o'erflow. 

For  her  my  tears  shall  fall ; 
For  her  my  prayers  ascend ; 
To  her  my  cares  and  toils  be  given, 
'Till  toils  and  cares  shall  end. 

Beyond  my  highest  joy 
I  prize  her  heavenly  waj's, 
Her  sweet  communion,  solemn  vows. 
Her  hymns  of  love  and  praise. 

Jesus,  thou  Friend  divine, 
Our  Saviour  and  our  King, 
Thy  hand  from  every  snare  and  foe 
Shall  great  deliverance  bring. 

Sure  as  thy  truth  shall  last, 
To  Zion  shall  be  given 
The  brightest  glories,  earth  can  yield, 
And  brighter  bliss  of  heaven. 

This  has  been  adopted,  beyond  the  limits  of 
Dwight's  own  denomination,  in  the  Hymn-book 
of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church. 

His  vacations  for  the  whole  of  his  presidency 
were  passed  in  travelling  excursions,  when  travel- 
ling, before  the  days  of  the  locomotives,  was  a 
quiet,  leisurely  individual  affair,  which  led  into 
by-places,  was  inquisitive  of  nature,  gave  country 
landlords  an  opportunity  to  exhibit  themselves, 
and  time  was  afforded  to  see  the  local  great  men  on 
the  way,*  as  he  journied  through  the  neighboring 
states  of  New  Hampshire,  Massachusetts,  Rhode 
Island,  and  New  York.  He  visited  the  White 
Mountains,  Lake  George,  Montauk,  Niagara,  the 
Kaatskills,  and  various  other  localities,  keeping 
notes  of  his  journeys,  written  out  in  the  form  of 
letters,  which  compose  the  series   published  in 


*  Dennie's  Farmer^  Mimeum,  at  "Walpole,  contains  a  pass- 
ing newspaper  benediction  on  one  of  these  pilgrimages,  Sep- 
tember 25. 1797.  "This  morning,  tile  truly  respectable  Presi- 
dent of  Yale  College  proceeded  from  this  village  on  a  journey 
to  the  Upper  Coos;  whence,  we  understand,  he  intends  passing 
over  the  White  Mountains  to  Hallowell,  in  the  district  of  Maine. 
His  rugged  tour  will,  we  hope,  be  relieved  by  those  civilities 
which  are  due  to  the  gentleman,  the  scholar,  and  the  ui.affccu-J 
Christian." 


TIMOTHY  DWIGHT. 


350- 


1821,  after  his  death,  of  Travels  in  New  England 
and  New  Tori.  Southey,  who  saw  in  the  four 
well  filled  volumes  admirable  material  for  the  his- 
tory of  a  new  state,  what  Miss  Martineau  has 
since  called  "  world  maMng,"  in  the  natural  his- 
tor}'  observations,  the  sketches  of  Indian  life,  the 
notices  of  education,  domestic  manners,  and  social 
progress,  pronounces  this  "  the  most  important  of 
Dwight's  writings,  a  work  which  will  derive 
additional  value  from  time,  whatever  may  become 
of  his  poetr}'  and  of  his  sermons."* 


Dwight's  House  in  New  Haven. 

In  1816  Dwight  was  seized  with  the  illness — 
an  alarming  affection  of  the  bladder — which, 
though  it  was  partially  relieved  by  a  surgical  ope- 
ration, caused  his  death  the  year  after,  January 
11,  1817,  in  his  sixty-fifth  year.  He  employed 
the  last  months  of  his  life  in  compositions  on  tho 
evidences  of  revelation,  and  in  the  completion  of 
a  poem  of  fifteen  hundred  lines,  the  description 
of  a  contest  between  Genius  and  Common  Sense. 

The  personal  influence  of  Dwight  should  not 
be  overlooked  in  an  estimate  of  his  position.  He 
appears  to  have  been  "every  inch"  a  president. 
His  popularity  with  the  students  was  unbounded, 
and  was  maintained  by  no  sacrifice  of  self- 
respect,  for  Dwight  was  always  courtly  and  dig- 
nified. A  lady,  who  saw  him  in  her  youth,  when 
he  visited  an  old  college  companion,  her  father, 
the  Rev.  Joseph  Buckminster,  Mrs.  Lee,  says  that 
when  he  entered  the  humble  parsonage,  he  ap- 
peared to  her  youthful  observation  to  possess  "  the 
lofty  politeness,  the  priestly  dignity  of  the  Bishop 
of  London,  as  made  known  by  the  pen  of  Han- 
nah More.''t     The  portrait  by  Trumbull  exhibits 


*  The  Quarterly  Review,  Oct.  1828,  Art.  i. 

+  Memoirs  of  the  Kev.  Joseph  Buckminster,  by  Eliza  Buck- 
minster Lee.  Dr.  Sprague,  in  his  Memoir  in  Sparks's  series, 
describes  his  form  as  "stately  and  majestic,  and  every  way  well 
proportioned.  His  features  were  regular,  his  eye  black  and 
piercing,  yet  benignant,  and  his  countenance  altogether  indi- 
cative of  a  high  order  of  mind.  Ills  voice  was  rich  and  melo- 
dious, adapted  alike  to  music  and  oratory.'1  An  incidental  trait 
is  in  accordance  with  this  description.  His  hand-writing  was 
so  elegant  that  there  are  portions  of  it  which  cannot  readily  he 
distinguished  from  the  finest  copper-plate  engraving.  One  of 
the  very  last  acts  of  bis  life,  in  his  dying  hours,  was  an  exhibi- 
tion of  gentlemanly  courtesy.  His  family  around  him,  dis- 
tracted by  their  grief,  had  failed  to  notice  two  ladies  who  came 
to  visit  him.  He  spoke  to  them,  and  directed  one  of  his  chil- 
dren to  "hand  chairs."  It  was,  as  Dr.  Sprague,  who  has  pre- 
served the  anecdote,  remarks,  "the  instinctive  prompting  of 
that  inwrought  sense  of  propriety  that  had  constituted  through 
life  a  leading  element  both  of  bis  popularity  and  usefulness. 


this  ease  and  self-command,  which  was  built  up 
upon  some  noble  traits  of  character,  a  sense  of 
duty,  a  higher  order  of  industry,  and  an  ardent 
fire  of  genius  in  youth.  In  Dwight's  early  poems 
we  see  a  heat  of  honest  enthusiasm  sufficient  to 
warm  the  faculties  through  life.  These  produc- 
tions have  been  hardly  dealt  with.  They  are 
worth  something  more  than  to  furnish  a  dull  jest 
at  epic  failures.  The  Conquest  of  Canaan,  it 
should  be  remembered,  was  the  production  of  a 
youth  hardly  out  of  college,  and  should  be  looked 
tit  as  a  series  of  poetic  sketches,  not  over  nice  in 
rhetorical  treatment  or  obedience  to  the  laws  of 
Aristotle.  In  that  view  it  contains  much  pleasing 
writing,  but  the  word  epic  should  never  be  brought 
in  contact  with  it.  His  biographer  thinks  its  re- 
ception was  marred  by  the  general  prevalence  of 
infidelity  at  the  time  of  its  publication.*  If  so, 
the  injury  may  have  been  somewhat  abated  by 
the  appearance,  soon  after,  of  the  Triumph  of 
Infidelity,  an  anonymous  poem  from  his  pen, 
which  dealt  some  trenchant  blows  at  scoffers  in 
high  places.  But  the  truth  is,  that  no  amount  of 
religious  belief  held  in  its  utmost  purity  can  en- 
tirely overcome  the  indifference  of  readers  as  they 
make  their  way  through  the  long  monotonous  pages 
of  the  Conquest  of  Canaan.  The  lines  are  sound- 
ing in  couplets ;  the  caesura  gives  breath  and  the 
rhymes  ring  well,  but  little  impression  is  made 
upon  tho  mind.  The  characters  are  too  little  dis- 
criminated, and  the  maimers  have  too  little  exact- 
ness to  fix  the  attention.  The  warriors  are  nu- 
merous, and  one  warrior  is  like  another.  The 
lovers,  Irad  and  Sclima,  are  exemplary;  one  is 
brave  and  the  other  virtuous,  but  their  conversa- 
tion is  tedious.  The  action  has  not  the  merit  of 
a  close  adherence  to  the  original ;  so  history  is 
damaged  without  poetry  being  much  the  gainer. 
The  interpolations  of  the  combats  of  the  Ameri- 
can Revolution  in  the  wars  of  the  Israelites  had, 
doubtless,  a  sound  patriotic  intention,  but  would 
be  fatal  to  a  better  poem.  Yet  we  may  find  many 
vigorous  passages  in  the  volume,  which  show  a 
fine  glow  of  the  imagination.  The  similes  are 
numerous,  and  many  of  them  are  striking.  He 
thus  treats  Niagara  in  a  comparison  of  the  onset 
of  battle: — 

Mean  time  from  distant  guards  a  cry  ascends, 
And  round  the  camp  the  dinning  voice  extends; 
Th'  alarming  trump  resounds ;  the  martial  train 
Pour  from  the  teuts,  and  crowd  th'  accustom'd  plain, 
In  mazy  "wanderings,  thickening,  darkening,  roll, 
Fill  all  the  field,  and  shade  the  boundless  pole. 
As  where  proud  Erie  winds  her  narrowing  shores, 
And  o'er  huge  hills  a  boiling  ocean  pours, 
The  long  white-sheeted  foam,  with  fury  hurl'd, 
Down  the  cliffs  thundering,  shakes  the  stable  world. 
In  solemn  grandeur  clouds  of  mist  arise, 
Top  the  tall  pines,  and  heavy  seek  the  skies: 
So  spread  the  volumes  of  the  dust  afar; 
So  roar  the  clamors  of  commeucing  war. 

This  prophetic  passage,  in  which  the  author 
evidently  has  America  in  view,  may  boast  at  least 
one  fine  couplet : — • 

Then  o'er  wide  lands,  as  blissful  Eden  bright, 
Tj'pe  of  the  skies,  and  seats  of  pure  delight, 


*  Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  tho  Author,  prefixed  to  the  The- 
ology. 


360 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


Our  sons,  -with  prosperous  course,  shall  stretch  their 

sway, 
And  claim  an  empire,  spread  from  sea  to  sea: 
In  one  great  whole  th'  harmonious  tribes  combine ; 
Trace  Justice'  path,  and  choose  their  chiefs  divine; 
On  Freedom's  base  erect  the  heavenly  plan; 
Teach  laws  to  reign,  and  save  the  rights  of  man. 
Then  smiling  Art  shall  wrap  the  fields  in  bloom, 
Fine  the  rich  ore,  and  guide  the  useful  loom ; 
Then  lofty  towers  in  golden  pomp  arise ; 
Then  spiry  cities  meet  auspicious  skies: 
The  60ul  on  Wisdom's  wing  sublimely  soar, 
New  virtues  cherish,  and  new  truths  explore: 
Thro'  time's  long  tract  our  name  celestial  run, 
Climb  in  the  cast,  and  circle  with  the  sun ;    " 
And  smiling  Glory  stretch  triumphant  wings 
O'er  hosts  of  heroes,  and  o'er  tribes  of  kings. 

The  birds  crowning  the  jubilee  of  returning 
day  after  a  storm  are  introduced  with  beauty  in 
the  following  scene,  which  glitters  with  sun- 
shine:— 

Then  gentler  scenes  his  rapt  attention  g.iin'd, 
Where  Goo's  great  hand  in  clear  effulgence  reign'd, 
The  growing  beauties  of  the  solemn  even, 
And  all  the  bright  sublimities  of  heaven. 
Above  tall  western  hills,  the  light  of  day 
Shot  far  the  splendors  of  his  golden  ray  ; 
Bright  from  the  storm,  with  tenfold  grace  he  smil'd, 
The  tumult  soften'd  and  the  world  grew  mild. 
With  pomp  transcendnnt,  rob'd  in  heavenly  dyes, 
Arch'd  the  clear  rainbow  round  the  orient  skies; 
Its  changeless  form,  its  hues  of  beam  divine, 
Fair  type  of  truth,  and  beauty  endless  shine, 
Around  th'  expanse,  with  thousand  splendors  rare  ; 
Gay  clouds  sail'd  wanton  through  the  kindling  air; 
From  shade  to  shade,  unnumber'd  tinctures  blend ; 
Unnumber'd  forms  of  wondrous  light  extend; 
In  pride  stupendous,  glittering  Avails  aspire, 
Grac'd  with  bright  domes,  and  crown'd  with  towers 

of  fire. 
On  cliffs  cliffs  burn ;  o'er  mountains  mountains  roll : 
A  burst  of  glory  spreads  from  pole  to  pole: 
Rapt  with  the  splendor,  every  songster  sings, 
Tops  the  high  bough,  and  claps  his  glistening  wings: 
With  new-born  green,  reviving  nature  blooms, 
And  sweeter  fragrance  freshening  air  perfumes. 

The  gentle  Cowper,  who  wrote  a  favorable 
critique  on  the  poem  in  the  Analytical  Review,* 
notices  this  description  of  Night  as  "highly 
poetical." 

Now  Night,  in  vestments  rob'd,  of  cloudy  dye, 
With  sable  grandeur  cloth'd  the  orient  sky, 
Impell'd  the  sun,  obsequious  to  her  reign, 
Down  the  far  mountains  to  the  western  main; 
With  magic  hand,  beealm'd  the  solemn  even, 
And  drew  day's  curtain  from  the  spangled  heaven. 
At  once  the  planets  sail'd  around  the  throne: 
At  once  ten  thousand  worlds  in  splendor  shone: 
Behind  her  car,  the  moon's  expanded  eye 
Rose  from  a  cloud,  and  look'd  around  the  sky: 
Far  up  th'  immense  her  train  sublimely  roll, 
And  dance,  and  triumph,  round  the  lucid  pole. 
Faint  shine  the  fields,  beneath  the  shadowy  ray: 
Slow  fades  the  glimmering  of  the  west  away ; 
To  sleep  the  tribes  retire ;  and  not  a  sound 
Flows  through  the  air,  or  murmurs  on  the  ground. 

There  is  a  glowing  picture  of  the  millennium. 
Indeed,  the  reader  is  oppressed  by  the  uniform 

*  Southey's  Works  of  Cowper,  Ed.  1S26,  vii.  314. 


eloquence  of  the  description.  It  is  too  florid. 
The  natural  powers  of  the  writer  appear  in  the 
poem,  injured  by  the  study  of  Pope's  declamatory 
pieces. 

It  is  said  to  have  been  at  the  suggestion  of  the 
poet  Trumbull,  his  fellow  tutor  at  the  time  in  the 
college,  that  Dwight  wrote  the  animated  descrip- 
tion of  the  battle  lighted  by  the  burning  city  of 
Ai,  in  the  seventh  book.  The  author  of  M'Fingal 
had  another  hint  in  his  own  humorous  way  for  the 
laborious  young  poet.  In  allusion  to  the  number 
of  thunder-storms  described  in  the  portion  of  the 
poem  handed  him  to  read,  he  requested  that  when 
he  sent  in  the  remainder,  a  lightning  rod  might  be 
included. 

Dwight's  literary  compositions  are  represented 
by  two  leading  ideas — his  religion  and  his  patriot- 
ism. The  former  is  sustained  in  his  Theology  and 
in  his  Triumph  of  Infidelity,  and  in  some  line  pas- 
sages in  Greenfield  Hill ;  the  latter  in  his  remarks 
on  the  Review  of  Inehiquin's  Letters,  and  in  many 
pages  of  his  travels.  In  the  poem  on  Infidelity, 
and  his  passage  with  the  Quarterly  Review,  he 
does  not  mince  matters,  but  shows  the  hand  of  a 
bold  vigorous  pamphleteer.  The  Triumph  of  Infi- 
delity ;  a  Poem.  Printed  in  the  World,  1788 : 
was  sent  forth  with  no  other  title.  It  is  an  octa- 
vo of  forty  pages,  levelled  at  the  unbelieving 
spirit  of  the  century  then  drawing  to  its  close.  It 
is  dedicated  to  Mods,  de  Voltaire  :  "  Sir,  your 
Creator  endued  you  with  shining  talents,  and  cast 
your  lot  in  a  field  of  action,  where  they  might  be 
most  happily  employed:  In  the  progress  of  a  long 
and  industrious  life,  you  devoted  them  to  a  single 
purpose,  the  elevation  of  your  character  above 
his.  For  the  accomplishment  of  this  purpose, 
with  a  diligence  and  uniformity  which  would  have 
adorned  the  most  virtuous  pursuits,  you  opposed 
truth,  religion,  and  their  authors,  with  sophistry, 
contempt,  and  obloquy  ;  and  taught,  as  far  as 
your  example  or  sentiments  extended  their  influ- 
ence, that  the  chief  end  of  man  was,  to  slander  his 
God,  and  abuse  him  for  ever.  To  whom  could 
such  an  effort  as  the  following  he  dedicated,  with 
more  propriety  than  to  you." 

The  satire  is  full  of  indignation ;  with  more 
polish,  it  could  not  fail  to  have  become  widely 
celebrated.     Here  are  a  few  of  its  strong  lines : — 

THE  SMOOTH  DIVTNE. 

There  smil'd  the  smooth  Divine,  unus'd  to  wound 

The  sinner's  heart,  with  hell's  alarming  sound. 

No  terrors  on  bis  gentle  tongue  attend; 

No  grating  truths  the  nicest  ear  offend. 

That  strange  new-birth,  that  inethodistic  grace, 

Nor  in  bis  heart,  nor  sermons  found  a  place. 

Plato's  fine  tales  he  clumsily  retold, 

Trite,  fireside,  moral  seesaws,  dull  as  old ; 

His  Christ,  and  bible,  plac'd  at  good  remove, 

Guilt  hell-deserving,  and  forgiving  love. 

'Twas  best,  he  said,  mankind  should  cease  to  sin; 

Good  fame  requir'd  it;  so  did  peace  within: 

Their  honours,  well  he  knew,  would  ne'er  be  driven. 

But  hop'd  they  still  would  please  to  go  to  heaven. 

Each  week,  he  paid  his  visitation  dues ; 

CoaxM,  jested,  laugh'd;  rehears'd  the  private  news; 

Smoak'd   with  each  goody,   thought  her  cheese  ex- 

cell'd ; 
Her  pipe  he  lighted,  and  her  baby  held. 
Or  plac'd  in  some  great  town,  with  laequer'd  shoes, 
Trim  wig,  and  trimmer  gown,  and  glistening  hose. 


TIMOTHY  WIGHT. 


3G1 


He  bow'd,  talk'd  politics,  learn'd  manners  mild ; 
Most  meekly  questioned,  and  most  smoothly  smil'd  ; 
At  rich  men's  jests  laugh' d  loud,  their  stories  prais'd  ; 
Their   wives'  new   patterns   gaz'd,   and   gaz'd,   and 

gaz'd ; 
Most  daintily  on  pamper'd  turkies  din'd; 
Nor  shrunk  with  fasting,  nor  with  study  pin'd  : 
Yet  from  their  churches  saw  his  brethren  driven, 
Who  thunder'd  truth,  and  spoke  the  voice  of  heaven, 
Chill'd  trembling  guilt,  in  Satan's  headlong  path, 
Charm'd  the  feet  back,  and  rous'd  the  ear  of  death. 
"Let  fools,"  lie  cried,  "  starve  on,  while  prudent  I 
Snug  in  my  nest  shall  live,  and  snug  shall  die."* 

The  picture  of  the  good  divine  in  Greenfield 
Hill,  the  opposite  of  this  rough  outline,  is  highly 
pleasing. 

When  the  malignant  review  of  Inchiquin's  Let- 
ters appeared  in  the  (London)  Quarterly  for  Jan. 
1814,  its  bitterness  and  contempt  were  so  unspar- 
ing and  its  falsehood  so  gross,  that  Dwight,  though 
its  abuse  was  partly  directed  against  Jefferson  and 
others  whom  he  did  not  hold  in  particular  favor, 
thought  it  necessary  to  reply.  His  work,  an  oc- 
tavo of  one  hundred  and  seventy-six  pages,  was 
entitled,  Remarks  on  the  Review  of  IncMquirfs 
Letters,  published  in  the  Quarterly  Review  ;  ad- 
dressed to  the  Right  Honorable  George  Canning, 
Esq.,  by  an  Inhabitant  of  New  England  ;  and  was 
published  in  Boston  in  1815.  It  carries  the  war 
into  Africa,  contrasting  every  defect  urged  against 
America  with  a  corresponding  iniquity  in  Eng- 
land, and  exonerating  his  countrymen  from  many 
of  the  charges  as  utterly  unfounded.  It  meets 
the  reviler  with  language  as  loud  and  with  facts 
severer  than  his  own.  It  shows  that  under  his 
polished  exterior  the  fires  of  his  youth  still  glowed 
in  the  college  President. 

Greenfield  Hill  is  an  idyllic  poem  of  rare  merit. 
A  little  more  nicety  of  execution  and  a  better 
comprehension  of  the  design  at  the  outset,  would 
doubtless  have  improved  it ;  but  the  spirit  is 
there.  It  is  noticeable  that  it  was  undertaken  as 
an  imitation  or  adaptation  of  different  English 
poets  ;  but  the  author  found  the  labor  of  pursuing 
this  plan  too  great,  and  fell  off,  or  rather  rose  to 
original  invention.  This  has  often  happened  in 
English  literature,  and  some  of  the  best  successes 
are  due  to  this  effort,  which  the  genius  of  the 
writer  has  soon  transcended ;  as  in  the  Castle  of 
Indolence  and  the  Splendid  Shilling,  to  which 
may  be  added  Trumbull's  M'Fingal.  Thus  Dwight, 
commencing  with  Beattie  and  Goldsmith,  soon 
runs  into  measures  and  incidents  of  his  own  ;  or 
turns  the  contrast  of  American  manners  to  happy 
account,  as  in  his  picture  of  "  the  Flourishing  Vil- 
lage" of  Greenfield,  where  he  finds  in  theallot- 
ment  of  estates  and  the  absence  of  manorial  pri- 
vileges, the  opposite  of  "  the  Deserted  Village." 
The  general  plan  of  the  poem  is  thus  sketched  by 
the  author  in  his  "  Introduction :" — 

In  the  Parish  of  Greenfield,  in  the  town  of  Fair- 
field, in  Connecticut,  there'is  a  pleasant  and  beauti- 
ful eminence,  called  Greenfield  Hill ;  at  the  distance 
of  three  miles  from  Long  Island  Sound.  On  this 
eminence,  there  is  a  small  but  handsome  village,  a 
church,  academy,  <fee.,  all  of  them  alluded  to  in  the  fol- 


*  The  Triumph  of  Infidelity  was  never  acknowledged  bv  the 
author,  but  never  denied  by  him.  It  was  well  understood  to 
be  from  his  pen. 


lowing  poem.  From  the  highest  part  of  the  eminence, 
the  eye  is  presented  with  an  extensive  and  delight- 
ful prospect  of  the  surrounding  country,  and  of  the 
Sound.  On  this  height,  the  writer  is  supposed  to 
stand.  The  first  object,  there  offering  itself  to  his 
view,  is  the  landscape ;  which  is  accordingly  made 
the  governing  subject  of  the  first  part  of  the  Poem. 
The  flourishing  and  happy  condition  of  the  inhabit- 
ants very  naturally  suggested  itself  next ;  and  be- 
came of  course  the  subject  of  the  Second  Part.  The 
town  of  Fairfield,  lying  in  full  view,  and,  not  long 
before  the  poem  wa3  begun  and  in  a  great  measure 
written  out,  burnt  by  a  party  of  British  troops,  un- 
der the  command  of  Governor  Trvon,  furnished  the 
theme  of  the  Third  Part.  A  field,  called  the  Pe- 
quod  Swamp,  in  which  most  of  the  warriors  of  that 
nation  who  survived  the  invasion  of  their  country 
by  Capt.  Mason,  were  destroyed,  lying  about  three 
miles  from  the  eminence  above-mentioned,  and  on  the 
margin  of  the  Sound,  suggested,  not  unnaturally,  the 
subject  of  the  Fourth  Part. 

As  the  writer  is  the  minister  of  Greenfield,  he  can- 
not be  supposed  to  be  uninterested  in  the  welfare  of 
his  parishioners.  To  excite  their  attention  to  the 
truths  'and  duties  of  religion  (an  object  in  such  a 
situation  instinctively  rising  to  his  view)  is  the  de- 
sign of  the  Fifth  Part;  and  to  promote  in  them  just 
sentiments  and  useful  conduct,  for  the  present  life, 
(an  object  closely  connected  with  the  preceding  one) 
of  the  Sixth. 

The  landscape,  the  characters,  and  the  ideas  of 
the  poem  are  American ;  the  language  in  a  few 
instances  belongs  to  English  poets ;  but  the  author 
has  handsomely  acknowledged  the  obligation  in 
his  notes.  Of  the  more  characteristic  portions, 
the  description  of  the  school,  the  affectionate  pic- 
ture of  the  village  clergyman,  the  Indian  war,  the 
Connecticut  farmer's  prudential  maxims,  with  the 
whole  scope  of  the  political  reflections,  are  purely 
American. 

Several  members  of  the  Dwight  family  have  ap- 
peared as  authors.  The  brother  of  the  President, 
Theodore  Dwight,  occupied  for  a  long  time  a  dis- 
tinguished part  in  the  affairs  of  the  country.  He 
was  born  at  Northampton  in  1765,  and  studied 
law  after  the  Revolution  with  his  uncle  Judge 
Pierpont  Edwards.  He  had  a  hand  in  the  poeti- 
cal and  political  essays  of  the  Echo,  in  the  Hart- 
ford Mercury,  in  common  with  Hopkins  and 
Alsop.  He  was  an  eminent  Federalist,  and  was 
chosen  the  secretary  of  the  Hartford  Convention. 
In  1815,  he  commenced  the  Albany  Daily  Adver- 
tiser with  the  support  of  the  leading  politicians  of 
his  party  in  the  state;  and  in  1817  engaged  in 
the  publication  and  editorship  of  the  New  York 
Daily  Advertiser,  which  he  continued  till  1835, 
when  he  retired  to  Hartford.  In  1833,  his  His- 
tory of  the  Hartford  Convention  appeared  at  New 
York;  and  in  1839,  his  Character  of  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson as  exhibited  in  his  own  writings,  at  Bos- 
ton— a  book  of  a  partisan  political  character. 
Be  died  June  11,  1846. 

His  son,  Theodore  Dwight,  is  the  author  of  a 
History  of  Connecticut,  in  1841,  and  of  a  volume 
on  the  Revolution  of  1848.  He  is  a  resident  of 
New  York. 

In  1829,  a  son  of  the  president,  Henry  E. 
Dwight,  published  a  volume  in  New  York  of 
Travels  in  the  North  of  Germany,  in  the  years 
1825  and  1826  ;  presenting  "  a  view  of  the  reli- 
gious, literary,  and  political  institutions  of  north- 


362 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


em  Germany,  and  their  influence  on  society ;  the 
arts,  the  present  state  of  religion,  schools,  and 
universities." 

Another  son  of  the  president,  Sereno  E.Dwight, 
was  author  of  the  Life  of  Jonathan  Edwards.  A 
volume  of  his  sermons  has  been  published  with  a 
Memoir,  by  the  Rev.  William  Lhvight,  of  Port- 
land, Maine. 


Columbia,  Columbia,  to  glory  arise, 
The  queen  of  the  world,  and  child  of  the  skies  1 
Thy  genius  commands  thee ;  with  rapture  behold, 
While  ages  on  ages  thy  splendours  unfold. 
Thy  reign  is  the  last,  and  the  noblest  of  time. 
Most  fruitful  thy  soil,  most  inviting  thy  clime; 
Let  the  crimes  of  the  east  ne'er  encrimson  thy  name, 
Be  freedom,  and  science,  and  virtue,  thy  fame. 

To  conquest,  and  slaughter,  let  Europe  aspire: 
Whelm  nations  in  blood,  and  wrap  cities  in  fire : 
Thy  heroes  the  rights  of  mankind  shall  defend, 
And  triumph  pursue  them,  and  glory  attend. 
A  world  is  thy  realm :  for  a  world  be  thy  laws, 
Enlarg'd  as  thine  empire,  and  just  as  thy  cause ; 
On  Freedom's  broad  basis,  that  empire  shall  rise, 
Extend  with  the  main,  and'  dissolve  with  the  skies. 
Fair  Science  her  gates  to  thy  sons  shall  unbar, 
And  the  east  see  thy  morn  hide  the  beams  of  her  star. 
New  bards,  and  new  sages,  unrival'd  shall  soar 
To  fame  uuextinguish'd  when  time  is  no  more ; 
To  thee,  the  last  refuge  of  virtue  desigu'd, 
Shall  fly  from  all  nations  the  best  of  mankind ; 
Here,  grateful  to  heaven,  with  transport  shall  bring 
Their  incense,  more  fragrant  than  odours  of  spring. 

Nor  less  shall  thy  fair  ones  to  glory  ascend, 
And  Genius  and  Beauty  in  harmony  blend; 
The  graces  of  form  shall  awake  pure  desire, 
And  the  charms  of  the  soul  ever  cherish  the  fire  ; 
Their  sweetness  unmingled,  their  manners  refin'd, 
And  Virtue's  bright  image  instamp'd  on  the  mind, 
With  peace  and  soft  rapture  shall  teach  life  to  glow, 
And  light  up  a  smile  in  the  aspect  of  woe. 

Thy  fleets  to  all  regions  thy  pow'r  shall  display, 

The  nations  admire,  and  the  oceans  obey ; 

Each  shore  to  thy  glory  its  tribute  unfold, 

And  the  east  and  the  south  yield  their  spices  and 

gold. 
As  the  day-spring  unbounded,  thy  splendour  shall 

flow, 
And  earth's  little  kingdoms  before  thee  shall  bow ; 
While  the  ensigns  of  union,  in  triumph  unfurl'd, 
Hush  the  tumult  of  war,  and  give  peace  to  the  world. 

Thus,  as  down  a  lone  valley,  with  cedars  o'erspread, 
From  war's  dread  confusion  I  pensively  stray'd — ■ 
The  gloom  from  the  face  of  fair  heav'n  retir'd ; 
The  winds  eeas'd  to  murmur ;  the  thunders  expir'd ; 
Perfumes,  as  of  Eden,  flow'd  sweetly  along, 
And  a  voice,  as  of  angels,  enchantingly  sung: 
"  Columbia,  Columbia,  to  glory  arise, 
The  queen  of  the  world,  and  the  child  of  the  skies." 

THE  TRAVELLED  APE  — FROM   AN   EPISTLE  TO   COL.  HUMPHREYS, 
1765. 

Oft  has  thine  eye,  with  glance  indignant  seen 

Columbia's  youths,  unfolding  into  men, 

Their  minds  to  improve,  their  manners  to  adorn, 

To  Europe's  climes  by  fond  indulgence  borne ; 

Oft  hast  thou  seen  those  youths,  at  custom's  shrine, 

Victims  to  pride,  to  folly,  and  to  sin, 

Of  worth  bereft,  of  real  sense  forlorn, 

Their  land  forget,  their  friends,  their  freedom,  spurn ; 

Each  noble  cause,  each  solid  good  desert 


For  splendour  happiness,  and  truth  for  art; 
The  plain,  frank  manners  of  their  race  despise, 
Fair  without  fraud,  and  great  without  disguise ; 
Where,  thro'  the  life  the  heart  uncover'd  ran, 
And  spoke. the  native  dignity  of  man. 

For  these,  the  gain  let  Virtue  blush  to  hear, 
And  each  sad  parent  drop  the  plaintive  tear! 
Train'd  in  foul  stews,  impoison  d  by  the  stage, 
Hoyl'd  into  gaming,  Keyser'd  into  age, 
To  smooth  hypocrisy  by  Stanhope  led, 
To  truth  an  alien,  and  to  virtue  dead, 
Swoln  with  an  English  butcher's  sour  disdain, 
Or  to  a  fribble  dwindled  from  a  man, 
Homeward  again  behold  the  jackdaw  run, 
And  yield  his  sire  the  ruins  of  a  son ! 

What  tho'  his  mind  no  thought  has  e'er  perplex'd, 
Converse  illum'd,  or  observations  vex'd  ; 
Yet  here,  in  each  debate,  a  judge  he  shines, 
Of  all,  that  man  enlarges,  or  refines; 
Religion,  science,  politics,  and  song; 
A  prodigy  his  parts ;  an  oracle  his  tongue. 
Ope  wide  your  mouths ;  your  knees  in  homage  bend ; 
Hist!  hist!  ye  mere  Americans  attend; 
While  Curl  discloses  to  the  raptur'd  view 
What  Peter,  Paul,  and  Moses,  never  knew ; 
The  light  of  new-born  wisdom  sheds  abroad, 
And  adds  a  *leanto  to  the  word  of  God. 
What  Creole  wretch  shall  dare,  with  home-made 

foils, 
Attack  opinions,  brought  three  thousand  miles  ; 
Sense,  in  no  common  way  to  mortals  given, 
But  on  Atlantic  travellers  breath'd  by  Heaven ; 
A  head,  en  queue,  by  Monsieur  Frizzle  dress'd; 
Manners,  a  Paris  tailor's  arts  invest; 
Pure  criticism,  form'd  from  acted  plays ; 
And  graces,  that  would  even  a  Stanhope  grace? 
Commercial  wisdom,  merchants  here  inhale 
From  him,  whose  eye  hath  seen  the  unfinish'd  bale; 
Whose  feet  have  pass'd  the  shop,  where  pins  were 

sold, 
The  wire  was  silver'd,  and  the  heads  were  roll'dl 
Conven'd,  ye  lawyers,  make  3-our  humblest  leg! 
Here  stands  the  man  has  seen  Lord  Mansfield's  wig! 
Physicians  hush'd,  hear  Galen's  lips  distil, 
From  Buchan's  contents,  all  the  Art  to  heal! 
Divines,  with  reverence,  cease  your  Scripture  whims, 
And  learn  this  male  Minerva's  moral  schemes; 
Schemes  theologic  found  in  Drury-lane, 
That  prove  the  Bible  false,  and  virtue  vain! 
Heavens!  shall  a  child  in  learning,  and  in  wit, 
O'er  Europe's  climes,  a  bird  of  passage  flit ; 
There,  as  at  home,  his  stripling  self  unknown, 
By  novel  wonders  stupified  to  stone, 
Shut  from  the  wise,  and  by  no  converse  taught, 
No  well-read  day,  nor  hour  of  serious  thought, 
His  head  by  pleasure,  vice,  and  hurry,  turn'd, 
All  prudence  trampled,  all  improvements  spurn'd ; 
Shall  he,  with  less  of  Europe  in  his  cap, 
Than  satchell'd  school-boy  guesses  from  the  map, 
On  every  subject  struttingly  decree, 
Ken  the  far  shore,  and  search  the  unfathom'd  sea, 
Where  learning  has  her  lamp  for  ages  oil'd, 
Where  Newton  ponders,  and  where  Berkeley  toil'df 
Of  all  the  plagues,  that  rise  in  human  shape, 
Good  Heaven,  preserve  us  from  the  travell'd  Ape! 
9 

FALL  OF  EMPIRE — FROM  GREENFIELD  HILL. 

Ah  me  !  while  up  the  long,  long  vale  of  time, 
Reflection  wanders  towards  til'  eternal  vast, 
How  starts  the  eye,  at  many  a  change  sublime, 
Unbosom'd  dimly  by  the  ages  pass'd! 
What  Mausoleums  crowd  the  mournful  waste ! 


*  An  awkward  addition  to  a  dwelling-house,  very  common 
H    in  New  England. 


TIMOTHY  D WIGHT. 


303 


The  tombs  of  empires  fallen  I   and  nations  gone  1 
Each,  once  inscrib'd,  in  gold,  with  "  Ave  to  last," 
Sate  as  a  queen  ;  proclaim'd  the  world  her  own, 
And  proudly  cried,  "  By  me    no  sorrows  shall  be 
known." 

Soon  fleets  the  sunbright  Form,  by  man  ador'd. 

Soon  fell  the  Head  of  gold,  to  Time  a  prey  ; 

The  Arms,  the  Trunk,  his  cankering  tooth  devour'd: 

And  whirlwinds  blew  the  Iron  dust  away. 

Where  dwelt  imperial  Timur? — far  astray, 

Some  lonely-musing  pilgrim  now  enquires: 

And,  rack'd  by  storms,  and  hastening  to  decay, 

Mohammed's  Mosque  foresees  its  final  fires; 

And  Rome's  more  lordly  Temple  day  by  day  expires. 

As  o'er  proud  Asian  realms  the  traveller  winds, 
His  manly  spirit,  hush'd  by  terror,  falls ; 
When  some  deceased  town's  lost  site  he  finds, 
Where  ruin  wild  his  pondering  eye  appals; 
Where  silence  swims  along  the  moulder'd  walls, 
And  broods  upon  departed  Grandeur's  tomb. 
Through  the  lone,  hollow  aisles  sad  Echo,  calls, 
At  each  slow  step  :   deep  sighs  the  breathing  gloom, 
And   weeping  fields,  around,  bewail  their  Empress' 
doom. 

Where  o'er  an  hundred  realms,  the  throne  uprose, 
The  screech-owl  nests,  the  panther  builds  his  home; 
Sleep  the  dull  newts,  the  lazy  adders  doze, 
Where  pomp  and  luxury  dane'd  the  golden  room. 
Low  lies  in  dust  the  sky-resembled  dome  ; 
Tall  grass  around  the  broken  column  waves ; 
And  brambles  climb,  and  lonely  thistles  bloom  ; 
The  moulder'd  arch  the  weedy  streamlet  laves, 
And   low    resound,    beneath,    unnumber'd    Bunken 
graves. 

Soon  fleets  the  sun-bright  Form,  by  man  ador'd  ; 
And  soon  man's  deemou  chiefs  from  memory  fade. 
In  musty  volume,  now  must  be  explor'd, 
Where  dwelt  imperial  nations,  long  decay'd. 
The  brightest  meteors  angry  clouds  invade; 
And  where  the  wonders  glitter'd,  none  explain. 
Where   Carthage,   with   proud   hand,   the   trident 

eway'd, 
Now  mud-w:dl'd  cots  sit  sullen  on  the  plain, 
And  wandering,  fierce,  and  wild,  sequester'd  Arabs 

reign. 

In  thee,  0  Albion  !  queen  of  nations,  live 
Whatever     splendours    earth's   wide    realms  have 

known ; 
In  thee  proud  Persia  sees  her  pomp  revive  ; 
And  Greece  her  arts;  and  Rome  her  lordly  throne  : 
By  every  wind,  thy  Tyrian  fleets  are  blown  ; 
Supreme,  on  Fame's  dread  roll,  thy  heroes  stand; 
All  ocean's  realms  thy  naval  sceptre  own ; 
Of  bards,  of  sages,  how  august  thy  baud! 
And  one  rich  Eden  blooms  around  thy  garden'd  land. 

But  0  how  vast  thy  crimes !    Through  heav'n's  great 

year, 
When  few  centurial  suns  have  trae'd  their  way  ; 
When  southern  Europe,  worn  by  feuds  severe; 
Weak,  doting,  fallen,  has  bow'd  to  Russian  sway; 
And  setting  Glory  beam'd  her  farewell  ray ; 
To  wastes,  perchance,  thy  brilliant  fields  shall  turn; 
In  dust,  thy  temples,  towers,  and  towns  decay  ; 
The  forest  howl,  where  London's  turrets  burn  ; 
And  all  thy  garlands  deck  thy  sad,  funereal  urn. 

Some  land,  scarce  glimmering  in  the  light  of  fame, 
Scepter'd  with  arts  and  arms  (if  I  divine), 
Some  unknown  wild,  some  shore  without  a  name, 
In  all  thy  pomp,  shall  then  majestic  shine. 
As  silver-headed  Time's  slow  years  decline, 
Hot  ruins  oidy  meet  th'  enquiring  eye; 


Where  round  yon  mouldering   oak  vain  brambles 

twine, 
The  filial  stem,  already  towering  high, 
Erelong  shall  stretch  his  arms,  and  nod  in  yonder 

sky. 

EOUND  OF  AMERICAN  LIFE — FROM   GREEJiFTGLD  HILL. 

In  this  New  World,  life's  changing  round, 
In  three  descents,  is  often  found. 
The  first,  firm,  busy,  plodding,  poor, 
Earns,  saves,  and  daily  swells,  his  store ; 
By  farthings  first,  and  pence,  it  grows  ; 
In  shillings  next,  and  pounds,  it  flows; 
Then  spread  his  widening  farms,  abroad; 
His  forests  wave ;  his  harvests  nod ; 
Fattening,  his  numerous  cattle  play, 
And  debtors  dread  his  reckoning  day. 
Ambitious  then  t'adorn  with  knowledge 
His  son,  he  places  him  at  college  ; 
And  sends,  in  smart  attire,  and  neat, 
To  travel,  thro'  each  neighbouring  state; 
Builds  him  a  handsome  house,  or  buys, 
Sees  him  a  gentleman,  and  dies. 

The  second,  born  to  wealth  and  ease, 
And  taught  to  think,  converse,  and  please. 
Ambitious,  with  his  lady-wife, 
Aims  at  a  higher  walk  of  life. 
Yet,  in  those  wholesome  habits  train'd, 
By  which  his  wealth,  and  weight,  were  gaiu'J, 
Bids  care  in  hand  with  pleasure  go, 
And  blends  economy  with  show. 
His  houses,  fences,  garden,  dress, 
The  neat  and  thrifty  man  confess. 
Improv'd,  but  with  i  nproveinent  plain, 
Intent  on  office,  as  on  gain, 
Exploring,  useful  sweets  to  spy, 
To  public  life  he  turns  his  eye. 
A  townsman  first ;  a  justice  soon  ; 
A  member  of  the  house  anon  ; 
Perhaps  to  board,  or  bench,  invited,  , 

He  sees  the  state,  and  subjects,  righted; 
And,  raptur'd  with  politic  life, 
Consigns  Ins  children  to  his  wife. 
Of  household  cares  amid  the  round, 
For  her,  too  hard  the  task  is  found. 
At  first  she  struggles,  and  contends ; 
Then  doubts,  desponds,  laments,  and  bends ; 
Her  sons  pursue  the  sad  defeat, 
And  shout  their  victory  complete; 
Rejoicing,  see  their  father  roam, 
And  riot,  rake,  and  reign,  at  home, 
Too  late  he  sees,  and  sees  to  mourn, 
His  race  of  every  hope  forlorn, 
Abroad,  for  comfort,  turns  his  eyes, 
Bewails  his  dire  mistakes,  and  dies. 

His  heir,  train'd  only  to  enjoy. 
Untaught  his  mind,  or  hands  t'  employ, 
Conscious  of  wealth,  enough  for  life, 
With  business,  care,  and  worth,  at  strife, 
By  prudence,  conscience,  unrcstrain'd, 
And  none,  but  pleasure's  habits,  gain'd, 
Whirls  on  the  wild  career  of  sense, 
Nor  danger  marks,  nor  heeds  expense. 
Soon  ended  is  the  giddy  round; 
And  soon  the  fatal  goal  is  found. 
His  lands,  seeur'd  for  borrow'd  gold, 
His  houses,  horses,  herds,  are  sold. 
And  now,  no  more  for  wealth  respected. 
He  6inks,  by  all  his  friends  neglected ; 
Friends,  who,  before,  his  vices  flatter'd, 
And  liv'd  upon  the  loaves  he  scatter'd. 
Unacted  every  worthy  part. 
And  pining  with  a  broken  heart, 
To  dirtiest  company  he  flies 


3G1 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Whores,  gambles,  turns  a  sot,  and  dies. 
His  children  born  to  fairer  doom, 
In  rags,  pursue  him  to  the  tomb. 

Apprentie'd  then  to  masters  stern, 
Some  real  good  the  orphans  learn ; 
Are  bred  to  toil,  and  hardy  fare, 
And  grow  to  usefulness,  and  care ; 
And,  following  their  great^grandsire's  plan, 
Each  slow  becomes  a  useful  man. 

Such  here  is  life's  swift-circling  round ; 
So  soon  arc  all  its  changes  found, 
Would  you  prevent  th'  allotment  hard, 
And  fortune's  rapid  whirl  retard, 
In  all  your  race,  industrious  care 
Attentive  plant,  and  faithful  rear  ; 
With  life,  th'  important  task  begin, 
Nor  but  with  life,  the  task  resign; 
To  habit,  bid  the  blessings  grow, 
Habits  alone  yield  good  below. 

THE  VILLAGE   CLERGYMAN — FEOit  GEEENFIELD  HILL. 

Where  western  Albion's  happy  clime 
Still  brightens  to  the  eye  of  time, 
A  village  lies.     In  all  his  round, 
The  sun  a  fairer  never  found. 
The  woods  were  tall,   the  hillocks  green, 
The  vallies  laugh'd  the  hills  between, 
Thro'  fairy  meads  the  rivers  roll'd, 
The  meadows  fiower'd  in  vernal  gold, 
The  days  were  bright,  the  mornings  fair, 
And  evening  lov'd  to  linger  there. 
There,  twinn'd  in  brilliant  fields  above, 
Sweet  sisters !  sported  Peace  and  Love; 
While  Virtue,  like  a  blushing  bride, 
Seren'd,  and  brighten'd,  at  their  side. 

At  distance  from  that  happy  way, 
The  path  of  sensual  Pleasure  lay, 
Afar  Ambition's  summit  rose, 
And  Avarice  dug  his  mine  of  woes. 

The  place,  with  east  and  western  sides, 
A  wide  and  verdant  street  divides: 
And  here  the  houses  fae'd  the  day, 
And  there  the  lawns  in  beauty  lay. 
There,  turret-crowu'd,  and  central,  stood 
A  neat,  and  solemn  house  of  God, 
Across  the  way,  beneath  the  shade, 
Two  elms  with  sober  silence  spread, 
The  Preacher  liv'd.     O'er  all  the  place 
His  mansion  cast  a  Sunday  grace  ; 
Dumb  stillness  sate  the  fields  around; 
His  garden  seem'd  a  hallow'd  ground ; 
Swains  ceas'd  to  laugh  aloud,  when  near, 
And  school-boys  never  sported  there. 

In  the  same  mild  and  temperate  zone, 
Twice  twenty  years,  his  course  had  run, 
His  locks  of  flowing  silver  spread, 
A  crown  of  glory  o'er  his  head. 
His  face,  the  image  of  his  mind, 
With  grave,  and  furrow'd  wisdom  shin'd ; 
Not  cold  ;  but  glowing  still,  and  bright; 
Yet  glowing  with  October  light: 
As  evening  blends,  with  beauteous  ray, 
Approaching  night  with  shining  day. 

His  Cure  his  thoughts  engross'd  alone ; 
For  them  his  painful  course  was  run  : 
To  bless,  to  save,  his  only  care ; 
To  chill  the  guilty  soul  with  fear; 
To  point  the  pathway  to  the  skies, 
And  teach,  and  urge,  and  aid,  to  rise; 
Where  strait;  and  difficult  to  keep, 
It  climbs,  and  climbs,  o'er  Virtue's  steep. 


As  now  the  evening  of  his  day, 
Retiring,  smil'd  it's  warning  ray; 
He  heard,  in  angel-whispers,  come. 
The  welcome  voice,  that  call'd  him  home. 
The  little  flock  he  nurs'd  so  long, 
And  charm'd  with  mercy's  sweetest  song, 
His  heart  with  strong  affections  waim'd, 
His  love  provok'd,  his  fears  alarm'd — 
Like  him,  who  freed  the  chosen  band, 
Like  him,  who  op'd  the  promis'd  land, 
His  footsteps  verging  on  the  grave, 
His  blessing  thus  the  Prophet  gave. 

"  0  priz'd  beyond  expression  here, 
As  sons  belov'd,  as  daughters  dear. 
Your  father's  dying  voice  receive, 
My  counsels  hear,  obey,  and  live ! 

"  For  you  my  ceaseless  toils  ye  know, 
My  care,  my  faithfulness,  and  woe. 
For  you  I  breath'd  unnumber'd  prayers; 
For  you  I  shed  unnumber'd  tears ; 
To  living  springs  the  thirsty  led, 
The  hungry  cheer'd  with  living  bread, 
Of  grief  allay'd  the  piercing  smart, 
And  sooth'd  with  balm  the  doubting  heart; 
The  wayward  flock  forbade  to  roam, 
And  brought  the  wandering  lambkin  home. 

"  And  now,  my  toils,  my  duties  done. 
My  crown  of  endless  glory  won, 
Ev'n  while  invited  to  the  skies, 
My  wing  begins  through  heaven  to  rise, 
One  solemn  labour  still  is  due, 
To  close  a  life,  cousum'd  for  you. 

****** 

"  Then  rise,  and  let  salvation  call 
Your  time,  your  thoughts,  your  talents  all! 

"  For  this,  the  sacred  page  explore, 
Consult,  and  ponder,  o'er  and  o'er ; 
The  words  of  endless  life  discern; 
The  way,  the  means,  the  motives  learn  ; 
The  hopes,  the  promises,  enjoy, 
That  ne'er  deceive,  that  cannot  cloy; 
Alarms  to  Guilt's  obdurate  mind ; 
Perennial  bliss  to  Faith  assign'd; 
The  precepts,  by  Messiah  given; 
His  life,  the  image  bright  of  Heaven : 
His  death,  self-ruin'd  man  to  save ; 
His  rise,  primitial,  from  the  grave ; 
Beyond  all  other  love,  his  love ; 
His  name,  all  other  names  above. 
All  duties  to  be  learu'd,  or  done, 
All  comforts  to  be  gain'd,  or  known, 
To  do,  to  gain,  unceasing  strive. 
The  book  of  books  explore,  and  live. 

"  When  smiles  the  Sabbath's  genial  morn, 
Instinctive  to  the  Temple  turn ; 
Your  households  round  you  thither  bring, 
Sweet  off  ring  to  the  Saviour  King. 
There,  on  the  mercy-seat,  he  shines, 
Receives  our  souls,  forgets  our  sins, 
And  welcomes,  with  resistless  charms, 
Submitting  rebels  to  his  arms. 
That  chosen,  bless'd,  accepted  day, 
Oh  never,  never  cast  away  !" 

"  Let  order  round  your  houses  reign, 
Religion  rule,  and  peace  sustain  ; 
Each  morn,  each  eve,  your  prayers  arise, 
As  incense  fragrant,  to  the  skies ; 
In  beauteous  groupe,  your  children  join, 
And  servants  share  the  work  divine : 
The  voice,  as  is  the  interest,  one. 
And  one  the  blessing  wrestled  down. 

"  Each  toil  devote,  each  care,  and  pain, 
Your  children  for  the  skies  to  train. 


TIMOTHY  DWIGHT. 


365 


Allure,  reprove,  instruct;  reclaim, 
Alarm,  and  warn,  commend,  and  blame ; 
To  virtue  force  with  gentle  away, 
And  guide,  and  lead,  yourselves,  the  way. 
Teach  tliem,  profaneness,  falsehood,  fraud. 
Abuse  to  man,  affronts  to  God, 
All  things  impure,  obscene,  debas'd, 
Tho'  oft  with  high  high  examples  grac'd, 
To  shun  beyond  the  adder's  breath, 
When  hissing  instantaneous  death ; 
But  justice,  truth,  and  love,  to  prize, 
Beyond  the  transports  of  the  skies." 

"  Teach  them,  that,  brighter  than  the  sun, 
Th'  All-searching  Eye  looks  flaming  on, 
Each  thought,  each  word,  each  act,  descries, 
And  sees  the  guilty  motives  rise ; 
A  Witness,  and  a  Judge,  that  day, 
Whose  light  shall  every  heart  display. 
Live  what  you  teach — the  heavenly  Seer, 
Who  spake,  as  man  ne'er  spake,  when  here. 
Taught  all  things  just,  and  wise,  and  true 
Shone  a  divine  example  too. 

"To  all,  around,  your  blessings  leml, 
The  sick  relieve,  the  poor  befriend, 
The  sad  console,  the  weak  sustain, 
And  soothe  the  wounded  spirit's  pain. 
To  you,  think  every  blessing  given, 
To  shed  abroad  the  alms  of  Heaves, 
To  blunt  the  stings  of  human  woe, 
And  build  his  kingdom,  here  below. 
Let  gentle  Peace  around  you  reign, 
Her  influence  spread,  her  cause  sustain: 
To  railing,  answers  mild  return  ; 
Let  love,  oppos'd  to  anger,  burn ; 
Contention,  ere  begun,  suppress, 
And  bid  the  voice  of  party  cease. 
The  taleful  tongue,  the  meddling  mind. 
The  jealous  eye,  the  heart  unkind, 
Far  distant,  far,  from  you  remove; 
But  ope  your  doors  to  Truth  and  Love : 
The  meek  esteem,  the  humble  praise, 
And  Merit  from  her  footstool  raise. 

"  By  every  act  of  peace,  and  love, 
Tims  win  your  way  to  climes  above. 
In  this  great  work,  see  all  things  strive 
Nature  toils  that  you  may  live : 

"  Lo,  to  aid  you  to  the  skies, 
Seasons  roll,  and  suns  arise ; 
Promis'd,  see  the  seed-time  come, 
And  the  harvest  shouted  home  1 

"All  things,  in  their  solemn  round. 
Morn,  with  peace  and  beauty  crown'U, 
Eve,  with  sweet,  returning  rest, 
Toil,  with  health  and  plenty  bless'd, 
Help  you  on  the  ascending  road, 
Pointing,  leading,  still  to  God : 
Joys  to  endless  rapture  charm; 
Woes,  of  endless  woe,  alarm. 

"All  things  toil,  that  you  may  live — 
Rulers  peace  and  freedom  give: 
Seers  diviner  peace  proclaim. 
Glorious  to  th'  Unutter'd  Name, 
Good,  to  guilty  mortals  given, 
Source  of  endless  joy  to  heaven. 

"  See  the  Sabbath's  peaceful  morn, 
(Sabbaths  still  for  you  return), 
Opes  the  Temple  to  your  feet, 
Chaunting  sounds  of  Seraphs  sweet  — 
Heaven  unfolds,  and  God  is  near, 
Sinners  haste,  and  enter  here — 
Grace  and  truth,  from  worlds  above, 
Fruits  of  suffering,  dying  love, 


From  the  Sacred  Spirit  come, 
Wilder'd  flocks  inviting  home. 

"  Hark,  what  living  music  plays  ! 
Catch  the  themes  of  heavenly  praiss  ; 
Themes,  that  tune  seraphic  strings, 
Notes,  the  bless'd  Redeemer  sings. 

"  '  Rise,  my  sous,  and  hither  haste  I 
Wintry  time  is  overpass'd. 
See  afar  the  rains  have  flown  ! 
See  immortal  spring  begun  ! 
Streams  with  life  and  rapture  flow ; 
Fruits  with  life  and  rapture  glow ; 
Love  the  door  of  life  unbars  ; 
Triumphs  crown  your  finish'd  wars : 
Fondly  wait  impatient  skies, 
O'er  you  to  renew  their  joys. 

"  'Are  you  naked?  here  behold 
Robes  of  light,  and  crowns  of  gold  I 
Famish'd  ?  an  eternal  feast ' 
Weary  ?  everliving  rest ! 
Friendless?  an  Almighty  Friend! 
Hopeless  ?  transports  ne'er  to  end ! 

"  '  Children,  penitents,  arise  ; 
Hasten  to  your  native  skies : 
Your  arrival  all  things  sing  ; 
Angels  meet  you  on  the  wing; 
Saints  with  fairer  beauty  shine ; 
Brighter  years  in  heaven  begin  ; 
Round  the  Sun,  that  lights  the  skies, 
More  refulgent  glories  rise.' 

"  Thus,  O  my  sons!  Messiah's  voice 
Allures  to  never  dying  joys. 
That  voice  of  endless  love  receive  ; 
Those  counsels  hear,  obey,  and  live. 

"  Thus,  from  the  climes  beyond  the  tomb 
If  God  permit  my  soul  to  come, 
Again  my  little  flock  to  view, 
To  watch,  and  warn,  and  quicken  you, 
With  transport  shall  my  bosom  glow, 
To  see  each  house  an  heaven  below, 
My  sons  ambitious  of  the  skies, 
And  future  saints,  and  angels  rise. 
And  O,  what  brighter  bliss  shall  bloom, 
To  hail  you  victors  o'er  the  tomb  ; 
To  guide  you,  all  th'  unmeasur'd  waj', 
And  welcome  to  the  gates  of  day; 
To  hear  your  blessed  Euge  sound, 
And  see  th'  immortals  smile  around  ; 
To  stand,  to  shine,  b}'  you  confess'd 
Your  friend,  your  earthly  saviour  bless'd ; 
To  mingle  joys,  all  joys  above, 
And  warm  with  ever-bright'ning  love!" 

He  spoke.     The  filial  tear  around, 
Responsive,  trickled  to  the  sound  ; 
He  saw  their  hearts  to  wisdom  won, 
And  felt  his  final  duty  done — 
"  Jesus  !  my  soul  receive" — he  cried, 
And  smil'd,  and  bow'd  his  head,  and  died. 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKEE. 
Ann  Eliza,  the  youngest  daughter  of  Mr.  Brandt 
Schuyler,  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York  in 
October,  1752.  "Though  in  her  early  years,"' 
her  admiring  biographer  remarks,  "  she  never 
displa3red  any  partiality  for  school,  yet  she 
was  passionately  fond  of  books,  insomuch  that 
she  read  with  propriety  any  book  that  came  to 
hand  long  before  the  time  that  children  in  com- 
mon pass  their  spelling-books." 

In  the  year  1769  she  married  Mr.  John  J. 
Bleccker,  of  ISTew  Rochelle,  and  removed  with 
him  to  Poughkeepsie  where  they  resided  a  year 


366 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF. AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Ann  Eliza  Bleecker. 

or  two,  and  then  settled  at  Tomhaniok,  "  a  beau- 
tiful solitary  little  Ullage  eighteen  miles  above  Al- 
bany."  Here  they  remained  until  the  tidings  of 
the  expedition  of  Burgoyne  from  Canada  reached 
them,  when  Mr.  Bleecker  repaired  to  Albany  to 
provide  a  more  secure  residence  for  his  family  than 
their  lonely  rural  retreat  afforded.  The  morning 
after  his  departure  news  reached  his  wife  that  the 
enemy  were  within  two  miles  of  the  village,  "burn- 
ing and  murdering  all  before  them."  "  Terrified 
beyond  description  she  rose  from  the  breakfast 
table,  and  taking  her  Arbella  on  her  arm,  and 
her  other  daughter  (about  four  years  old)  by  the 
hand,  she  set  off  on  foot,  with  a  young  mulatto 
girl,  leaving  the  house  and  furniture  to  the  mercy 
of  the  approaching  savages.  The  roads  were 
crowded  with  carriages  loaded  with  women  and 
children,  but  none  could  afford  her  assistance — 
distress  was  depicted  on  every  countenance,  and 
tears  of  heartfelt  anguish  moistened  every  cheek. 
They  passed  on — no  one  spoke  to  another — and 
no  sound  but  the  dismal  creaking  of  burdened 
wheels  and  the  trampling  of  horses  interrupted 
the  mournful  silence.  After  a  tedious  walk  of  four 
or  five  miles,  she  obtained  a  seat  for  the  children 
upon  one  of  the  wagons,  and  she  walked  on  to 
Stony  Arabia,  where  she  expected  to  find  many 
friends  ;  but  she  was  deceived — no  door  was  open 
to  Tier,  whose  house  by  many  of  them  had  been 
made  use  of  as  a  home — she  wandered  from  house 
to  house,  and  at  length  obtained  a  place  in  the 
garret  of  a  rich  old  acquaintance,  where  a  couple 
of  blankets,  stretched  upon  some  boards,  were 
offered  her  as  a  bed;  she,  however,  sat  up  all 
night,  and  the  next  morning,  Mr.  Bleecker  com- 
ing from  Albany,  met  with  them  and  returned  to 
that  city,  from  whence  they  set  off  with  several 
other  families  by  water."*  They  descended  the 
river  as  far  as  Bed  Hook,  where  they  resided 
until  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne,  when  they  re- 
turned to  their  rural  home,  the  melancholy  ex- 
cursion having  been  further  saddened  by  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Bleecker's  eldest  child,  mother,  and 
only  surviving  sister. 

In  1781,  Mr.  Bleecker,  while  occupied  in  his 
fields,  was  captured  and  carried  off  with  two  of 
bis  laborers  by  a  party  from  Canada.  These 
occurrences  were  so  frequent  that  the  family 
were  at  no  loss  to  account  for  his  disappearance, 

*  Life  by  Mrs.  Fangerus. 


and  Mrs.  Bleecker  again  set  off  for  Albany  in 
quest  of  aid,  "  but  by  a  wonderful  train  of  events 
Mr.  Bleecker  was  retaken  by  a  party  from  Ben- 
nington, after  having  passed  the  last  habitation 
on  this  side  of  the  Green  Mountains,  and  when 
his  conductors  for  the  first  time  had  considered 
themselves  as  perfectly  secure,"  and  returned  in 
safety  at  the  end  of  six  days. 

In  the  spring  of  1783  she  visited  New  York, 
but  time  and  the  war  had  caused  so  many  changes 
among  her  old  associates,  that  the  visit  was  pro- 
ductive of  more  pain  than  pleasure  to  her  sensi- 
tive mind.  She  returned  to  Tomhanick,  where 
she  was  soon  after  taken  sick,  and,  her  delicate 
frame  offering  feeble  obstacles  to  the  progress  of 
disease,  died  on  the  twenty-third  of  November 
of  the  same  year. 

Mrs.  Bleecker's  poems  were  written  as  the 
occasion  suggested  them  to  her  mind,  without  a 
view  to  publication.  She  possessed  a  pleasant 
vein  of  sportive  fancy,  and  many  of  her  composi- 
tions of  this  class  were  much  admired  by  the  few 
friends  to  whom  she  showed  them ;  but  in  the  fre- 
quent attacks  of  despondency  to  which  her  deli- 
cate organization  was  subject,  she  destroyed  "  all 
the  pieces  which  were  not  melancholy  as  herself." 
Her  graver  compositions  are  upon  topics  suggest- 
ed by  her  family  bereavements,  and  are  tenderly 
though  somewhat  formally  expressed:  Her  light- 
er pieces  and  her  correspondence  (in  which  she 
evidently  took  great  pleasure)  are  the  most  pleas- 
ing and  characteristic  of  her  literary  productions. 

Several  of  her  poems  were  printed  in  the  ear- 
lier numbers  of  the  New  York  Magazine,  and  a 
collection  of  her  stories  and  "poetics"  in  a  vo- 
lume, with  a  few  of  her  letters,  published  in 
1793  under  the  supervision  of  her  daughter,  Mar- 
garetta,  who  added  a  number  of  essays  and  verses 
from  her  own  pen.  This  lady  was  born  in  the 
city  of  New  York  in  1771,  and  passed  her  early 
years  in  Tomhanick.  After  her  mother's  death, 
her  father  removed  to  New  York,  where,  against 
her  parent's  wish,  she  married  in  1791  Peter 
Faugeres,  a  physician  of  that  city.  He  was  a 
worthless  fellow,  and  in  a  few  years  dissipated 
her  large  fortune.  After  the  death  of  her  father 
in  1795,  the  pair  were  reduced  to  extreme  desti- 
tution. Faugeres  died  of  the  yellow  fever  in 
1798,  and  the  widow  supported  herself  as  a 
teacher  until  her  death,  January  9,  1801. 

In  1795,  Mrs.  Faugeres  offered  a  tragedy  enti- 
tled Beluarius  to  the  John  Street  Theatre.  The 
management  declined  its  production.  It  was 
afterwards  published,  and  is  of  slight  literary 
merit.  Among  her  verses  are  the  Birth-day  of 
Columbia  and  an  historical  and  patriotic  descrip- 
tion of  the  Hudson,  in  which  New  York  is  ad- 
dressed, 

Pride  of  Columbia  I  Eboracia  fair  I 

to  sin.  L***. 
Dear  brother,  to  these  happy  shades  repair, 
And  leave,  Oh  leave  the  city's  noxious  air : 
I'll  try  description,  friend — methinks  I  see 
'Twill  influence  your  curiosity. 

Before  our  door  a  meadow  flies  the  eye, 
Circled  by  hills,  whose  summits  crowd  the  sky; 
The  silver  lily  there  exalts  her  head1, 
And  op'ning  roses  balmy  odours  spread, 
While  golden  tulips  flame  beneath  the  shade. 


PHILLIS  WHEATLEY. 


367 


In  short,  not  hiu  with  her  painted  how. 

Nor  varied  tints  an  evening  sun  can  show, 

Can  the  gay  colours  of  the  flow'rs  exceed, 

Whose  glowing  leaves  diversify  this  mead: 

And  when  the  blooms  of  Flora  disappear, 

The  weighty  fruits  adorn  the  satiate  year: 

Here  vivid  cherries  bloom  in  scarlet  pride, 

And  purple  plums  blush  by  the  cherries'  side; 

The  sable  berries  bend  the  pliant  vines, 

And  smiling  apples  glow  in  crimson  rinds  ; 

Ceres  well  pleas'd,  beholds  the  furrowed  plain, 

And  8how'rs  her  blessings  on  th'  industrious  swain  ; 

Plenty  sits  laughing  in  each  humble  cot; 

None  wish  for  that  which  heaven  gives  them  not. 

But  sweet  Contentment  still  with  sober  charms, 

Encircles  us  within  her  blissful  arms  ; 

Birds  unmolested  chauut  their  early  notes, 

And  on  the  dewy  spray  expand  their  throats; 

Before  the  eastern  skies  are  streak'd  with  light, 

Or  from  the  arch  of  Heaven  retreats  the  night, 

The  musical  inhabitants  of  air. 

To  praise  their  Maker,  tuneful  lays  prepare. 

Here  by  a  spring,  whose  glassy  surface  moves 

At  ev'ry  kiss  from  Zephyr  of  the  groves, 

While  passing  clouds  look  brighter  in  the  stream, 

Your  poet  sits  and  paints  the  rural  scene. 

TO  MISS  CATITARINE  TEN  EYOK. 

Come  and  see  our  habitation, 

Condescend  to  be  our  guest ; 
Tho'  the  veins  of  warring  nations 

Bleed,  yet  here  secure  we  rest. 

By  the  light  of  Ci/nthia's  crescent, 
Playing  thro'  the  waving  trees; 

When  we  walk,  we  wish  you  present 
To  participate  our  bliss. 

Late  indeed,  the  cruel  savage 
Here  with  looks  ferocious  stood ; 

Here  the  rustic's  cot  did  ravage, 

Stain'd  the  grass  with  human  blood. 

Late  their  hands  sent  conflagration 
Rolling  thro'  the  blooming  wild, 

Seized  with  death,  the  brute  creation 
Mourn'd,  while  desolation  smil'd. 

Spiral  flames  from  tallest  cedar 
Struck  to  heav'n  a  heat  intense; 

They  canccll'd  thus  with  impious  labour, 
Wonders  of  Omnipotence. 

But  when  Conquest  rear'd  her  standard, 

And  the  Aborigines  were  fled, 
Peace,  who  long  an  exile  wandcr'd, 

Now  returned  to  bless  the  shade. 

Now  JEolus  blows  the  ashes 

From  sad  Terra's  blackeu'd  brow, 

While  the  whistling  swain  with  rusheJ 
Eoofs  his  cot,  late  levcll'd  low. 

From  the  teeming  womb  of  Nature 
Bursting  flow'rs  exhale  perfume ; 

Shady  oaks,  of  ample  stature, 
Cast  again  a  cooling  gloom. 

Waves  from  each  reflecting  fountain, 

Roll  again  unmixed  with  gore, 
And  verging  from  the  lofty  mountain, 

Fall  beneath  with  solemn  roar. 

Here,  embosom'd  in  this  Eden, 
Cheerful  all  our  hours  are  spent; 

Here  no  pleasures  are  forbidden, 
Sylvan  joys  are  innocent. 


PHILLIS  WHEATLEY. 
The  poems  of  Phillis  Wheatley  were  published  in 
London  in  1773,  in  a  thin  duodecimo  volume,  with 
a  copper-plate  portrait,  from  which  our  engrav- 
ing is  taken,  and  with  the  full  title,  Poems  on 
Various  Subjects,  Religious  and  Moral.  By 
Phillis  Wlicaflcy,  Negro  Servant  to  Mr.  John 
Wheatley,  of  Boston,  inNew  England.  The  dedi- 
cation to  the  Eight'  Honorable  the  Countess  of 
Huntingdon  hears  date,  Boston,  June  12,  1773, 
when  she  was  about  to  visit  London  with  a  mem- 
ber of  her  master's  family,  and  points  to  the 
influential  Methodist  connexion  by  which  she  was 
lionized  on  her  arrival  in  that  city.*  A  Preface 
puts  forward  the  old  plea,  which,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, looks  like  a  jest,  of  the  poems  being0 
"  written  originally  for  the  amusement  of  the 
author,  as  they  were  the  products  of  her  leisure 
moments.  She  had  no  intention  ever  to  have 
published  them;  nor  would  they  now  have  made 
their  appearance,  but  at  the  importunity  of  many 
of  her  best  and  most  generous  friends."  A  let- 
ter, "  sent  by  the  author's  master  to  the  pub- 
lisher," follows,  in  which  John  Wheatley,  dating 
Boston,  November  14,  1772,  states  that  "  Phillis 
was  brought  from  Africa  to  America,  in  the  year.' 
17(51,  between  seven  and  eight  years  of  age,  with- 
out any  assistance  from  school  education,  and  by 
only  what  she  was  taught  in  the  family,  she,  in 
sixteen  months'  time  from  her  arrival,  attained 
the  English  language,  to  which  she  was  an  utter 
stranger  before,  to  such  a  degree,  as  to  read  any, 
the  most  difficult  parts  of  the  Sacred  writings,  to 


??/Cm  //n^fJy 


*  Among  tho  attentions  which  Phillis  "Wheatley  received  in 
London  was  tho  gift  from  the  Lord  Mayor  Broofc  Watson,  of  a 
copy  of  FouHs's  folio  Glasgow  edition  <>f  Paradise  Lost,  which 
was  sold  after  her  death,  in  payment  of  her  husband's  debts. 
It  is  now  preserved  in  the  library  of  Harvard  College  at  Cam- 
bridge. 


368 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  great  astonishment  of  all  who  heard  her.  As 
to  her  writing,  her  own  curiosity  led  her  to  it ; 
and  this  she  learned  in  so  short  a  time,  that  in 
the  year  1765  she  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Occom,  the  Indian  minister,  while  in  England. 
She  has  a  great  inclination  to  read  the  Latin 
tongue,  and  has  made  some  progress  in  it."  To 
certify  still  further  the  authority  of  the  book,  an 
"attestation"  is  added,  addressed  "to the  public," 
from  "  the  most  respectable  characters  in  Bos- 
ton," at  the  head  of  whom  is  his  Excellency  Gov. 
Thomas  Hutchinson,  with  such  fellow-witnesses 
as  John  Hancock,  the  Rev.  Mather  Byles,  and 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Samuel  Mather,  who  testify  their 
full  belief  that  the  poems  were  written  by  Phillis, 
:  and  state  the  additional  fact  that  "  she  has  been 
examined  by  some  of  the  best  judges,  and  is 
thought  qualified  to  write  them." 

To  these  biographical  facts,  we  may  add,  from 
the  Memoir  prefixed  to  an  edition  of  the  Poems 
published  in  Boston  in  1834-,  written  by  "  a  col- 
lateral descendant  of  Mrs.  Wheatley,  who  has 
been  familiar  with  the  name  and  fame  of  Phillis 
from  her  childhood,"  that  the  future'  poetess  was 
bought  in  the  slave-market  of  Boston,  where  she 
was  selected  by  Mrs.  Wheatley  for  her  delicate 
appearance.  She  was  taught  to  read  and  write 
by  one  of  this  lady's  daughters,  in  the  family,  and 
grew  up  as  a  pet  of  the  household — her  accom- 
plishments reflecting  honor  on  the  associations. 
It  does  not  appear  that  she  was  ever  formally 
manumitted.  The  only  recollection  which  she 
retained  of  her  life  in  Africa  was  a  poetical 
reminiscence  of  her  mother  pouring  out  water 
before  the  sun  at  his  rising — a  trait  of  natural 
devotion  in  a  heathen  land.  When  she  was  six- 
teen, in  1770,  Phillis  became  a  member  of  Dr. 
Sewall's  congregation  in  the  Old  South  Meeting. 

The  poems  themselves  show  as  marked  indica- 
tions of  the  feeding-grounds  of  the  readers  and 
imitators  of  verse  in  the  eighteenth  century,  as  do 
those  of  Mistress  Ann  Bradstreet  in  the  seven- 
teenth. "What  in  the  earlier  day  was  quaint, 
rude,  and  daring,  in  the  latter  is  smooth,  sound- 
ing and  fluent.  The  formal  muse  of  Pope,  and 
the  herd  of  victims  whom  he  impaled  in  the 
Dunciacl,  had  succeeded  in  the  American  colo- 
nies to  the,  twisted  efforts  of  Du  Bartas.  Phillis 
Wheatley  is  a  very  respectable  echo  of  the  Papal 
strains.  In  the  first  poem  of  the  volume,  ad- 
dressed To  Maecenas,  she  writes  of  Homer  with  an 
eloquence  evidently  derived  from  the  glowing 
translation  of  the  bright-eyed  little  man  at  Twick- 
enham : — 

While  Homer  paints,  lo !  eircumfua'd  in  air. 
Celestial  Gods  in  mortal  forms  appear ; 
Swift  as  they  move  hear  each  recess  rebound, 
Heav'n  quakes,  earth  trembles,  and  the  shores  re- 
sound. 
Great  Sire  of  verse,  before  my  mortal  eyes, 
The  lightnings  blaze  across  the  vaulted  skies  ; 
And,  as  the  thunder  shakes  the  hcav'nly  plains, 
A  deep-felt  horror  thrills  thro'  all  my  veins. 
When  gentler  strains  demand  thy  graceful  song, 
The  length'ning  line  moves  languishing  along. 
When  groat  Patroclus  courts  Achilles'  aid, 
The  grateful  tribute  of  my  tears  is  paid  ; 
Prone  on  the  shore  he  feels  the  pangs  of  love, 
And  stern  Pelides  tend'rest  passions  move. 

One  of  the  few  allusions  which  we  have  found 


in  the  poems  to  her  birth  and  condition  of  slavery 
is  among  these  verses.  She  gracefully  recalls  the 
African  Terence : — 

The  happier  Terence  all  the  choir  inspir'd, 
His  soul  replenish'd,  and  his  bosom  fir'd  ; 
But  say,  ye  Muses,  why  this  partial  grace, 
To  one  alone  of  Afrit's  sable  race ; 
From  age  to  age,  transmitting  thus  his  name 
With  the  first  glory  in  the  rolls  of  fame? 

The  longest  piece  of  classicality  in  the  volume 
is  a  paraphrase  of  the  story  of  Kiobe  and  her 
Children,  from  Ovid,  in  which  there  is  one  line, 
at  least,  which  would  do  honor  to  any  pen. 
Apollo  is  preparing  the  slaughter  of  the  sons  in 
the  race-course,  the  moment  before  that  arrowy 
devastation : — 

With  clouds  incompass'd  glorious  Phoebus  stands; 
Tlic  feather  d  vengeance  quivring  in  his  hands. 

This  is  not  a  translation  of  anything  in  Ovid, 
for  that  writer  has  neglected  so  striking  a  posi- 
tion for  his  Deity.  Apollo,  in  the  Metamorphoses, 
goes  to  work  at  once  in  the  most  business-like 
manner,  and  covers  the  field  with  the  slain  in  the 
shortest  possible  time.  Another  touch  of  the 
poetic  flight  of  the  arrow  is  added  to  the  original 
text  in  the  death  of  Sipylus  : — 

Then  didst  thou,  Sipylus,  the  language  hear 
Of  fate  portentous  whistling  in  the  air. 

Certainly,  even  with  the  assistance  of  a  master, 
it  was  a  most  generous  acquisition  for  a  female 
African  slave  to  appreciate  that  fine  classic  story 
in  this  way. 

The  remaining  poems  are  far  from  mediocrity. 
A  large  number  of  them  belong  to  the  class  of 
occasional  verses  addressed  to  her  friends  on 
various  family  afflictions ;  so  that  she  was  for  the 
time  a  kind  of  poet-laureate  in  the  first  domestic 
circles  of  Boston.  Nor  is  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, in  New  England,  forgotten.  The  earnest 
religious  feeling  of  the  Methodists  is  everywhere 
visible.  The  lines,  To  S.  M.,  a  Young  African 
Painter,  on  seeing  his  works,  refer  to  Scipio 
Moorhead,  a  servant  of  the  Rev.  John  Moorhead, 
of  Boston,  who  exhibited  some  talent  for  draw- 
ing. The  initials  of  the  lady  to  whom  the  Fare- 
well to  America  is  addressed,  belong  to  Mrs. 
Susanna  Wright,  a  lady  of  some  note  for  her  skill 
in  waxwork.  By  the  favor  of  Mr.  S.  F.  Haven, 
of  Worcester,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the 
last  two  items  of  information,  we  have  before  us 
the  original  manuscript  of  two  of  the  poems,  To 
ths  University  of  Cambridge,  and  the  lines  On 
the  Death  of  the  See.  Dr.  Sewall,  written  in  the 
author's  remarkably  round  neat  hand.  The 
earliest  verses  dated  in  the  collection  are  those 
addressed  To  the  King's  Most  Excellent  Majesty, 
marked  1768.  From  this  manuscript  it  appears 
that  the  lines  on  Harvard  were  written  in  1767. 

On  her  return  from  England,  after  the  publica- 
tion, of  the  poems,  the  Wheatley  family  was 
broken  up  by  death,  and  Phillis  married  a  colored 
man,  who  seems,  to  have  been  a  showy  fellow, 
passing,  according  to  one  account,  as  a  lawyer, 
another  as  a  grocer,  and  a  third  a  barber.  He 
fell  into  poverty  during  the  Revolution,  and  his 
wife  suffered  with  him  till  she  died  in  Boston, 
Dec.  5,  1784.  It  was  one  tiling  dreaming  with 
Ovid,  and  another  living  with  "  Doctor  Peters." 


PHILLIS  WHEATLEY. 


369 


The  poems  of  Phillis  Wheatley  having  been 
published  in  a  volume  eleven  years  before  her 
death,  and  that  edition  of  1773  having  been  fol- 
lowed in  subsequent  ones,*  the  occasional  verses 
which  she  published  afterwards  yet  remain  to  be 
collected.  Of  these  we  present  several  to  our 
readers.  The  most  important  of  them  are  the 
lines  to  General  Washington,  in  1775,  which  fol- 
low with  the  letter  that  accompanied  them.t 


Sir: 


Phillis  Wheatley  to  Gen.  Washington. 


I  have  taken  the  freedom  to  address  your 
Excellency  in  the  enclosed  Poem,  and  entreat  your 
acceptance,  though  I  am  not  insensible  of  its  inaccu- 
racies. Your  being  appointed  by  the  Grand  Conti- 
nental Congress  to  be  Generalissimo  of  the  armies 
of  Nortli  America,  together  with  the  fame  of  your 
virtues,  excite  sensations  not  easy  to  suppress.  Your 
generosity,  therefore,  I  presume,  will  pardon  the 
attempt.  Wishing  your  Excellency  all  possible  suc- 
cess in  the  great  cause  you  are  so  generously  en- 
gaged in,  I  am 

Your  Excellency's  most  obedient  humble  servant, 

PHILLIS  WHEATLEY. 

Providence,  Oct.  26,  1775. 

HIS  EXCELLENCY  GEN.  WA8niNGT0N. 

Celestial  choir !  enthron'd  in  realms  of  light. 
Columbia's  scenes  of  glorious  toils  I  write. 
While  freedom's  cause  her  anxious  breast  alarms, 
She  flashes  dreadful  in  refulgent  arms. 
See  mother  earth  her  offspring's  fate  bemoan, 
And  nations  gaze  at  scenes  before  unknown ! 
See  the  bright  beams  of  heaven's  revolving  light 
Involved  in  sorrows  and  the  veil  of  night! 

The  goddess  comes,  she  moves  divinely  fair, 
Olive  and  laurel  binds  her  golden  hair: 
Wherever  shines  this  native  of  the  skies, 
Unnumber'd  charms  and  recent  graces  rise. 

Muse !  bow  propitious  while  my  pen  relates 
How  pour  her  armies  through  a  thousand  gates, 
As  when  Eolus  heaven's  fair  face  deforms, 
Enwrapp'd  in  tempest  and  a  night  of  storms; 
Astonish'd  ocean  feels  the  wild  uproar, 
The  refluent  surges  beat  the  sounding  shore; 
Or  thick  as  leaves  in  Autumn's  golden  reign, 
Such,  and  so  many,  moves  the  warrior's  train. 
In  bright  array  they  seek  the  work  of  war, 
Where  high  unfurl'd  the  ensign  waves  in  air. 
Shall  I  to  Washington  their  praise  recite? 
Enough  thou  know'st  them  in  the  fields  of  fight. 
Thee,  first  in  place  and  honours, — we  demand 
The  grace  and  glory  of  thy  martial  band. 
F.im'd  for  thy  valour,  for  thy  virtues  more, 
Hear  every  tongue  thy  guardian  aid  implore! 

One  century  scarce  perform'd  its  destined  round, 
When  Gallic  powers  Columbia's  fury  found ; 


*  Besides  the  Boston  edition,  published  by  G.  W.  Light,  to 
which  we  have  alluded,  we  have  before  us  one  reprinted  from 
the  London  edition  by  Barber  and  Southwiek,  for  Thomas 
Spencer,  bookseller,  Market  street,  Albany,  in  1793.  A  separate 
brief  memoir,  by  B.  B.  Thatcher,  was  also  issued  at  Boston,  by 
Light,  in  1884. 

+  Washington  mentions  coming  across  Phillis  Wlieatley's 
poem  and  letter,  "  in  searching  over  a  parcel  of  papers,"  in  a 
letter  to  Joseph  Read,  Camb./Feb.  10,  1776.  Mr.  Sparks  says 
he  lias  not  been  able  to  find,  the  poem  and  letter  among  Wash- 
ington's papers,  and  that  "  they  have  doubtless  been  lost.  It 
might  be  curious,"  he  adds.  uto  see  in  what  manner  she 
would  eulogize  liberty  and  the  rights  of  man.  while  herself, 
nominally  at  least,  in  bondage."— Washington's  Writings,  iii. 
299.  The  poem  and  letter  were  probably  given  by  Washing- 
ton to  the  printer. 
VOL.    I. — 24 


And  so  may  you,  whoever  dares  disgrace 
The  land  of  freedom's  heaven-defended  race! 
Fix'd  are  the  eyes  of  nations  on  the  scales, 
For  in  their  hopes  Columbia's  arm  prevails. 
Anon  Britannia  droops  the  pensive  head, 
While  round  increase  the  rising  hills  of  dead. 
Ah!  cruel  blindness  to  Columbia's  state! 
Lament  thy  thirst  of  boundless  power  too  late. 
Proceed,  great  chief,  with  virtue  on  thy  side, 
Thy  ev'ry  action  let  the  goddess  guide. 
A  crown,  a  mansion,  and  a  throne  that  shine, 
With  gold  unfading,  Washington  !  be  thine. 

This  was  Washington's  reply : — 

Cambridge,  February  2d,  1776. 
Miss  Phillis: 

Your  favour  of  the  26th  October  did  not  reach 
my  hands  till  the  middle  of  December.  Time 
enough,  you  will  say,  to  have  given  an  answer  ere 
this.  Granted.  But  a  variety  of  important  occur- 
rences continually  interposing  to  distract  the  mind 
and  withdraw  the  attention,  I  hope  will  apologize 
for  the  delay,  aud  plead  my  excuse  for  the  seeming 
but  not  real  neglect.  I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for 
your  polite  notice  of  me,  iu  the  elegant  lines  you 
enclosed ;  and  however  undeserving  I  may  be  of 
such  encomium  and  panegyric,  the  style  and  manner 
exhibit  a  striking  proof  of  your  poetical  talents;  iu 
honour  of  which,  and  as  a  tribute  justly  due  to  you, 
I  would  have  published  the  poem,  hail  I  not  been 
apprehensive  that,  while  I  only  meant  to  give  the 
world  this  new  instance  of  your  genius,  I  might  have 
incurred  the  imputation  of  vanity.  This,  and  no- 
thing else,  determined  me  not  to  give  it  place  in  the 
public  prints.  If  you  should  ever  come  to  Cam- 
bridge, or  near  head-quarters,  I  shall  be  happy  to 
see  a  person  so  favoured  by  the  muses,  and  to  whom 
Nature  has  been  so  liberal  and  beneficent  in  her 
dispensations.  I  am,  with  great  respect,  your  obe- 
dient humble  servant, 

George  Washington: 

The  lines  and  letter  of  Phillis  Wheatley  were 
published  in  the  Pennsjlvania  Magazine  or  Ame- 
rican Monthly  Museum  for  April,  1776. 

In  Jan.,  1784,  the  year  other  death,  she  wrote 
an  Elegy  of  fifty-two  lines,  To  the  Memory  of 
that  Greed  Divine,  the  Reverend  anil  Learned  Dr. 
Samuel  Cooper,  a  copy  of  which  is  preserved  in 
the  Boston  Athenseum.  It  is  dedicated  Totho 
Church  and  Congregation  assembling  in  Brattle 
street,  by  their  Obedient  Humble  Servant,  Phillis 
Peters.  We  have  also  met  with  the  following  of 
the  same  year,  in  the  American  Antiquarian 
Society,  in  four  small  quarto  pages  printed  at 
Boston  by  Warden  and  Russell : — 

LIBEnTT  AND  PEACE. 

Lo  freedom  eomes.     Th'  prescient  muse  foretold, 
All  eyes  th'  accomplish'd  prophecy  behold: 
Her  port  describ'd,  "  She  moves  divinely  fair, 
Olive  and  laurel  bind  her  golden  hair." 
She,  the  bright  progeny  of  Heaven,  descends, 
And  eveiw  grace  her  sovereign  step  attends  ; 
For  now  kind  Heaven,  indulgent  to  our  prayer, 
In  smiling  peace  resolves  the  din  of  war. 
Fix'd  in  Columbia  her  illustrious  line, 
And  bids  in  thee  her  future  councils  shine. 
To  every  realm  her  portals  open'd  wide, 
Receives  from  each  the  full  commercial  tide. 
Each  art  and  science  now  with  rising  charms, 
Th'  expanding  heart  with  emulation  warms. 


3  TO 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


E'en  great  Britannia  sees  with  dread  surprise, 
And  from  the  dazzling  splendors  turns  her  eyes. 
Britain,  whose  navies  swept  th'  Atlantic  o'er, 
And  thunder  sent  to  every  distant  shore; 
E'en  thou,  in  manners  cruel  as  thou  art, 
The  sword  resign'd,  resume  the  friendly  part. 
For  Gallia's  power  espous'd  Columbia's  cause, 
And  new-born  Rome  shall  give  Britannia  laws, 
Nor  unremember'd  in  the  grateful  strain, 
Shall  princely  Louis'  friendly  deeds  remain  ; 
The  generous  prince  th'  impending  vengeance  eyes, 
Sees  the  tierce  wrong  and  to  the  rescue  flies. 
'  Perish  that  thirst  of  boundless  power,  that  drew 
On  Albion's  head  the  curse  to  tyrants  due. 
But  thou  appeas'd  submit  to  Heaven's  decree, 
That  bids  this  realm  of  freedom  rival  thee. 
Now  sheathe  the  sword  that  bade  the  brave  atone 
With  guiltless  blood  for  madness  not  their  own. 
Sent  from  th'  enjoyment  of  their  native  shore, 
Ill-fated — never  to  behold  her  more. 
From  every  kingdom  on  Europa's  coast 
Throng'd  various  troops,  their  glory,  strength,  and 

boast. 
With  heart-felt  pity  fair  Hibernia  saw 
Columbia  menac'd  by  the  Tyrant's  law  : 
On  hostile  fields  fraternal  arms  engage,  . 
And  mutual  deaths,  all  dealt  with  mutual  rage : 
The  muse's  ear  hears  mother  earth  deplore 
Her  ample  surface  smoke  with  kindred  gore : 
The  hostile  field  destroys  the  social  ties, 
And  everlasting  slumber  seals  their  ej'es. 
Columbia  mourns,  the  haughty  foes  deride, 
Her  treasures  plunder'd  and  her  towns  destroy'd: 
Witness  how  Charlestown's  curling  smokes  arise, 
In  sable  columns  to  the  clouded  skies. 
The  ample  dome,  high-wrought  with  curious  toil, 
In  one  sad  hour  the  savage  troops  despoil. 
Descending  peace  the  power  of  war  confounds; 
From  every  tongue  celestial  peace  resounds: 
As  from  the  east  th'  illustrious  king  of  day, 
With  rising  radiance  drives  the  shades  away, 
So  freedom  comes  array'd  with  charms  divine, 
And  in  her  train  commerce  and  plenty  shine. 
Britannia  owns  her  independent  reign, 
Hibernia,  Scotia  and  the  realms  of  Spain; 
And  great  Germania's  ample  coast  admires 
The  generous  spirit  that  Columbia  fires. 
Auspicious  Heaven  shall  fill  with  fav'ring  gales, 
Where  e'er  Columbia  spreads  her  swelling  sails: 
To  every  realm  shall  peace  her  charms  display, 
And  heavenly  freedom  spread  her  golden  ray. 

The  two  following  are  printed  from  the  author's 
manuscript : — ■ 

TO  THE  TTN-IVEKSITY  OF  CAMBRIDGE,   "WROTE  EN  17C7. 

While  an  intrinsic  ardor  bids  me  write, 
The  muse  doth  promise  to  assist  my  pen. 
Twas  but  ere  now  I  left  my  native  shore, 
The  sable  land  of  error's  darkest  night ; 
There,  sacred  Nine!  no  place  for  you  was  found: 
Parent  of  mercy,  'twas  thy  powerful  hand 
Brought  me  in  safety  from  the  dark  abode. 

To  you,  bright   youths,  he   points  the  heights  of 

heav'n, 
To  you  the  knowledge  of  the  depths  profound, 
Above, 'contemplate  the  ethereal  space, 
And  glorious  systems  of  revolving  worlds. 

Still  more,  ye  sons  of  science !  you've  received 
The  pleasing  sound  by  messengers  from  heav'n, 
The  Saviour's  blood  for  your  Redemption  flows : 
See  him  with  hands  stretched  out  upon  the  cross, 
Divine  compassion  in  his  :bosom  glows; 


He  hears  ievilers  with  oblique  regard — 
What  condescension  in  the  Son  of  God? 

When  the  whole  human  race  by  sin  had  fall'n  : 
He  deigned  to  die,  that  they  might  rise  again, 
To  live  with  him  beyond  the  starry  sky, 
Life  without  death  and  glory  without  end. 

Improve  your  privileges  while  they  stay  : 
Caress,  redeem  each  moment,  which  with  haste 
Bears  on  its  rapid  wing  eternal  bliss. 
Let  hateful  vice,  so  baneful  to  the  soul, 
Be  still  avoided  with  becoming  care; 
Suppress  the  sable  monster  in  its  growth. 
Ye  blooming  plants  of  human  race  divine 
An  Ethiop  tells  you  'tis  your  greatest  foe, 
It  present  sweetness  turns  to  endless  pain, 
And  brings  eternal  ruin  on  the  sotd. 

ON  THE  DEATn  OF  THE  EEV.  DR.  SEWALL,  17G9. 

Ere  yet  the  morning  heav'd  its  orient  head, 
Behold  him  praising  with  the  happy  dead. 
Hail!  happy  saint,  on  the  immortal  shore, 
We  hear  thyT  warning  and  advice  no  more; 
Then  let  each  one  behold  with  wishful  eyes 
The  saint  ascending  to  his  native  6kies, 
From  hence  the  prophet  wings  his  rapturous  way 
To  mansions  pure,  to  fair  celestial  day. 

Then  begging  for  the  spirit  of  his  God, 

And  panting  eager  for  the  bless'd  abode, 

Let  ev'ry  one  with  the  same  vigour  soar 

To  bliss  and  happiness  unseen  before; 

Then  be  Christ's  image  on  our  minds  impress'd, 

And  plant  a  Saviour  in  each  glowing  breast, 

Thrice  happy  thou,  arrived  at  joy  at  last, 

What  compensation  for  the  evil  past ! 

Thou  Lord,  incomprehensible,  unknown 

To  sense,  we  bow  at  thy  exalted  throne  1 

While  thus  we  beg  thy  excellence  to  feel, 

Thy  sacred  spirit  in  our  hearts  reveal, 

And  make  each  one  of  us  that  grace  partake, 

Which  thus  we  ask  for  the  Redeemer's  sake. 

"  Sewall  is  dead,"  swift  pinion'd  fame  thus  cry'd. 

Is  Sewall  dead?  my  trembling  heart  reply'd. 

0  what  a  blessing  in  thy  flight  deny'd! 

But  when  our  Jesus  had  ascended  high, 

With  captive  bands  he  led  captivity  ; 

And  gifts  received  for  such  as  knew  not  God, 

Lord,  send  a  pastor  for  thy  churches'  good. 

0  ruined  world !  bereft  of  thee,  we  cry'd 
(The  rocks,  responsive  to  the  voice,  reply'd), 
How  oft  for  us  this  holy  prophet  pray'd  ; 
But  ah !  behold  him  in  his  clay-cold  bed, 
By  duty  urged  my  weeping  verse  to  close, 
I'll  on  his  Tomb  an  Epitaph  compose. 

Lo!  here  a  man  bought  with  Christ's  precious  blood, 
Once  a  poor  sinner,  now  a  saint  with  God ; 
Behold!  ye  rich  and  poor,  and  fools  and  wise,  * 

Nor  let  this  monitor  your  hearts  surprise! 
I'll  tell  you  all  what  this  great  saint  has  done, 
Which  makes  him  brighter  than  the  glorious  sun: 
Listen,  ye  happy,  from  your  seats  above, 

1  speak  sincerely,  and  with  truth  and  love; 
He  sought  the  paths  of  virtue  and  of  truth  ; 
'Twas  this  which  made  him  happy  in  his  youth. 
In  blooming  years  he  found  that  grace  divine, 
Which  gives  admittance  to  the  sacred  shrine. 
Mourn  him,  ye  irtdigent,  whom  he  has  fed; 
Seek  yet  more  earnest  for  the  living  Bread 

E'en  Christ,  your  Bread,  what  cometh  from  above 

Implore  his  pity,  and  his  grace  and  love. 
Mourn  him,  ye  youth,  whom  he  hath  often  told 
God's  bounteous  mercy  from  the  times  of  old. 
I,  too,  have  cause  this  mighty  loss  to  mourn, 
For  this  my  monitor  will  not  return. 


BENJAMIN  THOMPSON. 


371 


Now,  this  faint  semblance  of  his  life  complete; 
He  is,  through  Jesus,  made  divinely  great, 
And  left  a  glorious  pattern  to  repeat. 
But  wheu  shall  we  to  this  bless'd  state  arrive  ? 
When  the  same  graces  in  our  hearts  do  thrive. 

The  following  arc  from  the  volume  collected 
by  the  author  : — 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  F.EV.   MR.    GEORGE  WITITEFIELD,   1770. 

Hail,  happy  saint,  on  thine  immortal  throne 
Possest  of  glory,  life,  and  bliss  unknown. 
We  hear  no  more  the  music  of  thy  tongue, 
Thy  wonted  auditories  cease  to  throng. 
Thy  sermons  in  unequall'd  accents  flow'd, 
And  ev'ry  bosom  with  devotion  glow'd : 
Thou  didst  in  strains  of  eloquence  refin'd 
Inflame  the  heart,  and  captivate  the  mind. 
Unhappy,  we  the  setting  sun  deplore, 
So  glorious  once,  but  ah !  it  shines  no  more. 

Behold  the  prophet  in  his  tow'ring  flight  I 
He  leaves  the  earth  for  heaven's  unmeasur'd  height, 
And  worlds  unknown  receive  him  from  our  sight. 
There  Whilefield  wings  with  rapid  course  his  way, 
And  sails  to  Zlon  through  vast  seas  of  day. 
Thy  pray'rs,  great  saint,  and  thine  incessant  cries 
Have  pierc'd  the  bosom  of  thy  native  skies. 
Thou,  moon,  hast  seen,  and  all  the  stars  of  light, 
How  lie  has  wrestled  with  his  God  by  night. 
He  pray'd  that  grace  in  ev'ry  heart  might  dwell, 
He  long'd  to  see  America  excell ; 
He  charg'd  its  youth  that  ev'ry  grace  divine 
Should  witli  full  lustre  in  their  conduct  shine ; 
That  Saviour  which  his  soul  did  first  receive, 
The  greatest  gift  that  e'en  a  God  can  give, 
He  freely  offer'd  to  the  num'rous  throng, 
That  on  his  lips  with  list'ning  pleasure  hung. 

"Take  him,  ye  wretched,  for  your  only  good, 
Take  him,  ye  starving  sinners,  for  your  food; 
Ye  thirsty,  come  to  tins  life-giving  stream, 
Ye  preachers,  take  him  for  your  joyTful  theme; 
Take  him,  my  dear  Americans,  he  said, 
Be  your  complaints  on  his  kind  bosom  laid: 
Take  him,  ye  Africans,  he  longs  for  you, 
Impartial  Saviour  is  his  title  due: 
Wash'd  in  the  fountain  of  redeeming  blood, 
You  shall  be  sons,  and  kings,  and  priests  to  God." 

Great  Countess*  we  Americans  revere 
Thy  name,  and  mingle  in  thy  grief  sincere ; 
New  England  deeply  feels,  the  Orphans  mourn, 
Their  more  than  father  will  no  more  return. 

But,  tho'  arrested  by  the  hand  of  death, 
Whitefield  no  more  exerts  his  lab'ring  breath  ; 
Yet  let  us  view  him  in  th'  eternal  skies, 
Let  ev'ry  heart  to  this  bright  vision  rise ; 
While  the  tomb  safe  retains  its  sacred  trust, 
Till  life  divine  re-animates  his  dust. 

A      FAREWELL      TO      AMERICA. 

To  Jfrs.  SusannaWrigM, 

I.  • 

Adieu,  New  England's  smiling  meads 

Adieu,  the  flow'ry  plain  ; 
I  leave  thine  op'ning  charms,  O  spring, 
And  tempt  the  roaring  main. 

n. 
In  vain  for  me  the  fiow'rets  rise, 

And  boast  their  gaudy  pride, 
While  here  beneath  the  northern  skies 

I  mourn  for  health  deny'd. 


*  The  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  to  whom  Mr.  Whitefield  was 
Chaplain. 


Celestial  maid  of  rosy  hue, 

0  let  me  feel  thy  reign! 
I  languish  till  thy  face  I  view, 

Thy  vanish'd  joys  regain. 

IV. 

Susannah  mourns,  nor  can  I  bear 

To  see  the  crystal  show'r, 
Or  mark  the  tender  falling  tear 

At  sad  departure's  hour ; 
v. 
Nor  unregarding  can  I  see 

Her  soul  with  grief  opprest : 
But  let  no  sighs,  no  groans  for  me, 

Steal  from  her  pensive  breast. 

VI. 

In  vain  the  feathered  warblers  sir.g, 
In  vain  the  garden  blooms, 

And  on  the  bosom  of  the  spring 
Breathes  out  her  sweet  perfumes. 

VII. 

While  for  Britannia 's  distant  shore 
We  6weep  the  liquid  plain, 

And  witli  astonish'd  eyes  explore 
The  wide  extended  main. 

vm. 
Lo,  Health  appears  !  celestial  dame  ; 

Complacent  and  serene, 
With  Hebe's  mantle  o'er  her  frame. 

With  soul-deliglitiiuj  mien. 


To  mark  the  vale  where  London  lies 
With  misty  vapours  crown'd, 

Which  cloud  Auroras  thousand  dyes. 
And  veil  her  charms  around. 


Why,  Phoebus,  moves  thy  car  so  slow? 

So  slow  thy  rising  ray  i 
Give  us  the  famous  town  to  view 

Thou  glorious  king  of  day ! 

XI. 

For  thee,  Britannia,  I  resign, 

New  England's  smiling  fields; 
To  view  again  her  charms  divine, 

What  joy  the  prospect  yields! 

xn. 
But  thou,  temptation,  hence  awav, 

With  all  thy  fatal  train  ; 
Nor  once  seduce  my  soul  awajr, 

By  thine  enchanting  strain. 

XIII. 

Thrice  happy  they,  whose  heav'nly  shield 

Secures  their  souls  from  harms, 
And  fell  Temptation  on  the  held 

Of  all  its  pow'r  disarms  I 
Boston,  May,  7,  1775. 

BENJAMIN  THOMPSON, 

Better  known  by  his  title  of  Count  Eumford, 
was  a  native  of  Wolmrn,  Massachusetts.  He  was 
born  March  26, 1753.  After  receiving  a  common- 
school  education,  he  was  placed  with  a  physician, 
Dr.  Hay.  He  indicated  an  aptness  for  the 
mechanic  arts,  amusing  himself  by  making  surgi- 
cal instruments,  and  afterwards,  when  employed 
as  a  clerk  in  a  store,  by  manufacturing  fireworks, 
the  latter  experiment  leading  to  an  explosion  by 


372 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


which  he  was  severely  burned,  and  for  a  time 
deprived  of  sight.  lie  showed  little  taste  for 
business  pursuits.  He  attended  the  course  of  phi- 
losophical lectures  established  at  Cambridge  about 
1769,  as  a  charity  scholar,  walking  nine  miles  and 
back  every  day  for  the  sake  of  the  instruction 
and  pleasure  they  afforded  him. 


(/O  (/yi-i        is  /lstyr>7 


*u<rv\~ 


In  1772  he  engaged  in  school-keeping  in  Brad- 
ford, Massachusetts,  and  soon  after  at  Eumford, 
now  Concord,  N.  H.,  where  he  improved  his  cir- 
cumstances by  marrying  a  widow,  Mrs.  Rolfe. 

He  was  with  the  American  army  at  Lexington, 
and  at  Cambridge  on  the  arrival  of  Washington 
as  commander-in-chief,  but  afterwards  became 
identified  with  the  royalist  side.  He  sailed  for 
England  in  January,  1776.  After  a  residence  of 
several  years  in  that  country,  where  he  became 
known  as  a  scientific  man,  and  held  a  post  in  the 
office  of  the  department  of  American  affairs,  he 
was  sent,  near  the  close  of  the  war,  to  New  York, 
where  he  raised  a  regiment  of  dragoons  and 
became  a  lieutenant-colonel. 

In  1784  he  returned  to  England,  and  was 
knighted  by  George  III.  In  consequence  of  Ids 
scientific  reputation,  he  received  an  invitation 
from  the  Bavarian  government  to  remove  to  that 
country.  He  accepted  the  proposal,  and  resided 
for  some  years  in  Munich,  where  he  introduced 
several  reforms  in  the  police  service.  One  of  his 
most  successful  efforts  was  in  the  treatment  of  the 
beggars,  with  whom  the  streets  of  Munich  were 
infested.  On  a  given  day,  sallying  out  with  a 
proper  military  force,  he  swept  these  vagrants 
from  the  streets,  and  by  establishing  houses  of 
industry,  brought  many  of  them  to  adopt  thrifty 
habits.  He  was  made  a  Count  by  the  Elector 
Palatine,  the  title  Romford  being  his  own  selec- 
tion, in  compliment  to  his  former  residence,  and 
received  decorations  from  many  of  the  courts  of 
Europe.  Visiting  England,  he  projected  the 
Royal  Institution,  and  suggested  Humphrey  Davy, 
then  but  twenty-two,  as  the  head  of  its  chemical 
department.  In  1802,  he  went  to  Paris,  and 
married  a  second  wife,*  the  widow  of  Lavoisier, 
from  whom  he  was  soon  separated.  In  the  enjoy- 
ment of  a  pension  from  the  King  of  Bavaria,  he 
resided  at  Auteuil,  near  Paris,  till  his  death, 
August  20,  1814.  His  funeral  oration  before  the 
Institute  was  delivered  by  Cuvier.t 


*  His  first.  "  ■whom  he  appears  to  have  deserted,  died  in  New 
Hampshire,  in  1792." — Sabine's  American  Loyalists.  644. 

t  An  elegant  and  expensive  marble  monument  was  erected  in 

the  English  garden  at  Munich,  during  Count  Rurnford's  absence 

from  Bavaria,  bearing  the  following  inscription  in  German  : — 

Stay,  wanderer. 

At  the  creative  fiat  of  Charles  Theodore 

Rumford.  the  friend  of  mankind, 

by  genius,  taste,  and  love  inspired. 

Changed  this  once  desert  place 

into  what  thou  now  beholdest. 

And  on  the  opposite  side  : — 

To  him 

who  rooted  out  the  greatest  of  public  evi's, 

idleness  and  mendicity; 

Relieved  and  instructed  the  poor, 

and  founded  many  institutions 

for  the  educating  of  our  youth. 


By  his  will  he  bequeathed  one  thousand  dollars 
annually,  and  the  reversion  of  other  sums,  to  the 
"  University  of  Cambridge,  in  the  State  of  Massa- 
chusetts, in  North  America,  for  the  purpose  of 
founding,  under  the  direction  and  management  of 
the  Corporation,  Overseers,  and  Government  of 
that  University,  a  new  Institution  and  Professor- 
ship, in  order  to  teach,  by  regular  courses  of  aca- 
demical and  public  lectures,  accompanied  with 
proper  experiments,  the  utility  of  the  physical 
and  mathematical  sciences,  for  the  improvement 
of  the  useful  arts,  and  for  the  extension  of  the 
industry,  prosperity,  happiness,  and  well-being 
of  society."  In  December,  1816,  the  Rumford 
Professorship  was  established  in  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, and  Dr.  Jacob  Bigelow  appointed  the  first 
professor.  In  his  Inaugural,  after  reviewing  the 
progress  of  physical  science,  and  the  advantages 
of  New  England  culture,  he  pronounced  a  judi- 
cious eulogy  on  the  founder,  with  this  general 
summary  of  his  various  philosophical  improve- 
ments in  private  and  political  economy : — 

"  In  the  prosecution  of  them  he  was  led  to  the 
observation  of  many  curious  phenomena  of  light 
and  caloric,  with  which  the  world  has  been 
made  acquainted.  The  application  of  these  to  use, 
and  the  various  contrivances  he  originated,  to 
increase  the  convenience,  economy,  and  comforts 
of  living,  have  given  a  character  to  his  writings, 
and  are  everywhere  associated  with  his  name. 
His  pursuits  might  even  be  embodied  into  a 
science,  for  their  object  is  everywhere  known ;  a 
science  conversant  with  a  multiplicity  of  details, 
but  possessing  unity  of  design ;  a  science  humble 
in  the  sphere  of  its  operations,  but  noble  in  its 
ultimate  destiny ;  a  science  which  every  man 
must  practise,  but  which  philosophers  and  phi- 
lanthropists must  extend;  one,  which  should  it 
ever  demand  a  definition,  would  be  found  to  be 
the  science — of  clothing,  of  warming,  and  of 
nourishing  mankind." 

His  daughter,  by  permission  of  the  King  of 
Bavaria,  bore  the  title  Countess  of  Rumford.  She 
came  to  America  after  her  father's  death,  and 
lived  at  Concord,  where  she  died  in  1852.  Her 
will  secured  the  fine  estate  on  which  she  resided 
to  the  purposes  of  an  asylum  for  indigent  children. 
His  Essays,  Political,  Economical,  and  Philosophi- 
cal* were  published  in  London,  and  were  re- 
printed in  Boston,  in  1798.  The  several  chapters, 
which  are  somewhat  curiously  arranged,  cover  a 
wide  sphere  of  philanthropy.  There  are  specula- 
tions and  calculations  on  the  treatment  of  beg- 
gars, in  which  he  gives  an  account  of  his  expe- 
riences in  Munich,  of  the  foundation  and  regulation 
of  the  Houses  of  Industry  established  under  his 
direction,   the  improvement  wrought   in  morals 


Go.  wanderer, 

and  strive  to  equal  him 

.  in  genius  and  activity, 

and  us 

in  gratitude. 

*  Essays,  Political,  Economical,  and  Philosophical.  By  Ben- 
jamin Count  of  Rumford,  Knight  of  the  Orders  of  the'White 

'  Eagle,  and  St.  Stanislaus ;  Chamberlain.  Privy  Counsellor  of 
State,  and  Lieutenant-General  in  the  Service  of  his  Most  Serene 
Highness  the  Elector  Palatine,  Reigning  Duke  of  Bavaria; 

\  Colonel  of  his  Regiment  of  Artillerv.  and  Commander  in  Chief 
of  the  General  Staff  of  his  Army;  F.R.S.  Acad.  P..  Iliber. 
Berol.  Elec.  Boicce.  Falat.  et  Amor.  Soe.  The  first  American, 
from  the  Third  London  Edition  Boston:  Printed  by  Manning 
&  Loring,  for  David  West,  March,  1798. 


DAVID  HUMPHREYS. 


373 


and  manners  of  the  paupers  by  the  kind  treat- 
ment they  received.  A  large  space  is  devoted  to 
a  discussion  of  cheap  food,  one  of  the  chapters  on 
this  subject  being  headed,  "  Of  the  Pleasure  of 
Eating,  and  of  the  means  that  may  be  employed 
for  increasing  it." 

Joel  Barlow,  in  the  Mountains  of  Savoy,  when 
he  retired  for  a  while  from  the  luxuries  of  Paris, 
wrote  a  poem  for  the  consolation  of  his  frugal 
countrymen  at  home,  on  the  joys  and  associations 
of  Hasty  Pudding.  As  a  pendant  to  that  quaint 
production,  the  reader  may  desire  to  possess  him- 
self of  Count  Rumlbrd's  scientific  handling  of  the 
6ame  article : — 

In  regard  to  the  most  advantageous  method  of 
using  Indian  Corn  as  food,  I  would  strongly  recom- 
mend, particularly  when  it  is  employed  for  feeding 
the  pour,  a  dish  made  of  it  that  is  in  the  highest 
estimation  throughout  America,  and  which  is  really 
very  good,  and  very  nourishing.  This  is  called 
hasty-pudding  ;  and  it  is  made  in  the  following  man- 
ner: A  quantity  of  water,  proportioned  to  the 
quantity  of  hasty-pudding  intended  to  be  made,  is 
put.  over  the  fire  in  an  open  iron  pot,  or  kettle,  and 
a  proper  quantity  of  salt  for  seasoning  the  pudding 
being  previously  dissolved  in  the  water,  Indian  meal 
is  stirred  into  it,  by  little  and  little,  with  a  wooden 
spoon  with  a  long  han/lle,  while  the  water  goes  on 
to  be  heated  and  made  to  boil;  great  care  being 
taken  to  put  in  the  meal  by  very  small  quantities, 
and  by  sitting  it  slowly  through  the  fingers  of  the 
left  hand,  and  stirring  the  water  about  very  briskly 
at  the  same  time  with  the  wooden  spoon,  with  the 
right  hand,  to  mix  the  meal  with  the  water  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  prevent  lumps  being  formed.  The 
meal  should  be  added  so  slowly,  that,  when  the 
water  is  brought  to  boil,  the  mass  should  not  be 
thicker  than  water-gruel,  and  half  an  hour  more,  .at 
least,  should  be  employed  to  add  the  additional 
quantity  of  meal  necessary  for  bringing  the  pudding 
to  be  of  the  proper  consistency  ;  during  which  time 
it  should  be  stirred  about  continually,  and  kept  con- 
stantly boiling.  The  method  of  determining  when 
the  pudding  has  acquired  the  proper  consistency  is 
this ;  the  wooden  spoon  used  for  stirring  it  being 
placed  upright  in  the  middle  of  the  kettle,  if  it  falls 
down,  more  meal  must,  be  added ;  but  if  the  pudding 
is  sufficiently  thick  and  adhesive  to  support  it  in  a 
vertical  position,  it  is  declared  to  be  proof;  and  no 
more  meal  is  added.  If  the  boiling,  instead  of  being 
continued  only  half  an  hour,  be  prolonged  to  three 
quarters  of  an  hour,  or  an  hour,  the  pudding  will  be 
considerably  improved  by  this  prolongation. 

This  hasty-pudding,  when  done,  may  be  eaten  in 
various  ways.  It  may  be  put,  "while  hot,  by  spoon- 
fuls into  a  bowl  of  milk,  and  eaten  with  the  milk 
with  a  spoon,  in  lieu  of  bread  ;  and  used  in  this  way 
it  is  remarkably  palatable.  It  may  likewise  be  eaten, 
while  hot,  with  a  sauce  composed  of  butter  and 
brown  sugar,  or  butter  and  molasses,  with  or  with- 
out a  few  drops  of  vinegar;  and  however  people 
who  have  not  been  accustomed  to  this  American 
cookery  may  be  prejudiced  against  it,  they  will  find 
upon  trial  that  it  makes  a  most  excellent  dish,  and 
one  which  never  fails  to  be  much  liked  by  those  who 
are  accustomed  to  it.  The  universal  fondness  of 
Americans  for  it  proves  that  it  must  have  some 
merit ;  for  in  a  country  which  produces  all  the  deli- 
cacies of  the  table  in  the  greatest  abundance,  it  is 
not  to  be  supposed  that  a  whole  nation  should  have 
a  taste  so  depraved  as  to  give  a  decided  preference 
to  any  particular  species  of  food  which  has  not 
something  to  recommend  it. 


The  manner  in  which  hasty-pudding  is  eaten  with 
butter  and  sugar,  or  butler  and  molasses,  in  America, 
is  as  follows :  The  hasty-pudding  being  spread  out 
equally  upon  a  plate,  while  hot,  an  excavation  is 
made  in  the  middle  of  it,  with  a  spoon,  into  which 
excavation  a  piece  of  butter,  as  large  as  a  nutmeg,  is 
put;  and  upon  it,  a  spoonful  of  brown  sugar,  or 
more  commonly  of  molasses.  The  butter  being  soon 
melted  by  the  heat  of  the  pudding,  mixes  with  the 
sugar,  or  molasses,  and  forms  a  sauce,  which,  being 
confined  in  the  excavation  made  for  it,  occupies  the 
middle  of  the  plate.  The  pudding  is  then  eateu 
with  a  spoon,  each  spoonful  of  it  being  dipt  into  the 
sauce  before  it  is  carried  to  the  mouth ;  care  being 
had  in  taking  it  up,  to  begin  on  the  outside,  or  near 
the  brim  of  the  plate,  and  to  approach  the  centre  by 
regular  advances,  in  order  not  to  demolish  too  soon 
the  excavation  which  forms  the  reservoir  for  the 
sauce. 

Fireplaces  and  chimneys  are  one  of  his  impor- 
tant topics,  and  a  volume  is  in  great  part  devoted 
to  the  construction  of  cooking  apparatus,  illus- 
trated with  diagrams  and  engravings. 

The  style  of  these  essays  is  plain  but  clear.  His 
suggestions  are  extremely  valuable,  and  anticipate 
many  of  the  ideas  of  Soyer  and  other  authors  on 
dietetics  of  the  present  day. 

DAVID  HUMPHEEYS. 

David  Humphreys,  a  soldier  of  the  Revolution, 
who  wrote  patriotic  and  martial  poetry  in  the 
camp,  the  friend  and  household  companion  of 
Washington,  was  born,  the  son  of  a  Congrega- 
tional clergyman,  the  Rev.  Daniel  Humphreys,  in 
Derby,  Connecticut,  in  1753.  He  was  educated 
at  Yale  College,  where  he  fell  in  with  Dwight 
and  Trumbull,  with  whom  he  formed  a  personal 
and  literary  friendship,  which  was  not  neglected 
in  after  life.  At  the  beginning  of  the  war  he 
entered  the  army,  becoming  attached  to  Putnam's 
stalf  as  major,  and  in  1780  became  aide,  with  the 
rank  of  colonel,  in  Washington's  start';  or  as  he 
himself  recites  these  military  incidents  of  his 
career  in  verse : — 

With  what  high  chiefs  I  play'd  my  early  part, 
With  Parsons  first,  whose  eye,  with  piercing  ken, 
Heads  through  the  hearts  the  characters  of  men ; 
Then  how  I  aided,  in  the  foll'wing  scene, 
Death-daring  Putnam — -then  immortal  Greene — 
Then  how  great  Washington  my  youth  approv'd, 
In  rank  preferred,  and  as  a  parent  lov'd. 

To  Putnam,  Humphreys  showed  his  gratitude  by 
writing  his  life — a  smooth  and  complimentary 
piece  of  biography,  which  certainly  anticipates 
no  modern  doubts  of  the  bravery  of  "  Old  Put."* 
His  intercourse  with  Washington  did  not  end 
with  the  war.  He  accompanied  him  on  his  re- 
tirement to  Virginia,  residing  with  him  more 
than  a  year,  and  again  returning  after  his  visit  to 
Europe,  to  live  in  this  privileged  house  in  1788, 
until  Washington  became  President,  when  Hum- 
phreys travelled  with  him  to  New  York.     Of  his 


*  An  Essay  on  the  Life  of  the  Honorable  Major-General 
Israel  Putnam  :  addressed  to  the  State.  Society  of  the  Cincin- 
nati in  Connecticut  In  the  dedication  to  Colonel  Wadsworth, 
Which  is  dated  Mount  Vernon,  in  Virginia,  Juno  4,  17SS,  the 
author  says,  "the  inclosed  manuscript  justly  claims  indulgence 
for  its  venial  errors,  as  it  is  tiie  first  effort  in  biography  that 
has  been  made  on  this  continent."  Colonel  Humphreys  tor- 
gets  the  labors  of  the  Mathers  in  this  line. 


374 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


domestic  intimacy  with  Washington,  Humphreys, 
in  his  Mount  Vernon,  an  Ode,  has  left  a  grateful 
reminiscence.  Indeed,  in  his  verses  the  reader  is 
never  long  out  of  sight  of  Washington.  His  gra- 
titude never  tires  of  expressing  itself,  and  this  is 
a  most  amiable  feature  of  his  character.  The  man 
was  formed  for  friendship.  His  countenance  is 
full  of  benevolence,  which  in  his  long  bachelor 
days — before  he  married  Miss  Bulkier,  an  Eng- 
lish lady  of  wealth  at  Lisbon,  when  he  was 
about  forty-five — overflowed  in  kind  remembran- 
ces of  his  associates.  In  a  pleasant  poetical 
epistle  written  to  a  young  lady  in  Boston,  and 
dated  at  New  Haven  in  1780,  he  celebrates  a 
sleigh-ride  journey  which  brought  him  among  his 
friends  in  Connecticut. 

Some  days  elaps'd,  I  jogg'd  quite  brave  on 

And  found  my  Trumbull  at  New  Haven  ; 

Than  whom,  more  humour  never  man  did 

Possess — nor  lives  a  soul  more  candid — 

But  who,  unsung,  would  know  hereafter, 

The  repartees,  and  peals  of  laughter, 

Or  how  much  glee  those  laughters  yield  one, 

Maugre  the  system  Chesterfieldian ! 

Barlow  I  saw,  and  here  began 

My  friendship  for  that  spotless  man  ; 

Whom,  though  the  world  does  not  yet  know  it, 

Great  nature  form'd  her  loftiest  poet. 

But  Dwight  was  absent  at  North-Hampton, 

That  bard  sublime,  and  virtue's  champion. 

To  whom  the  charms  of  verse  belong, 

The  father,  of  our  epic  song. 

During  his  war  scenes  he  had  written  his  Ad- 
dress to  the  Armies  of  the  Un  ited  States  of  America 
in  1782,  when  he  was  encamped  at  Peekskill,  and 
the  foe  was  in  possession  of  New  York  and 
Charleston.  In  this  address  he  refers  to  President 
Davies's  celebrated  early  prophecy  of  the  great- 
ness of  Washington  in  Virginia,  in  the  old  French 
war. 

Oh  !  raised  by  heaven  to  save  th'  invaded  state, 
So  spake  the  sage  long  since  thy  future  fate.* 

His  battle-pieces  are  in  an  animated  style,  and 
that  he  could  fight  as  well  as  write,  is  witne>sed 
by  the  sword  which  Congress  voted  him  for  his 
bravery  at  the  siege  of  Yorktown,  of  the  stan- 
dards taken  at  which  place  he  was  the  honored 
bearer  to  the  government.!  His  poem,  the  Ad- 
dress, was  translated  into  French  by  the  accom- 
plished courtier  and  soldier  of  the  early  period 
of  the  war,  the  Marquis  de  Chastellux. J  From 
the  pictures  of  war  in  this  production,  the  death- 


*  Ante, -p.  271. 

t  "This  memorable  event,  his  presenting  the  standards,  was 
painted  by  a  Danish  artist,  when  the  poet  and  soldier  was  in 
Europe,  between  17S4  and  17SI1,  as  Secretory  of  Legation  to 
Mr.  Jefferson." — Durdap's  Am.  Theatre,  p.  89. 

%  Marquis  de  Chastellux  to  Franklin,  Paris,  June  21.  17SG. — 
"When  you  were  in  France,  there  was  no  need  praising  the 
Americans.  We  had  only  to  say,  look,  here  is  their  represent- 
tedive.  But  however  worthily  your  place  may  have  since 
been  filled,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  arouse  anew  the  interest 
of  a  kind-hearted  but  thoughtless  nation,  and  to  fix.  from  time 
to  time,  its  attention  upon  the  great  event  to  which  it  has  had 
the  happiness  of  contributing.  Such  lias  been  my  motive  in 
translating  Colonel  Humphreys's  poem.  My  success  has  fully 
equalled,  and  even  surpassed,  my  expectation.  Not  only  has 
the  public  received  the  work  with  favor,  but  it  has  succeeded 
perfectly  at  court,  especially  with  the  king  and  queen,  who 
have  praised  it  highly. 

"I  have  taken  more  pains  to  render  my  work  an  agreeable 
one  to  read,  than  to  make  it  an  exact  and  faithful  translation." 
— Sparks's  Works  of  Franklin,  x.  2G3. 


scenes  of  Scammel  and  Laurens,  the  author  ani- 
mates the  soldiery  by  a  view  of  the  future  bounty 
lands  of  the  West,  in  a  description,  the  tranquil 
contrast  of  which  to  the  opening  passages  was 
much  admired  by  a  French  critic.  The  poem  was 
noticed  in  England,  Chastellux  speaking  of  its 
having  been  read  there  in  clubs,  to  which  the 
public  was  admitted. 

In  1784,  Humphreys,  in  the  capacity  of  Secrc- 


^y^^J^e^/^ 


tary  of  Legation,  sailed  for  Europe  with  Jeffer- 
son then  proceeding  to  join  his  fellow  commis- 
sioners, Franklin  and  Adams,  in  Paris.  The 
vessel,  the  Coarrier  de  V Europe,  left  Boston  in 
July,  and  Kosciusko  was  one  of  the  passengers. 
Humphreys,  always  ready  with  his  verses  for  the 
occasion,  wrote  on  board  ship  a  poetical  epistle 
of  the  voyage  to  his  friend  Dr.  Dwight,  in  which 
he  celebrates 

Our  Polish  friend,  whose  name  still  sounds  so  hard. 
To  make  it  rhyme  would  puzzle  any  bard  ; 
That  youth,  whom  bays  and  laurels  early  erown'd, 
For  virtue,  science,  aits,  and  arms  renown'd. 

The  description  of  the  cabin  scenery  would  ap- 
pear to  have  anticipated  the  glories  of  a  Collins 
steamer. 

See  the  great  cabin  nigh,  its  doors  unfold. 
Show  fleeting  forms  from  mirrors  fix'd  in  gold  I 
O'er  painted  ceilings  brighter  prospects  rise, 
And  rural  scenes  again  delight  our  eyes. 

Showing  how  a  little  elegance  may  be  more  profit- 
able to  a  man  with  a  faculty  of  being  pleased, 
than  a  great  display  to  a  dull  observer.  Facts  are 
so  sumptuous  now,  on  a  voyage  to  Liverpool,  that 
there  is  no  room  left  for  the  imagination,  and  the 
man  who  should  write  verses  about  plush  or 
gilded  carving  would  be  justly  accounted  a  snob. 
Dwight  met  this  epistle  by  another  dated 
Greenfield,  the  next  year,  in  whioh  ho  takes  a 


DAVID  HUMPHREYS. 


375 


higher  strain  of  eloquence,  and  cautions  his 
friend  against  the  seductions  of  Europe.  His 
picture  of  the  Travelled  Ape  in  this  production,  is 
one  of  the  most  vigorous  passages  of  American 
satire.  A  Poem  on  the  Happiness  of  America, 
addressed  to  the  Citizens  of  the  United  States, 
was  written  hy  Humphreys  during  his  residence 
abroad,  and  is  the  longest  of  his  productions, 
extending  to  mo  -e  than  a  thousand  lines.  It  puts 
Washington's  Farewell  to  the  Army  in  verse, 
celebrates  the  purity  and  simplicity  of  American 
life,  glances  at  the  men  of  the  old  Continental 
Congress. 

His  list'ning  sons  the  sire  shall  oft  remind, 
"What  parent  sages  first  in  Congress  join'd; 
The  faithful  Hancock  grac'd  that  early  scene, 
Great  Washington  appear'd  in  godlike  mien, 
Jay,  Laurens,  Clinton,  skill'd  in  ruling  men, 
And  he,  who  earlier,  held  the  farmer's  pen. 
'Twas  Lee,  illustrious  at  the  father's  head, 
The  daring  way  to  independence  led. 
The  self-taught  Sherman  urg'd  Ids  reasons  clear, 
And. all  the  Livingstons  to  freedom  dear; 
What  countless  names  in  fair  procession  throng, 
With  Rtttledge,  Johnson,  Nash  demand  the  song! 

And  urges  a  naval  crusade  against  the  Algerines, 
in  those  days  the  tyrants  of  the  sea,  and  conclud- 
ing poetically,  and  prophetically  as  it  turned  out 
when  Decatur  took  hold  of  them,  with  a  brilliant 
triumph  over  those  marauders.  In  Humphreys's 
volume  of  1804,  the  copy  of  this  poem  is  set 
down  as  the  tenth  edition.  Several  of  its  topics 
are  again  handled  in  the  author's  Poem  on  the 
Future  Glory  of  the.  United  States  of  America  ; 
indeed  a  certain  monotony  of  subjects  and  treat- 
ment runs  through  all  his  verses.  He  had  little 
variety  in  thought  or  execution. 

Humphreys  returned  in  1780  to  Connecticut, 
where  he  was  elected  to  the  State  Legislature, 
appointed  to  the  command  of  a  regiment  for  the 
western  service,  and  where  he  joined  his  poetical 
friends  in  the  composition  of  the  Anarchiad.* 
Wc  next  find  him  on  his  second  residence  at 
Mount  Vernon,  about  this  time  employing  his 
leisure  in  translating,  or,  as  his  title-page  calls  it, 
"imitating"  from  the  French  of  M.  de  Mierre,  a 
tragedy  (with  a  very  happy  ending)  entitled,  The 
Widow  of  Malabar,  which  was  acted  hy  Hallam's 
old  American  Company  at  Philadelphia,  in  1790. 
It  is  a  showy  sketch  of  a  play  for  stage  purposes, 
full  of  intensity  in  italics,  and  shrieks  ascending 
to  small  pica  capitals.  The  ladj-,  having  just  buried 
a  husband  whom  she  never  loved,  is  about  to  be 
sacrificed,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  country, 
on  the  funeral  pile.  The  young  Brahmin  whom 
the  high  priest,  in  a  brief  summary  stage  style, 
orders  to  look  to  the  performance  of  the  cere- 
mony, turns  out  her  brother,  which  is  crisis 
number  one:  then  there  is  opportunely  an  in- 
vading.army  on  hand,  with  one  of  whose  officers 
the  lady  had  once  been  in  love  when  travelling 
from  the  Ganges.  The  preparation  goes  on  with 
passionate  arguments  and  expostulations  touching 
the  rite  pro  and  con.  The  widow  is  at  the  pile, 
which  she  has  ascended,  when  at  the  last  moment 
for  interruption  the  French  general  steps  into  the 
rescue,  and  the  curtain  falls,  but  not  until  a  very 


*  As  the  chief  hand  in  this  production  was  borne  by  Hop- 
kins, we  have  placed  our  account  of  it  in  our  notice  of  hiin. 


clever  epilogue  written  by  the  author  of  M'Fingal 
is  recited,  which  laughs  at  the  agreeable  termina- 
tion of  the  painful  affair,  and  pleasantly  tells  the 
audience,  with  a  travesty  of  Pope's  verses,  how 
much  better  off  Columbia's  daughters  are  than 
ladies  subjected  to  such  heathen  dispensations. 

For  here,  ye  fair,  no  servile  rites  bear  sway, 
Nor  force  ye — (though  ye  promise) — to  obey : 
Blest  in  the  mildness  of  tins  temp'rate  zone, 
Slaves  to  no  whims,  or  follies — but  your  own. — 
Here  custom,  cheek'd  in  ev'ry  rude  excess, 
Confines  its  influence  to  the  arts  of  dress, 
O'er  charms  eclips'd  the  side-long  hat  displays, 
Extends  the  hoop,  or  pares  away  the  stays, 
Bedecks  the  fair  witli  artificial  gear,    • 
Breast-works  in  front,  and  bishops  in  the  rear : — 
The  idol  rears,  on  beauty's  dazzling  throne, 
Mankind  her  slaves,  and  all  the  world  her  own; 
Bound  by  no  laws  a  husband's  whims  to  fear, 
Obe}r  in  life,  or  burn  tipon  his  bier ; 
She  views  with  equal  eye,  sublime  o'er  all, 
A  lover  perish — or  a  lap-dog  fall — 
Coxcombs   or  monkeys  from   their  chains  broke 

loose — 
And  now  a  husband  dead — and  now  a  goose. 

Mrs.  Henry,  who  recited  the  prologue,  had  a 
word  to  the  men,  winch  marks  the  time. 

Your  vict'ries  won — your  revolution  ended — 
Your  constitution  newly  made — and  mended — 
Your  fund  of  wit — your  intellectual  riches — 
Plans  in  the  closet — in  the  senate  speeches — 
Will  mark  this  age  of  heroes,  wits,  and  sages, 
The  first  in  story  to  the  latest  ages  ! — 
Go  on — and  prosper  with  your  projects  blest, 
Till  your  millennium  rises  in  the  west: — 
We  wish  success  to  your  politic  scheming, 
Bule    ye    the    world! — and   then— be    rul'd    by 
women ! — 

Humphreys  also  wrote  a  comedy,  which  he 
failed  in  hi9  attempts  to  get  upon  the  stage. 
Dunlap,  who  saw  the  author  and  the  play  in 
Boston  in  1805,  relates  how  Humphreys  en- 
deavored to  persuade  the  manager,  Bernard,  to 
bring  it  out,  how  "it  was  extremely  unlike  those 
comedies  Bernard  owed  his  fame  to,  and  repaid 
by  imparting  the  vivifying  influence  of  his  art," 
and  how  "  the  wary  comedian  heard  the  poet 
read,  drank  his  Madeira,  said  '  very  well '  now 
and  then — but  never  brought  out  the  play." 

In  1794  Humphreys  was  appointed  the  first 
American  ambassador  to  Lisbon,*  wdiere  he  re- 
sided for  six  years  till  1797,  when  he  became 

*  Of  Humphreys's  diplomatic  business  the  author  of  M'Fingal 
has  some  pleasant  raillery  in  a  letter  to  Oliver  Wolcott,  dated 
Hartford,  December  9,  17S9: — "Pray,  congratulate  Colonel 
Humphreys,  in  my  name,  ou  his  late  promotion  in  tlfe  diplo- 
matic line.  If  I  understand  the  matter  rightly,  he  holds  the 
same  post  which  Cl'ispe  promised  George  in  the  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field. You  remember  Crispe  told  him  there  was  an  embassy 
talked  of  from  the  Synod  of'Petinsylvania  to  the  Chickasaw 
Indians,  and  he  would  use  his  interest  to  fret,  him  appointed 
secretary.  Tell  him  not  to  be  discouraged  too  much  at  his 
want  of  success.  The  President  has  tried  him  on  M'G-illivray 
first,  and  he  did  not  suit  the  skull  of  the  savage,  bul^we  cannot 
argue  from  that  circumstance  that  he  could  not  fit  as  easy  as  a 
full-bottomed  wig  upon  the  fat-headed,  sot-headed,  and  crazy- 
headed  sovereigns  of  Europe.  Tell  hint  this  story  also  for  his 
comfort,  and  to  encourage  his  hopes  of  speedy  employment:  A 
king  being  angry  with  an  ambassador,  asked  hit  t  whether  his 
master  had  no  wise  men  at  court,  and  was  therefore  obliged  to 
send  him  a  fool  ?  '  Sire,'  said  the  other.  '  my  master  litis  many 
wise  men  about  his  court,  bat  he  conceived  me  the  most  pro- 
per ambassador  to  your  Majesty.'  Upon  this  principle  I  am 
in  daily  expectation  of  hearing  that  lie  is  appointed  minister 
plenipo.  to  George,  Louis,  or  the  stadtholder." — Gibbss  Me- 
moirs of  the  Administrations  of  Washington  aud  John  Adams. 


376 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


minister  to  Spain,  a  post  which  he  held  till  he 
was  succeeded  by  Pinckney  in  1802.  He  then 
returned  to  America,  and  engaged  in  the  impor- 
tation of  merino  sheep  from  Spain.  He  wrote  a 
dissertation  on  the  subject  in  prose,  ami  employed 
its  capabilities  in  verse,  in  his  poem  On,  the  In- 
dustry of  the  United  States  of  America,  which 
was  composed,  he  tells  us,  "  on  the  delightful 
banks  of  the  Tagus,  where  his  days  were  plea- 
santly passed  in  the  enjoyment  of  health,  happi- 
ness, and  content." 

Oh,  might  my  guidance  from  the  downs  of  Spain, 

Lead  a  white  flock  across  the  western  main ; 

Fam'd  like  the  bark  that  bore  the  Argonaut, 

Should  be  the  vessel  with  the  burden  fraught ! 

Clad  in  the  raiment  my  Merinos  yield, 

Like  Cineinnatus  fed  from  my  own  field ; 

Far  from  ambition,  grandeur,  care  and  strife, 

In  sweet  fruition  of  domestic  life ; 

There  would  I  pass  with  friends,  beneath  my  trees, 

What  rests  from  public  life,  in  letter'd  ease. 

His  wish  was  gratified.  He  imported  a  hun- 
dred of  the  "  white  flock,"  a  fact  which  the  Mas- 
sachusetts Agricultural  Society  records  on  a  me- 
dal. When  Madison,  in  1809,  took  his  oath  of 
office  as  president,  he  was  -dressed  in  a  full  suit 
of  American  woollens,  of  which  Colonel  Hum- 
phreys's manufactory  furnished  the  coat,  and 
Chancellor  Livingston's  the  waistcoat  and  small- 
clothes.* He  was  also  employed  in  agricultural 
improvements.  The  village  of  Humphreysville, 
situated  on  Naugatuc  river,  in  Connecticut,  the 
seat  of  a  considerable  manufacturing  interest,  was 
named  after  him.  He  was  a  native  of  the  town- 
ship. 


Ilurnpbreysville. 

Humphreys  appears  to  have  been  something 
of  a  courtier  at  this  time,  keeping  up  an  ac- 
quaintance with  foreign  princes  by  his  dedica- 
tions. His  Lore  of  Country,  in  celebration  of 
the  twenty-third  anniversary  of  Independence, 
which  he  wrote  in  Spain,  and  published  on  his 
return,  is  an  admirable  Fourth  of  July  oration  in 
verse,  full  of  revolutionary  story  and  patriotism. 
His  last  poetic  tribute  to  his  friend,  and  chief  in- 
spirer  of  his  song,  was  rendered  in  a  Poem  on  the 


*  National  Intelligencer,  quoted  by  Hildretb,  Second  Series, 
iii.  149. 


Death,  of  General  Washington,  pronounced  at  the 
house  of  the  American  legation  at  Madrid,  on  the 
4th  July,  1800.  He  had  already  written  a  letter 
to  Mrs.  Washington,  dated  on  the  22d  February 
— the  day,  says  he,  "  signalized  by  his  birth,  and 
which  was  accustomed  to  be  celebrated  with 
heartfelt  festivity  throughout  the  United  States ;" 
— and  so  may  it  ever  be ! 

In  1812  he  was  appointed  to  the  command  of 
two  regiments  of  Connecticut  soldiery,  the  "  Ve- 
teran Volunteers."  The  rest  of  his  life  was 
passed  in  retirement.  He  died  at  New  Haven, 
February  21,  1818. 

PTTT>-ASI"S    ADVEXTCEE   Wim    TITE    WOLF. — FEOM   THE   LIFE    OP 
GENEEAL  PCT>~A.\L 

In  the  year  1139,  he  removed  from  Salem  to  Pom- 
fret,  an  inland  fertile  town  in  Connecticut,  forty 
miles  east  of  Hartford.  Having  here  purchased  a 
considerable  tract  of  land,  he  applied  himself  suc- 
cessfully to  agriculture. 

The  first  years  on  a  new  farm  are  not,  however, 
exempt  from  disasters  and  disappointments,  which 
can  only  be  remedied  by  stubborn  and  patient  in- 
dustry. Our  farmer,  sufficiently  occupied  in  build- 
ing an  house  and  barn,  felling  woods,  making  fences, 
Bowing  grain,  planting  orchards,  and  taking  care  of 
his  stock,  had  to  encounter,  in  turn,  the  calamities 
occasioned  by  drought  in  summer,  blast  in  harvest, 
loss  of  cattle  in  winter,  and  the  desolation  of  his 
sheep-fold  by  wolves.  In  one  night  he  had  seventy 
fine  sheep  and  goats  killed,  besides  many  lambs  and 
kids  wounded.  This  havock  was  committed  by  a 
she-wolf,  which,  with  her  annual  wheljis,  had  for 
several  years  infested  the  vicinity.  The  young  were 
commonly  destroyed  by  the  vigilance  of  the  hunt- 
ers, but  the  old  one  was  too  sagacious  to  lonie  within 
reach  of  gun-shot :  upon  being  closely  pursued,  she 
would  generally  fly  to  the  western  woods,  and  re- 
turn the  next  winter  with  another  litter  of  whelps. 

This  wolf,  at  length,  became  such  an  intolerable 
nuisance  that  Mr.  Putnam  entered  into  a  combina- 
tion with  five  of  his  neighbours  to  hunt  alternately 
until  they  could  destroy  her.  Two,  by  rotation, 
were  to  be  constantly  in  pursuit.  It  was  known, 
that,  having  lost  the  toes  from  one  foot  by  a  steel- 
trap,  she  made  one  track  shorter  than  the  other. 
By  this  vestige  the  pursuers  recognised,  in  a  light 
snow,  the  route  of  this  pernicious  animal.  Having 
followed  her  to  Connecticut  river,  and  found  she 
had  turned  back  in  a  direct  course  towards  Pomfret, 
they  immediately  returned,  and  by  ten  o'clock  the 
next  morning  the  blood-hounds  had  driven  her  into 
a  den,  about  three  miles  distant  from  the  house  of 
Mr.  Putnam.  The  people  soon  collected  with  dogs, 
guns,  straw,  fire,  and  sulphur,  to  attack  the  com- 
mon enemy.  With  this  apparatus,  several  unsuc- 
cessful efforts  were  made  to  force  her  from  the  den. 
The  hounds  came  back  badly  wounded,  and  refused 
to  return.  The  smoke  of  blazing  straw  had  no 
effect.  Nor  did  the  fumes  of  burnt  brimstone,  with 
which  the  cavern  was  filled,  compel  her  to  quit  the 
retirement.  Wearied  with  such  fruitless  attempts, 
(which  had  brought  the  time  to  ten  o'clock  at  night,) 
Mr.  Putnam  tried  once  more  to  make  his  deg  enter, 
but  in  vain.  He  proposed  to  his  negro  man  to  go 
down  into  the  cavern  and  shoot  the  wolf:  the  negro 
declined  the  hazardous  service.  Then  it  was  that 
the  master,  angry  at  the  disappointment,  and  de- 
claring that  he  was  ashamed  to  have  a  coward  in 
his  family,  resolved  himself  to  destroy  the  ferocious 
beast,  lest  she  should  escape  through  some  unknown 
fissure  of  the  rock.  His  neighbours  strongly  remon- 
strated  against   the   perileus   enterprise:    but   he. 


DAVID  HUMPHREYS. 


377 


knowing  that  wild  animals  were  intimidated  by  fire, 
and  having  provided  several  strips  of  birch-hark, 
the  only  combustible  material  which  he  could  ob- 
tain that  would  afford  light  in  this  deep  and  dark- 
some cave,  prepared  for  his  descent.  Having,  ac- 
cordingly, divested  himself  of  his  coat  and  waistcoat, 
and  having  a  long  rope  fastened  round  his  legs,  by 
which  he  might  be  pulled  back,  nt  a  concerted  sig- 
nal, he  entered  head-foremost,  with  the  blazing  torch 
in  his  hand. 

The  aperture  of  the  den,  on  the  east  side  of  a  very 
high  ledge  of  rocks,  is  about  two  feet  square ;  from 
thence  it  descends  obliquely  fifteen  feet,  then  run- 
ning horizontally  about  ten  more,  it  ascends  gradu- 
ally sixteen  feet  towards  its  termination.  The  sides 
of  this  subterraneous  cavity  are  composed  of  smooth 
and  solid  rocks,  which  seem  to  have  been  divided 
from  each  other  by  some  former  earthquake.  The 
top  and  bottom  are  also  of  stone,  and  the  entrance, 
in  winter,  being  covered  with  ice,  is  exceedingly 
slippery.  It  is  in  no  place  high  enough  for  a  man 
to  raise  himself  upright,  nor  in  any  part  more  than 
three  feet  in  width. 

Having  groped  his  passage  to  the  horizontal  part 
of  the  den,  the  most  terrifying  darkness  appeared  in 
front  of  the  dim  circle  of  light  afforded  by  his  torch. 
It  was  silent  as  the  house  of  death.  None  but  mon- 
sters of  the  desert  had  ever  before  explored  this  so- 
litary mansion  of  horror.  He,  cautiously  proceed- 
ing onward,  came  to  the  ascent,  which  he  slowly 
mounted  on  his  hands  and  knees,  until  he  discovered 
the  glaring  eye-balls  of  the  wolf,  who  was  sitting  at 
the  extremity  of  the  cavern.  Startled  at  the  sight  of 
fire,  she  gnashed  her  teeth,  and  gave  a  sullen  growl. 
As  soon  as  he  hiid  made  the  necessary  discovery,  he 
kicked  the  rope  as  a  signal  for  pulling  him  out.  The 
people  at  the  mouth  of  the  den,  who  had  listened 
with  painful  anxiety,  hearing  the  growling  of  the 
wolf,  and  supposing  their  friend  to  be  in  the  most 
imminent  danger,  drew  him  forth  with  such  celerity 
that  his  shirt  was  stripped  over  his  head,  and  his 
skin  severely  lacerate!  After  he  had  adjusted  his 
clothes,  and  loalel  his  gun  with  nine  buck-shot, 
holding  a  torch  in  one  hand,  and  the  musket  in 
the  other,  he  descended  the  second  time.  When  he 
drew  nearer  than  before,  the  wolf,  assuming  a  still 
more  fierce  and  terrible  appearance,  howling,  roll- 
ing her  eyes,  snapping  her  teeth,  and  dropping  her 
head  between  her  legs,  was  evidently  in  the  atti- 
tude, and  on  the  point  of  springing  at  him.  At  the 
critical  instant  he  levelled  and  fired  at  her  head. 
Stuunel  with  the  shock,  and  suffocated  with  the 
smoke,  he  immediately  found  himself  drawn  out  of 
the  cave.  But  having  refreshed  himself,  and  per- 
mitted the  smoke  to  dissipate,  he  went  down  the 
third  time.  Once  more  he  came  within  sight  of  the 
wolf,  who  appearing  very  passive,  he  applied  the 
torch  to  her  nose,  and  perceiving  her  dead,  he  took 
hold  of  her  ears,  and  then  kicking  the  rope  (still  tied 
round  his  legs)  the  people  above,  with  no  small  ex- 
ultation, dragged  them  both  out  together. 

I  have  offered  these  facts  in  greater  detail,  be- 
cause they  contain  a  display  of  character  ;  and  be- 
cause they  hnve  been  erroneously  related  in  several 
European  publications,  and  very  much  mutilated  in 
the  history  of  Connecticut,  a  work  as  replete  with 
falsehood  as  destitute  of  genius,  lately  printed  in 
Loudon. 

MOtTNT   VEItNON  :    AN   ODE.* 

By  broad  Potowmaek's  azure  tide, 
Where  Vernon's  mount,  in  sylvan  pride, 
Displays  its  beauties  far, 

*  "Written  at  Mount  Vornou,  August,  1786. 


Great  Washington,  to  peaceful  shades, 
Where  no  unhallow'd  wish  invades, 
Retir'd  from  fields  of  war. 

Angels  might  see,  with  joy,  the  sage, 
Who  taught  the  battle  where  to  rage, 

Or  quench'd  its  spreading  flame, 
On  works  of  peace  employ  that  hand, 
Which  wav\l  the  blade  of  high  command, 

And  hew'd  the  path  to  fame. 

Let  others  sing  his  deeds  in  arms, 

A  nation  sav'd,  and  conquest's  charms : 

Posterity  shall  hear, 
'Twas  nunc,  return'd  from  Europe's  eou;  ts, 
To  share  his  thoughts,  partake  his  sports, 

And  sooth  his  partial  ear. 

To  thee,  my  friend,  these  lays  belong: 
Thy  happy  seat  inspires  my  song, 

With  gay,  perennial  blooms, 
With  fruitage  fair,  and  cool  retreats, 
Whose  bow'ry  wilderness  of  sweets 

The  ambient  air  perfumes. 

Here  spring  its  earliest  buds  displays, 
Here  latest  on  the  leafless  sprays  , 

The  plumy  people  sing ; 
The  vernal  show'r,  the  rip'ning  year, 
Th'  autumnal  store,  the  winter  drear, 

For  thee  new  pleasures  bring. 

Here  lapp'd  in  philosophic  ease, 
Within  thy  walks,  beneath  thy  trees 

Amidst  thine  ample  farms, 
No  vulgar  converse  heroes  hold, 
But  past  or  future  scenes  unfold, 

Or  dwell  on  nature's  charms. 

What  wondrous  ajra  have  we  seen, 
Plac'd  on  this  isthmus,  half  between 

A  rude  and  polish'd  state ! 
We  saw  the  war  tempestuous  rise, 
In  arms  a  world,  in  blood  the  skies, 

In  doubt  an  empire's  fate. 

The  storm  is  calm'd,  seren'd  the  heav'n. 
And  mildly  o'er  the  climes  of  ev'n 

Expands  th'  imperial  day: 
'  0  God,  the  source  of  light  supreme, 
Shed  on  our  dusky  morn  a  gleam, 

To  guide  our  doubtful  way  1 

"  Restrain,  dread  Pow'r,  our  land  from  crimes  I 
What  see"ks,  though  blest  beyond  all  times, 

So  querulous  an  age  ? 
What  means  to  freedom  such  disgust ; 
Of  change,  of  anarchy  the  lust, 

The  fickleness  aud  rage  ?" 

So  spake  his  country's  friend,  with  sighs, 
To  find  that  country  still  despise 

The  legacy  he  gave — 
And  half  he  fear'd  his  toils  were  vain, 
And  much  that  man  would  court  a  chain, 

And  live  through  vice  a  slave. 

A  transient  gloom  o'ercast  his  mind : 
Yet,  still  on  providence  reclin'd, 

The  patriot  fond  believ'd, 
■  That  pow'r  benign  too  much  had  done, 
To  leave  an  empire's  task  begun, 

Imperfectly  achiev'd. 

Thus  buoy'd  with  hope,  with  virtue  blest, 
Of  ev'ry  human  bliss  possess'd. 

He  meets  the  happier  hours: 
His  skies  assume  a  lovelier  blue, 
His  prospects  brighter  rise  to  view, 

And  fairer  bloom  his  flow'rs. 


578 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


THE  8HEPHEED  :    A  SONG. 

(Translated  from  the  French.) 

It  rains,  it  rains,  my  fair, 

Come  drive  your  white  sheep  fast : 
To  shelter  quick  repair, 

Haste,  shepherdess,  make  haste. 

I  hear  the  water  pours, 

With  patt'ring  on  the  vines: 

See  here !  see  here !  it  lours — 
See  there  the  lightning  shines. 

The  thunder  dost  thou  hear? 

Loud  roars  the  rushing  storm: 
Take  (while  we  run,  my  dear,) 

Protection  from  ray  arm. 

I  see  our  cot,  ah,  hold ! 

Mamma  and  sister  Nance, 
To  open  our  sheep-fold, 

Most  cheerily  advance. 

God  bless  my  mother  dear, 

My  sister  Nancy  too ! 
I  bring  my  sweetheart  here, 

To  sleep  to-night  with  you. 

Go  dry  yourself,  my  friend, 
And  make  yourself  at  home — 

Sister,  on  her  attend : 

Come  in,  sweet  lambkins,  come. 

Mamma,  let's  take  good  care 

Of  all  her  pretty  sheep  ; 
Her  little  lamb  we'll  spare 

More  straw  whereon  to  sleep. 

'Tis  done — now  let  us  haste 
To  her  ; — you  here,  my  fair  I 

Undress'd,  oh,  what  a  waist ! 
My  mother,  look  you  there. 

Let's  sup  ;  come  take  this  place, 

You«hall  be  next  to  me ; 
This  pine-knot's  cheerful  blaze 

Shall  shine  direct  on  thee. 

Come  taste  this  cream  so  sweet, 

This  syllabub  so  warm; 
Alas!   you  do  not  eat: 

You  feel  e'en  yet  the  storm. 

'Twas  wrong— I  press'd  too  much 
Your  steps,  when  on  the  way ; 

But  here,  see  here,  your  couch —      * 
There  sleep  till  dawn  of  day, 

With  gold  the  mountain  tips: — 
Good-night,  good-night,  my  dove! 

Now  let  me  on  your  lips 
Imprint  one  kiss  of  love. 

Mamma  and  I  will  come, 
As  soon  as  morn  shall  shine, 

To  see  my  sweetheart  home, 
And  ask  her  hand  for  mine. 


THE  MONKET, 

Who  shaved  himself  and  his  Fi 

A  Falle. 
Addressed  to  the  Hon. 


iends. 


A  man  who  own'd  a  barber's  shop 
At  York,  and  shav'd  full  many  a  fop,  * 
A  monkey  kept  for  their  amusement ; 
He  made  no  other  kind  of  use  on't — 
This  monkey  took  great  observation, 
Was  wonderful  at  imitation, 
And  all  he  saw  the  barber  do. 
He  mimie'd  straight,  and  did  it  too. 


It  chanc'd  in  shop,  the  dog  and  cat, 
While  friseur  din'd,  demurely  sat, 
Jacko  found  naught  to  play  the  knave  in, 
So  thought  he'd  try  his  hand  at  shaving. 
Around  the  shop  in  haste  he  rushes, 
And  gets  the  razors,  soap,  and  brushes  ; 
Now  puss  he  fix'd  (no  muscle  miss  stirs) 
And  lather'd  well  her  beard  and  whisker's, 
Then  gave  a  gash,  as  he  began — 
The  cat  cry'd  "  waugh!"  and  off  she  ran. 

Next  Towser's  beard  he  tried  his  skill  in, 
Though  Towser  seem'd  somewhat  unwilling: 
As  badly  here  again  succeeding, 
The  dog  runs  howling  round,  and  bleeding. 

Nor  yet  was  tir'd  our  roguish  elf; 
He'd  seen  the  barber  shave  himself; 
So  by  the  glass,  upon,  the  table, 
He  rubs' with  soap  his  visage  sable, 
Then  with  left  hand  holds  smooth  his  jaw, — 
The  razor  in  his  dexter  paw  ; 
Around  he  flourishes  and  slashes, 
Till  all  his  face  is  seam'd  with  gashes. 
His  cheeks  dispatch'd — his  visage  thin 
He  cock'd,  to  shave  beneath  his  chin; 
Drew  razor  swift  as  he  could  pull  it, 
And  cut,  from  ear  to  ear,  his  gullet. 

Moral. 
Who  cannot  write,  yet  handle  pens, 
Are  apt  to  hurt  themselves  and  friends. 
Though  others  use  them  well,  yet  fools 
Should  never  meddle  with  edge  tools. 

JAMES  THACHEE, 

The  author  of  the  American  Medical  Biogra- 
phy, was  born  at  Barnstable,  Mas-achusetts,  in 
1754,  of  a  New  England  family,  which  figures 
conspicuously  in  the  lists  of  Harvard  College. 
The  close  of  his  medical  education  with  Dr. 
Abner  llersey,  a  noted  Massachusetts  physician, 
brought  him  to  the  opening  of  the  War  of  Inde- 
pendence. He  eagerly  stepped  forward  in  the 
cause,  and  secured  the  post  of  surgeon's  mate  in 
the  provincial  hospital  at  Cambridge.  He  next 
became  attached  to  one  of  the  Eastern  regiments, 
and  was  engaged  in  the  hospital  duties  after  the 
field  at  Saratoga.  He  was  afterwards  stationed  at 
the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson,  and  was  at  West 
Point  in  1780,  at  the  tiriie  of  the  treason  of 
Arnold,  and  witnessed  the  execution  of  Andre. ' 
He  was  also  present  at  the  surrender  of  Corn- 
wallis.  Of  these  and  other  incidents  of  the  cam-  . 
paigns,  he  gave  an  interesting  account,  in  his 
Military  Journal  during  the  American  Revolu- 
tionary War,  from  1775  to  1783,  which  was  pub- 
lished in  1824.  After  the  war  he  settled  in 
Plymouth,  Massachusetts,  where  he  remained 
engaged  in  the  practice  of  his  profession,  and  in 
the  composition  of  his  numerous  writings,  till  his 
death,  at  the  advanced  age  of  ninety-one,  in  May, 
184-4.  Besides  the  Military  Journal  already  men- 
tioned, he  was  the  author  of  an  American  New 
Dispensatory,  1810  ;  Observations  on  Hydrojjho- 
bia,  1821  ;  the  Modern  Practice  of  Physic,  1817 ; 
the  American  Orchardist,  1822 ;  a  Practical 
Treatise  on  the  Management  of  Bees,  1829 ;  an 
Essay  on  Demonology,  Ghosts,  Apparitions,  and 
Popular  Superstitions,  1831  ;  a  History  of  Ply- 
mouth, 1832;  besides  various  contributions  to  the 
journals  on  medical  and  scientific  topics.  His 
American  Medical  Biography,  or  Memoirs  of 
Eminent    Physicians    who    have  flourished    in 


COLUMBIA  COLLEGE. 


379 


America,  was  published  in  two  volumes,  in  1828, 
a  work  of  diligence  and  authority  which  has 
always  commanded  the  respect  of  the  profession. 
The  American  Medical  Biography,  by  Dr.  Stephen 
W.  Williams,*  may  be  regarded  as  a  supplement 
to  this  work. 

COLUMBIA  COLLEGE. 
Fkom  an  intimation  in  the  records  of  Trinity 
church  it  would  appear  that,  as  early  as  the  year 
1700,  it  was  the  intention  of  the  colonial  govern- 
ment, then  represented  by  Lord  (Jornbury,  to 
provide  a  site  for  a  college  on  the  island  of  New 
York.  The  subject  appears  further  to  have  oc- 
cupied the  attention  of  Ijishop  Berkeley  when  his 
Bermuda  plan  had  failed.  In  17413  a  provincial 
act  was  passed  for  raising  money  for  the  purpose 
by  lottery  ;  and  in  the  next  few  years  a  sum  ga- 
thered in  this  way  of  more  than  three  thousand 
four  hundred  pounds,  which  was  placed  in  the 
hands  of  trustees,  a  majority  of  whom  were  mem- 
bers of  the  Church  of  England,  and  a  part  of 
whom  belonged  to  the  vestry  of  Trinity  church. 
The  opposition  to  this  Church  of  England  interest 
for  a  long  time  thwarted  the  plans  of  the  college. 
It  was  led  by  Mr.  William  Livingston,  who  agi- 
tated the  subject  in  his  periodical,  "  The  Indepen- 
dent Reflector,"  striving  to  defeat  the  proposed 
royal  charter,  and  substitute  another  institution, 
under  an  act  of  Assembly,  to  take  possession  of 
the  funds.  The  charter  of  King's  College  was, 
however,  granted  on  the  31st  of  October,  1754, 
and  Livingston  again  bent  his  efforts  to  set  up 
his  own  plan  of  a  college.  His  opposition  ended 
simply  in  diverting  one  half  of  the  funds  set  apart 
to  the  city  corporation,  by  which  the  college  was 
so  tar  the  loser.  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  had  been 
in  the  meantime  invited  from  his  parish  at  Strat- 
ford to  take  charge  of  the  new  institution.  A 
better  choice  could  not  have  been  made.  A 
native  of  Guilford,  Connecticut,  and  a  graduate 
of  Yale,  he  was  one  of  the  young  clergymen  of 
that  region  who  accompanied  President  Cutler, 
to  England  for  Episcopal  ordination.  He  returned 
to  Stratford  a  missionary  of  the  Society  for  the 
Propagation  of  the  Gospel.  He  had  become  the 
friend  of  Berkeley,  whose  theory  of  Idealism  he 


Bamuol  Johnson. 


'American  Medical  Biography:  or  Memoirs  of  Eminent 
Physicians,  embracing  principally  those  who  have  died  since 
the  publication  of  Dr.  Thacher's  work  on  the  same  subject. 
Svo.,  Greenfield,  Mass.  1S40. 


adopted,  and  invited  his  liberality  to  Yale.  The 
University  of  Oxford  had  conferred  on  him  the 
degree  of  doctor  in  divinity.  Dr.  Franklin  was 
anxious  that  he  should  take  charge  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Pennsylvania.  With  such  honorable  asso- 
ciations he  arrived  at  New  York  in  his  fifty- 
eighth  year. 

Bishop  Berkeley,  who  was  acquainted  with  the 
wishes  of  the  friends  of  learning  for  a  college  in 
New  York,  wrote  from  his  see  of  Cloyne  to 
Johnson,  in  1749.  Anticipating  the  future  spe- 
ciality of  the  college,  its  attention  to  classical 
studies,  lie  impressed  upon  the  man  marked  out 
for  its  president,  that  "the  Greek  and  Latin 
classics  be  well  taught.  Be  this  the  first  care  as 
to  learning!"  To  this  he  added  an  injunction 
for  the  principal  care  of"  good  life  and  morals  ;" 
recommends  that  the  institution  should  start  well, 
with  the  infusion  of  "  a  good  taste  into  the  so- 
ciety," by  a  handsome  provision  for  its  president 
and  fellows,  and  suggested  that  "small  premiums 
in  books,  or  distinctions  in  habit,  may  prove  use- 
ful encouragements  to  the  students."* 

The  college  was  organized  in  May,  1755,  when 
Trinity  church  conveyed  to  its  governors  the  land 
inclosed  by  Church,  Barclay,  and  Murray  streets 
to  the  Hudson  river.*  The  only  conditions  of  ' 
the  gift  were  that  the  president  should  always  be 
a  member  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  that  its 
liturgy  should  be  used  hi  the  service  of  the  col- 
lege. Beyond  this  there  was  to  be  no  exclusion 
for  religious  opinion.  The  college  seal  was  adopt- 
ed from  a  device  prepared  by  the  president. 

Application  was  made  to  England  for  funds. 
James  Jay  went  over  as  applicant,  and  associated 
with  Dr.  Smith,  provost  of  the  college  in  Phila- 
delphia. A  large  sum  was  collected  for  both  insti- 
tutions. On  the  23d  of  August  the  first  stone  of 
the  college  building  was  laid  by  the  governor, 
Sir  Charles  Hardy,  who  had  favored  the  object 
at  the  outset,  on  his  first  arrival.  The  first  Com- 
mencement was  held  in  1758.  The  original  build- 
ing, the  central  portion  of  the  present  edifice,  was 
completed  in  1700.  The  president,  soon  contem- 
plating retirement  from  age,  made  application  to 
Archbishop  Seeker,  in  England,  for  an  assistant, 
who  might  succeed  to  his  office.  Myles  Cooper, 
a  young  graduate  of  Oxford,  a  man  of  learning 
and  of  some  taste  in  poetry,  was  selected.  Dr. 
Johnson  retired  to  Stratford,  when  Cooper  be- 
came president,  in  1763,  and  pa-sed  his  days  in 
his  ministry,  till  his  death  in  1772  at  the  age  of 
seventy-five.  He  wished  at  the  close  of  his  days 
that  he  might  die  like  his  friend  Berkeley,  to 
whom  death  came  suddenly  in  the  quiet  of  his 
home,  and  a  similar  end  was  vouchsafed  him.t 
The  poetical  inscription  on  the  monument  over 
his  remains  at  Stratford,  was  written  by  Dr. 
Cooper : — 

If  decent  dignity,  and  modest  mien, 

The  cheerful  heart,  and  countenance  serene  ; 

If  pure  religion  arid  unsullied  truth, 

His  age's  solace,  and  his  search  in  youth  ; 

In  charity,  through  all  the  rnce  lie  ran, 

Still  wishing  well,  and  doing  good  to  man  ; 

If  learning  free  from  pedantry  and  pride ; 


*  The  letter  is  in  the  Appendix  of  Chandler's  Life. 
t  Chandler's  Life,  p,  134. 


380 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


If  faith  and  virtue  'walking  side  by  side ; 

If  well  to  mark  his  being's  aim  and  end, 

To  shine  through  life  the  father  and  the  friend ; 

If  these  ambition  in  thy  soul  can  raise, 

Excite  thy  reverence  or  demand  thy  praise, 

Reader,  ere  yet  thou  quit  this  earthly  scene, 

Revere  his  name,  and  be  what  he  has  been. 

Johnson's  life  was  written  by  his  friend  Dr. 
Chandler,  the  zealous  advocate  of  episcopacy,  but 
did  not  appear  till  1805* 

Besides  a  number  of  discourses  and  other  writ- 
ings on  church  topics,  Dr.  Johnson  published,  in 
1740,  a  System  of  Morality  and  a  Compendium 
of  Logic  and  Metaphysics,  treatises  with  which 
Benjamin  Franklin  was  so  pleased  that  he  printed 
them  together  in  a  volume  in  1755,  which  was 
reprinted  in  London,  where  also  a  third  edition 
appeared  in  1754,  corrected  by  the  author,  with 
a  preface  by  Dr.  William  Smith,  afterwards  pro- 
vost of  the  College  of  Pennsylvania.  An  Eng- 
lish and  Hebrew  Grammar,  being  the  first  short 
rudiments  of  the  two  languages  taught  together, 
to  which  is  added  a  Synopsis  of  all  the  Parts  of 
Learning,  appeared  from  his  pen  in  London,  in 
1757.+ 

The  name  of  the  second^  president,  Myles  Coo- 
per, being  somewhat  prominently  connected  with 
the  Revolutionary  era  in  New  York,  and  his 
story  furnishing  several  notable  anecdotes,  it  may 
be  of  interest  to  state  particularly  what  is  known 
of  his  life  and  writings. 

Myles  Cooper  came  over  to  America  in  1762. 
lie  brought  a  letter  from  Archbishop  Seeker, 
who  had  chosen  him,  at  the  request  of  the  col- 
lege, as  a  competent  assistant  and  successor  to 
President  Johnson.  The  amiable  and  useful  friend 
to  America,  Dr.  Fotliergill,  had  a  hand  in  this 
appointment.!  He  was  then  but  twenty-seven 
years  of  age ;  a  youthful  incumbent  of  so  grave 
an  office,  in  which  he  was  fully  installed  the  fol- 
lowing year.  Cooper  was  born  in  1735.  -He 
took  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Oxford  in  1760,  and  the  next  year  pub- 
lished a  volume  of  poems  by  subscription  at  that 
city.§  They  are  occasional  verses,  amatory  and 
bacchanalian,  full  of  the  spirit  of  the  old  English 
gentleman  who  sang  of  Chloe,  Delia,  and  Silvia  ; 
put  old  stories  of  cuckoldry  into  epigrams,  and 
wrote  heroic  little  poems  on  ladies'  gaiters ;  at 
times  subsiding  into  tranquillity  in  an  ode  to 
Contentment,  or  some  touching  lines  to  a  Sing- 
ing Bird  in  Confinement,  and  rising — if  it  be 
rising — into  dull  stanzas  on  sacred  subjects ;  for 
all  of  these  things  did  Myles  Cooper  in  his  salad 
days  at  Oxford,  before  he  came  to  America  to 
confront  "sons  of  liberty"  on  the  Hudson.  It  is 
not  likely  that  he  brought  many  copies  of  his 


*  Thomas  Bradbury  Chandler  was  born  in  Woodstock,  Con- 
necticut, and  was  a  graduate  of  Yale.  He  was  ordained  in  Eng- 
land in  1751,  and  became  rector  at  Eiizabethtown,  New  Jersey, 
on  bis  return.  He  died  at  the  age  of  sixty-four,  in  1790.  His 
chief  writings  were  controversial,  against  Chauucy  of  Boston, 
in  defence  of  Episcopacy. 

t  An  Historical  Sketch  of  Columbia  College,  in  the  City  of 
New  York,  184li,  by  N.  F.  Moore,  late  President.  A  small 
volume  compactly  filled  with  important  information.  We 
have  been  greatly  indebted  to  its  faithful  narrative  throughout 
this  notice. 

t  M'Vickar's  Life  of  Bard,  29. 

§  Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  by  Myles  Cooper,  M.A.,  of 
Queen's  College,  Oxford.  8peB  rut  animi  nostra  iimoreminor. 
—Ovid.    Oxford.    Printed  by  W.  Jackson.    Svo. 


Poems  over  for  the  use  of  the  students  and  the 
eyes-  of  sober  Dr.  Johnson  of  Connecticut,  with 
the  letter  of  the  archbishop.  Some  of  his  verses 
are  censurable,  though  the  taste  of  the  age  al- 
lowed publications  then  to  gentlemen  which  the 
more  delicate  standard  of  the  present  day  would 
reject. 


It  was  one  of  the  doctor's  notions  in  his  book 
that  power,  bower,  tower,  should  be  printed 
when  they  made  one  syllable  in  poetry,  -powre, 
bowre,  towre,  and  he  modestly  states  in  his  un- 
settled, apologetic  preface,  that  some  of  his  poems 
were  imitations,  and  others  were  written  by  his 
friends. 

In  this  old  British  period  the  young  president's 
manners  and  convivial  habits  were  much  admired. 
He  was  a  member  of  a  literary  club,  which,  "  like 
those  of  modern  days,  mixed  up  a  little  literature 
with  a  great  deal  of  conviviality."* 

On  the  breaking  out  of  the  Pievolution,  Myles 
Cooper,  with  Seabnry  and  Auchmuty,  were  active 
on  the  Tory  side  in  writing  and  scheming.  Cooper 
is  said  to  have  had  a  hand  in  the  tract,  a  publi- 
cation of  the  times — A  Friendly  Address  to  all 
reasonable  Americans,  on  the  subject  of  our  Poli- 
tical Confusions  ;  in  ichich  the  necessary  conse- 
quences of  violently  opposing  the  King's  troops, 
and  of  a  'general  Non- Importation  are  fairly 
stated  ;  which  one  of  his  pupils,  the  young  Alex- 
ander Hamilton,  who  had  matriculated  at  the 
college  in  1774,  answered  with  signal  ability.  He 
is  twice  -mentioned  in  M'Fingal. 

Cooper  became  exceedingly  obnoxious  to  the 


*  M'Yickar's  Life  of  Bard,  100.  "  Among  its  members  were 
Dr.  Samuel  Bard,  Kenipe,  attorney-general,  Baehe,  Joues, 
Middleton,  and  Sherbrooke." 


COLUMBIA  COLLEGE. 


381 


people,  as  one  of  the  Tory  plotters,  and  in  April, 
1775,  he  and  his  friends  received  a  significant 
hint  from  a  published  letter,  signed  "  Three  Mil- 
lions," to  "  fly  for  their  lives,  or  anticipate  their 
doom  by  becoming  their  own  executioners."* 

On  the  night  of  May  10,  of  that  year,  after 
Hamilton  and  his  youthful  companions  had  de- 
stroyed the  guns  on  the  Battery,  and  one  of  their 
comrades  had  fallen,  the  mob  became  incensed, 
and  proceeded  to  expel  Dr.  Cooper  from  the  col- 
lege. Hamilton  and  Troup,  students,  ascended 
the  steps,  and,  to  restrain  the  rioters,  Hamilton 
addressed  them  "  on  the  excessive  impropriety  of 
their  conduct,  and  the  disgrace  they  were  bring- 
ing on  the  cause  of  liberty,  of  which  they  pro- 
fessed to  be  the  champions."  Dr.  Cooper,  who 
mistook  the  case  and  thought  he  was  exciting  the 
people,  cried  out  from  an  upper  window,  "Don't 
listen  to  him,  gentlemen  ;  he  is  crazy,  he  is  crazy" 
— but  Hamilton  kept  them  engaged  till  the  Tory 
president  escaped.t  He  made  his  way  half-dressed 
over  the  college  fence,  and  wandered  about  the 
shore  of  the  Hudson  till  near  morning,  when  he 
found  shelter  in  the  old  Stuyvesant  mansion  in 
the  Bowery,  where  he  passed  the  day,  and  was 
at  night  taken  on  board  the  Kingfisher,  Captain 
James  Montagu,  an  English  ship-of-war  in  the 
harbor,  in  which  he  sailed  to  England. J  He  kept 
the  anniversary  of  these  events  next  year  by  writ- 
ing a  poem,  full  of  the  circumstances,  which  he 
published  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  July, 
1776.  It  is  a  favorable  specimen  of  his  poetical 
powers. 

STANZAS    WRITTEN    ON    THE    EVENING    OF    TITE    10TH    OP    MAT, 
1776,   BY  AN   EXILE  FEOM   AMEKICA. 

To  thee,  0  God,  by  whom  I  live, 
The  tribute  of  my  soul  to  give 

On  this  eventful  day, 
To  thee,  0  God,  my  voice  I  raise  ; 
To  thee  address  my  grateful  praise. 

And  swell  the  duteous  lay. 

Now  has  this  orb  unceasing  run 
Its  annual  circuit  round  the  sun, 

Since  when  the  heirs  of  strife, 
Led  by  the  pale  moon's  midnight  ray, 
And  bent  on  mischief,  urged  their  way. 

To  seize  my  guiltless  life. 

At  ease  my  weary  limbs  were  laid, 
And  slumbers  sweet  around  me  shed 

The  blessings  of  repose  : 
Unconscious  of  the  dark  design, 
1  knew  no  base  intent  was  mine, 

And  therefore  feared  no  foes. 

When  straight,  a  heav'n-directed  youth, 
Whom  oft  my  lessons  led  to  truth, 

And  honour's  sacred  shrine, 
Advancing  quick  before  the  rest, 
With  trembling  tongue  my  ear  addrest, 

Yet  sure  in  voice  divine : 

"  Awake !  awake !  the  storm  is  nigh — 
This  instant  rouse — this  instant  fly — 

The  next  may  be  too  late — 
Four  hundred  men,  a  murderous  band, 
Access,  importunate,  demand, 

And  shake  the  groaning  gate." 


•  Force's  American  Archives,  Fourth.  Series,  ii.  3S9. 
+  Life  of  Hamilton,  by  John  0.  Hamilton,  vol.  i. 
t  Prest.  N.  F.  Moore's  Historical  Sketch  of  Columbia  Col- 
lege, p.  Gl,  and  Appendix. 


I  wake — I  fly — while  loud  and  near, 
Dread  execrations  wound  my  ear, 

And  sore  my  soul  dismay. 
One  avenue  alone  remained, 
A  speedy  passage  there  I  gained, 

And  winged  my  rapid  way. 

That  moment,  all  the  furious  throng, 
An  entrance  forcing,  poured  along, 

And  filled  my  peaceful  cell ;     ' 
Where  harmless  jest,  and  modest  mirth. 
And  cheerful  laughter  oft  had  birth, 

And  joy  was  wont  to  dwell. 

Not  e'en  the  Muses'  hallowed  fane* 
Their  lawless  fury  can  restrain, 

Or  check  their  headlong  haste; 
They  push  them  from  their  solemn  seats, 
Profane  their  long  revered  retreats, 

And  lay  their  Pindus  waste. 

Nor  yet  content — but  hoping  still 
Their  impious  purpose  to  fulfil, 

They  force  each  yielding  door; 
And  while  their  curses  load  my  head 
With  piercing  steel  they  probe  the  bed. 

And  thirst  for  human  gore. 

Meanwhile  along  the  sounding  shore, 
Where  Hudson's  waves  incessant  roar, 

I  work  my  weary  way; 
And  skirt  the  windings  of  the  tide, 
My  faithful  pupil  by  my  side, 

Nor  wish  the  approach  of  day. 

At  length,  ascending  from  the  beach, 
With  hopes  revived,  by  morn  I  reach 

The  good  Palemon's  cot ; 
Where,  free  from  terror  and  affright, 
I  calmly  wait  the  coming  night 

My  every  fear  forgot. 

'Twos  then  I  scaled  the  vessel's  side,-)* 
Where  all  the  amities  abide, 

That  mortal  worth  can  boast ; 
Whence,  with  a  longing,  lingering  view, 
I  bade  my  much  loved  York  adieu, 

And  sought  my  native  coast. 

Now,  all  composed,  from  danger  far, 
I  hear  no  more  the  din  of  war, 

Nor  shudder  at  alarms  ; 
But  safely  sink  each  night  to  rest, 
No  malice  rankling  through  my  breast, 

Iii  Freedom's  fostering  arms. 

Though  stript  of  most  the  world  admires, 
Yet,  torn  by  few  untamed  desires, 

I  rest  in  calm  content ; 
And  humbly  hope  a  gracious  Lord 
Again  those  blessings  will  afford 

Which  once  his  bounty  lent. 

Yet,  still,  for  many  a  faithful  friend, 
Shall,  day  by  day,  my  vows  ascend 

Thy  dwelling,  O  my  God! 
"Who  steady  still  in  virtue's  cause, 
Despising  faction's  mimic  laws, 

The  paths  of  peace  have  trod. 

Nor  yet  for  friend*  alone — for  all, 

Too  prone  to  heed  sedition's  call, 

Ileal-  me,  indulgent  Ucav'n ! 


*  ne  alludes  to  the  college  edifice  converted  into  a  military 
hospital,  and  which  a  note  on  this  passage  intended  for  his 
English  readers  describes  as — "an  elegant  edifice,  since  con- 
verted into  common  barracks.1' 

t  The  Kingfisher,  Captain  James  Montngu. 


3S2 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


"  0  may  they  oast  their  arms  away, 
To  Thee  and  George  submission  pay, 
Repent,  and  be  forgiven." 

Upon  bis  arrival  in  England  Dr.  Cooper  be- 
came one  of  the  ministers  of  the  English  Chapel 
in  Edinburgh,*  in  which  capacity  he  died  at  that 
city,  suddenly,  May  1, 1785.  The  epitaph  which 
he  wrote  for  himself  is  characteristic : — 

Here  lies  a  priest  of  English  blood, 

'Who,  living,  lik'd  whate'er  was  good ; 

Good  company,  good  wine,  good  name, 

Yet  never  hunted  after  fame  ; 

But  as  the  first  he  still  preferr'd, 

So  here  he  chose  to  be  interr'd, 

And,  unobscur'd,  froni  crowds  withdrew 

To  rest  among  a  chosen  few, 

In  humble  hopes  that  Sovereign  love 

Will  raise  him  to  be  blest  above. 

His  portrait,  which  hangs  in  the  college  library, 
was  engraved  for  a  biographical  article  in  the 
American  Medical  and  Philosophical  Begister.i 
It  exhibits  his  happy  constitutional  temperament. 

Upon  the  flight  of  Dr.  Cooper  in  1775,  the 
Rev.  Benjamin  Moore  was  appointed  president 
pro  tern.,  but  the  college  education  was  soon  en- 
tirely interrupted  by  the  Revolution.  The  build- 
ing was  taken  possession  of  as  a  military  hospital ; 
the  library,  containing  many  valuable  works  from 
the  University  of  Oxford  and  other  sources,  was 
removed  and  almost  destroyed,  but  a  few  of  the 
books  coming  to  light  many  years  afterwards  in  a 
room  of  St.  Paul's  chapel.  There  were  conse- 
quently no  graduates  from  1776  to  1784.  On  the 
restoration  of  peace  the  iron  crown  was  removed 
from  the  cupola  of  King's  College,  which  hence- 
forth, by  the  act  of  1784,  and  under  the  new  or- 
ganization of  trustees  established  in  1787,  became 
Columbia  College.  The  first  student  who  pre- 
sented himself  after  the  Revolution  was  Devvitt 
Clinton;  one  of  the  last  who  left  the  college  be- 
fore it  was  Alexander  Hamilton.  John  Ran- 
dolph, of  Virginia,  appears  among  the  early  stu- 
dents of  the  restoration. 

A  new  president  was  appointed  in  1787,  "Wil- 
liam Samuel  Johnson,  of  Stratford,  son  of  the 
first  incumbent.  He  was  fifty  years  of  age  at  the 
time,  was  a  graduate  of  Yale  arid  Harvard,  had 
been  a  delegate  to  Congress  of  1705  at  New  York, 
and  agent  of  Connecticut  in  England,  where  he 
formed  the  acquaintance  of  such  men  as  Seeker, 
Berkeley,  Lowth,  and  others,  including  the  levia- 
than Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  who  became  his  corre- 
spondent on  his  return  to  America.  He  was  a 
Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society,  and  had  the  degree 
of  doctor  of  divinity  from  Oxford.  Among  other 
honors  and  offices  he  was  delegate  to  the  Con- 
vention of  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States, 
and  exercised  an  important  influence  in  its  deli- 
berations. While  Congress  sat  in  New  York  he 
represented  his  native  state  in  that  body,  assist- 
ing with  Ellsworth  in  the  formation  of  the  judi- 
ciary, and  on  its  removal  to  Philadelphia  resigned 
his  senatorship,  and  occupied  himself  exclusively 
with  the  government  of  the  college  till  Ins  with- 
drawal in  1800  from  the  infirmities  of  years.     He 


*  Arnnt's  Hist.  Edinburgh,  p.  2S6. 
t  Vol.  iii.  29?. 


died  in  Stratford,  in  1810,  at  the  age  of  ninety- 
two.  Verplanck  has  applied  to  his  retirement 
the  lines  of  Dr.  Johnson : — ■    , 

The  virtues  of  a  temperate  prime, 
Bless  with  an  age  exempt  from  scorn  or  crime 
And  age  that  melts  with  unperceived  decay, 
And  glides  in  pious  innocence  away  ; 
Whose  peaceful  day  benevolence  endears, 
Whose  night  congratulating  conscience  cheers, 
The  general  fav'rite  as  the  geueraV  friend, 
Such  age  there  is,  and  who  shall  wish  its  end?* 

The  Rev.  Charles  Wharton,  of  Philadelphia, 
was  elected  his  successor,  but  immediately  resign- 
ing, the  Rt.  Rev.  Benjamin  Moore  was  chosen, 
arid  held  the  office  from  1801  to  1811. 

The  Rev.  William  Harris  succeeded  Bishop 
Moore  for  a  period  of  eighteen  years,  till  1829. 
For  the  first  six  years  of  his  administration  Dr. 
John  M.  Mason  was  in  a  manner  associated  with 
the  office,  with  the  title  of  provost,  an  officer 
who,  in  the  absence  of  the  president,  was  to  sup- 
ply his  place. 

The  Hon.  William  A.  Duer,  elected  at  the  close 
of  1829,  discharged  the  duties  of  the  office  till 
1812. 

William  Alexander  Duer  was  born  September 
8,  1780,  at  Rhinebeck,  Dutchess  county,  New 
York.  His  father  was  Commissary-General  for 
the  Northern  Department,  and  a  member  of  the 
Committee  of  Public  Safety.  After  the  declara- 
tion of  peace,  1783,  he  began  the  study  of  law 
with  the  eminent  Peter  S.  Duponcean,  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  continued  it  with  the  late  Nathaniel 
Pendleton  of  New  York.  During  the  quasi  war 
with  France  of  1798,  he  obtained  the  appoint- 
ment of  midshipman  in  the  Navy,  and  served 
under  Decatur.  On  the  adjustment  of  the 
French  question  he  resumed  his  law  studies  with 
Pendleton,  and  being  admitted  to  the  bar  in 
1802,  shortly  afterwards  formed  a  connexion  in 
business  with  Edward  Livingston,  who  was  then 
district  attorney  and  mayor  of  the  city,  which 
continued  until  the  latter's  removal  to  New  Or- 
leans. He  then  formed  a  professional  partner- 
ship with  his  brother-in-law,  Beverly  Robinson. 
About  this  period  he  made  his  first  essays  in 
authorship  as  a  contributor  to  a  partisan  weekly 
paper,  the  Corrector,  conducted  by  Dr.  Peter 
Irving,  and  enlisted  in  the  support  of  Burr.  It 
was  a  temporary  affair,  and  the  parties  engaged 
in  it  were  by  no  means  committed  subsequently 
to  any  disaffection  towaids  the  high  character 
of  General  Hamilton.  Mr.  Duer  shortly  after 
joined  Livingston  at  New  Orleans,  and  devoted 
himself  to  the  study  of  the  Spanish  civil  law. 
He  was  successful,  but  was  induced  by  the  cli- 
mate and  his  marriage  with  a  lady  of  New  York, 
the  daughter  of  William  Denning,  a  prominent 
Whig  of  the  Revolution,  to  resume  his  practice 
in  the  latter  city.  In  his  new  position  he  con- 
tributed literary  articles  to  his  friend  Dr.  Iving's 
newspaper,  the  Morning  Chronicle.  He  next 
opened  an  office  in  his  native  town,  Rhine- 
beck,  and  in  1814  was  elected  to  the  State  As- 
sembly. In  this  position  he  was  appointed  chair- 
man of  a  committee  on  colleges,  academies,  and 


*  Quoted  in'Vcrplanek's  Art.  on  Prest  Johnson  in  Knapp'e 
Am.  ljiog. 


COLUMBIA  COLLEGE. 


383 


other  interests  of  science  and  literature,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  the  passage  of  a  bill  which  is  the 
original  of  the  existing  law  on  the  subject  of  the 
common  school  income.  He  was  also  chairman 
of  the  important  committee  which  arraigned  the 
constitutionality  of  the  state  law  vesting  the 
right  of  river-navigation  in  Livingston  and  Ful- 
ton* He  continued  in  the  legislature  till  1817. 
Daring  this  time  he  bore  a  prominent  part  in 
laying  the  foundation  of  the  present  canal  legis- 
lation, and  employed  his  efforts  to  check  abuses 
growing  out  of  the  old  lottery  system.  In  1822, 
with  the  adjustment  of  the  courts  under  the  new 
constitution,  he  was  appointed  judge  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  in  the  third  circuit,  and  held  the 
office  for  seven  years,  till  his  appointment  to  the 
presidency  of  Columbia  College.  In  his  new 
administration  he  soon  arranged  a  better  dis- 
tribution of  college  studies,  and  added  one  hour 
daily  by  the  system  to  the  time  of  instruction, 
taking  charge  himself  of  the  exercises  of  the 
Freshman  class  in  English  composition,  and  de- 
livering to  the  seniors  a  course  of  lectures  on 
the  constitutional  jurisprudence  of  the  United 
States.  These  "outlines"  were  published  in 
1833,  and  subsequently  revised  and  issued  in 
Messrs.  Harper's  "Family"  and  "School  Dis- 
trict" libraries.  Dr.  Doer's  presidency  of  the 
college,  which  closed  with  his  retirement  in  ill 
health  in  1842,  win  marked  by  his  high-toned 
and  gentlemanly  administration  of  its  affairs. 
His  courtesy,  while  it  called  for  little  exercise  of 
discipline,  secured  him  the  respect  of  the  stu- 
dents. During  this  period,  at  the  request  of  the 
corporation,  he  delivered  a  eulogy  upon  President 
Monroe,  which  was  pronounced  in  the  open  air 
from  the  portico  of  the  City  Hall.  Since  his  re- 
tirement President  Duer  has  resided  at  Morris- 
town,  Njw  Jersey.  His  restored  health  and  lei- 
sure have  given  him  opportunity  for  literary 
pursuits,  which  he  has  availed  himself  of  to 
write  the  life  of  his  maternal  grandfather  Lord 
Stirling,  which  has  been  published  as  a  volume 
of  their  collections  by  the  Historical  Society  of 
New  Jersey.  In  1817  he  delivered  in  the  col- 
lege chapel  an  address  before  the  literary  socie- 
ties of  Columbia,  which  has  been  published;  and 
in  1848  an  historical  address  of  interest  before 
the  St  Nicholas  Society,  in  which  he  reviews 
his  early  reminiscences  of  New  York,  and  de- 
scribes the  scenes  connected  with  the  inaugura- 
tion of  Washington.  This  was  published,  and 
forms  a  valuable  contribution  to  American  histo- 
rical memoirs. 

Judge  Duer  was  succeeded  by  Nathaniel  F. 
Moore,  who  held  the  office  till  the  autumn  of 
1849,  when  he  resigned  it  and  retired  to  private 
life. 

Nathaniel  F.  Moore  was  born  at  Newtown, 
Long  Island,  on  the  25th  of  December,  1782. 
His  father,  William  Moore,  removed  to  New 
York  in  the  following  autumn,  and  there  con- 
tinued to  reside  in  the  practice  of  his  profession, 
as  a  highly  respected  physician,  until  1824.  Na- 
thaniel was  prepared  for  college  by  Mr.  Samuel 
Rudd.  He  pursued  his  studies  at  Columbia  Col- 
lege, and  took  his  degree  of  A.B.  in  the  year  1802, 


*  Art.  Fitch's  and  Fulton's  Steam-Navigation. — Putnam's 
Monthly  Mag.,  Jan.,  1SS5. 


during  the  presidency  of  his  uncle,  the  Rt.  Rev. 
Bishop  Moore.  On  this  occasion  he  delivered  the 
salutatory  addres->,  with  an  oration,  De  Astrono- 

'  rnim  Laudibus.  After  leaving  college  Mr.  Moore 
studied  law  under  Beverly  Robinson,  and  was 
admitted  to  the  bar  in  1S05.  In  the  year  1817 
he  was  appointed  adjunct  professor  of  the  Greek 
and  Latin  languages  in  his  alma  mater,  and  soon 
after,  in  1820,  he  succeeded  Dr.  Wilson  as  pro- 
fessor in  the  same  department.     In  1825  he  re- 

'.  ceived  from  Columbia  College  the  degree  of 
LL.D.,  which  in  this  conferred  on  him  another 
mark  of  her  approbation  of  his  faithful  and  valu- 

:  able  services.  In  1835  he  resigned  his  professor- 
ship and  made  a  visit  to  Europe.  On  Ids  return 
in  1837  the  college  purchased  his  valuable  libra- 

:  ry,  and  appointed  him  librarian,  an  office  which 
he  held  only  long  enough  to  reorganize  the  libra- 

|  ry,  incorporate  his  own  books  therewith,  and 
make  a  catalogue  of  the  whole  collection.     In 

:   1839  he  again  went  abroad,  and,  on  this  occa- 

\  sion,  he  visited  Greece,  Egypt,  and  the  Holy 
Land.  Dr.  Moore  has  not  been  a  voluminous 
writer,  but  he  has  made  some  very  valuable  ad- 
ditions to  the  clas-ical  publications  of  this  coun- 
try, particularly  in  the  work  entitled  Ancient 
Mineralogy.  He  published  also  Remarks  on  the 
Pronunciation  of  the  Greek  Language,  in  reply 
to  a  pamphlet  of  Mr.  Pickering's  on  the  same 
subject ;  Lectures  on  the  Greek  Language  and 
Literature,  and  An  Historical  Sketch  of  Colum- 
bia College,  besides  several  smaller  pamphlets 
and  essays. 

The  successor  of  Dr.  Moore  in  the  presidency, 
Charles  King,  the  second  son  of  Rufus  King,  was 
born  in  the  City  of  New  York,  March  16,  1789. 
His  mother  was  Mary  ALop,  of  an  eminent  family 
of  the  state.  He  removed  with  his  family  to 
England  in  1796,  when  Rufus  King  was  appoint- 
ed by  Washington  minister  to  the  English  court. 
He  received  there  the  principal  part  of  his  edu- 
cation. After  passing  a  year  or  two  at  a  prepa- 
ratory school,  near  London,  he  was  sent  with  his 
brother  John  A.  King  to  Harrow,  one  of  the  large 
public  schools  of  England.  Alter  five  years  spent 
at  that  school,  where  among  the  companions  of 
about  his  own  age  were  Lord  Byron  and  the  late 
Sir  Robert  Peel,  he  went  to  Paris,  and  passed  a 
year  at  one  of  the  chief  schools  in  that  city,  a 
school  under  the  special  patronage  of  the  Em- 
press Josephine,  two  of  whose  nephews,  the'Tas- 
cher  de  la  Pageries,  were  among  the  scholars. 

At  Paris  he  witnessed  the  early  scenes  of  the 
Empire,  the  review  of  the  troops,  and  the  de- 
parture for  the  campaign  which  was  decided  at 
Austerlitz.  From  these  scenes  of  war  he  was 
withdrawn  on  the  return  of  Rufus  King  to  tho 
United  States,  to  take  his  place,  in  pursuance  of 
an  arrangement  made  with  Sir  Francis  Baring 
of  London,  the  eminent  banker  and  friend  of  his 
father,  as  a  clerk  in  the  house  of  Hope  &  Co.  at 
Amsterdam.  At  the  close  of  the  year  1806  he 
returned  to  his  native  country  after  an  absence 
of  ten  years,  and  was  soon  admitted  a  clerk  in 
the  mercantile  house  of  Archibald  Grade.  In 
1810  he  married  the  eldest  daughter  of  Mr.  Gra- 
de, and  became  partner  with  him  in  his  emi- 
nently prosperous  career  of  commerce,  which 
terminated  disastrously,  however,  in  1823,  when 
the  partnership  was  dissolved. 


384 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


During  the  war  of  1812  Mr.  King  was  twice 
called  into  the  military  service  of  the  United 
States.  In  the  autumn  of  1813  he  was  chosen 
one  of  the  representatives  from  the  city,  to  the 
legislature  of  the  state;  but  after  serving  one 
term  declined  a  re-election.  Called  by  the  affairs 
of  his  house  to  Europe  he  spent  two  years  there, 
accompanied  by  his  family,  returning  to  the  Uni- 
ted States  in  1817. 

Two  years  after  this  date,  in  1819,  appeared 
the  first  number  of  the  New  York  American, 
which  was  in  the  commencement  conducted  by 
James  A.  Hamilton,  Johnston  Verplanck,  and 
Charles  King.  The  paper  was  bold  and  aggres- 
sive, and  made  itself  feared.  At  the  close  of  the 
first  year  Messrs.  Hamilton  and  King  withdrew 
from  any  active  and  responsible  connexion  with 
the  paper  to  the  more  pressing  calls  of  their  re- 
spective avocations,  and  Mr.  Verplanck  remained 
sole  editor.  He  converted  the  weekly  into  a 
dailyT  paper,  still  preserving  its  first  name. 

At  that  time  the  newspapers  of  the  city  were 
the  old  Gazette  of  Lang  and  Turner,  and  the  Mer- 
cantile Advertiser  of  Butler,  both  mainly  ad- 
vertising sheets  and  records  of  ship-news,  with 
perhaps  a  column  or  two  daily  of  general  in- 
telligence. The  Daily  Advertiser  by  Theodore 
Dwight,  and  the  National  Advocate  by  M.  M. 
Noah,  were  the  two  political  morning  papers. 
The  evening  papers  were  the  Evening  Post  by 
"William  Coleman,  the  Commercial  Advertiser  by 
Zachariah  Lewis  and  William  L.  Stone,  and  the 
Columbian  by  Charles  Holt,  and  afterwards  Na- 
thaniel H.  Carter.  Among  these,  but  very  dif- 
ferent in  tone  and  aims  from  all  of  them,  the 
New  York  American  took  its  place.  For  three 
years  Mr.  Verplanck  conducted  the  paper,  at  the 
end  of  which  time  Mr.  King,  whose  commercial 
career  was  ended,  became  again  his  associate, 
and  after  a  few  months,  upon  Mr.  Verplanck  re- 
tiring into  the  country,  the  sole  proprietor  and 
editor  of  the  New  York  American.  It  remained 
under  his  exclusive  charge  and  management  until 
1847,  when  it  was  merged  in  the  New  York 
Courier  and  Enquirer. 

But  although  sole  editor,  Mr.  King  had  many 
and  able  correspondents  and  contributors.  Among 
them  were  Joseph  Blunt  and  Nathaniel  B.  Blunt, 
Charles  F.  Hoffman,  A.  Robertson  Bodgers,  Cu- 
ban C.  Verplanck,  John  and  William  A.  Duer, 
Kudolph  Bunner,  Edmund  H.  Pendleton,  John 
A.  Dix,  Henry  Carv,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bethune,  Ri- 
chard Ray ;  and  among  its  correspondents  from 
AYashington,  Rufus  King,  John  Quiney  Adams, 
Henry  Clay,  Senator  Mills  of  Mass.,  Senator 
Johnson  of  Louisiana,  and  Henry  R.  Storrs  of 
the  House  of  Representatives. 

One  position  the  American  always  held.  At 
a  period  when  coarse  personalities  were  the  ha- 
bitual language  of  editorial  contests,  it  always 
treated  its  newspaper  opponents  as  impersonali- 
ties, directing  its  arguments,  in  its  often  very 
plain  talk,  against  the  newspaper  by  name  and 
not  against  the  editor.  In  another  walk  the 
American  led  the  way  to  a  liberal  improvement 
of  the  newspaper,  now  generally  adopted,  in  its 
full  literary  articles,  in  which  each  Saturday  the 
books  of  the  week  were  passed  under  review 
with  copious  extracts.  Its  independence,  allied 
with  a  due  sense  of  responsibility,  were  features 


of  Mr.  King's  editorship.  The  journal,  too,  was 
governed  by  a  principle  of  taste  involving  a  high 
question  of  morals,  in  its  careful  abstinence  from 
vulgar  and  vicious  means  of  excitement.  It  care- 
fully rejected  horrors,  both  physical  and  moral, 
from  its  columns ;  while  the  contrary  practice, 
leading  to  immediate  profit,  has  too  frequently 
prevailed  to  the  corruption  of  the  public  mind. 

After  a  brief  editorial  connexion  with  the 
Courier  and  Enquirer,  Mr.  King,  in  the  spring  of 
1848,  withdrew  to  private  life. 

In  November  of  that  year  he  was  elected  Pre- 
sident of  Columbia  College,  and  immediately  en- 
tered upon  the  duties  of  that  office,  which  he  still 
occupies. 

For  the  preceding  ten  or  twelve  years  Mr. 
King  had  been  a  resident  of  the  State  of  New 
Jersey,  at  Elizabethtown,  whence  he  daily  came 
to  New  York.  His  residence  in  New  Jersey  gave 
additional  significance  to  the  degree  of  LL.D., 
which  was  conferred  upon  him  at  a  special  ses- 
sion of  the  college  at  Princeton,  immediately 
upon  his  election  to  the  presidency  of  Columbia 
College.  A  few  weeks  afterwards  Harvard  Col- 
lege, where  his  father  had  been  graduated  nearly 
seventy  years  before,  also  conferred  upon  him  the 
like  degree  of  doctor  of  laws. 

Of  the  old  Profe-sors  of  this  institution,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  John  C.  Kunze  held  a  Professorship  of 
ancient  languages  from  1784  to  1787,  and  from 
1792  to  1795.  He  was  a  native  of  Saxony,  and 
had  been  educated  at  the  Halle  orphan-house  and 
studied  theology  at  the  University  of  that  city. 
From  Halle  he  was  called,  in  1771,  to  the  service 
of  the  Lutheran  congregations,  in  Philadelphia, 
of  St.  Michael's  and  Zion's  churches,  where  he 
continued  fourteen  years.  He  was  one  of  the 
first  of  his  educated  countrymen  in  America  to 
urge  the  propriety  of  educating  the  German  youth 
in  English.  By  maintaining  a  contrary  course, 
the  German  and  Dutch  congregations,  where  the 
preaching  was  kept  up  in  those  languages,  lost 
many  of  their  members.  From  Philadelphia  Dr. 
Kunze  came  to  New  York,  and  took  charge  of 
the  German  Lutheran  church.  At  this  time  he 
composed  a  hymn-book  of  German  hymns  trans- 
lated into  English  verse,  in  which  he  mostly  pre- 
served the  metre  of  the  original.  He  also  com- 
posed a  liturgy  and  catechism  in  English.  His 
position  in  New  York,  and  the  estimate  set  upon 
his  learning,  may  be  judged  of  from  his  appoint- 
ments in  Columbia  College.  On  the  formation  of 
a  second  synod  of  the  American  Lutheran  Church, 
he  was  elected  its  first  President,  a  position  which 
he  accepted  to  carry  out  his  liberal  views  in 
adopting  the  use  of  the  Engli>h  language  in 
churches  and  in  education.  The  benevolence  of 
his  character  was  celebrated.  He  died  in  1807, 
after  twenty-four  years  passed  with  his  congrega- 
tion at  New  York.* 

Of  John  Kemp,  the  Professor  of  Mathematics 
and  Natural  Philosophy  from  1786  to  his  death 
in  1812,  Professor  Eenwiek,  in  his  alumni  address, 
speaks  in  high  terms,  attributing  to  him  an  im- 
portant influence  in  moulding  the  views  of  De 


*  History  of  the  American  Lutheran  Church,  from  its  com- 
mencement, in  the  year  of  our  Lord  10S5,  to  the  year  1S42. 
By  Ernest  L.  Hazelius.  D.D..  Professor  of  Theology  in  the 
Theological  Seminary  of  the  Lutheran  Synod  of  S.  C.,'  pp.  1L0, 
132. 


COLUMBIA  COLLEGE. 


385 


Witt  Clinton  on  topics  of  internal  improvement 
and  national  policy*  Kemp's  interest  in  the  sub- 
ject led  him,  in  1810,  to  make  a  journey  to  Lake 
Erie,  to  satisfy  himself  of  the  project  of  the  canal, 
which  he  pronounced,  in  advance  of  the  surveys, 
entirely  practicable.  Kemp  served  the  college  for 
a  long  period  and  with  signal  ability. 

Peter  Wilson  was  Professor  of  the  Greek  and 
Latin  languages,  with  a  short  interval  of  service, 
from  1789  to  1820,  when  he  retired  on  a  pension. 
He  was  a  native  of  Scotland,  and  was  educated 
at  Aberdeen.  lie  prepared  a  Greek  Prosody 
which  was  long  in  use,  and  edited  Sallust. 

Verplanck  speaks  of  Dr.  John  Bowden,  the 
Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  and  Logic  from 
1801  till  1817,  "  with  a  pupil's  grateful  remem- 
brance, as  a  scholar,  a  reasoner,  and  a  gentleman," 
and  commemorates  "  his  pure  taste,  his  deep  and 
accurate  erudition,  his  logical  acnteness,  and  the 
dignified  rectitude  of  his  principles  and  charac- 

ter."t 

The  Rev.  Dr.  John  M'Vickar,  whose  occupa- 
tion of  the  Professorship  of  Moral  Philosophy, 
Rhetoric,  and  Belles  Lettres,  dates  from  1817,  was 
born  in  1787,  and  was  a  graduate  of  the  college 
with  the  class  of  1804.  He  then  passed  some 
time  at  Cambridge,  in  England:  He  was  settled 
as  a  clergyman  at  Hyde  Park,  from  1811  to 
1817. 

In  1822,  Professor  M'Vickar  paid  an  amiable 
tribute  to  the  family  with  which  he  had  become 
connected  in  marriage,  by  the  publication  of  A 
Domestic  Narrative  of  the  Life  of  Samuel  Bard, 
one  of  the  old  New  York  celebrities,  the  physi- 
cian of  Washington,  whose  father  had  been  the 
companion  of  Franklin.  This  domestic  narrative 
belongs  to  a  valuable  class  of  compositions  in 
reference  to  the  early  history  of  the  country, 
which  are  seldom  executed  with  the  same  skill. 
Its  picture  of  the  old  New  York  society,  and  of 
the  friends  gathered  around  its  subject  in  his  re- 
tirement at  Hyde  Park,  is  of  permanent  interest. 

Dr.  Bard  deserves  mention  in  the  history  of 
education  in  America,  for  his  services  to  Colum- 
bia College  after  the  war,  in  his  lectures  on 
Natural  Philosophy,  one  of  the  fruits  of  his  dis- 
cipline at  Edinburgh  in  the  great  days  of  its 
University ;  his  earlier  establishment  of  the  Medi- 
cal School  in  New  York,  then  attached  to  the 
College,  of  which  he  was  Professor  of  the  Theory 
and  Practice  of  Medicine  from  1707  to  1776 ;  his 
services  to  other  medical  institutions  of  the  city ; 
and  his  occasional  addresses,  chiefly  on  topics 
connected  with  his  profession.  He  died  at  Hyde 
Park,  May  24, 1821,  in  his  eightieth  year,  twenty- 
four  hours  after  the  death  of  his  wife,  with  whom 
ho  had  lived  for  fifty-five  years. 

In  1825,  Dr.  M'Vickar  published  a  volume, 
Outlines  of  Political  Economy.  In  1834,  he  pub- 
lished a  memoir  of  Bishop  Hobart  with  the  title 
Early  Years,  followed  in  1836  by  The  Pro- 
fessional Years  of  Bishop  Hobart.  He  is  also 
the  author  of  numerous  essays,  addresses,  reviews, 
and  occasional  publications.  He  has  hold  impor- 
tant positions  in  the  church  and  the  diocese,  and 
is  a  member  of  the  Standing  Committee.    Of  late 


*  Discourse  on  Do  "Witt  Clinton,  pp.  IT,  20. 

t  Address  before  (he  Phitolexian  and  Pcithologian  Societies, 
1SS0.    By  Gulian  C.  Verplanck. 
'     VOL.   I. — 25 


years  he  has  been  chaplain  to  the  station  of  the 
United  States  forces  at  Governor's  Island.  As  a 
college  professor,  Dr.  M'Vickar  has  pursued  the 
higher  interests  of  the  subjects  intrusted  to  his 
hands  with  signal  tact  and  ability.  His  course 
of  instruction  is  eminently  clear  and  practical, 
while  he  quietly  but  efficiently  leads  the  student 
in  the  discipline  of  taste  and  philosophy. 

The  connexion  of  Dr.  Charles  Anthon  with 
the  college,  which  has  so  greatly  promoted  and 
established  its  repute  for  classical  studies,  dates 
from  the  year  1820,  when  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
three,  having  been  a  graduate  of  the  college  in 
1815,  and  divided  his  law  studies  of  the  interim 
with  ancient  literature,  he  was  appointed  adjunct 
professor  of  Greek  and  Latin  languages.  In  1830 
he  took  the  title  of  Jay  professor  of  these  studies, 
and  in  1835,  on  the  resignation  of  Dr.  Moore, 
succeeded  to  the  leading  chair  in  these  depart- 
ments. A  grammar-school,  in  union  with  the 
college,  having  been  projected  in  1S27,  and  hav- 
ing gone  into  successful  operation  in  the  building 
on  the  college  grounds  in  Murray  street  erected 
for  the  purpose,  Professor  Anthon,  in  1830, 
succeeded  the  first  rector,  John  D.  Ogilby,  a  good 
scholar,  and  with  a  warm  generous  nature,  who 
subsequently  entered  the  Episcopal  ministry,  and 
became  eminent,  as  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical 
History,  in  the  General  Protestant  Episcopal  The- 
ological Seminary  at  New  York. 

The  long  series  of  Professor  Anthon's  classical 
publications  dates  from  this  time,  commencing 
with  an  edition  of  Horace,  in  two  octavo  volumes, 
in  1830,  laden  with  the  rich  stores  of  learning  of 
this  fruitful  topic,  and  enlivened  by  the  enthusi- 
astic labor  of  the  youthful  scholar.  It  was  by 
far  the  best  specimen  of  scholarship  in  this  walk 
of  literature  which  the  country  had  then  seen, 
and  still  maintains  its  place  as  a  valuable  library 
edition,  while  in  a  slightly  curtailed  form  it  is 
generally  in  use  with  teachers  and  pupils.  To 
the  Horace  succeeded  similar  annotated  editions 
of  Sallust,  Cicero,  Cassar,  the  yEneid,  the  Ec- 
logues, and  Georgics,  six  books  of  the  Iliad,  the 
Germania  and  Agricola  of  Tacitus,  Xenophon's 
Anabasis  and  Memorabilia,  the  Treatise  on  Old 
Age  and  Tusculan  Disputations  of  Cicero* 

Among  other  services  to  classical  studies  was 
Anthon's  displacement  of  the  old  meagre  edition 
of  Lempriere's  Dictionary,  which,  at  the  date  of 
his  Jay  professorship,  was  the  best  work  in  use  of 
its  kind.  It  was  lirst  enlarged  by  him  in  several 
editions — each  an  improvement  on  the  previous 
one — and  afterwards  entirely  superseded  by  his 
Classical  Dictionary  in  1841.  In  his  works  in 
illustration  of  the  ancient  languages  and  litera- 
ture; his  several  elementary  and  other  gram- 
mars ;  his  volumes  on  the  composition  and  pro- 
sody of  both  tongues ;  his  manuals  of  Ancient 
Geography,  and  his  Greek  and  Roman  Antiqui- 
ties, he  has  brought  together  the  amplest  stores 
of  foreign  scholarship. 

A  glance  at  the  old  copies  of  Lempriere,  and 
at  the  grammars  and  other  books  of  classical  in- 
struction in  use  in  the  country  in  the  first  quar- 


*  Tho  first  publishers  of  Dr.  Anthon's  books  were  G.  and  C. 
Carvill,  in  Broadway.  In  1888,  the  extensive  classical  S"rioa 
"was  undertaken  by  the  Harpers,  and  now  forms  one  of  the 
largest  sections  of  the  volume  of  their  trade  catalogue. 


386 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ter  of  the  century,  will  show  the  rapid  develop- 
ment which  dates  from  the  beginning  of  Dr. 
Anthon's  labors.  In  the  preface  to  his  present 
Classical  Dictionary,  he  tells  us  of  the  surprise 
created  with  the  trade,  when,  in  1825,  he  pro- 
posed making  some  alterations  in  the  text  of 
Lempriere,  and  how  he  received  for  answer, 
that  "  one  might  as  well  think  of  making  altera- 
tions in  the  Scriptures  as  in  the  pages  of  Dr. 
Lempriere."  When  an  opportunity  was  once 
gained  to  exhibit  the  new  stores  of  German  and 
English  acquisition,  the  progress  was  rapidly  on- 
ward. The  books  of  Dr.  Anthon  became  dis- 
tinguished for  the  fulness  and  accuracy  of  their 
information,  and  still  hold  their  ground  by  their 
ample  illustrations  of  the  text.  As  a  critic  of 
the  ancient  languages  he  is  ingenious  and  acute, 
while  his  scholarship  and  reading  cover  the  vast 
field  of  classical  investigation  in  various  depart- 
ments of  philosophy,  history,  art,  and  literature. 
The  personal  influence  and  resources  of  Dr. 
Anthon,  his  vivacity  and  quickness  of  illustration, 
are  commensurate  with  these  extended  labors, 
which  sit  lightly  upon  an  iron  constitution.  He 
still,  as  rector  of  the  grammar-school  and  in  his 
Professor's  chair,  pursues  and  enlivens  the  daily 
toil  of  tuition,  communicating  to  hi-;  pupils  an 
enthusiasm  for  his  favorite  studies.  His  literary 
labors  in  the  illustration  of  the  classics  are  still 
in  progress;  editions  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses 
and  Terence's  Comedies  having  been  interrupted 
only  for  a  short  time,  by  the  tire  which  destroyed 
the  premises  of  the  Messrs.  Harper,  in  Decem- 
ber, 1853. 

Professor  James  Renwick,  a  graduate  of  the 
College  of  the  year  1807,  filled  the  chair  of  Na- 
tural and  Experimental  Philosophy  and  Chemis- 
try from  1820  to  1854.  During  this  time  he 
occupied  a  prominent  position  as  a  man  of  science 
through  his  contributions  to  the  journals  and 
leading  reviews,  his  lectures  before  scientific  asso- 
ciations, and  his  occasional  engagements  in  pub- 


he  services.  He  was  one  of  the  United  States 
Commissioners  in  the  survey  of  the  North-Eastern 
boundary.  His  writings  are  numerous.  He 
published  works  on  Chemistry,  Natural  Philoso- 
phy, Practical  Mechanics,  and  a  Treatise  on  the 
Steam-Engine,  which  are  in  use  as  College  text- 
books. To  Sparks's  series  of  American  Biogra- 
phies he  contributed  the  Lives  of  Piittenhouse, 
Robert  Fulton,  and  Count  Rumford;  and  to 
Harpers'  Family  Library  a  Life  of  DeWitt  Clin- 
ton, whose  "  Character  and  Public  Services"  he 
had  made  the  subject  of  a  discourse  before  the 
Alumni  of  the  College  in  1829. 

Dr.  Henry  J.  Anderson  received  his  appoint- 
ment as  Professor  of  Mathematics,  Analytical 
Mechanics,  and  Physical  Astronomy,  in  1825,  and 
resigned  it  in  1843.  His  highly  trained  scientific 
culture  did  honor  to  the  institution.  In  1828 
he  contributed  to  the  American  Philosophical  So- 
ciety a  paper  on  the  Motion  of  Solids  on  Surfaces, 
in  the  two  Hypotheses  of  perfect  sliding  and  per- 
fect rolling,  with  a  particular  Examination  of 
their  small  oscillatory  motions.*  Since  his  re- 
tirement from  the  College  he  has  travelled  in 
Europe,  and  been  attached  to  Lieut.  Lynch's  Ex- 
ploring Expedition  to  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  River 
Jordan,  as  the  geologist  of  the  company.  His 
Geological  Reconnoksance  of  part  of  the  Holy 
Land,  made  in  April  and  May.  1848,  including 
the  Regions  of  the  Libanus,  Northern  Galilee, 
the  Valley  of  the  Jordan,  and  the  Dead  Sea,  has 
been  published  by  the  Government. 

Professor  Henry  Drisler,  adjunct  professor  of 
Greek  and  Latin,  has  been  connected  with  the 
College  since  1843.  His  frequent  association 
with  Dr.  Anthon  in  the  preparation  of  his  edi- 
tions of  the  classics  appears  from  the  introduc- 
tions to  those  works,  while  his  edition  of  the 
Greek-English  Lexicon  of  Liddell  and  Scott, 
bearing  date  1846,  is  an  additional  proof  of  the 
fidelity  of  his  scholarship. 

The  real  estate  owned  by  Columbia  College  is 


valuable,  though  heretofore  its  income  has  not 
greatly  profited  from  this  source.  It  consists  of 
the  real  estate  in  the  third  ward  of  the  city  now 
occupied  by  the  College,  which  is  estimated  at 


Columbia  College. 

more  than  half  a  million  of  dollars;  and  of  the 


*  Transactions  Am.  Philos.  Soc.  Hi.,  New  Series,  1SS0,  rp. 
315-3S2. 


THE  CHARLESTON  LIBRARY:  NEW  YORK  SOCIETY  LIBRARY. 


38T 


property  in  the  nineteenth  ward,  once  occupied 
as  the  Botanic  Garden,  which  was  granted  to  the 
College  by  the  Legislature  in  1814.  The  latter, 
now  lying  in  the  Fifth  Avenue,  includes  twenty- 
one  acres,  comprising  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  building  lots,  exclusive  of  the  streets,  and  is 
set  down  in  round  numbers  at  four  hundred 
thousand  dollars  in  value.  This  has  been  hither- 
to unproductive,  but  is  now  in  process  of  grading 
by  the  College,  and  will  soon  yield  a  large  in- 
come. In  addition  to  this  real  estate  the  College 
derives  a  rent  of  upwards  of  nineteen  thousand 
dollars  from  other  property  in  the  third  ward, 
under  lease.  The  annual  expenditures  of  the 
College,  for  the  last  fifteen  years,  have  been  about 
twenty-two  thousand  dollars;  and  the  income 
from  students,  who  pay  an  annual  fee  of  ninety 
dollars  each,  about  nine  thousand  dollars.* 


THE  CHARLESTON  LIBRARY— THE  NEW  YORK  SO- 
CIETY LIBRARY. 

The  three  oldest  public  library  associations  in  the 
country,  disconnected  with  colleges,  are  the  Li- 
brary Company  of  Philadelphia,  the  Library  So- 
ciety of  Charleston,  S.  C,  and  the  New  York  So- 
ciety Library.  Of  the  first  we  have  already  spoken. 
The  second  was  founded  in  1748  by  an  association 
of  seventeen  young  men,  who  in  that  year  uni- 
ted in  raising  a  fund  to  "collect  new  pamphlets" 
and  magazines  published  in  Great  Britain.  They 
remitted  ten  pounds  to  England,  and  by  the  close 
of  the  same  year  expanded  their. plan  to  that  of  a 
public  library.  In  1750  their  numbers  had  in- 
creased to  one  hundred  and  sixty.  A  charter 
was  obtained  in  1755  ;  a  bequest  of  the  valuable 
library  of  John  M'Kenzie,  an  eminent  lawyer  of 
the  city,  received  in  1771 ;  and  the  vested  fund, 
exclusive  of  the  amount  expended  in  books, 
amounted  in  1778  to  £20,000.  On  the  fifteenth 
of  January,  of  the  same  year,  the  collection  was 
destroyed  by  fire,  only  185  out  of  from  five  to  six 
thousand  volumes  being  preserved,  with  about 
two  thirds  of  the  M'Kenzie  collection.  As  its 
other  property  was  greatly  depreciated  during 
the  war,  but  little  remained  of  the  institution  at 
the  peace.  In  1792  a  new  collection  was  com- 
menced, which  in  1808  amounted  to  4,500,  and 
in  1851  to  20,000  volumes.  A  building,  origi- 
nally the  Bank  of  South  Carolina,  was  purchased 
for  the  use  of  the  institution  in  1840. 

The  New  York  Society  Library  was  chartered 
in  1754.  The  foundation  of  the  collection  may, 
however,  be  dated  back,  in  advance  of  all  other 
American  institutions  of  a  similar  kind,  to  the 
commencement  of  the  century,  the  Rev.  John 
Sharp,  chaplain  to  the  governor  of  the  province, 
the  Earl  of  Bellamont,  having  in  1700  given  a 
number  of  volumes  for  the  use  of  the  public, 
which  were  deposited  in  a  room  provided  for  the 
purpose.  Those  of  the  collection  which  remain 
are  preserved  in  the  library,  and  consist  of  pon- 
derous tomes  of  theology,  bearing  the  autograph 
of  the  original  donor. 

Nothing  more  is  known  of  the  history  of  the 
collection  until  twenty-nine  years  later,  when  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Millington,  rector  of  Newington,  Eng- 
land, bequeathed  his  library  to  the  Society  for 


the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel,  by  whom  it  was 
presented  to  the  New  York  library.  The  entire 
collection  remained  without  further  additions  of 
importance  in  the  hands  of  the  corporation,  who 
do  not  appear  to  have  been  good  curators  of  the 
books  intrusted  to  them. 

The  establishment  of  King's  College,  1754, 
seems  to  have  led  a  number  of  eminent  citizens 
)  to  unite  in  an  association  to  form  a  library  "  for 
j  the  use  and  ornament  of  the  city,  and  the  advan- 
tage of  our  intended  college."  Funds  were  col- 
I  lected,  and  a  number  of  books  purchased,  which 
;  were  placed  in  the  same  room  witli  those  already 
in  the  possession  of  the  city.  In  1772  a  charter 
!  was  obtained,  and  the  institution  assumed  the 
title  it  has  since  borne  of  "  The  New  York  Society 
Library."  In  1774  the  records  of  the  society 
were  broken  off,  and  not  resumed  until  fourteen 
years  after.  During  the  occupation  of  the  city 
by  the  British  the  soldiery  were  in  the  habit,  in 
the  words  of  a  venerable  citizen,  who  remem- 
bered the  circumstance,  of  "carrying  off  books 
in  their  knapsacks,  which  they  sold  for  grog."* 
Little  or  nothing  is  said  to  have  been  left  of  the 
collection  at  the  peace  but  the  folios,  which  either 
proved  too  bulky  for  the  knapsacks  or  too  heavy 
for  the  backs  of  the  pilferers,  or  were  perhaps  too 
dry  for  exchange  for  fluids  on  any  terms  what- 
ever. In  December,  1788,  the  shareholders  at 
last  bestirred  themselves,  issued  a  call,  came  to- 
gether, elected  officers,  and  in  the  next  year  ob- 
tained a  renewal  of  their  charter. 

The  room  in  the  old  city  hall,  on  the  site  of 
the  present  custom-house  at  the  corner  of  Wall 
and  Nassau  streets,  being  found  too  small  for  the 
convenient  accommodation  of  the  collection,  ad- 
ditional subscribers  were  obtained,  and  a  spacious 
and  elegant  building  erected  for  its  exclusive  ac- 
commodation in  Nassau  street,  opposite  the  Mid- 
dle Dutch  church,  now  the  post-office,  to  which 
it  was  removed  in  1795. 

In  1836  the  rapid  growth  of  the  city,  and  the 
entire  abandonment  of  its  lower  portion  to  mer- 
cantile purposes,  rendered  a  removal  of  the  li- 
brary desirable.  The  building  was  sold,  and  a 
new  edifice  erected  at  the  corner  of  Broadway  and 
Leonard  streets.  In  1853  another  removal  was 
deemed  advisable.  The  building  was  sold  to  the 
Messrs.  Appleton,  by  whom  the  lower  floor  was 
converted  into  the  finest  and  largest  retail  book- 
store in  the  United  States,  and  probably  in  the 
world,  thus  preserving  in  a  measure  the  literary 
associations  of  the  locality.  The  library  was  re- 
moved to  apartments  in  "the  Bible-House,  which 
it  still  occupies.  Laud  has  been  purchased  at  the 
corner  of  Thirteenth  street  and  University  place 
for  a  new  edifice,  which  has  not  yet  been  com- 
menced. 

A  catalogue  of  the  library  was  printed  before 
the  Revolution,  but  no  copies  have  been  pre- 
served, nor  is  the  extent  of  the  collection  at  that 
time  known.  A  catalogue  was  printed  in  1793, 
when  the  library  contained  five  thousand  vo- 
lumes. The  collection  increased  to  thirteen  thou- 
sand in  1813,  to  twenty-five  thousand  in  1838. 
The  last  catalogue,  published  in  1S50,  states  the 


*  Report  of  Committee  of  the  Senate,  March  10,  1S55. 


*  Reminiscences  of  New  York,  by  John  Pintard,  published 
in  the  New  York  Mirror. 


3S8 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


number  of  volumes  at  that  time  to  be  thirty- 
five  thousand.  The  number  is  now  forty  thou- 
sand. 

The  original  price  of  shares  was  fixed  at  five 
pounds,  the  shares  being  perpetual,  but  subject 
to  an  annual  payment  of  ten  shillings.  The 
present  price  is  twenty-five,  with  an  annual 
payment  of  six  dollars.  The  number  of  mem- 
bers in  1793  was  nine  hundred,  it  is  now  one 
thousand. 

The  proprietors  elect  annually  fifteen  of  their 
number  as  trustees,  to  whom  the  entire  charge 
of  the  affairs  of  the  corporation  is  intrusted. 

John  Forbes  filled  the  office  of  librarian  from 
1794  to  1824.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  son,  the 
present  librarian,  Philip  J.  Forbes,  to  whom  the 
institution  is  under  obligations  for  his  long  ser- 
vices as  a  faithful  curator  of  its  possessions,  and  a 
judicious  co-operator  with  the  trustees  for  their 
increase. 

The  collection  includes  valuable  files  of  the 
newspapers  and  periodical  publications  of  the  pre- 
sent century,  and  good  editions  of  classic  writers 
of  every  language.  In  1812  the  society  received 
a  valuable  donation  from  Francis  B.  Winthrop, 
Esq.,  of  a  collection  of  early  theological  and  sci- 
entific works,  mostly  in  the  Latin  language,  col- 
lected by  his  ancestor  John  "Winthrop,  the  first 
governor  of  Connecticut. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  PENNSYLVANIA. 
Tins  institution  is  an  illustration  of  the  growth 
and  development  of  liberal  education  in  the  city 
of  Philadelphia.  It  had  its  origin  mainly  in  the 
efforts  of  Franklin,  by  whose  exertions  the 
Academy  of  Philadelphia  was  organized,  and  went 
into  operation  in  1750.  A  public  school  had  been 
established  in  1689  by  the  Society  of  Friends,  at 
which  Latin  and  mathematics  were  taught,  and  of 
which  George  Keith  was  the  first  teacher.  In 
1743  Franklin,  sensitive  to  the  wants  of  the 
times,  communicated  the  plan  of  an  Academy,  as 
he  states  in  his  autobiography,  to  the  Rev.  Rich- 
ard Peters,  which  he  revived  in  1749  in  conjunc- 
tion with  Thomas  Hopkinson  and  others,  when 
he  issued  his  pamphlet  entitled  "  Proposals  rela- 
tive to  the  Education  of  Youth  in  Pennsylvania," 
the  publication  of  which  he  tells  us,  in  his  politic 
way,  he  took  care  to  represent,  in  his  introduc- 
tion, "  not  as  an  act  of  mine,  but  of  some  public- 
spirited  gentleman,  avoiding  as  much  as  I  could, 
according  to  my  usual  rule,  the  presenting  myself 
to  the  public  as  the  author  of  any  scheme  for 
their  benefit."  A  body  of  trustees  was  formed, 
including  the  most  influential  men  of  the  city, 
among  whom  were  Franklin  himself,  James  Logan, 
Thomas  Hopkinson,  Richard  Peters,  Jacob  Duche, 
Philip  Syng,  Charles  "Willing,  and  others,  "  men 
of  character  and  standing  and  learning;  orwhere, 
as  with  the  greatest  of  them,  mere  scholarship 
was  wanting,  of  masculine  intelligence,  and  pure, 
vigorous  American  mother  wit;"  while  "the 
master  spirit  then,  as  the  master  spirit  in  every 
effort  to  do  public  good,  from  the  hour  when  he 
landed  penniless  at  Market-street  wharf,  till  the 
distant  day  when,  at  the  end  of  almost  a  century, 
he  was  carried  amidst  mourning  crowds  and  toll- 
ing bells  to  his  modest  and  almost  forgotten  grave, 
was  Benjamin  Franklin.     His  mind  conceived  and 


his  energy  achieved  the  first  Philadelphia  college."* 
Franklin  has  himself  told  the  story  of  his  adroitness 
in  taking  advantage  of  the  arrival  of  Whitefield  to 
secure  a  permanent  location  for  the  school.  A 
building  was  erected  to  provide  accommodation 
for  travelling  preachers  under  similar  circum- 
stances with  the  great  Methodist,  and  was  placed 
under  the  control  of  members  of  the  several  de- 
nominations. One  of  them  was  a  Moravian,  who 
had  not  given  satisfaction  to  his  colleagues  ;  and 
on  his  death  it  was  resolved  to  leave  that  sect  out, 
and  as  there  was  no  religious  variety  to  draw 
from,  Franklin  secured  his  election  on  the  ground 
of  being  of  no  sect  at  all.  Having  thus  attained 
a  position  in  both  boards,  he  effected  a  junction 
of  the  school  and  the  meeting-house  in  the  same 
building,  and  to  this  day,  in  the  present  halt-  of 
the  University,  accommodation  is  afforded,  if 
called  for  by  itinerant  preaehers.t  In  1751  the 
academy  opened  in  the  new  building  with  masters 
in  Latin,  English,  and  mathematics.  Charles 
Thomson,  the  future  Secretary  of  Congress,  was 
during  four  years  a  tutor  in  the  school.  In  1753 
a  charter  was  obtained  for  "  the  Trustees  of  the 
Academy  and  Charitable  School  in  the  Province 
of  Pennsylvania."  Logic,  rhetoric,  natural  and 
moral  philosophy  were  added  to  the  instructions, 
and  the  Rev.  William  Smith,  then  full  of  youth- 
ful ardor  in  the  cause  of  education,  was  employed 
to  teach  them.  An  additional  charter  in  1755 
conferred  the  power  of  granting  degrees,  and  in- 
stituted a  faculty  with  the  title  of  "The  Provost, 
Yice-Provost,  and  Professors  of  the  College  and 
Academy  of  Philadelphia,  in  the  province  of 
Pennsylvania."  By  this  act  the  Rev.  William 
Smith  was  appointed  the  first  Provost,  and  the 
Rev.  Francis  Alison  Vice-Provost.  Both,  by 
disposition,  education,  and  experience,  were  well 
fitted  for  the  calling, 


William  Smith. 

William  Smith  was  born  in  Scotland,  and  was 
a  graduate  of  the  University  of  Aberdeen  in 
1747.  After  his  arrival  in  this  country  he  was 
for  more  than  two  years  tutor  in  the  family  of 


*  Address  before  the  Alumni  of  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, by  William  B.  Heed,  Nov.  10,  1849. 

+  History  of  the  Univ.  Pa.,  by  Geo.  B.  Wood,  M.D.  Me- 
moirs Hist.  Soc.  Pa.  iii.  179,  a  source  from  which  our  sketch 
of  the  College  is  mostly  derived. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  PENNSYLVANIA. 


389 


Col.  Martin  of  Long  Island.  During  this  time  Up 
revisited  England  and  was  ordained  to  the 
ministry. 

He  early  gave  his  attention  to  the  subject  of 
education,  for  in  1753,*  when  King's  College  was 
about  being  organized  in  New  York,  he  drew  up 
and  published  an  ingenious  essay  entitled  A 
General  I  lea  of  the  College  of  Mirania,  addressed 
"to  the  Trustees  by  law  appointed  for  receiving 
proposals  relating  to  the  establishment  of  a  Col- 
lege in  New  York."  He  visited  England,  and 
received  his  ordination  there  in  1753. 

Before  the  College  charter  was  obtained  in 
Philadelphia  he  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the 
Academy,  May  25,  1754,  and  was,  as  we  have 
seen,  constituted  the  first  Provost  of  the  College. 
In  the  published  collection  of  his  Discourses  there 
is  a  sermon  from  his  pen  preached  in  Christ 
Church,  Philadelphia,  Sept.  1,  1754,  on  the  death 
of  a  pupil  of  the  Senior  Philosophy  Class,  Wil- 
liam Thomas  Martin,  which  is  accompanied  by 
verses  written  by  Francis  Hopkinson,  Samuel 
Magaw,  Jacob  Duehe,  and  Paul  Jackson  who 
became  a  classical  tutor  in  the  College,  who  were 
among  the  first  graduates  in  the  year  1757. 
Other  discourses  and  addresses  at  various  inter- 
vals show  Dr.  Smith  to  have  been  a  man  of  sci- 
ence, of  literature,  of  patriotism,  and  of  Christian 
devotion.  O.ie  of  the  earliest  of  his  writings  was 
A  Philosophical  Meditation  and  Religious  Ad- 
dress to  the  Supreme  Being,  which  was  intended 
for  the  use  of  young  students  in  philosophy,  and 
published  in  London  in  175-t,  in  a  volume  with  a 
treatise  on  Ethics  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Johnson,  the 
first  President  of  King's  College.  From  October, 
1757,  to  October,  1758,  he  published  a  series  of 
eight  essays  in  the  American  Magazine  at  Phila- 
delphia, with  the  title  of  The  Hermit.  They 
exhibit  a  warmth  of  feeling  and  a  taste  for  letters 
ready  to  ripen  into  the  pursuits  of  the  scholar 
and  divine.  In  1758  he  wrote  an  Earnest  Address 
to  the  Colonies  stimulating  the  country  for  its 
defence  against  the  French.  He  preached  also 
several  sermons  on  occasion  of  that  war  and  on 
the  opening  of  the  Revolution  a  military  discourse, 
June  23,  1775,  in  which  he  assisted  the  American 
cause.  He  also  delivered  an  oration  in  memory 
of  General  Montgomery,  at  the  request  of  Con- 
gress, in  1776.  This  was  an  eloquent  production, 
as  was  also  his  Eulogiuin  on  Benjamin  Franklin 
pronounced  before  the  American  Philosophical 
Society,  March  1,  17111. t 

The  Rev.  Francis  Alison,  who  filled  the  office 
of  Vice-Provost  the  corresponding  period  with 
the  Provost-ship  of  Dr.  Smith,  was  born  in  Ire- 
land in  1705,  was  educated  at  the  University  of 
Glasgow,  and  reaching  America  in  1735,  was  ap- 
pointed to  the  charge  of  a  Presbyterian  Church 

*  This  is  the  date  also  given  to  a  Poem  by  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Smith,  0:1  visiting  the  Academy  of  Philadelphia;  printed  in 
folio,  aud  of  nearly  three  huudred  lines.  It  is  mentioned  by 
Fisher  in  his  account  of  the  early  poets  of  Pennsylvania,  who 
also  speaks  of  the  Provost's  habit  of  "  inciting  and  encouraging 
every  boyish  attempt  at  rhyme  in  the  College;  so  that  every 
coinmeucemont  or  exhibition,  every  occasion  of  general  re- 
joicing or  grief,  was  an  opportunity  for  the  public  pronuncia- 
tion of  dialogues,  odes,  or  elegies,  some  of  which  possess  great 
beauty  and  animation,  and  are  far  above  the  ordinary  capacity 
of  Collegians." 

t  These  were  published  in  the  posthumous  edition  of  his 
Works  in  Philadelphia  in  two  volumes  in  1808.  Thero  were 
two  London  editions  of  his  Discourses  in  the  author's  life- 
time, in  1759  aud  1702. 


at  New  London,  in  Chester  county,  Pennsylvania. 
There  he  opened  a  school,  and  had  for  Ids  pupils 
several  youths  who  afterwards  became  distin- 
guished. He  was  first  Rector  and  then  Master 
of  the  Latin  School  at  Philadelphia.  He  then 
became  first  Vice-Provost  of  the  College  in  1755, 
and  held  the  office  at  his  death  in  1777.  Besides 
these  engagements  Dr.  Alison  was  colleague  in 
the  ministry  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church 
with  Dr.  Ewing. 

Provost  Smith  made  two  visits  to  England 
while  in  charge  of  the  college.  On  one  of  these, 
in  175'..),  undertaken  we  are  told  "  to  escape  the 
resentment  of  the  Pennsylvania  legislature,"* 
with  which  he  had  become  at  odds  by  his  sympa- 
thies with  the  proprietors,  he  received  the  title  of 
Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the  University  of  Oxford ; 
and  in  1762  he  was  united  with  James  Jay  of 
Now  York  in  solicitation  for  funds  which  were 
divided  between  the  colleges  in  New  York  and 
Philadelphia;  the  latter  receiving  the  sum  of  six 
thousand  pounds  sterling.  The  College  had  been 
sustained  by  numerous  donations,  legacies,  and 
gifts,  which  its  benevolent  feature  of  a  charity 
school  facilitated. 

The  College  rapidly  grew  into  fame  under 
Smith's  administration;  the  aggregate  of  stu- 
dents was  large,  and  the  number  from  other  pro- 
vinces and  the  West  Indies  became  so  considera- 
ble that  a  special  building,  in  1762,  was  erected 
for  their  accommodation,  the  trustees  readily  rais- 
ing the  funds  by  a  lottery. 

From  1753  to  1773,  in  this  ante-revolutionary 
period,  the  studies  in  oratory  and  English  litera- 
ture were  directed  by  the  Rev.  Ebenezer  Kinners- 
ley,  who  attained  separate  distinction  by  his  share 
in  the  electrical  experiments  of  Franklin.  He 
exhibited  the  phenomena  of  electricity  in  public 
lectures  through  the  Colonies,  and  visited  the 
West  Indies.  His  apparatus  was  bought  by  the 
College  after  his  decease.  The  Medical  School 
which  has  become  of  such  high  distinction,  dates 
from  the  appointment  of  Dr.  Morgan  in  1765 
as  professor  of  the  theory  and  practice  of  physic. 
Dr.  William  Shippen's  chair  of  anatomy  and  sur- 
gery was  created  the  same  year,  and  the  appoint- 
ments of  Dr.  Kuhn,  Professor  of  Botany  and 
Materia  Medica,  and  of  Dr.  Benjamin  Rush  of 
Chemistry,  followed.  In  1767,  the  Medical 
School,  wbich  has  since  attained  such  high  dis- 
tinction, was  regularly  organized,  and  the  next 
year  degrees  were  conferred. 

At  a  later  period  in  Smith's  career  difficulties 
grew  up  between  the  trustees  and  the  legislature 
representing  the  popular  interest.  The  Provost 
had  been  attached  to  the  proprietors  in  the  politi- 
cal agitations  of  the  times,  and  it  was  charged, 
though  apparently  without  reason,  that  it  was 
the  design  of  the  trustees,  some  of  whom  were 
represented  to  be  of  monarchical  inclination,  to 
defeat  the  original  liberal  object  of  the  charter, 
by  making  a  Church  of  England  institution  of  the 
College.  Tiiis  prejudice  or  hostility  took  shape 
in  1779  in  an  act  of  the  Legislature  which  an- 
nulled the  charter  of  the  College,  took  away  the 
funds,  and  created  a  new  institution,  with  libe- 


*  Wood's  History",  p.  1S9.    At  one  time  ho  was  placed  under 
I    arrest,  and  bis  classes  attended  him  at  his  place  of  confiuo- 
meut. 


390 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  University  of  Pennsylvania. 


ral  grants  out  of  the  confiscated  estates  of 
the  royalists,  entitled  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania. The  old  offices  were  pronounced  va- 
cant in  this  act,  and  a  new  body  of  trustees 
appointed.  This  act  produced  the  usual  excite- 
ment of  a  proceeding  necessarily  of  a  violent 
revolutionary  character,  and  it  was  resisted  by 
Dr.  Smith  and  his  friends,  who  procured  a  law  in 
1789  reinstating  the  College  trustees  and  faculty  in 
their  ancient  estates  and  privileges.  The  meet- 
ings for  the  reorganization  of  the  College  were 
held  at  the  house  of  Dr.  Franklin.  Dr.  Smith 
became  again  Provost,  and  the  medical  faculty 
was  strengthened  by  the  addition  of  Dr.  Wistar 
in  Chemistry  and  the  Institutes  of  Medicine,  and 
Barton  in  Botany  and  Natural  History.  In  1791 
the  old  institution  finally  succumbed,  and  an  act 
of  the  Legislature  was  passed  blending  the  two 
bodies  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

Dr.  Smith  at  this  time  permanently  retired  from 
the  institution,  his  age  and  the  old  difficulties  pre- 
venting his  reappointment.  He  carried  with  him 
the  respect  of  the  public  and  an  acknowledgment 
of  his  usefulness  in  an  annuity  of  one  hundred 
pounds  for  life.  He  died  in  1803,  leaving  a  col- 
lection of  his  writings  ready  for  posthumous  pub- 
lication. 

In  the  charter  of  the  University  in  1779 
the  Rev.  Dr.  John  Ewing  was  created  Pro- 
vost. He  was  born  the  son  of  a  farmer  in  East 
Nottingham,  Maryland,  June  22,  1732,  and  re- 
ceived his  classical  education  at  the  school  of 
Francis  Alison.  He  was  a  graduate  of  the  Col- 
lege at  Princeton  in  1752,  where  he  was  received 
as  a  student  of  the  senior  class.  He  studied  theo- 
logy; and  in  1758,  when  Dr.  Smith  left  the  Col- 
lege of  Philadelphia  on  his  visit  to  Europe,  took 
his  place  as  instructor  of  the  philosophical  classes. 
In  1759  he  was  called  to  the  ministry  of  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church  in  Philadelphia,  which  he 
filled  during  the  remainder  of  his  life.  In  1773 
he  visited  England  to  collect  funds  for  the  Aca- 
demy at  Newark,  in  Delaware,  and  while  there 
had  the  opportunity  of  the  acquaintance  of  Dr. 
Robertson,  an  interview  with  Dr.  Johnson,  in 
which  he  overcame  the  disinclination  of  that 
leviathan  to   a   republican  from  America,   and 


meeting  Lord  North  frankly  acquainted  him  with 
the  probable  and,  as  it  turned  out,  prophetic,  issue 
of  a  contest  between  England  and  this  country. 
He  received  his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity 
from  the  University  of  Edinburgh. 

In  1777  Dr.  Ewing  removed  from  the  scenes 
of  the  Revolution  in  Philadelphia  to  Maryland, 
and  on  his  return  became  Provost  of  the  Univer- 
sity in  1779.  He  was  eminent  as  a  man  of  sci- 
ence, and  filled  the  chair  of  Vice-President  of  the 
Philosophical  Society.  His  College  lectures  on 
Natural  Philosophy  were  published  in  1809.* 

During  a  portion  of  his  College  course  from  1779 
to  1782  the  office  of  Vice-Provost  was  held  by- 
David  Rittenhouse.  Ewing's  accomplishments 
are  highly  spoken  of.  He  was  eminent  as  a 
mathematician  and  in  the  various  branches  of 
Natural  Philosophy,  and  profound  in  metaphysi- 
cal and  classical  studies. 

The  incumbents  of  the  office  of  Provost  since 
this  period  have  been  Dr.  John  McDowell,  from 
1806  to  1810;  Dr.  John  Andrews,  who  had  held 
the  Chair  of  Moral  Philosophy  since  1789,  for 
the  next  three  }7ears  ;  Dr.  Frederick  Beasley  from 
1813  to  1828;  the  present  Bishop  William  H. 
Delancey  from  1828  till  1834;  when  Dr.  John 
Ludlow  succeeded,  who  was  followed  by  Dr. 
Henry  Vetbake,  the  present  incumbent.  He  was 
first  connected  with  the  College  as  Vice-Provost, 
and  was  formerly  for  a  short  period  a  lecturer  in 
Columbia  College,  New  York.  In  1838,  he  pub- 
lished in  Philadelphia  his  Principles  of  Political 
Economy,  and  in  1847  edited  the  supplementary 
fourteenth  volume  of  the  Encyclopaedia  Ameri- 
cana. 

Dr.  John  McDowell,  before  his  appointment  to 
the  Provostship,  occupied  the  position  of  Princi- 
pal of  St.  John's  College  in  Maryland. 

Dr.  John  Andrews,  born  in  Maryland  in  1746, 
was  educated  at  the  Academy  at  Philadelphia, 
and  was  a  graduate  of  the  College  in  1765  in  the 
same  class  with  Bishop  White.  He  was  ordained 
by  the  Bishop  of  London  in  1767,  and  became  a 


*  Art.  by  Robert  Walsh,  Am.  Biog.,  Am.  Quar.  P.ev.  No.  1. 
History  of  First  Presbyterian  Church  by  the  Eev.  Albert 
Barnes,  Am.  Quar.  Eeg.  xiii.  808. 


JOEL  BAKLOW. 


391 


Missionary  of  the  Society  for  the  propagation  of 
the  gospel  in  foreign  parts.  He  was  afterwards 
rector  at  Queen  Ann's  county,  Maryland.  His 
political  sentiments  were  with  the  loyalists,  and 
he  removed  from  his  parish  to  Yorktown,  where 
he  kept  a  school.  In  1785  he  took  charge  of  a 
new  Episcopal  Academy  in  Philadelphia,  and  in 
1791  was  made  Vice-Provost  of  the  College.  In 
December,  1810,  he  succeeded  Dr.  McDow- 
ell as  Provost.  He  withdrew  from  the  office  in 
1813  in  ill  health,  and  died  in  that  year  at  the  age 
of  sixty-seven.* 

The  Rev.  Frederick  Beasley,  a  presbyter  of  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  was  Professor  of 
Moral  Philosophy  in  the  University  from  1813  to 
1828,  and  is  favorably  known  for  his  metaphysi- 
cal work  in  defence  of  the  philosophy  of  Locke, 
which  he  published  in  1822,  entitled  "A  Search 
of  Truth  in  the  Science  of  the  Human  Mind." 
He  lived  many  years  after  his  retirement,  dying 
at  Elizabethtown,  N.  J.,  at  the  age  of  sixty-eight, 
in  1845. 

The  present  University  Buildings  in  Ninth 
street,  originally  erected  for  the  accommodation 
of  Congress,  were  in  1800  purchased  by  the  Uni- 
versity. 

The  general  course  of  instruction  is  embraced 
in  the  Faculties  of  Arts  and  of  Medicine,  while 
the  original  distinctive  features  of  the  College,' 
the  Academy  or  Grammar-school,  and  the  Charity 
schools,  are  severally  maintained  under  the  orga- 
nization. 

JOEL  BAELOW. 
Joel  Baklow,  whose  career  presents  a  greater 
variety  of  circumstances  than  the  history  of  any 
of  his  fellow  litterateurs  in  the  early  records  of 
America,  was  born  the  son  of  a  respectable 
farmer,  and  the  youngest  of  a  family  of  ten 
children,  at  Reading,  in  Connecticut,  in  the  year 
1755.  His  father  died  while  he  was  at  school, 
leaving  the  son  means  sufficient  to  acquire  a  col- 
lege education.  In  177-i,  he  was  sent  to  Dart- 
mouth, and  thence  removed  to  Yale,  where  he 
found  Dwight,  who  had  been  installed  tutor  three 
years  before,  ami  with  whom  he  shared  both  his 
patriotism  and  his  poetry.  During  the  vacations 
of  the  college,  Barlow  was  off  handling  a  musket 
with  the  militia  in  the  opening  scenes  of  the  Revo- 
lution, being  present,  it  is  said,  and  lighting  brave- 
ly, in  the  action  at  White  Piains.  His  poetic  first 
appearance  was  made  on  Commencement  day, 
when  he  took  his  degree,  in  1778,  and  delivered 
a  poem,  The  Prospect  of  Peace,  which  was  pub- 
lished the  same  year  in  New  Haven,  and  which 
reappeared,  with  another  poem  spoken  at  the 
college  three  years  afterwards  on  taking  his  degree 
of  Master  of  Arts,  in  the  Litchfield  collection  of 
"  American  Poems  "  by  Elilm  II.  Smith,  in  1793. 
In  1780,  he  published  an  elegy  on  his  friend,  the 
accomplished  statesman  of  Connecticut,  Titus 
Hosmer.t      In  these  early  productions,  we  notice 


*  Wood's  Historical  Discourse.    Sabine's  Loyalists. 

t  Titus  Hosmer,  the  friend  of  Barlow,  was  a  lawyer  and 
patriot  of  great  distinction  in  Connecticut,  whose  education 
and  manners  procured  him  great  respect  and  affection.  David 
D.  Field,  in  his  Middietown  Historical  Address,  has  given  a 
notice  of  his  career:  '-Noah  Webster  numbered  him  among 
the  three  'mighties:'  and  these  three  he  designated  as  William 
Samuel  Johnson,  LL.D.,  of    Stratford,  Oliver  Ellsworth  of 


a  certain  breadth  of  philanthropy,  and  extension 
of  the  local  limits  of  American  patriotism,  which 
the  author,  in  after  life,  was  destined  to  display 
on  an  ampler  field.  It  is  curious  to  note  at  this 
time,  in  advance  of  the  dreams  of  the  French 
Revolution,  the  universal  claims  of  humanity  en- 
gaging his  attention.  He  was  even  then  an  enthu- 
siastic visionary  looking  for  an  early  Millennium. 
Ho  already  saw  the  advancing  conquests  of 
America — 

What  wide  extent  her  waving  ensigns  elnim, 
Lands  yet  unknown  and  streams  without  a  name. 

And  celebrated  the  coming  population  of  Europe. 

On  this  broad  theatre  unbounded  spread, 
In   different   scenes,  what    countless   throngs  must 

tread ! 
Soon  as  the  new-form' d  empire,  rising  fair, 
Calms  her  brave  sons  now  breathing  from  the  war, 
Unfolds  her  harbors,  spreads  the  genial  soil, 
And  welcomes  freemen  to  the  cheerful  toil. 

With  war  and  discord  around  him,  he  sang  the 
universality  of  peace  and  union ;  nations  growing 
fraternal  under  the  general  impulse — 

Till  each  remotest  realm,  by  friendship  join'd, 
Link  in  the  chain  and  harmonize  mankind, 
The  umou'd  banner  be  at  last  unfurl'd, 
And  wave  triumphant  round  the  accordant  world. 

From  college  Barlow  went  to  the  study  of  law, 
but  the  Massachusetts  line  wanting  chaplains,  he 
turned  to  divinity,  and  putting  himself  through  a 
diligent  six  weeks  course  of  theology,  was  duly 
licensed  a  Congregational  minister,  and  joined  the 
army  as  Dwight  had  done  before  him  ;  and  like 
Dwight,  he  cheered  the  spirits  of  the  soldiery 
with  animating  odes  from  the  camp.  He  remain- 
ed in  the  army  during  the  war,  meditating  and 
composing  his  Vision  of  Columbus,  which  was  a 
well  written  poem  for  the  times;  some  of  the 
difficulties  of  which,  to  the  scholar,  may  be  esti- 
mated from  Barlow's  statement  that  he  had  long 
sought  in  vain  in  the  country  for  a  copy  of  Ca- 
moens'  Lusiad,  and  had  not  been  able  to  obtain  it 
till  his  poem  was  ready  for  the  press.  The  Vision 
was  published  by  subscription  in  1787,  and  was 
reprinted  in  London  and  in  Paris.  The  dedication 
to  the  first  edition  was  to  Louis  XVI.,  in  a  strain 
of  superfluous  eulogy  and  humility.* 


Windsor,  Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States,  and  the  Hon. 
Titus  Hosmer  of  Middietown."  The  general  Congress  had 
just  conferred  the  appointment  of  Judge  of  a  Court  of  Appeals 
upon  Hosmer,  when  he  died  suddenly,  August  4,  1780,  at  the 
age  of  forty-four.  Barlow,  who  was  encouraged  by  Hosmer  to 
write  his  Vision  of  Columbus,  speaks  of  his  orphaned  muse  on 
this  event: — 

At  thy  command  she  first  assumed  the  lyTe, 
And  hop'd  a  future  laurel  from  thy  name. 

How  did  thy  smiles  awake  her  infant  song! 

How  did  thy  virtues  animate  the  lay  ! 
Still  shall  thy  fate  the  dying  strain  prolong, 

And  bear  her  voice  with  thy  lost  form  away. 

*  If  all  that  he  says  of  the  Bourbons  is  true,  the  French 
Revolution  ought  never  to  have  occurred.  ''The  illustrious 
lino  of  your  royal  ancestors  have  been  conspicuous  in  seizing 
those  advantages  (proceeding  from  the  discovery  of  America) 
and  diffusing  their  happy  effects.  The  great  Father  of  the 
House  of  Bourbon  will  be  held  in  the  highest  veneration  til! 
his  favorite  political  system  shall  be  realized  among  the  nations 
of  Europe  and  extended  to  all  mankind.  *  *  Your  Majesty's 
permission,  that  the  unfortunate  Columbus  may  once  more 
enjoy  the  protection  of  a  royal  benefactor,  has  added  a  new 
obligation  to  those  1  before  felt — in  common  with  a  grateful 
country." 


392 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


At  the  close  of  the  struggle  he  left  the  church 
and  army  together,  and  returned  to  the  law, 
settling  at  Hartford,  and  engaging  in  a  weekly 
newspaper,  The  American  Mercury.  He  was 
admitted  to  the  bar  in  1785,  in  which  year  he 
was  also  employed  by  the  "  General  Association  " 
of  Connecticut,  in  the  adaptation  of  Watts's 
version  of  the  Psalms,*  the  same  task  which  was 
subsequently  performed  by  the  more  orthodox 
hand  of  his  friend  Timothy  Dwight.  The  work 
was  received  with  satisfaction,  and  used  in  the 
churches  by  authority.  Barlow's  additions  con- 
sisted in  versions  of  twelve  of  the  Psalms  which 
Watts  had  omitted,t  and  several  others  were 
altered  by  him.J  One  from  his  pen  was  much 
admired  ;  this  version  of  Psalm  cxxxviii.: — 

THE  BABYLONIAN  CAPTIVITY. 

Along  the  banks  where  Babel's  current  flows 
Our  captive  bands  in  deep  despondence  stray'd, 

While  Zion's  fall  in  sad  remembrance  rose, 

Her  friends,  her  children  mingled  with  the  dead. 

The  tuneless  harp  that  once  with  joy  we  strung, 
When  praise  employ'd  and  mirth  inspir'd  the  lay, 

In  mournful  silence  on  the  willows  hung ; 

And  growing  grief  prolong'd  the  tedious  day. 

The  barbarous  tyrants,  to  increase  the  woe, 
With  taunting  smiles  a  song  of  Zion  claim; 

Bid  sacred  praise  in  strains  melodious  flow, 

While  the3T  blaspheme  the  great  Jehovah's  name. 

But  how,  in  heathen  chains  and  lands  unknown 
Shall  Israel's  sons  a  song  of  Zion  raise  ? 


*  Doctor  Watts's  Imitation  of  the  Psalms  of  David,  corrected 
and  enlarged,  l/y  Joel  Barlow,  to  xchich  is  added  a  Collection 
of  Hymns ;  the  whole  applied  to  tlie  state  of  the  Christian 
Church  in  General.  Luke  xxtv. — All  things  must  be  fulfilled 
which  were  written  in  the  .  .  .  Psalins  concerning  us.  Hart 
ford.    Printed  by  Barlow  &  Babcock,  17S5. 

t  They  are  tlie  2Sth.  43d,  520,  54th,  59th,  64th,  TOtb,  79th, 
SSth,  lifitb,  137th,  and  140th. 

X  A  story  is  told  of  an  effusion  in  verse  on  Barlow  the  versi- 
fier of  Watts,  perpetrated  by  a  local  poet  of  reputation  for  a 
knack  at  extempore  rhyming.  This  personage  was  Oliver,  a 
cousin  of  Benedict  Arnold,  and  is  commemorated  in  a  History 
of  Norwich,  Connecticut,  by  Miss  F.  M.  Caulkins  (1845),  where 
the  following  is  narrated  : — "  in  a  booksellers  shop  in  New 
Haven,  he  was  introduced  to  Joel  Barlow,  who  had  just  then 
acquired  considerable  notoriety  by  the  publication  of  an  altered 
edition  of  Watts  a  Psalms  and  Hymns.  Barlow  asked  lor  a 
specimen  of  his  talent;  upon  which  the  wandering  poet  im- 
mediately repeated  the  following  stanza: — 

You've  proved  yourself  a  sinful  cre'tur'; 
You've  murdered  Watts,  and  spoilt  the  metre  ; 
You've  tried  the  Word  ol  God  to  alter, 
And  for  your  pains  deserve  a  halter. 

Oliver  was  also  a  sailor  and  a  patriot,  and  cordially  despised 
the  course  taken  by  his  cousin  Benedict,  in  betraying  his 
country.  Local  tradition  ascribes  to  him  the  following  acrostic 
on  the  traitors  name,  and  it  is  even  added  that  being  on  a  visit 
to  his  cousin  after  the  war.  and  called  upon  by  hitn  to  amuse  a 

E arty  of  English  officers  with  some  extemporaneous  effusion, 
e  stood  up  and  repeated  this  Ernulphus  curse,  which  would 
have  satisfied  Dr.  Slop  himself.  The  composition  itself,  how- 
ever, contradicts  such  a  report,  as  it  bears  no  resemblance 
to  other  short  and  unstudied  efforts  of  the  native  rhymester, 
which  have  been  preserved. 

Born  for  a  curse  to  virtue  and  mankind. 
Earth's  broadest  realm  ne'er  knew  so  black  a  mind. 
Night's  sable  veil  your  crimes  can  never  hide, 
Each  one  so  great,  'twould  glut  historic  tide. 
Defunct,  your  cursed  memory  will  live, 
Iu  all  the  glare  that  infamy  can  give. 
Curses  of  ages  will  attend  your  name, 
Traitors  alone  will  glory  in  your  shame. 

Almighty  vengeance  sternly  waits  to  roll 
Rivers  of  sulphur  on  your  treacherous  soul — 
Nature  looks  shuddering  back,  with  conscious  dread. 
On  such  a  tarnished  blot  as  she  has  made. 
Let  hell  receive  you,  riveted  in  chains, 
Doomed  to  the  hottest  focus  of  its  flames. 


0  hapless  Salem,  God's  terrestrial  throne. 
Thou  land  of  glorj-,  sacred  mount  of  Praise. 

If  e'er  my  memory  lose  thy  lovely  name, 
If  my  cold  heart  neglect  my  kindred  race, 

Let  dire  destruction  seize  this  guilty  frame; 
ily  hand  shall  perish  and  my  voice  shall  cease. 

Yet  shall  the  Lord,  who  hears  when  Zion  calls, 
O'ertake  her  foes  with  terrour  and  dismay, 

His  arm  avenge  her  desolated  walls, 
And  raise  her  children  to  eternal  day. 

To  dispose  of  the  literary  wares  which  he  had 
now  on  hand,  the  Psalm  Book  and  the  Vision, 
Barlow,  who  appears  with  no  lack  of  personal 
liberality  to  have  been  always  of  a  mercantile, 
speculating  turn,  opened  a  book-store  at  Hartford, 
which  he  closed  when  he  had  accomplished  his 
purpose,  and  began  the  practice  of  the  law.  He 
was  at  this  time  associated  with  Trumbull, 
Humphreys,  and  Hopkins,  in  penning  the  patriotic 
effusions  of  the  Anarchiad.  In  1787,  he  delivered 
an  oration  on  the  4th  July  at  Hartford,  in  which 
he  urged  the  adoption  of  a  general  government. 
The  law  does  not  appear  to  have  suited  his  dis- 
position and  temperament ;  he  is  described  as  too 
stiff  and  unyielding  for  its  requirements ;  so  that 
when  a  Land  Company  was  formed,  called  "  The 
Scioto  Company,"  Barlow  accepted  a  part  in  its 
management,  and  was  sent  as  agent  to  England 
in  1788,  to  dispose  of  the  property.  The  title  to 
the  lands  was  stolen,  and  the  company  were 
swindlers,  but  Barlow  was  unconscious  of  the 
skilfully  concealed  deception.  When  he  found  it 
out  he  resigned. 


^y/l*>  /' 


^ 


<^>' 


This  foreign  journey  brought  him  in  contact 
with  the  Girondins  in  Paris,  into  whose  political 
prospects  he  warmly  entered.  His  own  personal 
affairs  were  probably  somewhat  uncertain. 
Trumbull,  writing  to  Oliver  Wolcott,  Dec.  9, 
1789,  says  of  their  friend:  "I  cannot  conceive 
what  Barlow  is  doing.  After  being  eighteen 
months  abroad,  you  tell  me  he  has  got  so  far  as 
to  see  favourable  prospects.     If  he  should  not 


JOEL  BARLOW. 


393 


effect  something  soon,  I  would  advise  him  to 
write  '  The  Visions  of  Barlow,'  as  a  sequel  to 
those  of  Columbus  and  McFingal."*  On  re- 
visiting London  from  Paris,  in  1791,  Barlow  pub- 
lished, at  the  end  of  the  year,  the  first  part  of  his 
Ado  ice  to  the  Privileged  Orders,  and  in  the  Feb- 
ruary following,  a  poem,  The  Conspiracy  of  Kings, 
on  the  alliance  against  France.  These  are  both 
vigorous  productions.  In  the  first  he  considers 
the  state  of  Europe  under  the  five  heads  of  the 
Feudal  system, — the  Church,  the  Military,  the 
Administration  of  Justice,  and  Revenue,  and 
Public  Expenditure,  supporting  each  topic  with 
great  vehemence  of  statement. 

The  poem,  with  a  stirring  preface  at  the  be- 
ginning and  uncompromising  note  at  the  end,  was 
mainly  levelled  at  Mr.  Burke,  who  is  solemnly 
arraigned  as  almost  exclusively  the  author  of  the 
war  with  all  its  train  of  calamities.  This  piec3 
of  prose  is  clear,  vigorous,  and  sonorous,  with 
many  of  the  most  striking  qualities  of  expression. 
If  Barlow  hail  given  the  same  attention  to  com- 
position in  this  department  which  he  bestowed 

'  upon  his  verses,  his  reputation  would  have  been 
greater.  He  denounces  the  transfer  of  Burke 
from  the  side  of  liberty  to  kingcraft  in  unmea- 
sured terms.  "  Here,"  says  he,  "  is  a  man  who 
calls  himself  a  philosopher,  not  remarkable  for  his 
avarice,  the  delight  and  ornament  of  a  numerous 
society  of  valuable  friends,  respected  by  all  en- 
lightened men  as  a  friend  of  peace  and  preacher 
of  humanity,    living    in   an   age  when   military 

■  madness  has  lost  its  charms,  and  men  begin  to 
unite  in  searching  the  means  of  avoiding  the  hor- 
rors of  war;  this  man,  wearied  with  the  happi- 
ness that  surrounds  him,  and  disgusted  at  the 
glory  that  awaits  him,  renounces  all  his  friends, 
belies  the  doctrines  of  his  former  life,  bewails  that 
the  military  savageness  of  the  fourteenth  century 
ha*  passed  away,  and,  to  gratify  his  barbarous 
wishes  to  call  it  hack,  conjures  up  a  war,  in  which 
at  least  two  millions  of  his  fellow-creatures  must 
be  sacrificed  to  his  unaccountable  passion."  His 
verse  is  hardly  equal  to  this  in  force,  but  the 
reader  may  be  interested  in  a  portrait  drawn 
nearly  twenty  years  after  Goldsmith  had  pencil- 
led his  mild  sketch  of  his  friend  who 

To  party  gave  up  what  was  meant  for  mankind. 

But  Burke's  prophecies  were  at  least  as  philoso- 
phical as  Barlow's  :  both  had  their  credulities,  and 
time,  which  amendeth  all  things,  will  correct 
many  errata  in  their  writings.  It  was  Barlow's 
misfortune  to  be  carried  away  by  French  theory*, 
and  set  too  little  value  on  the  sterling  though 
more  slowly  moving  facts  of  England  and 
America.  He  confounded  the  abstract  truths  of 
morality  with  their  practical  applications  among 
men  as  exhibited  in  society.  Morals  are  one 
thing,  men  quite  another.  When  he  says  that 
"  Many  truths  are  as  perceptible  when  first  pre- 
sented to  the  mind,  as  an  age  or  a  world  of  expe- 
rience could  make  them  ;  others  require  only  an 
indirect  and  collateral  experience  ;  some  demand 
an  experience  direct  and  positive  ;"  and  that  "  it 
is  happy  for  human  nature,  that  in  morals  we 
have  much  to  do  with  this  first  class  of  truths, 
less  with  the  second,  and  very  little  with  the 

*  Gibbs'a  Oliver  Wolcott,  i.  25. 


third  ;  while  in  physics  we  are  perpetually  driven 
to  the  slow  process  of  patient  and  positive 
experience ;" — it  may  be  all  very  true  of  moral 
philosophy  as  a  science,  but  the  remark  is  value- 
less as  respects  the  conduct  of  men  in  political 
government — which  is  of  much  slower  growth, 
and  more  painful  development  than  even  the 
tedious  facts  of  physics.  A  year  or  two  later, 
when  Barlow  was  preparing  for  a  History  of  the 
French  Revolution,  which  he  never  wrote,  he 
commends  to  Wolcott  the  example  of  that  great 
effort  for  American  imitation.  "  I  do  not  mean," 
says  he,  "  that  a  revolution,  or  anything  like  it, 
will  be  necessary  with  us,  but  that  many  prin- 
ciples for  the  general  diffusion  of  information,  the 
preservation  and  improvement  of  morals,  and  the 
encouragement  of  such  a  degree  of  equality  in 
the  condition  of  men  as  tends  to  their  dignity  and 
happiness,  will  certainly  be  established  by  them, 
and  will  he  equally  necessary  for  us."  In  French 
politics  Barlow  was  a  visionary,  but  he  shared 
his  enthusiasm  with  many  sober-minded  men. 

In  1791,  the  French  philosopher  Volney's 
Ruins  or  Reflections  on  the  Revolutions  of  Em- 
pires was  published  in  Paris,  and  a  translation 
from  Barlow's  pen  appeared  the  next  year  in 
London. 

Barlow's  Letter  to  the  National  Convention  of 
France,  offering  some  suggestions  in  constitution- 
making,  is  dated  London,  Sept.  16  1792.  He  was 
then  associated  with  the  reformers  in  England,  a 
member  of  the  Constitutional  Society,  which 
body  delegated  him  to  carry  an  address  to  the 
Convention,  which  in  turn  conferred  upon  him 
the  honor  of  French  citizenship.  It  is  in  these 
relations  that  a  story  is  told  of  a  supper  at  which 
Barlow  was  present.  The  famous  song  attribut- 
ed to  his  pen,  in  eulogy  of  the  Guillotine,  which 
was  afterwards  revived  to  his  disadvantage  on 
his  return  to  New  England,  when  he  fell  among 
the  Federalists,  was  originally  written,  it  is  said, 
for  the  amusement  of  some  of  his  revolutionary 
friends  at  Hamburgh,  assembled  after  the  execu- 
tion of  Louis  XVI.  It  was  a  parody  on  the 
English  national  anthem,  "  God  save  the  king," 
and  ran — 

A  BOXG. 

tune — uGod  save  the  Guillotine. " 
Fame  let  thy  trumpet  sound, 
Tell  all  the  world  around — 

How  Capet  full : 
And  when  great  George's  poll 
Shall  in  the  basket  roll, 
Let  mercy  then  control 

The  Guillotine. 

When  all  the  sceptred  crew 
Have  paid  their  homage  to 

The  Guillotine  ; 
Let  freedom's  flag  advance, 
Till  all  the  world,  like  France ! 
O'er  tyrants'  graves  shall  dance, 

And  peace  begin.* 


*  Biographlo  tTniverselle,  Art,  Barlow.  Ilildrcth.  Second  Sc- 
ries, ii.  551.  The  sons,  with  the  comments  to  which  Ilildreth 
alludes,  will  be  found  in  the  Columlian  CenUnd,  Nov.  1G,  1SC5. 

A  somewhat  similar  effusion  to  this  has  been  attributed  to 
Akenside,  the  poet,  as  an  ode  written  for  the  Calf  Head  Club, 
on  theSoth  January,  the  anniversary  of  the  beheading  of  King 
Charles  I.  Freneau  prints  it  in  his  Jersey  Chronicle,  pajro 
33S  A  calf's  head,  it  is  stated,  was  brought  in  with  a  crown 
of  pastry  after  dinner,  with  daggers  or  sharp-pointed  knives 


334: 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


In  December,  1T92,  he  was  with  the   Abbe  j 
Gregoire  and  a  deputation  sent  to  organize  the 
territory  of  Savoy,  whence,  from  its  capital,  lie 
dated  A  Letter  Addressed  to  the  People  of  Pied-  ] 
mont,  on  the  advantages  of  the  French   Revolu- 
tion, and  the  necessity  of  adopting  its  principles  \ 
in  Italy ;  a  revolutionary  proceeding  which  he 
varied  by  the  composition  of  his  pleasant  Ameri- 
can  dietetic  lay,  The  Hasty  Pudding. 

The  original  American  edition  of  this  poem  was 
printed  at  New  Haven  in  1796.  An  advertise- 
ment dated  April  of  that  year  sets  forth  its  "  re- 
publican virtue  recommended  with  republican 
freedom  and  boldness,"  and  the  design  expressed 
in  its  preface  for  which  "  it  ought  to  be  owned 
and  studied  by  every  family  in  New  England." 
The  reprint  which  follows  this  article  preserves 
the  original  title  and  preface,  with  several  pas- 
sages omitted  in  later  editions.* 

By  this  time  bis  pecuniary  prospects  were  im- 
proving. His  position  and  knowledge  of  affairs 
gave  him  the  advantage  in  the  midst  of  the 
changing  fortunes  of  the  Revolution.  In  1795 
he  was  employed  as  a  private  legal  or  commercial 
agent  to  the  north  of  Europe,  and  in  the  same 
year  was  appointed  consul  at  Algiers  for  the  pur- 
pose of  negotiating  a  treaty  with  the  Barbary 
powers,  which  he  effected  with  many  brave  and 
successful  exertions  in  behalf  of  the  prisoners  con- 
fined there.  On  returning  to  Paris  he  made  a 
fortune  in  some  commercial  speculations,  and 
purchased  the  hotel  of  the  Count  Clermont  de 
Tonnerre,  where  he  lived  in  sumptuous  style. 
During  his  French  residence,  the  administration 
of  Adams  brought  Barlow  out  in  opposition  to 
the  government  at  home,  in  two  Letters  to  the 
People  of  the  United  Statcs.i  His  language  in 
that  time  of  heated  politicians  was  rash  and 
intemperate.  One  of  Barlow's  letters  to  his 
brother-in-law  Baldwin  was  obtained  from  him  by 
Matthew  Lyon,  the  extravagant  democratic  mem- 
ber of  Congress  from  Vermont,  who  published  it. 
It  contained  violent  denunciations  of  Adams  and 
Washington,  and  furnished  one  of  the  counts  of 
Lyon's  arraignment  under  the  sedition  law,  for 
which  he  was  thrown  into  prison. 

In  a  memoir  to  the  French  Government  at  this 
time,  he  denounced  the  system  of  privateering, 


to  each  member.    A  couple  of  stanzas  of  the  "  ode :'  "will  ex- 
plain their  use. 

On  this  renown'd  illustrious  day, 
Let  freedom's  sons  he  grind  and  gay, 

And  bigot  fools  deride, 
This  day  a  faithless  tyrant  fell ; 
Nor  warm,  nor  brave,  sunk  he  to  hell. 

But  felon-like  he  died. 

***** 
We  vow  the  tyrant  justly  fell 

To  ratify  the  deed; 
Without  all  scruple,  doubt  or  awe. 
Our  shining  weapons  forth  we  draw 

And  strike  this  mimic  head. 

*  We  are  indebted  for  this  copy  as  well  as  for  the  opportu- 
nity of  presenting  a  portrait  not  hitherto  engraved,  from  an 
original  by  Vanderlyn,  to  the  Eev.  Lemuel  G.  Olmstead  of  this 
city,  a  gentleman  connected  by  birth  and  marriage  with  the  fa- 
milies of  three  distinguished  revolutionary  worthies,  Joel  Bar- 
low, Timothy  Dwight,  and  Col.  Humphreys.  He  is  the  grand- 
nephew  of  Barlow  on  the  mother's  side.  He  has  taken  in 
charge  the  collection  of  the  writings  of  Barlow  with  a  view  to 
the  publication  of  a  complete  edition,  which  is  much  needed. 

T  Letters  from  Paris  to  the  Citizens  of  the  United  States  of 
America  on  the  System  of  Policy  hitherto  pursued  by  their 
Government,  relative  to  their  Commercial  Intercourse  with 
England  and  France.    London,  ISOtl.  Svo. 


with  a  view  to  its  prevention  in  the  new  constitu- 
tion. In  1805,  having  been  absent  from  home 
seventeen  years,  Barlow  returned  to  the  United 
States.  After  a  few  months  of  travel,  he  turned 
to  Washington,  and  built  a  fine  house  for  his  resi- 
dence in  the  district  of  Columbia,  which  he  called 
Kalorama.  He  projected  a  national  academy  to 
be  founded  by  government,  but  Congress  did  not 
act  upon  his  plan. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  feeling  entertained  for 
Barlow  at  this  time  by  the  Federal  party  in  New 
England,  we  may  give  an  account  of  a  copy  of 
verses  which  he  produced  for  a  public  dinner  at 
Washington,  with  the  treatment  they  received  in 
Boston. 

On  the  14th  of  January,  1807,  a  dinner  was 
given  at  Washington  by  the  citizens  to  Captain 
Meriwether  Lewis,  in  congratulation  of  his  safe 
return  from  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Robert  Brent 
presided,  and  Captain  Tingey  and  Colonel  Whar- 
ton were  vice-presidents.  "  At  an  early  period 
of  the  entertainment,"  as  the  report  of  the  Na- 
tional Intelligencer*  tells  us,  "  the  following  ele- 
gant and  glowing  Stanzas,  from  the  pen  of  Mr. 
Barlow,  were  recited  by  Mr.  Beckley"  : — 

ON  THE  DISCOVERIES  OF  CAPTAIN  LEWIS. 

Let  the  Nile  cloak  his  head  in  the  clouds,  and  defy 

The  researches  of  science  and  time ; 
Let  the  Niger  escape  the  keen  traveller's  eye, 

By  plunging  or  changing  his  clime. 

Columbus!  not  so  shall  thy  boundless  domain 
Defraud  thy  brave  sons  of  their  right: 

Streams,  midlands,  and  shorelands  elude  us  in  vain, 
We  shall  drag  their  dark  regions  to  light. 

Look  down,  sainted  sage,  from  thy  synod  of  Gods  ; 

See,  inspired  by  thy  venturous  soul, 
Mackenzie  roll  northward  his  earth-draining  floods, 

And  surge  the  broad  waves  to  the  pole. 

With  the  same  soaring  genius  thy  Lewis  ascends, 

And  seizing  the  car  of  the  sun, 
O'er  the  sky-propping  hills  and  high  waters  he  bends 

And  gives  the  proud  earth  a  new  zone. 

Potowmak,  Ohio,  Missouri  had  felt 

Half  her  globe  in  their  cincture  comprest ; 

His  long  curving  course  has  completed  the  belt. 
And  tamed  the  last  tide  of  the  west. 

Then  hear  the  loud  voice  of  the  nation  proclaim, 

And  all  ages  resound  the  decree : 
Let  our  Occident  stream  bear  the  young  hero's  name 

Who  taught  him  his  path  to  the  sea. 
* 
These  four  brother  floods,  like  a  garland  of  flowers, 

Shall  entwine  all  our  states  in  a  band, 
Conform    and    confederate    their    wide   spreading 
powers, 

And  their  wealth  and  their  wisdom  expand. 

From  Darien  to  Davis  one  garden  shall  bloom. 
Where  war's  wearied  banners  are  furl'd, 

And  the  far  scenting  breezes  that  waft  its  perfume. 
Shall  settle  the  storms  of  the  world. 

Then  hear  the  loud  voice  of  the  nation  proclaim 

And  all  ages  resound  the  decree : 
Let   our   Occident   stream  bear    the   young    hero's 
name. 

Who  taught  him  his  path  to  the  sea. 


*  Jan.  16, 180T. 


JOEL  BARLOW. 


395 


In  the  Monthly  Anthology  for  March,  1807, 
appeared  the  following  parody  of  this  affair, 
complimentary  neither  to  Barlow  nor  to  Jefferson, 
which  is  known  to  be  from  the  pen  of  John 
Quiiicy  Adams : — 

ON  THE  DISCOVERIES  OF  CAPTAIN  LEWIS. 

Good  people  listen  to  my  tale, 

'Tis  nothing  but  what  true  is  ; 
I'll  tell  you  of  the  mighty  deeds 

Achieved  by  Captain  Lewis — 
How  starting  from  the  Atlantiek  shore 

By  fair  and  easy  motion, 
He  journied,  all  the  way  by  land, 

Until  he  met  the  ocean. 

Hekoick,  sure,  the  toil  must  be 

To  travel  through  the  woods,  sir; 
And  never  meet  a  foe,  yet  save 

His  person  and  his  goods,  sir ! 
What  marvels  on  the  way  he  found 

He'll  tell  you,  if  inelin'd,  sir — 
But  /shall  only  now  discdose 

The  things  he  did  not  find,  sir. 

He  never  with  a  Mammoth  met, 

However  you  may  wonder; 
Nor  even  with  a  Mammoth's  bone, 

Above  the  ground  or  under — 
And,  spite  of  all  the  pains  he  took 

The  animal  to  track,  sir, 
He  never  could  o'ertake  the  hog 

With  navel  on  his,  back,  sir. 

And  from  the  day  his  course  began, 

Till  even  it  was  ended, 
He  never  found  an  Indian  tribe 

From  Welchmen  straight  descended : 
Nor,  much  as  of  Philosophers 

The  fancies  it  might  tickle ; 
To  season  his  adventures,  met 

A  mountain,  sous'd  in  pickle. 

He  never  left  this  nether  world — 

For  still  he  had  his  reason— 
Nor  once  the  waggon  of  the  sun 

Attempted  he  to  seize  on. 
To  bind  a  Zone  about  the  earth 

He  knew  he  was  not  able — 
Tuey  say  he  did — but,  nsk  himself, 

He'll  tell  you  'tis  a  fable. 

He  never  dreamt  of  taming  tides, 

Like  monkeys  or  like  bears,  sir — 
A  school,  for  teaching  floods  to  flow, 

"YVsis  not  among  his  cares,  sir — 
Had  rivers  ask'd  of  him  their  path, 

They  had  but  mov'd  his  laughter — 
They  knew  their  courses,  all,  as  well 

Before  he  came,  as  after. 

And  must  we  then  resign  the  hope 

These  elements  of  changing  ? 
And  must  we  still,  alas!  be  told 

That  after  all  his  ranging, 
The  Captain  could  discover  nought 

But  water  in  the  Fountains? 
Must  Forests  still  be  form'd  of  Trees? 

Of  rugged  Rocks  the  Mountains  f 

We  never  will  be  so  fubb'd  off, 

As  sure  as  I'm  a  sinner! 
Come — let  us  all  subscribe,  and  ask 

The  hero  to  a  dinner — 
And  Barlow  stanzas  shall  indite — 

A  bard,  the  tide  who  tames,  sir — 
And  if  we  cannot  alter  things, 

By  G — ,  we'll  change  their  names,  sir! 


Let  old  Columbus  be  once  more 

Degraded  from  his  glory ; 
And  not  a  river  by  his  name 

Remember  him  in  story — 
For  what  is  old  Discovery 

Compar'd  to  that  which  new  is? 
Strike — strike  Columbia  river  out, 

And  put  in — river  Lewis  1 

Let  dusky  Sally  henceforth  bear 

The  name  of  Isabella  ; 
And  let  the  mountain,  all  of  salt, 

Be  christen'd  Monticella — 
The  hog  with  navel  on  his  back 

Tom  Pain  may  be  when  drunk,  sir — 
And  Joel  call  the  Prairie-dog, 

Which  once  was  call'd  a  Skunk,  sir. 

And  when  the  wilderness  shall  yield 

To  bumpers  bravely  brimming, 
A  nobler  victory  than  men  ; — 

While  all  our  heads  are  swimming, 
We'll  dash  the  bottle  on  the  wall 

And  name  (the  thing's  agreed  on) 
Our  first-rate-ship  United  States, 

The  flying  frigate  tredon. 

True — Tom  and  Joel  now,  no  more 

Can  overturn  a  nation  : 
And  work,  by  butchery  and  blood, 

A  great  regeneration  ; — 
Yet,  still  we  can  turn  inside  out 

Old  Nature's  Constitution, 
And  bring  a  Babel  back  of  nanus — 

Huzza !  for  revolution  ! 

In  1807  the  magnum  opus  of  Barlow,  the 
Columbiad,  appeared,  dedicated  to  the  author's 
intimate  friend  Robert  Fulton;  the  most  costly 
work  which  had  been  published  in  America.  It 
was  issued  in  Philadelphia.  It  has  eleven  en- 
gravings after  original  designs  by  Smirke,  executed 
by  the  best  line  engravers  in  London,  Colliding, 
Parker,  Anker  Smith,  Raimbach,  and  others. 
Of  these,  Hester  Appearing  to  Columbus  in  Prison. 
The  Murder  of  Lucinda,  Cruelty  Presiding  over 
the  Prison  Ship,  and  The  Initiation  to  the  Mys- 
teries of  Isis,  may  be  instanced  for  the  force  of 
the  conception  and  beauty  of  handling.  The  por- 
trait of  Barlow  prefixed  was  painted  by  Fulton, 
and  is  admirably  engraved.  From  the  dedication 
we  learn  that  Fulton  "  designated  the  subjects  to 
be  painted  for  engravings,"  and,  intent  upon  the 
"expensive  and  splendid  decorations"  of  the 
work,  ordered  them  to  be  executed  in  Barlow's 
absence,  and  at  his  own  expense. 

The  plan  of  the  ten  books  of  the  Colunibiad  is 
simple  enough.  Columbus  is  introduced  to  us  in 
prison,  suffering  the  ingratitude  of  his  country,  in 
Spain,  when  Hesper  appears  to  him  and  conducts 
him  to  a  mount  of  vision  commanding  the  western 
continent.  The  geography  of  the  vast  region  is 
described,  and  Hesper  relates  at  length  the  story 
of  Mexico  and  Pern.  The  colonization  of  North 
America  by  Raleigh  and  others  is  passed  in  review, 
when  we  enter  upon  the  old  French  war  and  the 
scenes  of  the  Revolution  which  form  the  central 
portion  of  the  work.  The  companions  of  Wash- 
ington in  the  struggle  have  poetical  justice  done 
them : — 

Here  stood  stern  Putnam,  scored  with  ancient  seal1!:, 
The  living  records  of  his  country's  wars ; 
Wayne,  like  a  moving  tower,  assumes  his  post, 
Fires  the  whole  field,  and  is  himself  a  host; 


396 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Undaunted  Stirling,  prompt  to  meet  his  foes, 
And  Gates  and  Sullivan  for  action  rose  ; 
Macdougal,  Clinton,  guardians  of  the  state, 
Stretch  the  nerved  aim  to  pierce  the  dejjth  of  fate. 

****** 
Bland,  Moyland,  Sheldon,  the  long  lines  enforce 
With  light-arm'd  scouts,  with  solid  squares  of  horse ; 
And  Knox  from  his  full  park  to  battle  brings 
His  brazen  tubes,  the  last  resort  of  kings. 
The  long  black  rows  in  sullen  silence  wait, 
Their  grim  jaws  gaping,  soon  to  utter  fate ; 
When  at  his  word  the  carbon  cloud  shall  rise. 
And  well-aim'd  thunders  rock  the  shores  and  skies. 

Among  the  special  descriptions  of  this  portion 
of  the  poem  are  the  indignant  lines  on  the  cruel- 
ties of  the  British  in  the  prison-ships,  and  the 
employment  of  the  Indians,  introducing  the  story 
of  Miss  M'Crea.  The  battles  having  been  all  dis- 
posed of,  including  the  victories  of  Saratoga  and 
Yorktown,  and  a  naval  action  between  Degrasse 
and  Graves,  with  the  poetical  license  of  a  few 
additional  commanders  who  were  not  present, 
and  several  valorous  incidents  which  never  oc- 
curred on  those  occasions,  the  Columbiad  passes 
from  the  conquests  of  war  to  those  of  peace.  The 
progress  and  influences  of  modern  art  and  science 
are  pointed  out,  the  advantages  of  the  federal  go- 
vernment, and  of  a  larger  confederation  of  nations, 
with  an  assimilation  and  unity  of  language ;  an 
abandonment  of  war,  and  a  final  blaze  of  rockets 
over  the  emancipation  of  the  world  from  prejudice 
and  a  general  millennium  of  philosophic  joy  and 
freedom. 

South  of  the  sacred  mansion,  first  resort 
The  assembled  sires,  and  pass  the  spacious  court. 
Here  in  his  porch  earth's  figured  genius  stands, 
Truth's  mighty  mirror  poising  in  his  hands ; 
Graved  on  the  pedestal  and  chased  in  gold, 
Man's  noblest  arts  their  symbol  forms  unfold, 
His  tillage  and  his  trade;  with  all  the  store 
Of  wondrous  fabrics  and  of  useful  lore : 
Labours  that  fashion  to  his  sovereign  sway 
Earth's  total  powers,  her  soil,  and  air,  and  sea; 
Force  them  to  yield  their  fruits  at  his  known  call, 
And  bear  his  mandates  round  the  rolling  ball. 
Beneath  the  footstool  all  destructive  things, 
The  mask  of  priesthood  and  the  mace  of  kings, 
Lie  trampled  in  the  dust ;  for  here  at  last 
Fraud,  folly,  error,  all  their  emblems  cast. 
Each  envoy  here  unloads  his  wearied  hand 
Of  some  old  idol  from  his  native  land ; 
One  flings  a  pagod  on  the  mingled  heap, 
One  lays  a  crescent,  one  a  cross  to  sleep ; 
Swords,   sceptres,   mitres,   crowns   and   globes   and 

stars, 
Codes  of  false  fame  and  stimulants  to  wars, 
Sink  in  the  settling  mass;  Eince  guile  began, 
These  are  the  agents  of  the  woes  of  man. 
Now  the  full  concourse,  where  the  arches  bend, 
Pour  thro'  by  thousands  and  their  scats  ascend. 
Far  as  the  centred  eye  can  range  around, 
Or  the  deep  trumpet's  solemn  voice  resound, 
Long  rows  of  reverend  sires  sublime  extend, 
And  cares  of  worlds  on  every  brow  suspend. 
High  in  the  front,  for  soundest  wisdom  known, 
A  sire  elect  in  peerless  grandeur  shone; 
He  open'd  calm  the  universal  cause, 
To  give  each  realm  its  limit  and  its  laws, 
Bid  the  last  breath  of  tired  contention  cease, 
And  bind  all  regions  in  the  leagues  of  peace; 
Till  one  confederate,  condependent  sway 
Spread  with  the  sun  and  boand  the  walks  of  day, 


One  centred  system,  one  all-ruling  soul, 
Live  thro'  the  parts  and  regulate  the  whole. 

This  is  the  outline  of  the  Columbiad.  In  its 
composition  it  is  an  enlargement  of  the  Vision  of 
Columbus,  which  his  simple-minded  countrymen, 
perplexed  by  the  new  notions  of  the  author,  liked 
the  better  of  the  two. 

Barlow's  alterations  and  amendments  of  his 
early  poem,  like  most  changes  of  the  kind  where 
poems  have  been  rewritten,  might  as  well  have 
been  left  unattempted.  "  God  mend  me,"  said 
Pope,  in  his  favorite  form  of  exclamation,  to  the 
link-boy;  "Mend  you,  indeed,"  replied  the  boy 
to  the  shambling  little  bard,  "it  would  be  far 
easier  to  make  a  new  one."  There  is  occasionally 
an  improvement,  however,  in  particularity  of  de- 
tail, the  prevailing  fault  of  both  poems  being  a 
vague  generality  of  expression.  A  comparison 
of  one  or  two  passages  will  throw  some  light  on 
the  peculiar  powers  of  Barlow,  and  the  verse- 
generating  habit  of  the  age,  when  Pope  was  still 
worshipped  and  Darwin  was  the  newly-arrived 
celebrity  of  the  day. 

Barlow,  in  the  interval  between  the  publication 
of  the  two  poems,  had  become  a  neologist  in 
words.  It  is  in  his  later  poem  that  we  find  the 
ill-digested  scientific  phrases  thrown  out,  which 
he  had  swallowed  at  the  banquet  of  the  philoso- 
phers. The  sky  "  lamp'd  with  reverberant  fires," 
"  this  bivaulted  sphere,"  nature  which  "  impalms 
all  space,"  "the  impermeated  mass"  of  chaos, 
"crude  and  crass,"  globes  whirling  forth  "in 
cosmogyral  course,"  and  hundreds  of  other  simi- 
lar crudities,  were  inventions  of  Barlow's  later 
day.  In  the  midst  of  these  scientific  imperti- 
nences, however,  he  has  introduced  one  of  his 
purest  passages  on  the  birth  of  creation,  when — 

light  at  last  begun, 
And  every  system  found  a  centred  sun, 
Call'd  to  his  neighbor,  and  exchanged  from  far 
His  infant  gleams  with  every  social  star; 
Rays  thwarting  raj's  and  skies  o'erarching  skies, 
Robed  their  dim  planets  with  commingling  dyes, 
Hung  o'er  each  heaven  their  living  lamps  serene, 
And  tinged  with  blue  the  frore  expanse  between: 
Then  joyous  Nature  hail'd  the  golden  morn, 
Drank  the  young  beam,  beheld  her  empire  born. 

In  his  allusion  to  the  pyramids,  he  gives  in  a 
word  a  new  sense  of  their  enormous  mass, 
threatening  to  disturb  the  orbit  of  gravitation : — 

Press  the  poized  earth  with  their  enormous  weights. 

In  the  review  of  intellectual  progress,  in  the 
ninth  book  of  the  Columbiad — ■ 

There,  like  her  lark,  gay  Chaucer  leads  the  lay, 
The  matin  carol  of  his  country's  day : 

is  an  improvement  on 

Where,  like  the  star  that  leads  the  orient  day, 
Chaucer  directs  his  tuneful  sons  their  way. 

The  introduction  of  Franklin  in  the  first  sketch 
is  more  poetical  than  in  the  second.  In  the 
Vision : — 

See  on  yon  darkening  height  bold  Franklin  stand 

in  the  Columbiad,  this  truthful  glimpse  of  nature 
is  spoilt  by  the  poetical  finery  of — 


JOEL  BARLOW. 


397 


Yon  meteor-mantled  hill  see  Franklin  tread. 

Another  line  is,  however,  an  improvement,  the 
charge  from — 

His  daring  toils,  the  threatening  Mast  that  wait, 

To— 

His  well-tried  wires,  that  every  tempest  wait. 

In  which  we  get  nearer  to  the  fact ;  and  fact  and 
reality  are  not  such  enemies  to  poetry  as  is  some- 
times apprehended. 

On  other  pages  he  omits  his  warmer  religious 
views  of  1787,  the  date  of  his  first  version.  The 
picture  of  the  divinely-nurtured  life  of  the  preach- 
er and  the  earnest  indication  of  the  atonement  of 
the  seventh  and  eighth  hooks  of  the  Vision  are 
entirely  omitted  in  the  Columbiad  ;  while  we  have 
a  vast  deal  of  science  in  their  stead. 

In  this  poem  there  is  a  vivid  anticipation  of  the 
material  progress  of  the  world  in  opening  lines  of 
communication  by  canals,  which  appears  again 
with  some  modifications  in  the  Columbiad.  As 
it  gives  Barlow's  poetry  the  high  merit,  in  addi- 
tion to  whatever  other  qualities  it  may  possess,  of 
the  prophetic  instinct,  we  quote  the  passage  from 
the  earliest  copy  in  The  Vision,  printed  in  1787, 
when  "internal  improvements,"  not  as  yet  de- 
veloped by  Fulton  and  Clinton,  rested  wholly  in 
such  chimerical  suppositions.  As  we  write,  the 
newspapers  of  the  day  (March,  1854)  are  occu- 
pied with  an  additional  fulfilment  of  the  "prophecy, 
in  the  division,  if  we  may  be  allowed  to  receive 
the  Panama  railroad  as  a  substitute  for  Barlow's 
canal,  of  the  "ridgy  Darien  hills"  opening  the 
commerce  of  Peru. 

He  saw,  as  widely  spreads  the  unehannel'd  plain, 
"Where  inland  realms  for  ages  bloom'd  in  vain, 
Canals,  long-winding,  ope  a  watery  flight, 
And  distant  streams  and  seas  and  lakes  unite. 
Where  Darien  hills  o'erlook  the  gulphy  tide, 
By  human  art,  the  ridgy  banks  divide; 
Ascending  sails  the  opening  pass  pursue, 
And  waft  tiie  sparkling  treasures  of  Peru. 
Jeneiro's  stream  from  Plata  winds  his  way, 
And  bold  Madera  opes  from  Paraguay. 
From  fair  Albania,  tow'rd  the  failing  sun, 
Back  thro'  the  midland,  lengthening  channels  run, 
Meet  the  far  lakes,  their  beauteous  towns  that  lave, 
And  Hudson  join  to  broad  Ohio's  wave.* 
From  dim  Superior,  whose  unfathom'd  sea 
Drinks  the  mild  splendors  of  the  setting  da}T, 
New  paths,  unfolding,  lead  their  watery  pride, 
And  towns  and  empires  rise  along  their  side; 
To  Mississippi's  source  the  passes  bend, 
And  to  the  broad  Pacific  main  extend. 
From  the  red  banks  of  blest  Arabia's  tide, 
Thro'  the  dread  isthmus,  waves  unwonted  glide; 
From  Europe's  crowded  coasts  while  bounding  sails 
Look  through  the  pass  and  call  the  Asian  gales. 
Volga  and  Oby  distant  oceans  join, 
And  the  long  Danube  meets  the  rolling  Rhine; 
While  other  streams  that  cleave  the  midland  plain, 
Spread  their  new  courses  to  the  distant  main. 

The  notes  to  the  Columhiad  and  the  preliminary 
account  of  Columbus  are  well  written.     The  an- 


*  la  the  Columbiad  (1S07)  these  last  four  lines  read — 
From  Mohawk's  mouth,  far  westing  with  the  sun, 
Thro  all  the  midlands  recent  channels  run, 
Tap  the  redundant  lakes,  the  broad  hilts  brave, 
And  Hudson  marry  with  Missouri's  wave. 


ticipation  of  the  decline  of  public  war,  from  the 
decline  of  private,  is  felicitous.  Alluding  to  the 
legend  on  the  cannon  of  Louis  XIV.,  ultima-ratio 
regum,  he  says,  "There  certainly  was  a  time 
when  the  same  device  might  have  been  written 
on  the  hatchet  or  club  or  fist  of  every  man ;  and 
the  best  weapon  of  destruction  that  he  could 
wield  against  his  neighbor  might  have  been  called 
ultima  ratio  virorum,  meaning  that  human  roa-. 
son  could  go  no  farther."  His  remarks  on  the 
philosophy  of  history  show  what  would  have  been 
the  spirit  of  his  contemplated  History  of  the  Ameri- 
can Revolution,  in  which  he  would  doubtless  have 
anticipated  something  of  the  treatment  of  Bancroft. 
He  carries  his  single  idea  of  the  evils  of  war  to  a 
ridiculous  excess,  forgetting  for  the  moment  the 
uses  of  poetry  and  the  imagination,  when  he  falls 
foul  of  Homer  for  his  pictures  of  battles  and 
kings,  and  pronounces  the  opinion  that  the 
existence  of  that  famous  old  bard  "has  really 
proved  one  of  the  signal  misfortunes  of  man- 
kind."* 

The  Col  tin/bind  was  reprinted  in  1809,  in  two 
duodecimo  volumes;  it  was  republished  inEngland 
and  also  in  Paris.  In  this  year  Barlow  delivered 
a  Fourth  of  July  Oration  at  the  request  of  the 
Democratic  citizens  of  the  District  of  Columbia, 
in  which  he  urged  a  general  system  of  public  im- 
provement and  public  instruction  to  be  sustained 
by  appropriations  from  government.  He  next 
turned  his  attention  to  the  composition  of  a  his- 
tory of  the  United  States,  a  task  which  was  in- 
terrupted by  his  appointment  from  Monroe  of 
Minister  to  France,  succeeding  Armstrong.  His 
new  French  labors  were  applied  to  the  difficult 
negotiations  with  the  government,  growing  out  of 
the  policy  of  France  in  the  Berlin  and  Milan  de- 
crees. In  October,  1812,  when  Bonaparte  was 
on  his  Russian  campaign,  Barlow  received  an  in- 
vitation to  wait  upon  him  at  Wilna.  He  set  off 
post-haste ;  the  severity  of  the  weather  anil  fa- 
tigues of  the  journey,  with  the  changes  of  tem- 
perature from  the  small  Jewish  taverns  in  Poland 
to  the  atmosphere  without,  induced  an  inflamma- 
tion of  the  lungs,  to  which  he  rapidly  succumbed, 
dying  on  his  return  to  Paris,  December  22,  1812, 
at  Zarnawicka,  an  unimportant  village  near  Cra- 
cow. 

His  last  poem  was  a  withering  expression  of 
his  sentiment  towards  Napoleon.  It  was  dictated 
by  Barlow,  in  December,  1812,  while  lying  on  his 
bed,  to  his  secretary,  Thomas  Barlow,  about  mid- 
night, only  a  night  or  two  before  the  van  of  the 
French  army,  which  had  been  defeated  by  the 
burningof  Moscow,  entered  Wilna  on  their  retreat, 
the  same  month  in  which  he  died.  It  was  copied 
in  diplomatic  characters  and  sent  to  Mrs.  Barlow 
in  Paris,  but  it  never  reached  her.  The  original 
poem  written  at  Wilna  is  now  in  the  possession 
of  the  Rev.  Lemuel  (1.  Olmstead,  who  has  placed 
a  copy  at  our  disposal.  The  paper  has,  in  water- 
mark, a  head  of  Napoleon,  and  the  words,  "  Na- 
2>oleon  Empereur  des  Francais  et  Eoi  Ifltalie.1' 

ADVICE  TO    A  RAVEN   IN  RUSSIA. 

Black  fool,  why  winter  here?     These  frozen  skies. 
Worn  by  your  wings  and  deafened  by  your  cries. 


*  Preface  to  the  Columbiad. 


398 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Should  wavn  you  lience,  where  milder  suns  invite, 

And  Day  alternates  with  his  mother  Night. 

You  fear,  perhaps,  your  food  will  fail  you  there — 

Your  human  carnage,  that  delicious  fare, 

That  lured  you  hither,  following  still  your  friend, 

The  great  Napoleon,  to  the  world's  bleak  end. 

You  fear  because  the  southern  climes  pour'd  forth 

Their  clustering  nations  to  infest  the  north — 

Bavarians,  Austrians — those  who  drink  the  Po, 

And  those  who  skirt  the  Tuscan  seas  below, 

With  all  Germania,  Neustria,  Belgia,  Gaul, 

Doom'd  here  to  wade  through  slaughter  to  their  fall. 

You  fear  he  left  behind  no  wars  to  feed 

His  feather'd  cannibals  and  nurse  the  breed. 

Fear  not,  my  screamer,  call  your  greedy  train, 

Sweep  over  Europe,  hurry  back  to  Spain — 

You'll  find  his  legions  there,  the  valiant  crew, 

Please  best  their  masters  when  they  toil  for  you. 

Abundant  there  they  spread  the  country  o'er, 

And  taint  the  breeze  with  every  nation's  gore — 

Iberian,  Russian,  British,  widely  strown, 

But  still  more  wide  and  copious  flows  their  own. 

Go  where  you  will,  Calabria,  Malta,  Greece, 

Egypt  and  Syria  still  Ins  fame  increase. 

Domingo's  fattened  isle  and  India's  plaina 

Glow  deep  with  purple  drawn  from  Gallic  veins. 

No  raven's  wing  can  stretch  the  flight  so  far 

As  the  torn  bandrols  of  Napoleon's  war. 

Choose  then  your  climate,  fix  your  best  abode — 

He'll  make  you  deserts  and  he'll  bring  you  blood. 

How  could  you  fear  a  dearth?     Have  not  mankind, 

Though  slain  by  millions,  millions  left  behind? 

Has  not  conscription  still  the  power  to  wield 

Her  annual  falchion  o'er  the  human  field? 

A  faithful  harvester!  or  if  a  man 

Escape  that  gleaner,  shall  he  'scape  the  ban, 

The  triple  ban,  that,  like  the  hound  of  hell, 

Gripes  with  three  joles  to  hold  his  victims  well! 

Fear  nothing,  then!   hatch  fast  your  ravenous  brood, 

Teach  them  to  cry  to  Buonaparte  for  food. 

They'll  he,  like  you,  of  all  his  suppliant  train, 

The  only  class  that  never  cries  in  vain ! 

For  see  what  natural  benefits  you  lend — 

The  surest  way  to  fix  the  mutual  friend — 

While  on  his  slaughtered  troops  your  tribes  are  fed, 

You  cleanse  his  camp  and  carry  off  his  dead, 

Imperial  scavenger,  but  now,  you  know, 

Your  work  is  vain  amid  these  hills  of  snow. 

His  tentless  troops  are  marbled  through  with  frost, 

And  changed  to  crystal  when  the  breath  is  lost. 

Mere   trunks    of   ice,   though   limn'd   like    human 

frames, 
And  lately  warmed  with  life's  endearing  flames, 
They  cannot  taint  the  air,  the  world  infest, 
Nor  can  you  tear  oue  fibre  from  their  breast. 
No!  from  their  visual  sockets  as  they  lie, 
With  beak  and  claws  you  cannot  pluck  an  eye — ■ 
The  frozen  orb,  preserving  still  its  form, 
Defies  your  talons  as  it  braves  the  storm, 
But  stands  and  stares  to  God  as  if  to  know, 
In  what  curst  hands  he  leaves  his  world  below ! 
Fly  then,  or  starve,  though  all  the  dreadful  road 
From  Minsk  to  Moscow  with  their  bodies  strow'd 
May  count  some  myriads,  yet  they  can't  suffice 
To  feed  you  more  beneath  these  dreadful  skies. 
Go  back  and  winter  in  the  wilds  of  Spain ; 
Feast  there  awhile,  and  in  the  next  campaign 
Rejoin  your  master,  for  you'll  find  him  then, 
With  his  new  millions  of  the  race  of  men, 
Clothed  in  his  thunders,  all  his  flags  unfurl'd, 
Raging  and  storming  o'er  a  prostrate  world ! 
War  after  war  his  hungry  soul  requires ; 
State  after  state  shall  sink  beneath  his  fires. 
Yet  other  Spains  in  victim  smoke  shall  rise. 
And  other  Moscows  Buffocate  the  skies. 


Each  land  lie  reeking  with  its  people  slain, 
And  not  a  stream  run  bloodless  to  the  main, 
Till  men  resume  their  souls,  and  dare  to  shed 
Earth's  total  vengeance  on  the  monster's  head! 

Barlow  in  early  life  married  Ruth,  sister  of 
the  celebrated  politician,  Abraham  Baldwin,  a 
Connecticut  man  who  settled  in  Georgia,  and  who 
received  in  his  post  in  Congress  Barlow's  politi- 
cal letters  from  Europe.  In  the  dedication  of  the 
Columbiad  to  Fulton,  Barlow  speaks  of  the  poem 
being  much  benefited  by  "the  observations  of 
my  excellent  wife."  .  This  lady  survived  him 
nearly  six  years,  dying  at  his  seat  of  Kalorama, 
May  30,  1818,  at  the  age  of  sixty-two. 

HTMN  TO  PEACE. 

Hail,  sacred  Peace,  who  claim'st  thy  bright  abode 
'Mid  circling  saints  that  grace  the  throne  of  God, 
Before  his  arm,  around  this  shapeless  earth, 
Stretch'd  the  wide  heav'ns  and  gave  to  nature  birth; 
Ere  morning  stars  his  glowing  chambers  hung, 
Or  songs  of  gladness  woke  an  angel's  tongue  ; 
Veiled  in  the  brightness  of  th'  Almighty's  mind, 
In  blest  repose  thy  placid  form  reclined ; 
Borne  through  the  heaven,  with  his  creating  voice, 
Thy  presence  bade  the  unfolding  worlds  rejoice; 
Gave  to  seraphic  hearts  their  sounding  lays, 
Their  joy  to  angels  and  to  men  their  praise. 

From  scenes  of  blood,  these  beauteous  shores  that 
stain,. 
From  gasping  friends  that  press  the  sanguine  plain. 
From  fields,  long  taught  in  vain  thy  flight  to  mour.  , 
I  rise,  delightful  power,  and  greet  thy  glad  return. 
Too  long  the  groans  of  death  and  battle's  bray 
Have  rung  discordant  through  the  unpleasing  lay  ; 
Let  pity's  tear  its  balmy  fragrance  shed, 
O'er  heroes'  wounds  and  patriot  warriors  dead: 
Accept,  departed  shades,  these  grateful  sighs, 
Your  fond  attendants  to  the  approving  skies. 
But  now  the  untuneful  trump  shall  grate  no  more. 
Ye  silver  streams,  no  longer  swell  with  gore  ; 
Bear  from  your  beauteous  banks  the  crimson  stain. 
With  yon  retiring  navies  to  the  main  ; 
While  other  views  unfolding  on  my  eyes, 
And  happier  themes  bid  bolder  numbers  rise. 
Bring,  bounteous  Peace,  in  thy  celestial  throng, 
Life  to  my  soul;  and  rapture  to  my  song; 
Give  me  to  trace,  with  pure  unclouded  ray, 
The  arts  and  virtues  that  attend  thy  sway  ; 
To  see  thy  blissful  charms  that  here  descend, 
Thro'  distant  realms  and  endless  years  extend. 

THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  KINGS. 

Eternal  Truth,  thy  trump  undaunted  lend, 
People,  and  priests,  and  courts,  and  kings,  attend  ; 
While,  borne  on  western  gales  from  that  far  shore 
Where  Justice  reigns,  and  tyrants  tread  no  more, 
Th'  untainted  voice  that  no  dissuasion  awes, 
That  fears  no  frown,  and  seeks  no  blind  applause, 
Shall  tell  the  bliss  that  Freedom  sheds  abroad, 
The  rights  of  Nature,  and  the  gift,  of  God. 

Think  not,  ye  knaves,  whom  meanness  styles  the 
great, 
Drones  of  the  church  and  harpies  of  the  state, — 
Ye,  whose  curst  sires,  for  blood  and  plunder  fani'd, 
Sultans,  or  kings,  or  czars,  or  enip'rors  nam'd, 
Taught  the  deluded  world  their  claims  to  own, 
And  raise  the  crested  reptiles  to  a  throne, — 
Ye,  who  pretend  to  your  dark  host  was  given 
The  lamp  of  life,  the  mystic  keys  of  heaven ; 
Whose  impious  arts  with  magic  spells  began, 
When  shades  of  igu'rauce  veil'd  the  race  of  man ; 


JOEL  BARLOW. 


390 


Who  change,  from  age  to  age,  the  sly  deceit, 
As  science  beams,  and  virtue  learns  the  cheat; 
Tyrants  of  double  powers,  the  souls  that  blind, 
To  rob,  to  scourge,  and  brutalize  mankind, — - 
Think  not  1  come  to  croak  "with  omen'd  yell 
The  dire  damnations  of  your  future  hell, 
To  bend  a  bigot  or  reform  a  knave, 
By  op'niug  all  the  scenes  beyond  the  grave. 
I  know  your  crusted  souls  :    while  one  defies, 
In  sceptic  scorn,  the  vengeance  of  the  skies, 
The  other  boasts, — I  ken  thee,  power  divine, 
But  fear  thee  not;  th'  avenging  bolt  is  mine. 

No!   'tis  the  present  world  that  prompts  the  song, 
The  world  we  see,  the  world  that  feels  the  wrong, 
The  world  of  men,  whose  arguments  ye  know, 
Of  men,  long  curb'd  to  servitude  and  woe, 
Men,  rous'd  from  sloth,  by  indignation  string, 
Their  strong  hands  loos'd,  and  found  their  fearless 

tongue; 
Whose  voice  of  thunder,  whose  descending  steel, 
Shall  speak  to  souls,  and  teacli  dull  nerves  to  feel. 

Think  not,  (ah  no,  the  weak  delusion  shun, 
Burke  leads  you  wrong,  the  world  is  not  his  own), 
Indulge  not  once  the  thought,  the  vap'ry  dream, 
The  fool's  repast,  the  mad-man's  thread-bare  theme, 
That  nations,  rising  in  the  light  of  truth, 
Strong  with  new  life  and  pure  regenerate  youth, 
Will  shrink  from  toils  so  splendidly  begun, 
Theii  bliss  abandon  and  their  glory  shun, 
Betray  the  trust  by  Heav'n's  own  hand  consign'd, 
The  great  concentred  stake,  the  interest  of  mankind. 
Ye  speak  of  kings   combin'd,   some  league  that 
draws 
Europe's  whole  force,  to  save  your  sinking  cause ; 
Of  fancy'd  hosts  by  myriads  that  advance 
To  crush  the  untry'd  power  of  new-born  France. 
Misguided  men!   these  idle  tales  despise; 
Let  one  bright  ray  of  reason  strike  your  eyes ; 
Show  me  your  kings,  the  sceptred  horde  parade, — 
See  their  pomp  vanish  !  see  your  Visions  fade ! 
Indignant  man  resumes  the  shaft  he  gave, 
Disarms  the  tyrant  and  unbinds  the  slave, 
Displays  the  unclad  skeletons  of  kings.* 
Spectres  of  power,  and  serpents  without  stings. 
And    shall    mankind,— shall    France,    whose    giant 

might 
Rent  the  dark  veil,  and  dragg'd  them  forth  to  light, 
Heed  now  their  threats  in  dying  anguish  tost? 
And  she  who  fcll'd  the  monster,  fear  the  ghost? 
Bid  young  Alcides,  in  his  grasp  who  takes, 
And  gripes  with  naked  hand  the  twisting  snakes, 
Their  force  exhausted,  bid  him  prostrate  fall, 
And  dread  their  shadows  trembling  on  the  wall. 

But  grant  to  kings  and  courts  their  ancient  play, 
Recal  their  splendour  and  revive  their  sway  ; 
Can  all  your  cant  and  all  your  cries  persuade 
One  power  to  join  you  in  your  wild  crusade '( 
In  vain  ye  search  to  earth's  remotest  end  ; 
No  court  can  aid  you,  and  no  king  defend. 

Not  the  mad  knave  who  Sweden's  sceptre  stole, 
Nor  she  whose  thunder  shakes  the  northern  pole ; 
Nor  Frederic's  widow' 4  sword,  that  scorns  to  tell 
On  whose  weak  brow  his  crown  reluctant  fell. 
Not  the  tri-seeptred  prince,  of  Austrian  mould, 
The  ape  of  wisdom  and  the  slave  of  gold, 
Theresa's  son,  who,  with  a  feeble  grace, 
Just  mimics  all  the  vices  of  his  race  ; 
For  him  no  charm  can  foreign  strife  afford, 
Too  mean  to  spend  his  wealth,  too  wise  to  trust  his 
sword. 
Glance  o'er  the  Pyrenees, — but  you'll  disdain 
To  break  the  dream  that  soothes  the  monk  of  Spain. 

»  Ossa  tides  regwm  vacuu  exTiausla  medullie. 

Juvlnal,  Sat.  8. 


He  counts  his  beads,  and  spends  his  holy  zen! 

To  raise  once  more  th'  inquisitorial  wheel, 

Prepares  the  faggot' and  the  flame  renews, 

To  roast  the  French,  as  ouee  the  Moors  and  Jews : 

While  abler  hands  the  busy  task  divide. 

His  queen  to  dandle  and  his  state  to  guide. 

Yet  ask  great  Pitt  to  join  your  desp'rate  work, — 
See  how  his  annual  aid  confounds  the  Turk ! 
Like  a  war-elephant  his  bulk  he  shows, 
And  treads  down  friends,  when  frighten'd  by  his 

foes. 
Where  then,  forsaken  villains,  will  ye  turn  ? 
Of  France  the  outcast  and  of  earth  the  scorn  ; 
What  new-made  charm  can  dissipate  your  fears? 
Can  Burke's  mad  foam,  or  Calonnc's  house  of  peers? 
Can  Artois'  sword,  that  erst  near  Calpe's  wall, 
Where  Crillon  fought  and  Elliott  was  to  fall, 
Buru'd  with  the  fire  of  fame,  but  harmless  burn'd, 
For  sheath'd  the  sword  remain'd,  and  in  its  sheath 

return'd ! 
Oh   Burke,    degenerate   slave !    with    grief   and 

shame 
The  Muse  indignant  mu6t  repeat  thy  name. 
Strange  man,  declare, — since,  at  creation's  birth, 
From  crumbling  chaos  sprang  this  hcav'n  and  earth, 
Since  wrecks  and  outcast  relics  still  remain, 
Whirl'd  ceaseless  round  confusion's  dreary  reign, 
Declare,  from  all  these  fragments,  whence  you  stole 
That  genius  wild,  that  monstrous  mass  of  soul; 
Where  spreads  the  widest  waste  of  all  extremes, 
Full  darkness  frowns,  and  heav'n's  own  splendour 

beams ; 
Truth,  error,  falsehood,  rhetoric's  raging  tide, 
And  pomp  and  meanness,  prejudice  and  pride, 
Strain  to  an  endless  clang  thy  voice  of  fire, 
Thy  thoughts  bewilder  and  thy  audience  tire. 

Like  Phosbus'  son,  we  see  thee  wing  thy  way, 
Snatch  the  loose  reins,  and  mount  the  car  of  day, 
To  earth  now  plunging  plough  thy  wasting  course, 
The  great  sublime  of  weakness  and  of  force. 
But   while   the   world's   keen   eye,  with   generous 

glance, 
T!>3'  faults  could  pardon  and  thy  worth  enhance. 
When   foes  were  hush'd,   when  justice  dar'd  com- 
mend, 
And  e'en  fond  freedom  claim'd  thee  as  a  friend, 
Why,  in  a  gulpli  of  baseness,  sink  forlorn, 
And  change  pure  praise  for  infamy  and  scorn? 
And  didst  thou  hope,  by  thy  infuriate  quill   ■ 
To  rouse  mankind  the  blood  of  realms  to  spill? 
Then  to  restore,  on  death-devoted  plains, 
Their  scourge  to  tyrants,  and  to  man  his  chains? 
To  swell  their  souls  with  thy  own  bigot  rage, 
And  blot  the  glories  of  so  bright  an  age  ? 
First  stretch  thy  arm,  and,  with  less  impious  might, 
Wipe  out  the  stars,  and  quench  the  solar  light : 
"  For  hcaun  and  earth"  the  voice  of  God  ordains, 
"  Shalt  pans  and  perish,  but  my  word  remains" 
Th'  eternal  word,  which  gave,  in  spite  of  thee, 
Reason  to  man,  that  bids  the  man  be  free. 

Thou  could'st  not  hope:  'twas  heav'n's  returning 

grace, 
In  kind  compassion  to  our  injur'd  race, 
Which  stripp'd  that  soul,  ere  it  should  flee  from 

hence, 
Of  the  last  garb  of  decency  or  sense. 
Left  thee  its  own  foul  horrors  to  display, 
In  all  the  blackness  of  its  native  day, 
To  sink  at  last,  from  earth's  glad  surface  hurl'd, 
The  sordid  sov'reign  of  the  letter'd  world. 

In  some  sad  hour,  ere  death's  dim  terrors  spread, 
Ere  seas  of  dark  oblivion  whelm  thy  head, 
Reflect,  lost  man, — If  those,  thy  kindred  knaves, 
O'er  the  broad  Rhine  whose  fiag  rebellious  waves, 
Once  draw  the  sword ;  its  burning  point  shall  bring 


400 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAS"  LITER ATU  HE. 


To  thy  quick  nerves  a  never-ending  sting ; 

The  blood  they  shed  thy  weight  of  woe  shall  swell, 

And  their  grim  ghosts  for  ever  with  thee  dwell. 

Learn  hence,  ye  tyrants,  ere  ye  learn  too  late, 
Of  all  your  craft  th'  inevitable  fate. 
The  hour  is  come,  the  world's  inelosrag  eyes 
Discern  with  rapture  where  its  wisdom  lies  ; 
From  western  heav'ns  th'  inverted  orient  springs, 
The  morn  of  man,  the  dreadful  night  of  kings. 
Dim,  like  the  day-struck  owl,  ye  grope  in  light, 
No  arm  for  combat,  no  resource  in  flight ; 
If  on  your  guards  your  lingering  hopes  repose, 
Your  guards  are  men,  aud  men  you've  made  your 

foe:. ; 
If  to  your  rocky  ramparts  ye  repair, 
De  Launay's  fate  can  tell  your  fortune  there. 
No  turn,  no  shift,  no  courtly  arts  avail, 
Each  mask  is  broken,  all  illusions  fail ; 
Driv'n  to  your  last  retreat  of  shame  and  fear, 
One  counsel  waits  you,  one  relief  is  near: 
By  woi"th  internal,  rise  to  self-wrought  fame, 
Your  equal  rank,  your  human  kindred  claim ; 
'Tis  reason's  choice,  'tis  wisdom's  final  plan, 
To  drop  the  monarch  and  assume  the  man. 

Hail  man,  exalted  title !  first  and  best, 
On  God's  own  image  by  his  hand  imprest, 
To  which  at  last  the  reas'ning  race  is  driven, 
And  seeks  anew  what  first  it  gain'd  from  heaven. 
0  max,  my  brother,  how  the  cordial  flame 
Of  all  endearments  kindles  at  the  name ! 
In  every  clime,  thy  visage  greets  my  eyes, 
In  every  tongue  thy  kindred  accents  rise  ; 
The  thought  expanding  swells  my  heart  with  glee, 
It  finds  a  friend,  and  loves  itself  in  thee. 

Say  then,  fraternal  family  divine, 
Whom  mutual  wants  and  mutual  aids  combine, 
Say  from  what  source  the  dire  delusion  rose, 
That  souls  like  ours  were  ever  made  for  foes ; 
Why  earth's  maternal  bosom,  where  we  tread, 
To  rear  our  mansions  and  receive  our  bread, 
Should  blush  so  often  for  the  race  she  bore, 
So  long  be  drench'd  with  floods  of  filial  gore  ; 
Why  to  small  realms  for  ever  rest  confiu'd 
Our  great  affections,  meant  for  all  mankind. 
Though  climes  divide  us  ;  shall  the  stream  or  sea, 
That  forms  a  barrier  'twixt  my  friend  and  me, 
Inspire  the  wish  his  peaceful  state  to  mar, 
And  meet  his  falchion  in  the  ranks  of  war  ? 

Not  seas,  nor  climes,  nor  wild  ambition's  fire 
In  nation's  minds  could  e'er  the  wish  inspire  ; 
Where  equal  rights  each  sober  voice  should  guide, 
No  blood  would  stain  them,  and  no  war  divide. 
'Tis  dark  deception,  'tis  the  glare  of  state, 
Man  sunk  in  titles,  lost  in  small  and  great : 
'Tis  rank,  distinction,  all  the  hell  that  springs 
From  those  prolific  monsters,  courts  and  kings. 
These  are  the  vampires  nurs'd  on  nature's  spoils; 
For  these  with  pangs  the  starving  peasant  toils, 
For  these  the  earth's  broad  surface  teems  with  grain, 
Theirs  the  dread  labours  of  the  devious  main  ; 
And  when  the  wasted  world  but  dares  refuse 
The  gifts  oppressive  and  extorted  dues, 
The}'  bid  wild  slaughter  spread  the  gory  plair3, 
The  life-blood  gushing  from  a  thousand  veins, 
Erect  their  thrones  amid  the  sanguine  flood, 
And  dip  their  purple  in  the  nation's  blood. 

The  gazing  crowd,  of  glittering  state  afraid, 
Adore  the  power  their  coward  meanness  made  ; 
In  Avar's  short  intervals,  while  regal  shows 
Still  blind  their  reason  and  insult  their  woes, 
What  strange  events  for  proud  processions  call ! 
See  kingdoms  crowding  to  a  birth-night  ball ! 
See  the  long  pomp  in  gorgeous  glare  display'd, 
The  tinsel'd  guards,  the  squadrou'd  horse  parade  ; 
See  heralds  gay,  with  emblems  on  their  vest, 


In  tissu'd  robes,  tall,  beauteous  pages  drest ; 
Amid  superior  ranks  of  splendid  slaves, 
Lords,  dukes  and  princes,  titulary  knaves, 
Coufus'dly  shine  their  crosses,  gems  and  stars, 
Sceptres  and  globes  and  crowns  and  spoils  of  wars. 
On  gilded  orbs  see  thundering  chariots  roll'd, 
Steeds,  snorting  fire,  and  champing  bitts  of  gold, 
Prance  to  the  trumpet's  voice  ;  while  each  assumes 
A  loftier  gait,  and  lifts  his  neck  of  plumes. 
High  on  a  moving  throne,  and  near  the  van, 
The  tyrant  rides,  the  chosen  scourge  of  man  ; 
Clarions  and  flutes  and  drums  his  way  prepare, 
And  shouting  millions  rend  the  troubled  air  ; 
Millions,  whose  ceaseless  toils  the  pomp  sustain, 
Whose  hour  of  stupid  joy  repays  an  age  of  pain. 

Of  these  no  more.     From  orders,  slaves  and  kings, 
To  thee,  0  man,  my  heart  rebounding  springs, 
Behold  th'  ascending  bliss  that  waits  thy  call, 
Heav'n's  own  bequest,  the  heritage  of  all. 
Awake  to  wisdom,  seize  the  proffer'd  prize; 
From  shade  to  light,  from  grief  to  glory  rise. 
Freedom  at  last,  with  reason  in  her  train, 
Extends  o'er  earth  her  everlasting  reign; 
See  Gallia's  sons,  so  late  the  tyrant's  sport, 
Machines  in  war  and  sycophants  at  court, 
Start  into  men,  expand  their  well-taught  mind, 
Lords  of  themselves  and  leaders  of  mankind. 
On  equal  rights  their  base  of  empire  lies, 
On  walls  of  wisdom  see  the  structure  rise  ; 
Wide  o'er  the  gazing  world  it  towers  sublime, 
A  moilell'd  form  for  each  surrounding  clime. 
To  useful  toils  the}"  bend  their  noblest  aim, 
Make  patriot  views  and  moral  views  the  same. 
Renounce  the  wisli  of  war,  bid  conquest  cease, 
Invite  all  men  to  happiness  and  peace, 
To  faith  and  justice  rear  the  youthful  race, 
With  strength  exalt  them  and  with  science  grace. 
Till  truth's  blest  banners,  o'er  the  regions  hurl'd, 
Shake  tyrants  from   their   thrones,   and  cheer  the 
waking  world. 

In  northern  climes,  where  feudal  shades  of  iate 
Chill'd  every  heart  and  palsied  every  state, 
Behold,  illumin'd  by  th'  instructive  age, 
That  great  phenomenon,  a  sceptred  sage. 
There  Stanislaus  unfurls  his  prudent  plan. 
Tears  the  strong  bandage  from  the  eyes  of  man. 
Points  the  progressive  march,  and  shapes  the  way. 
That  leads  a  realm  from  darkness  into  day. 

And  deign,  for  once,  to  turn  a  transient  CA'C 
To  that  wide  world  that  skirts  the  western  sky  ; 
Hail  the  mild  morning,  where  the  dawn  began, 
The  full  fruition  of  the  hopes  of  man. 
Where  sage  experience  seals  the  sacred  cause  ■ 
And  that  rare  union,  liberty  and  laws. 
Speaks  to  the  reas'ning  race  :  to  freedom  rise. 
Like  them  be  equal,  and  like  them  be  wise. 

THE   ITASTY  PUDDING. 

A  Poem  in  Three  Cantos. 

Written  at  Chambery  in  Savoy,  January,  1793. 

By  Joel  Bfrlow. 

Omne  tulit  punctum  qui  miscuit  utile  dulci, 

He  makes  a  good  breakfast  who  mixe3  pudding  with 

molasses. 

To  Mrs.   Washington. 

Madam  : — A  simplicity  in  diet,  whether  it  be  con- 
sidered with  reference  to  the  happiness  of  individu- 
als or  the  prosperity  of  a  nation,  is  of  more  conse- 
quence than  we  are  apt  to  imagine.  In  recommend- 
ing so  great  and  necessary  a  virtue  to  the  rational 
part  of  mankind,  I  wish  it  were  in  my  power  to  do 
it  in  such  a  manner  as  would  be  likely  to  gain  their 
attention.     I  am  sensible  that  it  is  one  of  those  sub- 


JOEL  BARLOW. 


401 


jects  in  which  example*  hns  infinitely  more  power 
than  the  most  convincing  arguments,  or  the  highest 
charms  of  poetry.  Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village, 
though  possessing  these  two  advantages  in  a  greater 
degree  than  any  other  work  of  the  kind,  has  not 
prevented  villages  in  England  from  being  deserted. 
The  apparent  interest  of  the  rich  individuals,  who 
form  the  taste  as  well  as  the  laws  in  that  country, 
has  been  against  him  ;  and  with  that  interest  it  lias 
been  vain  to  contend. 

The  vicious  habits  which  in  this  little  piece  I  en- 
deavor to  combat,  seem  to  me  not  so  difficult  to 
cure.  No  class  of  people  has  any  interest  in  sup- 
porting them,  unless  it  be  the  interest  which  certain 
families  may  feel  in  vieing  with  each  other  in  sump- 
tuous entertainments.  There  may  indeed  be  some 
instances  of  depraved  appetites  which  no  arguments 
will  conquer ;  but  these  must  be  rare.  There  are 
very  few  persons  but  would  always  prefer  a 
plain  dish  for  themselves,  and  would  prefer  it  like- 
wise for  their  guests,  if  there  were  no  risk  of  repu- 
tation in  the  case.  This  difficulty  can  only  be  re- 
moved by  example ;  and  the  example  should  pro- 
ceed from  those  whose  situation  enables  them  to 
take  the  lead  in  forming  the  manners  of  a  nation. 
Persons  of  this  description  in  America,  I  should  hope, 
are  neither  above  nor  below  the  influence  of  truth 
and  reason  when  conveyed  in  language  suited  to  the 
subject. 

Whether  the  manner  I  have  chosen  to  address 
my  arguments  to  them  be  such  as  to  promise  any 
success,  is  what  I  cannot  decide.  But  I  certainly 
had  hopes  of  doing  some  good,  or  I  should  not  have 
taken  the  pains  of  putting  so  many  rhymes  together ; 
and  mueh  less  should  I  have  ventured  to  place  your 
name  at  the  head  of  these  observations.         , 

Your  situation  commands  the  respect  and  your 
character  the  affections  of  a  numerous  people. 
These  circumstances  impose  a  duty  upon  you,  which 
I  believe  you  discharge  to  your  own  satisfaction 
and  that  of  others.  The  example  of  your  domestic 
virtues  has  doubtless  a  great  effect  among  your 
countrywomen.  I  only  wish  to  rank  simplicity  of 
diet  among  the  virtues.  In  that  case  it  will  certainly 
be  cherished  by  you,  and  I  should  hope  more  es- 
teemed by  others  than  it  is  at  present. 

The  Authoe. 

the  hasty  puttoixg. canto  i. 

Ye  Alps  audacious,  through  the  heavens  that  rise, 
To  cramp  the  day  and  hide  me  from  the  skies ; 
Ye  Gallic  flags,  that  o'er  their  heights  unfurled, 
Bear  death  to  kings,  and  freedom  to  the  world, 
I  sing  not  you.     A  softer  theme  I  choose, 
A  virgin  theme,  unconscious  of  the  Muse, 
But  fruitful,  rich,  well  suited  to  inspire 
The  purest  frenzy  of  poetic  fire. 

Despise  it  not,  ye  bards  to  terror  steel'd, 
Who  hurl  your  thunders  round  the  epic  field ; 
Nor  ye  who  strain  your  midnight  throats  to  sing 
Joys  that  the  vineyard  and  the  still-house  bring  ;  ■ 
Or  on  some  distant  fair  your  notes  employ, 
And  speak  of  raptures  that  you  ne'er  enjoy. 
I  sing  the  sweets  I  know,  the  charms  I  feel, 
My  morning  incense,  and  my  evening  meal, 
The  sweets  of  Hasty  Pudding.     Come,  dear  bowl, 
Glide  o'er  my  palate,  and  inspire  my  soul. 
The  milk  beside  thee,  smoking  from  the  kine, 
Its  substance  mingle,  married  in  with  thine, 
Shall  cool  and  temper  thy  superior  heat, 
And  save  the  pains  of  blowing  while  I  eat. 

Oh  !   could  the  smooth,  the  emblematic  song 
Flow  like  thy  genial  juices  o'er  my  tongue, 
Could  those  mild  morsels  in  my  numbers  chime. 
And,  as  they  roll  in  substance,  roll  in  rhyme, 

vol.  I.— 26 


No  more  thy  awkward  nnpoetic  name 
Should  shun  the  muse,  or  prejudice  thy  fame ; 
But  rising  grateful  to  the  aecustom'd  ear, 
All  bards  should  catch  it,  and  all  realms  revere  1 

Assist  me  first  with  pious  toil  to  trace 
Through  wrecks  of  time,  thy  lineage  and  thy  race ; 
Declare  what  lovely  squaw,  in  da)*s  of  yore, 
(Ere  great  Columbus  sought  thy  native  shore) 
First  gave  thee  to  the  world  ;  her  works  of  fame 
Have  lived  indeed,  but  lived  without  a  name. 
Some  tawny  Ceres,  goddess  of  her  days, 
First  learn'd  with  stones  to  crack  the  well  dried. 

maize, 
Through  the  rough  sieve  to  shake  the  golden  shower. 
In  boiling  water  stir  the  yellow  flour : 
The  yellow  flour,  bestrew'd  and  stirr'd  with  haste, 
Swells  in  the  flood  and  thickens  to  a  paste, 
Then  puffs  and  wallops,  rises  to  the  brim. 
Drinks  the  dry  knobs  that  on  the  surface  swim ; 
The  knobs  at  last  the  busy  ladle  breaks, 
And  the  whole  mass  its  true  consistence  takes. 

Could  but  her  sacred  name,  unknown  so  long, 
Rise,  like  her  labors,  to  the  son  of  song, 
To  her,  to  them,  I'd  consecrate  my  Lays, 
And  blow  her  pudding  with  the  breath  of  praise. 
If  'twas  Oella  whom  1  sang  before 
I  here  ascribe  her  one  great  virtue  more. 
Not  through  the  rieh  Peruvian  realms  alone 
The  fame  of  Sol's  sweet  daughter  should  be  known, 
But  o'er  the  world's  wide  clime  should  live  secure, 
Far  as  his  rays  extend,  as  long  as  they  endure. 

Dear  Hasty  Pudding,  what  unpromised  joy 
Expands  my  heart,  to  meet  thee  in  Savoy ! 
Doom'd  o'er  the  world  through  devious  paths  to 

roam, 
Each  clime  my  country,  and  each  house  my  home, 
My  soul  is  soothed,  my  cares  have  found  an  end, 
I  greet  my  long  lost,  unforgotten  friend. 

For  thee  through  Paris,  that  corrupted  town, 
How  long  in  vain  I  wandered  up  and  down, 
Where  shameless  Bacchus,  with  his  drenching  hoard. 
Cold  from  his  cave  usurps  the  morning  board. 
Loudon  is  lost  in  smoke  and  steep'd  in  tea.; 
No  Yankee  there  can  lisp  the  name  of  thee ; 
The  uncouth  word,  a  libel  on  the  town, 
Would  call  a  proclamation  from  the  crown.* 
From  climes  oblique,  that  fear  the  sun's  full  rays, 
Chill'd  in  their  fogs,  exclude  the  generous  maize: 
A  grain,  whose  rich,  luxuriant  growth  requires 
Short  gentle  showers,  and  bright  etherial  fires. 

But  here,  though  distant  from  our  native  shore, 
With  mutual  glee,  we  meet  and  laugh  once  more, 
The  same !  I  know  thee  by  that  yellow  face, 
That  strong  complexion  of  true  Indian  race, 
Which  time  can  never  change,  nor  soil  impair, 
Nor  Alpine  snows,  nor  Turkey's  morbid  air ; 
For  endless  years,  through  every  mild  domain, 
Where  grows  the  maize,  there  thou  art  sure  to  reign. 

But  man,  more  fickle,  the  bold  license  claims, 
In  different  realms  to  give  thee  different  names. 
Thee  the  soft  nations  round  the  warm  Levant 
Polenta  call,  the  French  of  course  Polente. 
E'en  in  thy  native  regions,  how  I  blush 
To  hear  the  Penns3-lvanians  call  thee  Mush  I 
On  Hudson's  banks,  while  men  of  Belgic  spaw 
Insult  and  eat  thee  by  the  name  Suppawn. 
All  spurious  appellations,  void  of  truth  ; 
I've  better  known  thee  from  my  earliest  youth, 
Thy  name  is  Hasty-Pudding  !  thus  my  sire 
Was  wont  to  greet  thee  fuming  from  his  fire ; 
And  while  he  argued  in  thy  just  defence 


*  A  cert-tin  king,  at  the  time  when  this  was  written,  was 
publishing  proclamations  to  prevent  American,  principles  from  . 
being  propagated  in  his  country. 


402 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


With  logic  clear,  he  thus  explain'd  the  sense : — 
"  In  haste  the  hoiling  cauldron,  o'er  the  blaze, 
Receives  and  cooks  the  ready  powder'd  maize; 
In  haste  'tis  served,  and  then  in  equal  haste, 
With  cooling  milk,  we  make  the  sweet  repast. 
No  carving  to  be  done,  no  knife  to  grate 
The  tender  ear,  and  wound  the  stony  plate ; 
But  the  smooth  spoon,  just  fitted  to  the  lip, 
And  taught  with  art  the  yielding  mass  to  dip, 
By  frequent  journeys  to  the  bowl  well  stored, 
Perforins  the  hasty  honors  of  the  board." 
Such  is  thy  name,  significant  and  clear, 
A  name,  a  sound  to  every  Yankee  dear, 
But  most  to  me,  whose  heart  and  palate  chaste 
Preserve  my  pure  hereditary  taste. 

There  are  who  strive  to  stamp  with  disrepute 
The  luscious  food,  because  it  feeds  the  brute ; 
In  tropes  of  high-strain'd  wit,  while  gaudy  prigs 
Compare  thy  nursling,  man,  to  paniper'd  pigs ; 
With  sovereign  scorn  I  treat  the  vulgar  jest, 
Nor  fear  to  share  thy  bounties  with  the  beast. 
What  though  the  generous  cow  gives  me  to  quaff 
The  milk  nutritious :  am  I  then  a  calf? 
Or  can  the  genius  of  the  noisy  swine, 
Though  nursed  on  pudding,  claim  a  kin  to  mine? 
Sure  the  sweet  song,  I  fashion  to  thy  praise, 
Runs  more  melodious  than  the  notes  they  raise. 

My  song  resounding  in  its  grateful  glee, 
No  merit  claims :  I  praise  myself  in  thee. 
My  father  loved  thee  through  his  length  of  days! 
For  thee  his  fields  were  shaded  o'er  with  maize ; 
From  thee  what  health,  what  vigor  he  possess'd, 
Ten  sturdy  freemen  from  his  loins  attest ; 
Thy  constellation  ruled  my  natal  morn, 
And  all  my  bones  were  made  of  Indian  corn. 
Delicious  grain !   whatever  form  it  take, 
To  roast  or  boil,  to  smother  or  to  bake, 
In  every  dish  'tis  welcome  still  to  me, 
But  most,  my  Hasty  Pudding,  most  in  thee. 

Let  the  green  succotash  with  thee  contend, 
Let  beans  and  corn  their  sweetest  juices  blend, 
Let  butter  drench  them  in  its  yellow  tide, 
And  a  long  slice  of  bacon  grace  their  side; 
Not  all  the  plate,  how  famed  soe'er  it  be, 
Can  please  my  palate  like  a  bowl  of  thee. 
Some  talk  of  Hoe-Cake,  fair  Virginia's  pride, 
Rich  Johnny-Cake,  this  mouth' has  often  tried; 
Both  please  me  well,  their  virtues  much  the  Bame, 
Alike  their  fabric,  as  allied  their  fame, 
Except  in  dear  New  England,  where  the  last 
Receives  a  dash  of  pumpkin  in  the  paste, 
To  give  it  sweetness  and  improve  the  taste. 
But  place  them  all  before  me,  smoking  hot, 
The  big,  round  dumpling,  rolling  from  the  pot, 
The  pudding  of  the  bag,  whose  quivering  breast, 
With  suet  lined,  leads  on  the  Yankee  feast, 
The  Charlotte  brown,  within  whose  crusty  sides 
A  belly  soft  the  pulpy  apple  hides ; 
The  yellow  bread  whose  face  like  amber  glows, 
And  all  of  Indian  that  the  bake-pan  knows, — 
You  tempt  me  not — my  fav'rite  greets  my  eyes, 
To  that  loved  bowl  my  spoon  by  instinct  flies. 

canto  n. 

To  mis  the  food  by  vicious  rules  of  art, 
To  kill  the  stomach,  and  to  sink  the  h'    A, 
To  make  mankind  to  social  virtue  sour, 
Cram  o'er  each  dish,  and  be  what  they  devour ; 
For  this  the  kitchen  muse  first  fram'd  her  book, 
Commanding  sweats  to  stream  from  every  cook; 
Children  no  more  their  antic  gambols  tried, 
And  friends  to  physic  wonder'd  why  they  died. 

Not  so  the  Yankee — his  abundant  feast, 
With  simples  furnish'd  and  with  plainness  dresfc, 
A  numerous  offspring  gathers  round  the  board, 


And  cheers  alike  the  servant  and  the  lord ; 

Whose  well-bought  hunger  prompts  the  joyous  taste, 

And  health  attends  them  from  the  short  repast. 

While  the  full  pail  rewards  the  milk-maid's  toil, 
The  mother  sees  the  morning  cauldron  boil ; 
To  stir  the  pudding  next  demands  their  care  ; 
To  spread  the  table  and  the  bowls  prepare ; 
To  feed  the  household  as  their  portions  cool 
And  send  them  all  to  labor  or  to  schook 

Yet  may  the  simplest  dish  some  rules  impart, 
For  nature  scorns  not  all  the  aids  of  art. 
E'en  Hasty-Pudding,  purest  of  all  food, 
May  still  be  bad,  indifferent,  or  good, 
As  sage  experience  the  short  process  guides, 
Or  want  of  skill,  or  want  of  care  presides. 
Whoe'er  would  form  it  on  the  surest  plan, 
To  rear  the  child  and  long  sustain  the  man  ; 
To  shield  the  morals  while  it  mends  the  size, 
And  all  the  powers  of  every  food  supplies, 
Attend  the  lesson  that  the  muse  shall  bring, 
Suspend  your  spoons,  and  listen  while  I  sing. 

But  since,  0  man  !  thy  life  and  health  demand 
Not  food  alone  but  labor  from  thy  hand, 
First  in  the  field,  beneath  the  sun's  strong  rays, 
Ask  of  thy  mother  earth  the  needful  maize; 
She  loves  the  race  that  courts  her  yielding  soil. 
And  gives  her  bounties  to  the  sons  of  toil. 

When  now  the  ox,  obedient  to  thy  call, 
Repays  the  loan  that  fill'd  the  winter  stall, 
Pursue  his  traces  o'er  the  furrow'd  plain, 
And  plant  in  measur'd  hills  the  golden  grain. 
But  when  the  tender  germ  begins  to  shoot, 
And  the  green  spire  declares  the  sprouting  root, 
Then  guard  your  nursling  from  each  greedy  foe, 
The  insidious  worm,  the  all-devouring  crow. 
A  little  ashes,  sprinkled  round  the  spire, 
Soon  steep'd  in  rain,  will  bid  the  worm  retire ; 
The  feather'd  robber  with  his  hungry  maw 
Swift  flies  the  field  before  your  man  of  straw, 
A  frightful  image,  such  as  schoolboys  bring, 
When  met  to  burn  the  pope,  or  hang  the  king. 

Thrice  in  the  season,  through  each  verdant  row 
Wield  the  strong  ploughshare  and  the  faithful  hoe : 
The  faithful  hoe,  a  double  task  that  takes, 
To  till  the  summer  corn,  and  roast  the  winter  cakes. 

Slow  springs  the  blade,  while  check'd  by  chilling 
rains, 
Ere  yet  the  sun  the  seat  of  Cancer  gains ; 
But  when  his  fiercest  fires  emblaze  the  land, 
Then  start  the  juices,  then  the  roots  expand ; 
Then,  like  a  column  of  Corinthian  mould, 
The  stalk  struts  upward  and  the  leaves  unfold ; 
The  busy  branches  all  the  ridges  fill, 
Entwine  their  arms,  and  kiss  from  hill  to  hill. 
Here  cease  to  vex  them,  all  your  cares  are  done : 
Leave  the  last  labors  to  the  parent  sun ; 
Beneath  his  genial  smiles,  the  well-drest  field, 
When  autumn  calls,  a  plenteous  crop  shall  yield. 

Now  the  6troug  foliage  bears  the  standards  high, 
And  shoots  the  tall  top-gallants  to  the  sky ; 
The  suckling  ears  their  silky  fringes  bend, 
And  pregnant  grown,  their  swelling  coats  distend  ; 
The  loaded  stalk,  while  still  the  burthen  grows, 
O'erhangs  the  space  that  runs  between  the  rows; 
High  as  a  hop-field  waves  the  silent  grove, 
A  safe  retreat  for  little  thefts  of  love, 
When  the  pledged  roasting-ears  invite  the  maid, 
To  meet  her  swain  beneath  the  new-form'd  shade; 
His  generous  hand  unloads  the  cumbrous  hill, 
And  the  green  spoils  her  ready  basket  fill ; 
Small  compensation  for  the  two-fold  bliss, 
The  promised  wedding,  and  the  present  kiss. 

Slight  depredations  these  ;  but  now  the  moon 
Calls  from  his  hollow  tree  the  sly  raccoon ; 
And  while  by  night  he  bears  his  prize  away, 


JOEL  BARLOW. 


40, 


The  bolder  squirrel  labors  through  the  day. 
Both  thieves  alike,  but  provident  of  time, 
A  virtue  rare,  that  almost  hides  their  crime. 
Then  let  them  steal  the  little  stores  they  can, 
And  fill  their  gran'ries  from  the  toils  of  man ; 
"We've  one  advantage,  where  they  take  no  part, — 
With  all  their  wiles  they  ne'er  have  found  the  art 
To  boil  the  Hasty-Pudding ;  here  we  shine 
Superior  far  to  tenants  of  the  pine; 
This  envied  boon  to  man  shall  still  belong, 
Unshared  by  them,  in  substance  or  in  song. 

At  last  the  closing  season  browns  the  plain, 
And  ripe  October  gathers  in  the  grain; 
Deep  loaded  carts  the  spacious  corn-house  fill, 
The  sack  distended  marches  to  the  mill ; 
The  lab'ring  mill  beneath  the  burthen  groans, 
And  showers  the  future  pudding  from  the  stones ; 
Till  the  glad  housewife  greets  the  powder'd  gold, 
And  the  new  crop  exterminates  the  old. 
Ah  who  can  sing  what  every  wight  must  feel, 
The  joy  that  enters  with  the  bag  of  meal, 
A  general  jubilee  pervades  the  house, 
Wakes  every  child  and  gladdens  every  mouse. 

CANTO  III. 

The  days  grow  short;    but  though  the  falling  sun 
To  the  glad  swain  proclaims  his  day's  work  done, 
Night's  pleasing  shades  his  various  tasks  prolong, 
And  yield  new  subjects  to  my  various  song. 
For  now,  the  corn-house  fill'd,  the  harvest  home, 
The  invited  neighbors  to  the  husking  come; 
A  frolic  scene,  where  work,  and  mirth,  and  play, 
Unite  their  charms  to  chase  the  hours  away. 

Where  the  huge  heap  lies  centred  in  the  hall, 
The  lamp  suspended  from  the  cheerful  wall, 
Brown  corn-fed  nymphs,  and  strong  hard-handed 

beaus, 
Alternate  ranged,  extend  in  circling  rows, 
Assume  their  seats,  the  solid  mass  attack ; 
The  dry  husks  rustle,  and  the  corn-cobs  crack; 
The  song,  the  laugh,  alternate  notes  resound, 
And  the  sweet  cider  trips  in  silence  round. 

The  laws  of  husking  every  wight  can  tell; 
And  sure  no  laws  he  ever  keeps  so  well: 
For  each  red  ear  a  general  kiss  he  gains, 
"With  each  smut  ear  he  smuts  the  luckless  swains ; 
But  when  to  some  sweet  maid  a  prize  is  cast, 
Red  as  her  lips,  and  taper  as  her  waist, 
She  walks  the  round,  and  culls  one  favored  beau, 
"Who  leaps,  the  luscious  tribute  to  bestow. 
Various  the  sport,  as  are  the  wits  and  brains 
Of  well  pleased  lasses  and  contending  swains; 
Till  the  vast  mound  of  corn  is  swept  away, 
And  he  that  gets  the  last,  ear  wins  the  day. 

Meanwhile  the  housewife  urges  all  her  care, 
The  well-earu'd  feast  to  hasten  and  prepare. 
The  sifted  meal  already  waits  her  hand, 
The  milk  is  strain'd,  the  bowls  in  order  stand, 
The  fire  flames  high  ;  and,  as  a  pool  (that  takes 
The  headlong  stream  that  o'er  the  mill-dam  breaks) 
Foams,  roars,  and  rages,  with  incessant  toils, 
So  the  vex'd  cauldron  rages,  roars  and  boilf. 

First  with  clean  salt,  she  seasons  well  the  food, 
Then  strews  the  flour,  and  thickens  all  the  flood. 
Long  o'er  the  simmering  fire  she  lets  it  stand ; 
To  stir  it  well  demands  a  stronger  hand ; 
The  husband  takes  his  turn:  and  round  and  round 
The  ladle  flies ;  at  last  the  toil  is  crown'd  ; 
"When  to  the  board  the  thronging  buskers  pour, 
And  take  their  seats  as  at  the  corn  before. 

I  leave  them  to  their'feast.     There  still  belong 
More  useful  matters  to  my  faithful  song. 
For  rules  there  are,  though  ne'er  unfolded  yet, 
Kice  rules  and  wise,  how  pudding  should  be  ate. 

Some  with  molasses  grace  the  luscious  treat, 


And  mix,  like  bards,  the  useful  and  the  sweet. 
A  wholesome  dish,  and  well  deserving  praise, 
A  great  resource  in  those  bleak  wintry  days, 
When  the  chill'd  earth  lies  buried  deep  in  snow, 
And  raging  Boreas  dries  the  shivering  cow. 

Blest  cow!  thy  praise  shall  still  my  notes  employ, 
Great  source  of  health,  the  only  source  of  joy ; 
Mother  of  Egypt's  god, — but  sure,  for  me, 
Were  I  to  leave  my  God,  I'd  worship  thee. 
How  oft  thy  teats  these  pious  bands  have  prcss'd! 
How  oft  thy  bounties  prove  my  only  feast! 
How  oft  I've  fed  thee  with  my  favoi  ite  grain  ! 
And  roar'd,  like  thee,  to  see  thy  children  slain! 

Ye  swains  who  know  her  various  worth  to  prize, 
Ah  !  house  her  well  from  winter's  angry  skies. 
Potatoes,  pumpkins,  should  her  sadness  cheer, 
Corn  from  your  crib,  and  mashes  from  your  beer ; 
When  spring  returns,  she'll  well  acquit  the  loan, 
And  nurse  at  once  your  infants  and  her  own. 

Milk  then  with  pudding  I  should  always  choose; 
To  this  in  future  I  confine  my  muse, 
Till  she  in  haste  some  further  hints  unfold, 
Good  for  the  young,  nor  useless  to  the  old. 
First  in  your  bowl  the  milk  abundant  take, 
Then  drop  with  care  along  the  silver  lake 
Your  flakes  of  pudding  ;  these  at  first  will  bide 
Their  little  bulk  beneath  the  swelling  tide  ; 
But  when  their  growing  mass  no  more  can  sink, 
When  the  soft  island  looms  above  the  brink, 
Then  check  your  hand  ;  you've  got  the  portion  due, 
So  taught  my  sire,  and  what  he  taught  is  true. 

There  is  a  choice  in  spoons.     Though  small  appear 
The  nice  distinction,  yet  to  me  'tis  clear. 
The  deep  bowl'd  Gallic  spoon,  contrived  to  scoop 
In  ample  draughts  the  thin  diluted  soup, 
Performs  not  well  in  those  substantial  things, 
Whose  mass  adhesive  to  the  metal  clings; 
Where  the  strong  labial  muscles  must  embrace, 
The  gentle  curve,  and  sweep  the  hollow  space. 
With  ease  to  enter  and  discharge  the  freight, 
A  bowl  less  concave,  but  still  more  dilate, 
Becomes  the  pudding  best.     The  shape,  the  size, 
A  secret  rests,  unknown  to  vulgar  eyes. 
Experienced  feeders  can  alone  impart 
A  rule  so  much  above  the  lore  of  art. 
These  tuneful  lips  that  thousand  spoons  have  tried, 
With  just  precision  could  the  point  decide. 
Though  not  in  song  ;  the  muse  but  poorly  shines 
In  cones,  and  cubes,  and  geometric  lines; 
Yet  the  true  form,  as  near  as  she  can  tell, 
Is  that  small  section  of  a  goose  egg  shell, 
Which  in  two  equal  portions  shall  divide 
The  distance  from  the  centre  to  the  side. 

Fear  not  to  slaver;  'tis  no  deadly  sin: =- 

Like  the  free  Frenchman,  from  your  joyous  cliin 

Suspend  the  ready  napkin ;  or  like  me, 

Piuse  with  one  hand  your  bowl  upon  your  knee ; 

Just  in  the  zenith  your  wise  head  project, 

Your  full  spoon,  rising  in  a  line  direct, 

Bold  as  a  bucket,  heed  no  drops  that  fall, 

The  wide  mouth'd  bowl  will  surely  catch  them  all!* 


*  The  following  note  was  added : — 

"There  are  various  ways  of  preparing  and  eating  it;  with 
molasses,  butter,  sugar,  cream,  and  fried.  Why  "so  excel- 
lent a  thing  cannot  be  eaten  alone  ?  Nothing  is  perfect  alone, 
even  man  who  boasts  of  so  much  perfection  is  nothing  without 
his  follow  substance.  In  eating,  beware  of  the  lurking  heat 
that  lies  deep  in  the  mass;  dip  your  spoon  gently,  take  shallow 
dips  and  cool  it  by  degrees.  It  is  sometimes  necessary  to  blow. 
This  is  indicated  by  certain  signs  which  every  experienced 
feeder  knows.  They  should  be  taught  to  young  beginners.  I 
have  known  a  child's  toniruc  blistered  for  "want  of  this  atten- 
tion, and  then  the  schooldame  would  insist  that  the  poor  tiling 
had  told  a  lie.  A  mistake:  the  falsehood  was  in  the  faithless 
pudding.  A  prudent  mother  will  cool  it  fur  herchild  with  her 
own  sweet  breath.  The  husband,  seeing  this,  pretends  his  own 
wants  blowing  too  from  the  same  lips.    A  sly  deceit  of  love. 


404 


CYCLOP/EDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITER  AT  ERE. 


JOHN    MAESIIAIX. 

Joitx  Maiisiiall,  the  author  of  the  Life  of  Wash- 
ington, and  the  judicial  basis  of  authority  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  was  one 
of  the  vigorous  natural  growths  of  America, 
which  could  sometimes  out  of  the  field  of  action 
and  the  energies  of  the  new  state  produce  even 
great  lawyers — the  product,  according  to  Lord 
Coke,  of  the  vigils  of  twenty  years — at  much 
shorter  notice.  Hamilton  took  his  station  at  the 
liar  in  almost  a  single  step  from  the  camp.  Mar- 
shall's education  was  that  of  a  soldier.  Both, 
however,  possessed  what  neither  the  Temple  nor^ 
Westminster  Hall,  Littleton  nor  Coke  could  con- 
fer— the  judicial  mind.  Nature  had  set  in  these 
men  the  elements  of  the  law,  and  whatever  wind 
that  should  blow,  was  to  ripen  them. 


John  Marshall  was  horn  (the  eldest  of  a  family 
of  fifteen  children)  in  Fauquier  county,  Virginia, 
September  24,  1755.  His  father  was  a  man  of 
character  and  ability,  of  limited  education  and 
opportunities  among  the  mountains  of  Virginia, 
but  of  sufficient  insight  and  sagacity  to  direct  the 
capacities  of  his  son,  whom  he  placed,  at  the  age 
of  fourteen,  under  the  charge  of  a  clergyman,  a 
Mr.  Campbell,  at  a  considerable  distance  from  his 
home,  receiving  him  back  again  at  the  end  of  a 
year,  to  complete  what  book  knowledge  he  was 
to  start  in  the  world  with,  under  the  tuition  of 
another  clergyman  from  Scotland,  who  had  then 
become  guardian  of  the  parish,  and  an  inmate  of 
his  father's  house.  This  is  one  of  many  instances 
in  which  the  great  minds  of  America  received 
their  first  discipline  at  the  hands  of  the  clergy. 
At  a  somewhat  later  day,  in  Virginia,  William 
Wirt,  another  legal  eminence,  received  his  first 
culture  and  generous  love  of  learning  at  the 
hands  of  a  clergyman — the  Rev.  James  Hunt,  from 
Princeton.     James  Madison  wai  educated  by  a 


Sho  knows  the  cheat,  but  feigning  icrnoranco,  tends  her  pouting 
lips  and  srivcs  a  gentle  blast,  which  warms  the  husband's  heart 
loore  than  it  cools  his  rmdding." 


clergyman,  and  also  Legare.  Hamilton  in  the 
West  Indies  was  taught,  and  sent  to  New  York 
by  a  clergyman,  Dr.  Knox,  at  Santa  Cruz,  and 
two  clergymen  of  that  city,  Drs.  Rodgers  and  Ma- 
son, received  him  on  his  arrival.  In  New  Eng- 
land it  was  the  general  rule.  The  clergyman  was 
the  sun  of  the  intellectual  system  in  village,  town- 
ship, and  city.  John  Adams,  in  his  early  life — 
we  may  take  him  as  a  fair  type  of  self-culture, 
seizing  upon  all  neighboring  advantages — was  al- 
most as  much  a  clerical  growth  as  e,  pupil  of  St. 
doer's  or  the  Propaganda.  Throughout  the 
South,  the  clergyman  was  the  pioneer  of  educa- 
tion. This  is  a  missionary  influence  which  does 
not  suggest  itself  so  prominently  as  it  should  to 
the  American  of  the  present  day.  We  are  apt  to 
think  of  the  clergyman  only  in  his  relation  to  the 
pulpit,  and  confine  our  notions  of  his  influence  to 
the  family  and  the  parish,  in  those  concerns  of 
eternal  welfare  which  are  locked  up  in  the  priva- 
cies of  home  and  the  heart.  These  spiritual  rela- 
tions have,  indeed,  the  grandest  and  widest, 
scope;  but  there  are  others  which  should  not 
be  separated  from  them.  The  clergyman  not 
only  sanctified  and  cemented  the  parish,  but  he 
founded  the  state.  It  was  his  instruction  which 
moulded  the  soldier  and  the  statesman.  Living 
among  agriculturists  remote  from  towns,  where 
language  and  literature  would  natural]}' be  neglect- 
ed and  corrupted,  in  advance  of  the  schoolmaster 
and  the  school,  he  was  the  future  college  in  embryo. 
When  we  see  men  like  Marshall  graduating  at  his 
right  hand,  with  no  other  courses  than  the  sim- 
ple man  of  God  who  had  left  the  refinements  of 
civilization  for  the  wilderness  taught,  and  with  no 
other  diploma  but  his  benediction,  we  may  indeed 
stop  to  honor  their  labors.  Let  the  name  of  the 
American  missionary  of  the  colonial  and  revolu- 
tionary age  suggest  something  more  to  the  stu- 
dent of  our  history  than  the  limited  notion  of  a 
combatant  with  heathenism  and  vice.  He  was 
also  the  companion  and  guide  to  genius  and  vir- 
tue. When  the  memorials  of  those  days  are 
written,  let  his  name  be  recorded,  in  no  insignifi- 
cant or  feeble  letters,  on  the  page  with  the  great 
men  of  the  state  whom  his  talents  and  presence 
inspired. 

Like  his  father,  Marshall  took  part  in  the  active 
military  service  of  the  Revolutionary  war,  start- 
ing in  the  action  of  the  provincial  militia  of  Vir- 
ginia with  Lord  Dumnore  at  the  Great  Bridge. 
He  attained  the  rank  of  a  Captain  in  1777,  and 
was  at  the  battles  of  Brandywine,  Germantown, 
and  Monmouth,  continuing  with  his  Virginia 
company  till  the  expiration  of  their  term  of  ser- 
vice. In  the  midst  of  these  affairs  he  attained  his 
initiatory  knowledge  of  law;  was  admitted  to  the 
bar  in  1780,  and  recalled  at  once  to  the  field  to 
repel  the  invasion  of  Arnold.  He  rose  rapidly  in 
his  legal  profession  at  the  close  of  the  war  in 
1782,  when  he  was  elected  to  the  legislature  of 
his  state,  appearing  in  that  assembly,  from  va- 
rious constituencies,  till  179(3.  When  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States  was  ratified  in  1788 
by  the  Virginia  convention,  he  was  a  member  of 
that  body,  ably  seconding  its  provisions.  In  1797 
he  was  minister  to  France,  with  Pinckney  and 
Gerry,  in  the  unsuccessful  attempt  at  negotiation 
with  the  French  Directory,  when  his  native  man- 
liness and  honor  were  brought  in  contact  with 


JOHN  MARSHALL". 


40; 


the  mean  and  subtle  policy  of  Talleyrand.  Re- 
turning to  America  the  next  year,  he  was  elected 
to  Congress  in  1799.  His  speech  in  the  House 
of  Representatives,  when  the  papers  were  called 
for  in  the  Robbing  case,  is  one  of  the  great  land- 
marks of  Congressional  debate.  Robbins  had 
been  a  mutineer  in  the  British  navy  ;  had  escaped" 
to  the  United  States ;  betrayed  his  disguise  at 
Charleston ;  been  reclaimed  under  the  British 
treaty;  surrendered  by  the  administration;  car- 
ried off  to  Halifax;  tried,  and  executed.  Mar- 
shall closed  a  long  debate  with  a  brilliant  legal 
vindication  of  the  Government.  It  prepared  his 
way  to  the  Chief-Justiceship  of  the  Supreme 
Court  in  1801,  the  office  with  which  his  memory 
is  identified.  In  the  authority  and  ability  of  his 
decisions,  extended  over  a  period  of  thirty-five 
years,  he  still  exists  in  the  life  and  action  of  the 
Republic* 

His  latest  memorialist,  Benton,  quotes  John 
Randolph's  eulogy  of  his  "native  dignity  and  un- 
pretending grace"  in  tins  office,  and  adds  this  tri- 
bute to  the  man  and  his  manners : — "  Be  was 
supremely  fitted  for  high  judicial  station — a  solid 
judgment,  great  reasoning  powers,  acute  and  pe- 
netrating mind  ;  with  manners  and  habits  to  suit 
the  purity  and  the  sanctity  of  the  ermine  ;  atten- 
tive, patient,  laborious;  grave  on  the  bench,  so- 
cial in  the  intercourse  of  life;  simple  in  his  tastes, 
and  inexorably -just.  Seen  by  a  stranger  come 
into  a  room,  and  he  would  be  taken  for  a  modest 
country  gentleman,  without  claims  to  attention, 
and  ready  to  take  the  lowest  place  in  company 
or  at  table,  and  to  act  -his  part  without  trouble 
to  anybody.  Spoken  to  and  closely  observed,  he 
could  be  seen  to  be  a  gentleman  of  finished  breed- 
ing,-of  winning  and  prepossessing  talk,  and  just 
as  much  mind  as  the- occasion  required  him  to 
show."t 

In  1805  appeared  his  Life  of  Washington,  in 
five  octavo  volumes.J  As  a  narrative  it  is  faith- 
ful and  conscientious,  and  it  relies  on  valuable 
original  material,  the  writer  having  had  access  to 
the  papers  of  the  family. 

Marshall  died  in  office,  at  Philadelphia,  July  G, 
183-3,  having,  shortly  previous  to  his  death,  borne 
with  characteristic  fortitude  a  painful  and  tem- 
porarily successful  operation  for  the  stone.  As 
the  patient  was  nearly  eighty  years  of  age,  this  is 
one  of  the  remarkable  cases  of  medical  science. 

A  courteous  and  intelligent  English  traveller  in 
the  United  States,  the  Hon.  Charles  Augustus 
Murray,  has  given  us  a  pleasing  picture  of  Mar- 
shal], as  ho  appeared  at  Richmond  in  1835,  a  few 
months  before  his  death : — "  A  tall,  venerable 
man ;  his  hair  tied  in  a  cue,  according  to  olden 
custom,  and  with  a  countenance  indicating  that 


*  In  1S39.  an  octavo  volume  of  Marshall's  leading  decisions 
in  the  Supreme  Court  was  published  in  Boston — --The  Writ- 
ings of  John  Marshall,  late  Chief  Justice  of  the  UDited  States, 
upon  the  Federal  Constitution,1' 

t  Thirty  Years1  View,  by  a  Senator,  i.  GS1. 

t  The  Life  of  George  Washington,  Commander-in-chief  of 
the  American  forces,  during  the  war  which  established  the  in- 
dependence of  his  country,  and  fl:'st  President  of  the  United 
States:  compiled  under  the  inspection  of  the  Honourable 
Bushrod  Washington,  from  original  papers  bequeathed  to  him 
by  his  deceased  relative,  and  now  in  possession  of  the  author, 
to  which  is  prefixed  an  Introduction,  containing  a  compen- 
dious view  of  the  Colonies  planted  by  the  English  on  the  Con- 
tinent of  North  America,  from  the  settlement  to  the.  com- 
mencement of  that  war  which  terminated  in  their  Indepen- 
dence.   By  John  -Marshall,  Philadelphia 


simplicity  of  mind  and  benignity  which  so  emi- 
nently distinguish  his  character.  I  had  the  plea- 
sure of  several  long  conversations  with  him,  and 

.  was  struck  with  admiration  at  the  extraordinary 
union  of  modesty  and  power,  gentleness  and  force 

!  which  his  mind  displays.  His  house  is  small,  and 
more  humble  in  appearance  than  those  of  the 
average  of  successful  lawyers  or  merchants.  I 
called  three  times  upon  him ;  there  is  no  bell  to 
the  door;  once  I  turned  the  handle  of  it,  and 
walked  in  unannounced;  on  the  other  two  occa- 
sions he  had  seen  me  coming,  and  lifted  the  hitch 
and  received  me  at  the  door,  although  he  was  at 
the  time  suffering  from  some  very  severe  contu- 
sions received  in  the  stage  while  travelling  on  the 

I  road  from  Fredericksburg  to  Richmond.     I  verily 

i  believe  there  is  not  a  particle  of  vanity  in  his 
composition,  unless  it  be  of  that  venial  and  hospi- 

|  table  nature  which  induces  him  to  pride  himself 
on  giving  to  his  friends  the  best  glass  of  Madeira 
in  Virginia."* 

Anecdotes  of  the  simplicity  of  Marshall  are 
numerous.     On  one  occasion,   as  the    story  has 

I  been  related  to  us,  at  the  old  market  at  Rich- 
mond, meeting  a  would-be  exquisite,  and  hear- 
ing him  call  for  some  one  to  take  a  turkey 
which  he  had  purchased  home  for  him,  he  hu- 
morously offered  himself.  He  was  in  his  usual 
plain  dress,  and  the  gentleman,  taking  him  for  a 
countryman,  accepted  his  services.  The  judge 
carried  the  turkey  home,  and  actually  received  a 
shilling  for  his  services,  which  proved  a  very 
costly  retainer  to  the  young  man,  in  the  amount 
of  chagrin  he  endured,  when  he  found  that  his 
porter  was  the  Chief-Justice  of  the  United  States. 
He  added  to  his  rustic  appearance  with  his  home- 
spun dress  and  yarn  stockings,  on  some  occasions, 
by  coining  into  court  covered  with  the  burrs 
caught  in  riding  through  the  woods  from  his 
farm  on  his  little  p'ony. 

His  favorite  haunt  at  Richmond  was  Bucha- 
nan's spring,  just  on  the  edge  of  town,  where  he 
used  to  go  with  the  club  of  which  he  was  a 
member,  pitch  quoits,  drink  juleps,  and  dispute 
about  the  technicalities  of  the  game  with  the' 
zest  of  a  boy.  The  club  still  survives,  rich  in 
these  traditions.! 


WASHINGTON. 


la  the  sober  language  of  reality,  without  attempt- 
ing to  deck  a  figure  wick  ornaments  or  with  qualities 
borrowed  from  the  imagination,  a  person  who  has 
had  some  opportunity  to  observe  him  while  living, 
and  who  since  his  decease  has  most  assiduously  in- 
spected his  private  and  public  papers,  will  endeavour 
faithfully  to  give  the  impressions  which  lie  has  him- 
self received. 

General  Washington  was  rather  above  the  com-* 
moil  size,  his  frame  was  robust,  and  his  constitution 
vigorous — capable  of  enduring  great  fatigue,  and 
requiring  a  considerable  degree  of  exercise  for  tin; 
preservation  of  his  health.  His  exterior  created  in 
the  beholder  the  idea  of  strength  united  with  manly 
gracefulness. 

His   manners    were   rather   reserved    than   free, 

*  Travels  in  North  America  during  the  years  IS34-5-6,  ch. 
i.v. 

tArt  Encyclopedia  Americana.  Supplementary  Volume. 
Life  bv  Story,  American  Portrait  Gallery,  and  Discourse  be- 
fore the  Suffolk  Bar.  1S35.  Sketch  and  Eulogy  by  Horace 
Binney,  Philadelphia,  1SCS.  George  Vau  Santvoord's  Lives  of 
Chief  Justices,  ISoi. 


406 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


though  they  partook  nothing  of  thnt  dryness  and 
sternness  "which  accompany  reserve  "when  carried  to 
an  extreme;  and  on  all  proper  occasions,  he  could 
relax  sufficiently  to  show  how  highly  he  was  grati- 
fied by  the  charms  of  conversation,  ami  the  pleasures 
of  society.  His  person  and  whole  deportment  ex- 
hibited an  unaffected  and  indescribable  dignity,  im- 
mingled  with  haughtiness,  of  which  all  who  ap- 
proached him  were  sensible  ;  and  the  attachment  of 
those  who  possessed  his  friendship  and  enjoyed  his 
intimacy,  was  ardent  but  always  respectful 

His  temper  was  humane,  benevolent,  and  con- 
ciliatory ;  but  there  was  a  quickness  in  his  sensi- 
bility to  any  thing  apparently  offensive,  which  ex- 
perience had  taught  him  to  watch  and  to  correct. 

In  the  management  of  his  private  affairs,  he 
exhibited  an  exact  yet  liberal  economy.  His  funds 
were  not  prodigally  wasted  on  capricious  and  ill 
examined  schemes,  nor  refused  to  beneficial  though 
costly  improvements.  They  remained  therefore 
competent  to  that  expensive  establishment  which 
his  reputation,  added  to  a  hospitable  temper,  had  in 
some  measure  imposed  upon  him,  and  to  those 
donations  which  real  distress  has  a  right  to  claim 
from  opulence. 

He  made  no  pretensions  to  that  vivacity  which 
fascinates,  or  to  that  wit  which  dazzles,  and  frequently 
imposes  on  the  understanding.  More  solid  than 
brilliant,  judgment  rather  than  genius  constituted 
the  most  prominent  feature  of  his  character. 

As  a  military  man,  he  was  brave,  enterprising, 
and  cautious.  That  malignity  which  has  sought  to 
strip  hirn  of  all  the  higher  qualities  of  a  general, 
has  conceded  to  him  personal  courage,  and  a  firm- 
ness of  resolution]  which  neither  dangers  nor  diffi- 
culties could  shake.  But  candour  will  allow  him 
other  great  and  valuable  endowments.  If  his  mili- 
tary course  does  not  abound  with  splendid  achieve- 
ments, it  exhibits  a  series  of  judicious  measures 
adapted  to  circumstances,  which  probably  saved  his 
country. 

Placed,  without  having  studied  the  theory,  or 
been  taught  in  the  school  of  experience,  the  practice 
of  war,  at  the  head  of  an  undisciplined,  ill-organized 
multitude,  which  was  unused  to  the  restraints  and 
unacquainted  with  the  ordinary  duties  of  a  camp, 
without  the  aid  of  officers .  possessing  those  lights 
which  the  commander-in-chief  was  yet  to  acquire,  it 
would  have  been  a  miracle  indeed  had  his  conduct 
been  absolutely  faultless.  But,  possessing  an  ener- 
getic and  distinguishing  mind,  on  which  the  lessons 
of  experience  were  never  lost,  his  errors,  if  he  com- 
mitted an}',  were  quickly  repaired ;  and  those 
measures  which  the  state  of  things  rendered  most 
advisable,  were  seldom  if  ever  neglected.  Inferior 
to  bis  adversary  in  the  numbers,  in  the  equipment, 
and  in  the  discipline  of  his  troops,  it  is  evidence  of 
real  merit  that  no  great  or  decisive  advantages  were 
ever  obtained  over  him,  and  that  the  opportunity  to 
strike  an  important  blow  never  passed  away  unused. 
He  has  been  termed  the  American  Fabius  ;  but  those 
•who  compare  his  actions  with  his  means,  will  per- 
ceive at  least  as  much  of  Marcellus  as  of  Fabius  in 
his  character.  He  could  not  have  been  more  enter- 
prising without  endangering  the  cause  he  defended, 
nor  have  put  more  to  hazard,  without  incurring 
justly  the  imputation  of  rashness.  Not  relying  upon 
those  chances  which  sometimes  give  a  favourable 
issue  to  attempts  apparently  desperate,  his  conduct 
was  regulated  by  calculations  made  upon  the  capa- 
cities of  his  army,  and  the  real  situation  of  his 
country.  When  called  a  second  time  to  command 
the  armies  of  the  United  states,  a  change  of  circum- 
stances had  taken  place,  and  he  meditated  a  cor- 
responding change  of  conduct.      In  modelling  the 


army  of  1798,  he  sought  for  men  distinguished  for 
their  boldness  of  execution,  not  less  than  for  their 
prudence  in  counsel,  and  contemplated  a  system  of 
continued  attack.  "The  enemy,"  said  the  general 
in  his  private  letters,  "  must  never  be  permitted  to 
gain  foothold  on  our  shores." 

In  his  civil  administration,  as  in  his  military 
career;  were  exhibited  ample  and  repeated  proofs 
of  that  practical  good  sense,  of  that  sound  judgment 
which  is  perhaps  the  most  rare,  and  is  certainly  the 
most  valuable  quality  of  the  human  mind.  Devot- 
ing himself  to  the  duties  of  his  station,  and  pursuing 
no  object  distinct  from  the  public  good,  he  was  ac- 
customed to  contemplate  at  a  distance  those  critical 
situations  in  which  the  United  States  might  pro- 
bably be  placed  ;  and  to  digest,  before  the  occasion 
required  action,  the  line  of  conduct  which  it  would 
be  proper  to  observe.  Taught  to  distrust  first  im- 
pressions, he  sought  to  acquire  all  the  information 
which  was  attainable,  and  to  hear,  without  pre- 
judice, all  the  reasons  which  could  be  urged  for  or 
against  a  particular  measure.  His  own  judgment  wae 
suspended  until  it  became  necessary  to  determine, 
and  his  decisions,  thus  maturely  made,  were  seldom 
if  ever  to  be  shaken.  His  conduct  therefore  was 
systematic,  and  the  great  objects  of  his  administra- 
tion were  steadily  pursued. 

Respecting,  as  the  first  magistrate  in  a  free  govern- 
ment must  ever  do,  the  real  and  deliberate  senti- 
ments of  the  people,  their  gusts  of  passion  passed 
over  without  ruffling  the  smooth  surface  of  his 
mind.  Trusting  to  the  reflecting  good  sense  of  the 
nation  for  approbation  and  support,  lie  had  the  mag- 
nanimity to  pursue  its  real  interests  in  opposition  to 
its  temporary  prejudices ;  and,  though  far  from 
being  regardless  of  popular  favour,  he  could  never 
stoop  to  retain  by  deserving  to  lose  it.  In  more 
instances  than  one,  we  find  him  committing  his 
whole  popularity  to  hazard,  and  pursuing  steadily, 
in  opposition  to  a  torrent  which  would  ha.ve  over- 
whelmed a  man  of  ordinary  firmness,  that  course 
which  had  been  dictated  by  a  sense  of  dut}'. 

In  speculation,  he  was  a  real  republican,  devoted 
to  the  constitution  of  his  country,  and  to  that 
system  of  equal  political  rights  on  which  it  is 
founded.  But  between  a  balanced  republic  and  a 
democracy,  the  difference  is  like  that  between  order 
and  chaos.  Real  liberty,  he  thought,  was  to  be  pre- 
served only  by  preserving  the  authority  of  the 
laws,  and  maintaining  the  energy  of  government. 
Scarcely  did  society  present  two  characters  which, 
in  his  opinion,  less  resembled  each  other  than  a  ' 
patriot  and  a  demagogue. 

No  man  has  ever  appeared  upon  the  theatre,  of 
public  action  whose  integrity  was  more  incorrup- 
tible, or  whose  principles  were  more  perfectly  free 
from  the  contamination  of  those  selfish  and  un- 
worthy passions  which  find  their  nourishment  in  the 
conflicts  of  party.  Having  no  views  which  re- 
quired concealment,  his  real  and  avowed  motives 
were  the  same ;  and  his  whole  correspondence  does 
not  furnish  a  single  ease  from  which  even  an  enemy 
would  infer  that  he  was  capable,  under  any  circum- 
stances, of  stooping  to  the  employment  of  duplicity. 
No  truth  can  be  uttered  with  more  confidence  than 
that  his  ends  were  always  upright,  and  his  means 
always  pure.  He  exhibits  the  rare  example  of  a 
politician  to  whom  wiles  were  absolutely  unknown, 
and  whose  professions  to  foreign  governments  and 
to  his  own  countrymen  were  always  sincere.  In  him 
was  fully  exemplified  the  real  distinction  "which  for 
ever  exists  between  wisdom  and  cunning,  and  the 
importance  as  well  as  truth  of  the  maxim,  that 
"  honesty  is  the  best  policy." 

If  Washington  possessed  ambition,    that  passion 


AAEON  BANCROFT. 


407 


was,  in  his  bosom,  so  regulated  by  principles,  or 
controlled  by  circumstances,  that  it  was  neither 
vicious  nor  turbulent.  Intrigue  was  never  employed 
as  the  mean  of  its  gratification,  nor  was  personal 
aggrandizement  its  object.  The  various  high  and 
important  stations  to  which  he  was  called  by  the 
public  voice  were  unsought  by  himself;  and  in  con- 
senting to  fill  them,  he  seems  rather  to  have  yielded 
to  a  general  conviction  that  the  interests  of  his 
country  would  be  thereby  promoted,  than  to  his  par- 
ticular inclination. 

Neither  the»extraordinary  partiality  of  the  Ameri- 
can people,  the  extravagant  praises  which  were 
bestowed  upon  him,  nor  the  inveterate  opposition 
and  malignant  calumnies  which  he  experienced,  had 
any  visible  influence  upon  his  conduct.  The  cause 
is  to  be  looked  for  in  the  texture  of  his  mind. 
.  In  him,  that  innate  and  unassuming  modesty 
which  adulation  would  have  offended,  which  the 
voluntary  plaudits  of  millions  could  not  betray  into 
indiscretion,  and  which  never  obtruded  upon  others 
his  claims  to  superior  consideration,  was  happily 
blended  with  a  high  and  correct  sense  of  personal 
dignity,  and  with  a  just  consciousness  of  that  respect 
which  is  due  to  station.  Without  exertion,  he  could 
maintain  the  happy  medium  between  that  arrogance 
which  wounds,  and  that  facility  which  allows  the 
office  to  be  degraded  in  the  person  who  fills  it. 

It  is  impossible  to  contemplate  the  great  events 
which  have  occurred  in  tiie  United  States  under  the 
auspices  of  Washington,  without  ascribing  them,  in 
some  measure,  to  him.  If  we  ask  the  causes  of  the 
prosperous  issue  of  a  war,  against  the  successful 
termination  of  which  there  were  so  man}' probabili- 
ties? of  the  good  which  was  produced,  and  the  ill 
which  was  avoided  during  an  administration  fated 
to  contend  \vi  h  the  strongest  prejudices  that  a  com- 
bination of  circumstances  and  of  passions  could  pro- 
duce '!  of  the  constant  favour  of  the  great  mass  of 
)iis  fellow-citizens,  and  of  the  confidence  which,  to 
the  last  moment  of  his  life,  they  reposed  in  him?  the 
answer,  so  far  as  these  causes  may  be  found  in  his 
character,  will  furnish  a  lesson  well  meriting  the 
attention  of  those  who  are  candidates  for  political 
fame. 

Endowed  by  nature  with  a  sound  judgment,  and 
an  accurate  discriminating  mind,  he  feared  not  that 
laborious  attention  which  made  him  perfectly  master 
of  those  subjects,  in  all  their  relations,  on  which  he 
was  to  decide :  and  this  essential  quality  was  guided 
by  an  unvarying  sense  of  moral  right,  which  would 
tolerate  the  employment  only  of  those  means  that 
would  bear  the  most  rigid  examination  ;  by  a  fairness 
of  intention  which  neither  sought  nor  required  dis- 
guise: and  by  a  purity  of  virtue  which  was  not 
ouly  untainted,  but  unsuspected. 

AAEON  BANCROFT 
Was  born  at  Reading,  Massachusetts,  November 
10,  1735.  His  father  was  a  farmer,  and  the  son 
assisted  him  in  the  intervals  of  his  hurried  studies 
with  the  migratory  school  of  the  district.  He 
entered  Harvard  in  1774,  and  succeeded  in  the 
midst  of  the  revolutionary  difficulties  in  getting 
his  degree  in  1788.  He  became  a  clergyman,  and 
in  1780  accepted  a  call  to  Yarmouth,  Nova  Sco- 
tia, with  the  consent  of  the  executive  council  of 


177 


4- 


<*& 


O  £i^y^^  e^-ef ', 


Massachusetts.     On  his  return  in  1783,  he  was  en- 
gaged in  Connecticut  and  his  native  state  in  preach- 


ing, forming  a  permanent  connexion  with  a  congre- 
gational society  at  Worcester,  in  1785.  He  pub- 
lished a  great  number  of  sermons  and  addresses.* 
Many  of  these  are  on  topics  of  religious  educa- 
tion. He  also  took  an  active  part  in  the  affairs 
of  his  town,  in  the  improvement  of  secular  in- 
struction, His  Life  of  Washington,  a  narrative 
written  with  ease  ami  simplicity,  mainly  based  on 
the  work  of  Marshall,  in  which  he  led  the  way 
for  the  pursuits  of  his  son  the  historian,  was  pub- 
lished at  Worcester  in  an  octavo  volume,  in  1807. 
He  delivered,  on  the  81st  January,  1836,  a  dis- 
course on  the  fifty  years  of  his  ministry  at 
Worcester,  which  has  been  printed  with  historical 
notes.  John  Adams  admired  his  Sermons  on  the 
Doctrines  of  the  Gospel.  In  1823,  he  acknow- 
ledges "the  gift  of  a  precious  volume.  It  is  a 
chain  of  diamonds  set  in  links  of  gold.  I  have 
never  read,  nor  heard  read,  a  volume  of  sermons 
better  calculated  and  adapted  to  the  age  and  coun- 
try in  which  it  was  written." 

Dr.  Bancroft  died  at  Worcester,  in  his  eighty- 
fifth  year,  August  19,  1840. 

GEOBGE   WASHINGTON. 

General  Washington  was  exactly  six  feet  in  height ; 
he  appeared  taller,  as  his  shoulders  rose  a  little 
higher  than  the  true  proportion.  His  eyes  were  of 
a  gray,  and  his  hair  of  a  brown  color.  His  limbs 
were  well  formed,  and  indicated  strength.  His  com- 
plexion was  light,  and  his  countenance  serene  and 
thoughtful. 

His  manners  were  graceful,  manly,  and  dignified. 
His  general  appearance  never  failed  to  engage  the 
respect  and  esteem  of  all  who  approached  him. 

Possessing  strong  natural  passions,  and  having  the 
nicest  feelings  of  honor,  he  was  in  early  life  prone 
keenly  to  resent  practices  which  carried  the  intention 
of  abuse  or  insult ;  but  the  reflections  of  maturer  ago 
gave  Iiim  the  most  perfect  government  of  himself, 
lie  possessed  a  faculty  above  all  other  men  to  hide 
the  weaknesses  inseparable  from  human  nature ;  and 
he  bore  with  meekness  and  equanimity  his  distin- 
guished honors. 

Reserved,  but  not  haughty,  in  his  disposition,  he 
was  accessible  to  all  in  concerns  of  business,  but  he 
opened  himself  ouly  to  his  confidential  friends  ;  and 
no  art  or  address  could  draw  from  him  an  opinion, 
which  he  thought  prudent  to  conceal. 

He  was  not  so  much  distinguished  for  brilliancy 
of  genius  as  for  solidity  of  judgment,  and  consum- 
mate prudence  of  conduct.  He  was  not  so  eminent 
for  any  one  quality  of  greatness  and  worth,  as  for 
the  union  of  those  great,  amiable,  and  good  quali- 
ties, which  are  very  rarely  combined  in  the  same 
character. 

His  maxims  were-  formed  upon  the  result  of  ma- 
ture reflection,  or  extensive  experience  ;  they  were 
the  invariable  rules  of  his  practice ;  and  on  all  im- 
portant instances,  he  seemed  to  have  an  intuitive 
view  of  what  the  occasion  rendered  fit  and  proper. 
He  pursued  his  purposes  with  a  resolution,  which, 
one  solitary  moment  excepted,  never  failed  him. 

Alive  to  social  pleasures,  he  delighted  to  enter 
into  familiar  conversation  with  his  acquaintance,  and 
was  sometimes  sportive  in  his  letters  to  his  friends ; 
but  he  never  lost  sight  of  the  dignity  of  his  charac- 
ter, nor  deviated  from  the  decorous  and  appropriate 
behaviour  becoming  his  station  in  society. 


*  Thirty-five  are  enumerated  in  the  notice  of  his  life  from 
wbicb  these  tacts  are  taken, in  Lincoln's  Uistory  of  "Worcester, 
p.  213. 


408 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


He  commanded  from  al]  the  most  respectful  atten- 
tion, and  no  man  in  bis  company  ever  fell  into  light 
or  lewd  conversation.  His  stjTe  of  living  corres- 
ponded with  his  wealth;  but  his  extensive  establish- 
ment was  managed  with  the  strictest  economy,  and 
he  ever  reserved  ample  funds  liberally  to  promote 
Bchemes  of  private  benevolence,  and  works  of  pub- 
lic utility.  Punctual  himself  to  every  engagement, 
he  exacted  from  others  a  strict  fulfilment  of  con- 
tracts, but  to  the  necessitous  he  was  diffusive'  in  his 
charities,  and  he  greatly  assisted  the  poorer  classes 
of  people  in  his  vicinity,  by  furnishing  them  with 
means  successfully  to  prosecute  plans  of  industry. 

In  domestic  and  private  life,  he  blended  the  au- 
thority of  the  master  with  the  care  and  kindness  of 
the  guardian  and  friend.  Solicitous  for  the  welfare 
of  his  slaves,  while  at  Mount  Vernon,  lie  every 
morning  rode  round  his  estates  to  examine  their 
condition ;  for  the  sick,  physicians  were  provided, 
and  to  the  weak  and  infirm  every  necess.'iry  comfort 
was  administered.  The  servitude  of  the  negroes 
lay  with  weight  upon  his  mind ;  he  often  made  it 
the  subject  of  conversation,  and  revolved  several 
plans  for  their  general  emancipation ;  but  could 
devise  none,  which  promised  success,  in  consistency 
with  humanity  to  them,  and  safety  to  the  state. 

The  address  presented  to  him  at  Alexandria,  on 
the  commencement  of  his  presidency,  fully  shows 
how  much  he  was  endeared  to  his  neighbors,  and 
the  affection  and  esteem  in  which  his  friends  held 
his  private  character. 

His  industry  was  unremitted,  and  his  method  so 
exact,  that  all  the  complicated  business  of  his  mili- 
tary command,  and  civil  administration,  was  man- 
aged without  confusion,  and  without  hurry. 

Not  feeling  the  lust  of  power,  and  ambitious  only 
for  honorable  fame,  he  devoted  himself  to  his  coun- 
try upon  the  most  disinterested  principles :  and  his 
actions  wore  not  the  semblance  but  the  reality  of 
virtue:  the  purity  of  his  motives  was  accredited, 
and  absolute  confidence  placed  in  his  patriotism. 

While  filling  a  public  station,  the  performance  of 
his  duty  took  the  place  of  pleasure,  emolument,  and 
every  private  consideration.  Luring  the  more  criti- 
cal years  of  the  war,  a  smile  was  scarcely  seen  upon 
his  countenance  ;  he  gave  himself  no  moments  of 
relaxation  ;  but  his  whole  mind  was  engrossed  to  exe- 
cute successfully  his  trust. 

As  a  military  commander,  he  struggled  with  in- 
numerable embarrassments,  arising  from  the  short 
enlistment  of  his  men,  and  from  the  want  of  provi- 
sions, clothing,  arms,  and  ammunition ;  and  an 
opinion  of  his  achievements  should  be  formed  in 
view  of  these  inadequate  means. 

The  first  years  of  his  civil  administration  were 
attended  with  the  extraordinary  fact,  that  while  a 
great  proportion  of  his  countrymen  did  not  approve 
his  measures,  they  universally  venerated  his  charac- 
ter, and  relied  implicitly  on  his  integrity.  Although 
his  opponents  eventually  deemed  it  expedient  to 
vilify  his  character,  that  they  might  diminish  his 
political  influence;  yet  the  moment  that  he  retired 
from  public  life,  they  returned  to  their  expressions 
of  veneration  and  esteem  ;  and  after  his  death  used 
every  endeavor  to  secure  to  their  party  the  influ- 
ence of  ids  name. 

He  was  as  eminent  for  piety  as  for  patriotism.  His 
public  and  private  conduct  evince,  that  he  impres- 
sively felt  a  sense  of  the  superintendence  of  God  and 
of  the  dependence  of  man.  In  his  addresses,  while 
at  the  head  of  the  army,  and  of  the  national  govern- 
ment, he  gratefully  noticed  the  signal  blessings  of 
Providence,  and  fervently  commended  his  country 
to  divine  benediction.  In  private,  he  was  known  to 
have  been  habitually  devout. 


In  principle  and  practice  he  was  a  Christian.  The 
support  of  an  Episcopal  church,  in  the  vicinity  of 
Mount  Vernon,  rested  principally  upon  him,  and 
here,  when  on  his  estate,  he  with  constancy  attend- 
ed public  worship.  In  his  address  to  the  American 
people,  at  the  close  of  the  war,  mentioning  the 
favorable  period  of  the  world  at  which  the  inde- 
pendence of  his  country  was  established,  and  enu- 
merating the  causes  which  unitedly  had  ameliorated 
the  condition  of  human  society,  he,  above  science, 
philosophy,  commerce,  and  all  other  considerations, 
ranked" the  pure  and  benign  light  of  Revelation.'" 
Supplicating  Heaven  that  his  fellow  citizens  might 
cultivate  the  disposition,  and  practise  the  virtues, 
which  exalt  a  community,  he  presented  the  follow- 
ing petition  to  his  God :  That  he  would  most  gra- 
ciously be  pleased  to  dispose  us  all  to  do  justice,  to 
love  mercy,  and  to  demean  ourselves  with  that 
charity,  humility,  and  pacific  temper  of  mind,  which 
were  the  characteristics  of  the  Dicine  Author  of 
our  blessed  religion;  without  a  humble  imitation  of 
whose  example  in  these  things,  we  can  never  hope 
to  be  a  happy  nation. 

During  the  war,  he  not  unfrequently  rode  ten  or 
twelve  miles  from  camp  to  attend  public  worship; 
and  he  never  omitted  this  attendance,  when  oppor- 
tunity presented. 

In  the  establishment  of  his  presidential  household, 
he  reserved  to  himself  the  Sabbath,  free  from  the 
interruptions  of  private  visits,  or  public  business; 
and  throughout  the  eight  years  of  his  civil  adminis- 
tration, he  gave  to  the  institutions  of  Christianity 
the  influence  of  his  example. 

He  was  as  fortunate  as  great  and  good. 

Under  his  auspices,  a  civil  war  was  conducted  with 
mildness,  and  a  revolution  with  order.  .  Raised  him- 
self above  the  influence  of  popular  passions,  he  hap- 
pily directed  these  passions  to  the  most  useful  pur- 
poses. •  Uniting  the  talents  of  the  soldier  with  the 
qualifications  of  the  statesman,  and  pursuing,  un- 
moved by  difficulties,  the  noblest  end  by  the  purest 
means,  he  had  the  supreme  satisfaction  of  beholding 
the  complete  success  of  his  great  military  and  civil 
services,  in  the  independence  and  happiness  of  his 
country. 

HAXNAH  ADAMS. 

The  life  of  this  lad}'  presents  an  admirable  exam- 
ple of  self-reliance  and  perseverance.  She  was 
probably  the  first  woman  in  the  country  to 
devote  herself  to  a  literary  life,  and  this,  too,  at  a 
time  when  the  temptations  such  a  career  could 
offer,  to  either  sex,  were  insignificant,  either  in 
view  of  fame  or  gain. 

Hannah  Adams  was  horn  at  Medfield,  near 
Boston,  in  1756.  Her  father  was  a  man  of  edu- 
cation, who  endeavored  to  procure  the  means  of 
support  from  a  small  country  store.  To  the  use 
of  the  books  which-  constituted — the  calls  of  his 
customers  being  taken  as  a  standard — an  undue 
proportion  of  his  stock,  his  daughter  attributed 
her  early  taste  for  literature:  She  was  a  diligent 
student,  although  ill  health  rendered  her  attend- 
ance at  school  extremely  irregular.  She  obtained 
from  some  young  divinity  students,  who  boarded 
at  her  father's  house,  a  knowledge  of  Greek  and 
Latin,  and  from  a  small  manuscript,  containing  an 
account  of  Arminians,  Calvinists,  and  a  few  other 
leading  denominations,  in  the  possession  of  one  of 
these,  the  hint  of  her  first  work,  the  View  of  Re- 
ligious Opinions. 

She  had  lost  her  mother  at  the  early  age  of  ten 
years,  and  the  ill  success  of  her  father  in  bust- 


HENRY  LEE. 


400 


ness  threw  the  family  on  their  own  resources. 
"  During  the  American  Revolutionary  war,"  she 
informs  us  in  her  admirable  little  autobiography, 
"  I  learned  to  weave  bobbin  laee,  which  was  then 
saleable,  and  much  more  profitable  to  me  than 
spinning,  sewing,  or  knitting,  which  had  pre- 
viously been  my  employment.  At  this  period,  I 
found  but  little  time  for  literary  pursuits.  But  at 
the  termination  of  the  American  war,  this  re- 
source failed,  and  I  was  again  left  in  a  destitute 
situation."  Thus  circumstanced,  she  commenced 
the  View  of  Religious  Opinions,  giving  instruc- 
tions in  Greek  and  Latin  at  the  same  time  to 
three  young  students  of  theology  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. Her  "  View,"  after  various  difficulties 
in  finding  a  printer,  was  published  in  1784.  It 
met  with  a  good  sale,  of  which  the  printer  reaped 
the  profit.  A  second  edition,  enlarged  and  cor- 
rected, was  published  in  1791,  which  by  the  aid 
of  friends,  who  made  her  bargain  witli  the  pub- 
lisher and  exerted  themselves  in  obtaining  sub- 
scribers for  copies,  was  so  successful,  that,  as  she 
says,  "the  emolument  I  derived  from  it  not  only 
placed  me  in  a  comfortable  situation,  but  enabled 
me  to  pay  the  debts  I  had  contracted  during  mine 
and  my  sister's  illness,  and  to  put  out  a  small  sum 
at  interest." 

Her  next  undertaking  was  a  History  of  New 
England,  in  the  preparation  for  which  she 
pored  so  assiduously  over  old  colonial  records 
and  other  dim  manuscripts,  as  to  seriously  impair 
her  eyesight.  By  a  cessation  from  labor,  and 
frequent  use  of  "  laudanum  and  sea  water  several 
times  in  the  course  of  the  day,  for  two  years," 
she  recovered,  and  by  employing  an  amanuensis, 
was  enabled  to  print  the  book  in  1709. 

Her  history  meeting  with  a  good  sale,  she 
formed  the  plan  of  abridging  it  for  the  use  of 
schools.  Before  doing  this,  she  "set  about 
wiiting  a  concise  view  of  the  Christian  religion, 
selected  from  the  writings  of  eminent  laymen." 
"I  found  it  difficult,"  she  continues,  "to  procure 
proper  materials  for  the  work,  as  I  was  utterly 
unable  to  purchase  books.  A  considerable  part 
of  this  compilation,  as  well  as  the  additions  to  the 
third  edition  of  my  View  of  Religions,  was  writ- 
ten in  booksellers'  shops.  I  went  to  make  visits 
in  Boston,  in  order  to  consult  books  in  this  wajT, 
Which  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  buy  or  bor- 
row." These  difficulties,  so  simply  narrated  that 
we  almost  lose  sight  of  their  formidableness,  sur- 
mounted, and  the  manuscript  completed,  others 
followed  with  publishers,  and  she  was  glad  at  last 
t  i  sell  the  copyright  for  one  hundred  dollars  in 
books. 

Her  abridged  History  of  New  England  was  an- 
ticipated by  a  work  of  a  similar  character  by  the 
Rev.  Jedidiah  Morse,  author  of  the  first  Ameri- 
can geography.  Tins  led  to  a  controversy  which 
excited  much  attention  and  warmth  of  feeling. 
Her  book,'when.it  appeared,  unfortunately  brought 
her  no  remuneration,  on  account  of  the  failure  of 
her  printer.  Her  personal  and  literary  merits 
had,  however,  by  this  time  gained  her  many  and 
influential  friends,  among  whom  President  Adams 
was  preeminent  in  rank  and  kindness,  and  by 
their  aid  she  was  enabled  to  supply  her  simple 
wants  and  prosecute  her  studies. 

The  labor  to  which  she  next  devoted  herself, 
was  a  History  of  the  Jews.    This  subject  engaged 


all  her  attention.  "If  you  would  know  Miss 
Adams,"  said  one  of  her  friends,  "  you  must  talk 
to  her  about  the  Jews."  She  corresponded  with 
the  Abbe  Gregoire  upon  the  subject,  and  consult- 
ed every  authority  to  which  she  could  obtain 
access.  In  this  last  respect,  her  resources  were 
less  limited  than  at  previous  periods  of  her  life, 
as  she  had  free  access  to  the  Boston  Athenteum, 
and  the  library  of  her  friend  the  Rev.  J.  S.  Buck- 
minster.  Her  failing  health,  however,  prevented 
the  completion  of  her  work. 

In  the  latter  years  of  her  life,  Miss  Adams  en- 
joyed a  comfortable  annuity  raised  by  her  friends. 
She  died  at  Brookline,  near  Boston,  1832.  Her 
autobiography,  with  a  continuation  by  a  friend, 
Mrs.  H.  F.  Lee,  was  published  in  the  same  year.* 

HENEY  LEE. 
Hestjy  Lee,  the  author  of  the  Memoirs  of  the 
War  in  the  Southern  Dejjartment  of  the  United 
States,  was  a  member  of  a  leading  family  in  Vir- 
ginia, where  he  was  born,  January  29, 1756.  He 
was  educated  at  Princeton  College. 

In  1776  he  was  made  captain  of  one  of  the  six 
companies  of  cavalry  raised  by  Virginia.  In  Sep- 
tember, 1777,  these  companies  formed  into  one 
regiment  were  united  with  the  Continental  army. 

Lee  soon  gained  distinction  by  the  high  state 
of  discipline  and  efficiency  he  maintained  in  his 
company,  which  at  the  battle  x>f  Gennantown 
was  selected  by  Washington  as  his  body-guard. 
In  January,  1778,  when  occupying  with  ten  men  ' 
a  stone  house,  the  rest  of  his  troop  being  absent 
in  search  of  forage,  the  building  was  surrounded 
by  two  hundred  of  the  enemy's  cavalry,  who  en- 
deavored to  take  him  prisoner,  but  were  met  with 
so  determined  a  resistance  that  they  were  com- 
pelled to  retreat.  He  was  soon  after  this  promot- 
ed to  the  rank  of  major,  with  the  command  of 
three  companies  of  cavalry;  and  in  1780,  having 
been  made  lieutenant-colonel,  was  sent  with  his. 


*  A  Memoir  of  Miss  Tlannah  Adams,  written  by  herself, 
with  additional  notices  by  a  friend.  Boston,  Gray  ci  liowen. 
1S32.    12mo.  pp.  110. 


410 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


troops  to  join  the  southern  army  under  Gene- 
ral Greene,  where  he  remained  until  the  close  of 
the  war,  distinguishing  himself  in  several  actions. 

In  1786  he  was  sent  to  Congress,  where  he 
remained  until  the  new  constitution  went  into 
operation.  In  1792,  having  previously  served  in 
the  house  of  delegates  and  the  convention  for  the 
ratification  of  the  federal  Constitution,  he  was 
elected  governor  of  Virginia.  In  the  last  of  his 
three  years  of  office,  he  was  placed  by  President 
Washington  in  command  of  the  forces  sent  to  the 
western  part  of  Pennsylvania  to  suppress  the 
Whiskey  Insurrection.  In  1799  he  was  sent  to 
Congress. 

He  was  honorably  distinguished  by  this  body 
in  being  selected  to  deliver  the  funeral  eulogy  on 
Washington,  in  the  course  of  winch  the  memora- 
ble sentence,  "  First  in  war,  first  in  peace,  and 
first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen,"  occurs. 

Lee  remained  in  Congress  until  the  accession 
of  Jefferson  in  1801,  after  which  he  did  not 
again  hold  public  office. 

His  profuse  hospitality  involved  him  in  pecuni- 
ary embarrassment,  which,  however  disagreeable 
to  himself,  proved  advantageous  to  the  public,  as 
during  and  probably  in  consequence  of  his  •con- 
finement as  a  debtor,*  within  the  bounds  of 
Spottsylvania  county,  in  1809,  he  wrote  his  cele- 
brated memoirs.  They  were  published  without 
any  preface  in  two  octavo  volumes,  by  Bradford 
and  Inskeep,  Philadelphia.  In  July,  1812,  while 
in  Baltimore,  Lee  took  part  in  the  defence  of  the 
house  occupied  by  Mr.  Hanson,  one  of  the  editors 
of  the  Federal  Republican.  This  paper  had 
shortly  before  published  strictures  on  the  declara- 
tion of  war  of  June  19,  and  its  office  had  in  conse- 
quence been  attacked  by  a  mob,  who  destroyed 
the  printing  materials  and  building.  The  publi- 
cation of  the  paper  was  soon  after  resumed  in 
Georgetown,  and  the  numbers  distributed  from  a 
house  in  Baltimore.  Anticipating  an  attack, 
Hanson  had  provided  arms  and  been  joined  by 
General  Greene,  General  Lingan,  John  How- 
ard Payne,  and  others.  The  mob  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  27th  attempted  to  force  the  door. 
Muskets  were  fired  during  the  confusion,  by 
which  two  persons  were  killed  and  several 
wounded.  The  military  appeared,  and  the  occu- 
pants of  the  house  surrendered  on  promise  of 
being  protected  within  the  city  prison.  On  the 
following  night  the  prison  was  attacked  by  the 
mob,  who  succeeded  in  effecting  an  entrance, 
killed  Lingan  and  wounded  eleven  others,  among 
whom  was  General  Lee.  Some  of  the  rioters 
were  arrested,  tried,  and  acquitted.  In  conse- 
quence of  the  injuries  thus  received,  the  Gene- 
ral's health  declined.  A  visit  to  the  West  Indies 
proved  of  no  benefit  to  him,  and  he  returned  to 
the  United  States  in  1818,  where  he  died  on  the 
25th  of  March,  at  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Shaw, 
the  daughter  of  General  Greene,  Cumberland 
Island,  near  St.  Mary's,  Georgia. 

Lee's  memoirs  were  reprinted  in  1827  at  Wa-h- 


*  A  story  is  told,  that,  having  been  arrested  for  debt,  as  lie 
•was  riding  along  with  the  sheriff,  he  remarked,  that  he  was 
glad  that  lie  was  on  his  way  to  a  place  of  confinement,  since 
having  been  bitten  by  a  mad  dog  he  needed  to  be  taken  care 
of.  Soon  after  this  introduction  of  the  subject,  he  assumed 
such  energetic  symptoms  of  mania  that  the  official  made  off  ia 
hot  haste.— Allen's  Biog.  I)ic. 


ington.  The  editor,  H.  Lee,  in  a  brief  preface, 
acknowledged  the  assistance  of  friends  in  pro- 
viding for  the  expenses  of  the  edition.  Such  aid 
should  not  have  been  needed,  for  the  work,  in  ad- 
dition to  its  historical  value  as  the  testimony  of 
a  prominent  actor,  is  valuable  on  account  of'  its 
literary  merit  as  a  life-like  and  spirited  narrative. 
It  is  plain  in  style,  and  the  want  of  dates  renders 
it  somewhat  inconvenient  in  the  absence  of  an 
index  for  reference. 

One  of  the  most  valuable  and  interesting  por- 
tions of  the  book  is  the  minute  narrative  of  the  gal- 
lant attempt  of  Sergeant  Champe  to  carry  off  Ar- 
nold from  New  York,  after  the  detection  of  his 
treason,  an  object  Washington  was  anxious  to 
accomplish,  from  a  humane  desire  to  save  Andre. 
Champe  undertook  the  service  at  the  request  of 
Lee,  who  overcame  the  sergeant's  scruples  to  de- 
sertion from  the  American  army,  a  course  essen- 
tial to  preserve  secresy.  He  was  instructed  to 
obtain  possession  of  Arnold  if  possible,  but  under 
no  circumstances  to  take  his  life. 


ciiampe's  expedition. 

Giving  to  the  sergeant  three  guineas,  and  present- 
ing his  best  wishes,  Lee  recommended  him  to  start 
without  delay,  and  enjoined  him  to  communicate  his 
arrival  in  New  York  as  soon  thereafter  as  might  be 
practicable.  Champe  pulling  out  his  watch,  com- 
pared it  with  the  major's,  reminding  the  latter  of 
the  importance  of  holding  back  pursuit,  which  iie 
was  convinced  would  take  place  in  the  course  of  the 
night,  and  which  might  be  fatal,  as  he  knew  that  he 
should  be  obliged  to  zigzag  in  order  to  avoid  the 
patrol'es,  which  would  consume  time.  It  was  now 
nearly  eleven.  The  sergeant  returned  to  camp,  and 
taking  his  clonk,  valise  and  orderly  book,  he  drew 
his  horse  from  the  picket,  and  mounting  him  put 
himself  upon  fortune.  Lee,  charmed  with  his  expe- 
ditious consummation  of  the  first  part  of  the  enter- 
prise, retired  to  rest.  Useless  attempt!  the  past 
scene  could  not  be  obliterated ;  and,  indeed,  had 
that,  been  practicable,  the  interruption  which  ensued 
would  have  stopped  repose. 

Within  half  an  hour  Captain  Carnes,  officer  of 
the  day,  waited  upon  the  major,  and  with  conside- 
rable emotion  told  him  that  one  of  the  pntrole  had 
fallen  in  with  a  dragoon,  who,  being  challenged, 
put  spur  to  his  horse  and  escaped,  though  instantly 
pursued.  Lee  complaining  of  the  interruption,  and 
pretending  to  be  extremely  fatigued  b}-  his  ride  to 
and  from  headquarters,  answered  as  if  he  did  not 
understand  what  had  been  said,  which  compelled  the 
captain  to  repeat  it.  Who  can  the  fellow  that  was 
pursued  be  ?  inquired  the  major;  adding,  a  coun- 
tryman, probably.  No,  replied  the  captain,  the  pa- 
trole sufficiently  distinguished  him  as  to  know  that 
he  was  a  dragoon  ;  probably  one  from  the  army,  if 
not  certainly  one  of  our  own.  This  idea  was  ridi- 
culed from  its  improbability,  as  during  the  whole 
war  but  a  single  dragoon  had  deserted  from  the 
legion.  This  did  not  convince  Carnes,  so  much 
stress  was  it  now  the  fashion  to  lay  on  the  desertion 
of  Arnold,  and  the  probable  effect  of  his  example. 
The  captain  withdrew  to  examine  the  squadron  of 
horse,  whom  he  had  ordered  to  assemble  in  pursu- 
ance of  established  usage  on  similar  occasions.  Yery 
quickly  he  returned,  stating  that  the  scoundrel  was 
known,  and  was  no  less  a  person  than  the  sergeant- 
major,  who  had  gone  off  with  his  horse,  baggage, 
arms  and  orderly  book — so  presumed,  as  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other  could  be  found.  Sensibly  affected 
at  the  supposed  baseness  of  a  soldier  extremely  re- 


HENRY  LEE. 


411 


spected,  the  captain  added  that  he  had  ordered  a 
party  to  make  ready  for  pursuit,  and  begged  the 
major's  written  orders. 

Occasionally  this  discourse  was  interrupted,  and 
every  idea  suggested  which  the  excellent  character 
of  the  sergeant  warranted,  to  induce  the  suspicion 
that  he  had  not  deserted,  but  had  taken  the  liberty 
to  leave  cam))  with  a  view  to  personal  pleasure :  an 
example,  said  Lee,  too  often  set  by  the  officers  them- 
selves, destructive  as  it  was  of  discipline,  opposed 
as  it  was  to  orders,  and  disastrous  as  it  might  prove 
to  the  corps  in  the  course  of  service. 

Some  little  delay  was  thus  interposed ;  but  it 
being  now  announced  that  the  pursuing  party  was 
ready,  major  Lee  directed  a  change  in  the  officer, 
saying  that  lie  had  a  particular  service  in  view, 
Avhich  he  had  determine  I  to  entrust  to  the  lieutenant 
ready  for  duty,  and  which  probably  mus,t  be  per- 
formed in  the  morning.  He  therefore  directed  him 
to  summon  cornet  Middleton  for  the  present  com- 
mand. Lee  was  induced  thus  to  act,  first  to  add  to 
the  delay,  and  next  from  his  knowledge  of  the  tender- 
ness of  Middletou's  disposition,  which  he  hoped 
Would  lead  to  the  protection  of  Champe  should  he 
be  taken.  Within  ten  minutes  Middleton  appeared 
to  receive  his  orders,  which  were  delivered  to  him 
made  out  in  the  customary  form,  and  signed  by  the 
major.  "  Pursue  so  far  as  you  can  with  safety  ser- 
geant Champe,  who  is  suspected  of  deserting  to  the 
enemy,  and  has  taken  the  road  leading  to  Paulus 
Hook.  Bring  him  alive,  that  he  may  suffer  in  the 
presence  of  the  army  ;  but  kill  him  if  he  resists,  or 
escapes  after  being  taken." 

Detaining  the  cornet  a  few  minutes  longer  in  ad- 
vising him  what  course  to  pursue, — urging  him  to 
take  care  of  the  horse  and  accoutrements,  if  reco- 
vered,— and  enjoining  him  to  be  on  his  guard,  lest  he 
might,  by  his  eager  pursuit,  improvideutly  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy, — the  major  dismissed  Mid- 
dleton, wishing  him  success.  A  shower  of  rain  fell 
soon  after  Champc's  departure,  which  enabled  the 
pursuing  dragoons  to  take  the  trail  of  his  horse ; 
knowing,  as  officer  and  trooper  did,  the  make  of 
their  shoes,  whose  impression  was  an  unerring 
guide.* 

When  Middleton  departed,  it  was  a  few  minutes 
past  twelve ;  so  that  Champe  had  only  the  start  of 
rather  more  than  an  hour, — by  no  means  as  long  as 
was  desired.  Lee  became  very  unhappy,  not  only 
because  the  estimable  and  gallant  Champe  might  be 
injured,  but  lest  the  enterprise  might  be  delayed: 
and  he  spent  a  sleepless  night.  The  pursuing  party 
during  the  night,  was,  on  their  part,  delayed  by  the 
necessary  halts  to  examine  occasionally  the  road,  as 
the  impression  of  the  horse's  shoes  directed  their 
course  ;  this  was  unfortunately  too  evident,  no  other 
horse  having  passed  along  the  road  since  the  shower. 
When  the  day  broke,  Middleton  was  no  longer 
forced  to  halt,  and  he  pressed  on  with  rapidity.  As- 
cending an  eminence  before  he  reached  the  Three 
Pidgeons,  some  miles  on  the  north  of  the  village  of 
Bergen,  as  the  pursuing  party  reached  its  summit, 
Champe  was  descried  not  more  than  half  a  mile  in 
front.  Resembling  an  Indian  in  his  vigilance,  the 
sergeant  at  the  same  moment  discovered  the  party 
(whose  object  he  was  no  stranger  to),  and  giving 
spur  to  his  horse,  he  determined  to  outstrip  his  pur- 
suers. Middleton  at  the  same  instant  put  his  horses 
to  the  top  of  their  speed ;  and  being  (as  the  legion 


*Tlio  horses  being  all  phod  by  our  own  farriers,  the  shoes 
were  nude  in  the  same  form  ;  which,  with  a  private  mark  an- 
nexed to  the  fore-shoes,  and  known  to  the  troopers,  pointed 
out  the  trail  of  ouv  dragoons  to  each  other,  which  was  often 
very  useful. 


all  were)  well  acquainted  with  the  country,  he 
recollected  a  short  route  through  the  woods  to  the 
bridge  below  Bergen,  which,  diverged  from  the  great 
road  just  after  you  gain  the  Three  Pidgeons.  Reach- 
ing the  point  of  separation,  he  halted;  and  dividing 
his  party,  directed  a  sergeant  with  a  few  dragoons 
to  take  the  near  cut,  and  possess  with  all  possible 
despatch  the  bridge,  while  he  with  the  residue  fol- 
lowed Champe ;  not  doubting  but  that  Champe 
must  deliver  himself  up,'  as  he  would  be  closed  be- 
tween himself  and  his  sergeant.  Champe  did  not 
forget  the  short  cut,  and  would  have  taken  it  him- 
self, but  he  knew  it  was  the  usual  route  of  our  par- 
ties when  returning  in  the  day  from  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  enemy,  properly  preferring  the  woods 
to  the  road.  He  consequently  avoided  it ;  and  per- 
suaded that  Middleton  would  avail  himself  of  it, 
wisely  resolved  to  relinquish  his  intention  of  getting 
to  Paulus  Hook,  and  to  seek  refuge  from  two  British 
galleys,  lying  a  few  miles  to  the  west  of  Bergen. 

This  was  a  station  always  occupied  by  one  or  two 
galleys,  and  which  it  was  known  now  lay  there. 
Entering  the  village  of  Bergen,  Champe  turned  to 
his  right,  and  disguising  his  change  of  course  as  > 
much  as  he  could  by  taking  the  beaten  streets,  turn- 
ing as  they  turned,  he  passed  through  the  village 
and  took  the  road  towards  Elizabethtown  Point. 
Middleton's  sergeant  gained  the  bridge,  where  he 
concealed  himself,  ready  to  pounce  upon  Champe 
when  he  came  up ;  and  Middleton,  pursuing  his 
course  through  Bergen,  soon  got  also  to  the  bridge, 
when,  to  his  extreme  mortification,  he  found  that 
the  sergeant  had  slipped  through  his  fingers.  Re- 
turning up  the  road,  he  inquired  of  the  villagers  of 
Bergen,  whether  a  dragoon  had  been  seen  that 
morning  preceding  his  party.  He  was  answered  in 
the  affirmative,  but  could  learn  nothing  satisfactorily 
as  to  the  route  he  took.  While  engaged  in  inquiries 
himself,  he  spread  his  party  through  the  village  to 
strike  the  trail  of  Champe's  horse,  a  resort  always  re- 
curred to.  Some  of  his  dragoons  hit  it  just  as  the 
sergeant,  leaving  the  village,  got  in  the  road  to  the 
Point.  Pursuit  was  renewed  with  vigor,  and  again 
Champe  was  descried.  lie,  apprehending  the  event, 
had  prepared  himself  for  it,  by  lashing  his  valise 
(containing  his  clothes  and  orderly  book)  on  his 
shoulders,  and  holding  his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand, 
having  thrown  away  its  scabbard.  This  he  did  to 
save  what  was  indispensable  to  him,  and  to  prevent 
any  interruption  to  his  swimming  by  the  scabbard, 
should  Middleton,  as  he  presumed,  when  disappointed 
at  the  bridge,  take  the  measures  adopted  by  him. 
The  pursuit  was  rapid  and  close,  as  the  sfop  occa- 
sioned by  the  sergeant's  preparations  for  swimming 
had  brought  Middleton  within  two  or  three  hundred 
yards.  As  soon  as  Champe  got  abreast  of  the  gal- 
leys, he  dismounted,  and  running  through  the  marsh 
to  the  river,  plunged  into  it,  calling  upon  the  gal- 
leys for  help.  This  was  readily  given;  they  fired 
upon  our  horse,  and  sent  a  boat  to  meet  Champe, 
who  was  taken  in  and  carried  on  board,  and  con- 
veyed to  New  York  with  a  letter  from  the  captain 
of  the  galley,  stating  the  past  scene,  all  of  which  he 
had  seen. 

The  horse  with  his  equipments,  the  sergeant's 
cloak  and  sword  scabbard,  were  recovered;  the 
sword  itself,  being  held  by  Champe  until  he  plunged 
into  the  river,  was  lost,  as  Middleton  found  it 
necessary  to  retire  without  searching  for  it. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  evening  our  party  re- 
turned, and  the  soldiers,  seeing  the  horse  (well 
known  to  them)  in  our  possession,  made  the  air 
resound  with  exclamations  that  the  scoundrel  was 
killed. 

Major  Lee,  called  by  this  heart-rending  annuncia- 


412 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


tion  from  his  tent,  saw  the  sergeant's  horse  led  by 
one  of  Middleton's  dragoons,  and  began  to  reproach 
himself  -with  the  blood  of  the  high  prized  faithful  and 
intrepid  Champe.  Stifling  his  agony,  lie  advanced 
to  meet  Middleton,  and  became  somewhat  relieved 
as  soon  as  he  got  near  enough  to  discern  the  counte- 
nance of  his  officer  and  party.  There  was  evidence 
in  their  looks  of  disappointment,  and  he  was  quickly 
relieved  by  Middleton'sinformation  that  the  sergeant 
had  effected  his  escape  with  the  loss  of  his  horse, 
and  narrated  the  particulars  just  recited. 

Lee's  joy  was  now  as  full  as,  the  moment  before, 
his  torture  had  been  excruciating.  Never  was  a 
happier  conclusion.  The  sergeant  escaped  unhurt, 
carrying  with  him  to  the  enemy  undeniable  testi- 
mony of  the  sincerity  of  his  desertion, — cancelling 
every  apprehension  before  entertained,  lest  the 
enemy  might  suspect  him  of  being  what  he  really 
was. 

Major  Lee  imparted  to  the  commander-in-chief 
the  occurrence,  who  was  sensibly  affected  by  the 
hair-breadth  escape  of  Champe,  and  anticipated 
with  pleasure  the  good  effect  sure  to  follow  the  ene- 
my's knowledge  of  its  manner. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  Champe's  departure,  Lee 
received  a  letter  from  him,  written  the  day  before 
in  a  disguised  hand,  without  any  signature,  and 
stating  what  had  passed  after  he  got  on  board  the 
galley,  where  he  was  kindly  received. 

He  was  carried  to  the  commandant  of  New  York 
as  soon  as  lie  arrived,  and  presented  the  letter  ad- 
dressed to  this  officer  from  the  captain  of  the  galley. 
Being  asked  as  to  what  corps  he  belonged,  and  a 
few  other  common  questions,  he  was  sent  under  care 
of  an  orderly  sergeant  to  the  adjutant-general,  who, 
finding  that  he  was  sergeant-major  of  the  legion 
horse,  heretofore  remarkable  for  their  fidelity,  he 
began  to  interrogate  him.  He  was  told  by  Champe, 
that  such  was  the  spirit  of  defection  which  pre- 
vailed among  the  American  troops  in  consequence 
of  Arnold's  example,  that  he  had  no  doubt,  if  the 
temper  was  properly  cherished,  Washington's  ranks 
would  not  only  be  greatly  thinned,  but  that  some 
of  his  best  corps  would  leave  him.  To  this  conclu- 
sion, the  sergeant  said,  he  was  led  by  his  own  obser- 
vations, and  especially  by  his  knowledge  of  the  dis- 
contents which  agitated  the  corps  to  which  he  had 
belonged.  His  size,  place  of  birth,  his  form,  coun- 
tenance, color  of  his  hair,  the  corps  in  which  he  had 
served,  with  other  remarks,  in  conformity  to  the 
British  usage,  was  noted  in  a  large  folio  book.  Af- 
ter this  was  finished,  he  was  sent  to  the  commander- 
in-chief,  in  charge  of  one  of  the  staff,  with  a  letter 
from  the  adjutant-general  Sir  Henry  Clinton 
treated  him  very  kindly,  and  detained  him  more 
than  one  hour,  asking  him  many  questions,  all  lead- 
ing,— first  to  know  to  what  extent  this  spirit  of  de- 
fection might  be  pushed  by  proper  incitements, — 
what  the  most  operating  incitements, — whether  any 
general  officers  were  suspected  by  Washington  as 
concerned  in  Arnold's  conspiracy,  or  any  other  offi- 
cers of  note ; — who  they  were,  and  whether  the 
troops  approved  or  censured  Washington's  suspi- 
cions ; — whether  his  popularity  in  the  army  was 
sinking,  or  continued  stationary.  What  was  major 
Andre's  situation, — whether  any  change  had  taken 
place  in  the  manner  of  his  confinement, — what  was  the 
current  opinion  of  his  probable  fate, — and  whether 
it  was  thought  Washington  would  treat  him  as  a  spy. 
To  these  various  interrogations,  some  of  which  were 
perplexing,  Champe  answered  warily;  exciting, 
nevertheless,  hopes  that  the  adoption  of  proper 
measures  to  encourage  desertion  (of  which  he  could 
not  pretend  to  form  an  opinion)  would  certainly 
bring  off  hundreds   of  the  American   soldiers,  in- 


cluding some  of  the  best  troops,  horse  as  well  as 
foot.  Respecting  the  fate  of  Andre,  he  said  he  was 
ignorant,  though  there  appeared  to  be  a  general  wish 
in  the  army  that  his  life  should  not  be  taken  ;  and 
that  he  believed  it  would  depend  more  upon  the 
disposition  of  Congress,  than  on  the  will  of  Wash- 
ington. 

After  this  long  conversation  ended,  sir  Henry  pre- 
sented Champe  with  a  couple  of  guineas,  and  recom- 
mended him  to  wait  upon  general  Arnold,  who  was 
engaged  in  raising  an  American  legion  in  the  service 
of  his  majesty.  He  directed  one  of  his  aids  to 
write  to  Arnold  by  Champe,  stating  who  he  was, 
and  what  he  had  said  about  the  disposition  in  the 
army  to  follow  his  example ;  which  very  soon  done, 
it  was  given  to  the  orderly  attending  on  Champe  to 
be  presented  with  the  deserter  to  general  Arnold. 
Arnold  expressed  much  satisfaction  on  hearing  from 
Champe  the  manner  of  his  escape,  and  the  effect  of 
Arnold's  example ;  and  concluded  his  numerous 
inquiries  by  assigning  quarters  to  the  sergeant, — ■ 
the  same  as  were  occupied  by  his  recruiting  ser- 
geants. 

He  also  proposed  to  Champe  to  join  his  legion, 
telling  him  he  would  give  to  him  the  same  station 
he  had  held  in  the  rebel  service,  and  promising  fur- 
ther advancement  when  merited.  Expressing  his 
wish  to  retire  from  war,  and  his  conviction  of  ttie 
certainty  of  his  being  hung  if  ever  taken  by  the 
rebels,  he  begged  to  be  excused  from  enlistment; 
assuring  the  general,  that  should  he  change  his 
mind,  he  would  certainly  accept  his  offer.  Retiring 
to  the  assigned  quarters,  Champe  now  turned  his 
attention  to  the  delivery  of  his  letters,  which  he 
could  not  effect  until  the  next  night,  and  then  only 
to  one  of  the  two  incognita  to  whom  he  was  recom- 
mended. This  man  received  the  sergeant  with  ex- 
treme attention,  and  having  read  the  letter,  assured 
Champe  that  he  might  rely  on  his  faithful  co-opera- 
tion in  doing  everything  in  his  power  consistent 
with  his  safety,  to  guard  which  required  the  utmost 
prudence  and  circumspection.  The  sole  object  in 
which  the  aid  of  this  individual  was  required,  re- 
garded the  general  and  others  of  our  army,  implicat- 
ed in  the  information  sent  to  Washington  by  him. 
To  this  object  Champe  urged  his  attention  ;  assuring 
him  of  the  solicitude  it  had  excited,  and  telling  him 
that  its  speedy  investigation  had  induced  the  general 
to  send  him  into  Kew  York.  Promising  to  enter 
upon  it  with  zeal,  and  engaging  to  send  out  Champe's 
letters  to  major  Lee,  he  fixed  the  time  and  place  for 
their  next  meeting,  when  they  separated. 

Lee  made  known  to  the  general  what  had  been 
transmitted  to  him  by  Champe,  and  received  in  an- 
swer directions  to  press  Champe  to  the  expeditious 
conclusion  of  his  mission ;  as  the  fate  of  Andre 
would  be  soon  decided,  when  little  or  no  delay  could 
be  admitted  in  executing  whatever  sentence  the 
court  might  decree.  The  same  messenger  who 
brought  Champe's  letter,  returned  with  the  ordered 
communication.  Five  days  had  nearly  elapsed  after 
reaching  New  York,  before  Champe  saw  the  con- 
fidant to  whom  only  the  attempt  against  Arnold  was 
to  be  entrusted.  This  person  entered  with  promp- 
titude into  the  design,  promising  his  cordial  assist- 
ance. To  procure  a  proper  associate  to  Champe  was 
the  first  object,  and  this  he  promised  to  do  with  all 
possible  despatch.  Furnishing  a  conveyance  to  Lee, 
we  again  heard  from  Champe,  who  stated  what  I 
have  related,  with  the  additional  intelligence  that 
he  had  that  morning  (the  last  of  September)  been 
appointed  one  of  Arnold's  recruiting  sergeants,  hav- 
ing enlisted  the  day  before  with  Arnold;  and  that 
he  was  induced  to  take  this  afflicting  step,  for  the 
purpose  of  securing  uninterrupted  ingress  and  egress 


HENRY  LEE. 


413 


to  the  liop.se  which  the  general  occupied;  it  being 
indispensable  to  a  speedy  conclusion  of  the  difficult 
enterprise  which  the  information  he  had  just  received 
had  so  forcibly  urged.  He  added,  that  the  difficul- 
ties in  his  way  were  numerous  and  stubborn,  and 
that  his  prospect  of  success  was  by  no  means  cheer- 
ing. ■  With  respect  to  the  additional  treason,  he  as- 
serted that  he  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  it 
was  groundless;  that  the  report  took  its  rise  in  the 
enemy's  camp,  and  that  he  hoped  soon  to  clear  up 
that  matter  satisfactorily.  The  pleasure  which  the 
last  part  of  this  communication  afforded,  was  damped 
by  the  tidings  it  imparted  respecting  Arnold,  as  on 
his  speedy  delivery  depended  Andre's  relief.  The 
interposition  of  sir  Henry  Clinton,  who  was  ex- 
tremely anxious  to  save  his  much  loved  aid-de-camp, 
still  continued ;  and  it  was  expected  the  examination 
of  witnesses  and  the  defence  of  the  prisoner,  would 
protract  the  decision  of  the  court  of  inquiry,  now 
assembled,  and  give  sufficient  time  for  the  consum- 
mation of  the  project  committed  to  Ghampe.  A 
complete  disappointment  took  place  from  a  quarter 
unforeseen  and  unexpected.  The  honorable  and 
accomplished  Andre,  knowing  his  guilt,  disdained 
defence,  and  prevented  the  examination  of  witnesses 
by  confessing  the  character  in  which  he  stood.  On 
the  next  day  (the  2d  of  October)  the  court  again 
assembled ;  when  every  doubt  that  could  possibly 
arise  in  the  case  having  been  removed  by  the  pre- 
vious confession,  Andre  was  declared  to  be  a  spy, 
and  condemned  to  suffer  accordingly. 

The  sentence  was  executed  on  the  subsequent  day 
in  the  usual  form,  the  commander-in-chief  deeming 
it  improper  to  interpose  any  delay.  In  this  decision 
he  was  warranted  by  the  very  unpromising  intelli- 
gence received  from  Chatnpe, — by  the  still  existing 
implication  of  other  officers  in  Arnold's  conspiracy, 
— by  a  due  regard  to  public  opinion, — and  by  real 
tenderness  to  the  condemned. 

Neither  Congress  nor  the  nation  could  have  been 
with  propriety  informed  of  the  cause  of  the  delay, 
and  without  such  information  it  must  have  excited 
ill  both  alarm  and  suspicion.  Andre  himself  could 
not  have  been  entrusted  with  the  secret,  and  would 
consequently  have  attributed  the  unlooked-for  event 
to  the  expostulation  and  exertion  of  sir  Henry  Clin- 
ton, which  would  not  fail  to  produce  in  his  breast 
expectations  of  ultimate  relief;  to  excite  which 
would  have  been  cruel,  as  the  realization  of  such 
expectation  depended  upon  a  possible  but  improba- 
ble contingency.  The  fate  of  Andre,  hastened  by  him- 
self, deprived  the  enterprise  committed  to  Champe 
of  a  feature  which  had  been  highly  prized  by  its 
projector,  and  which  had  very  much  engaged  the 
heart  of  the  individual  chosen  to  execute  it. 

Washington  ordered  major  Lee  to  communicate 
what  had  passed  to  the  sergeant,  with  directions  to 
encourage  him  to  prosecute  with  unrelaxed  vigor 
the  remaining  objects  of  his  instructions,  but  to 
intermit  haste  in  the  execution  only  as  far  as  was 
compatible  with  final  success. 

This  was  accordingly  done  by  the  first  opportu- 
nity, in  the  manner  directed.  Champe  deplored  the 
sad  necessity  which  occurred,  and  candidly  confessed 
that  the  hope  of  enabling  Washington  to  save  the 
life  of  Andre  (who  had  been  the  subject  of  universal 
commiseration  in  the  American  camp)  greatly  con- 
tributed to  remove  the  serious  difficulties  which  op- 
posed his  acceding  to  the  proposition  when  first  pro- 
pounded. Some  documents  accompanied  this  com- 
munication, tending  to  prove  the  innocence  of  the 
accused  general;  they  were  completely  satisfactory, 
and  did  credit  to  the  discrimination,  zeal  and  dili- 
gence of  the  sergeant.  Lee  inclosed  them  immedi- 
ately to  the  commander-in-chief,  who  was  pleased  to 


express  the  satisfaction  he  derived  from  the  informa- 
tion, and  to  order  the  major  to  wait  upon  him  the 
next  day;  when  the  whole  subject  was  re-examined; 
and  the  distrust  heretofore  entertained  of  the  accused 
was  for  ever  dismissed.  Nothing  now  remained  to 
be  done,  but  the  seizure  and  safe  delivery  of  Arnold. 
To  this  object  Champe  gave  his  undivided  attention  : 
and  on  the  19th  October  major  Lee  received  from 
him  a  very  particular  account  of  the  progress  he 
had  made,  with  the  outlines  of  his  plan.  This  was, 
without  delay,  submitted  to  Washington;  with  a 
request  for  a  few  additional  guineas.  The  general's 
letter,  written  0:1  the  same  day  (20th  October), 
evinces  his  attention  to  the  minutire  of  business,  as 
well  as  his  immutable  determination  to  possess  Ar- 
nold alive,  or  not  at  all.  This  was  his  original  in- 
junction, which  he  never  omitted  to  enforce  upon 
every  proper  occasion. 

Major  Lee  had  an  opportunity  in  the  course  of  the 
week  of  writing  to  Champe,  when  he  told  him  that 
the  rewards  which  he  had  promised  to  his  associates 
would  be  certainly  paid  on  the  delivery  of  Arnold ; 
and  in  tiie  meantime,  small  sums  of  money  would  be 
furnished  for  casual  expenses,  it  being  deemed  im- 
proper that  he  should  appear  with  much,  lest  it 
might  lead  to  suspicion  and  detection.  That  five 
guineas  were,  now  sent,  and  that  more  would  follow 
when  absolutely  necessary. 

Ten  days  elapsed  before  Champe  brought  his  mea- 
sures to  conclusion,  when  Lee  received  from  him  his 
final  communication,  appointing  the  third  subsequent 
night  for  a  party  of  dragoons  to  meet  him  at  Hobo- 
ken,  when  he  hoped  to  deliver  Arnold  to  the  officer. 
Champe  had,  from  his  enlistment  into  the  Ameri- 
can legion  (Arnold's  corps),  every  opportunity  he 
could  wish,  to  attend  to  the  habits  of  the  general. 
He  discovered  that  it  was  his  custom  to  return  home 
about  twelve  every  night,  and  that  previous  to 
going  to  bed  he  always  visited  the  garden.  During 
this  visit  the  conspirators  were  to  seize  him,  and 
being  prepared  with  a  gag,  intended  to  have  applied 
the  same  instantly. 

Adjoining  the  house  in  which  Arnold  resided,  and 
in  which  it  was  designed  to  seize  and  gag  him, 
Champe  had  taken  off  several  of  the  palings  and 
replaced  them,  so  that  with  care  and  without  noise 
he  could  readily  open  his  way  to  the  adjoining  alley. 
Into  this  alley  he  meant  to  have  conveyed  his  pri- 
soner, aided  by  his  companion,  one  of  two  associates 
who  had  been  introduced  by  the  friend  to  whom 
Champe  had  been  originally  made  known  by  letter 
from  the  commander-in-chief,  and  with  whose  aid 
and  counsel  he  had  so  far  conducted  the  enterprise. 
His  other  associate  was  with  the  boat  prepared  at 
one  of  the  wharves  on  the  Hudson  river,  to  receive 
the  party. 

Champe  and  his  friend  intended  to  have  placed 
themselves  each  under  Arnold's  shoulder,  and  to 
have  thus  borne  him  through  the  most  unfrequented 
alleys  and  streets  to  the  boat ;  representing  Arnold, 
in  ease  of  being  questioned,  as  a  drunken  soldier 
whom  they  were  conveying  to  the  guard-house. 

When  arrived  at  the  boat  the  difficulties  would  be 
all  surmounted,  there  being  no  danger  nor  obstacle 
in  passing  to  the  Jersey  shore.  These  particulars,  as 
soon  as  known  to  Lee,  were  communicated  to  the 
commander-in-chief,  who  was  highly  gratified  with 
the  much  desired  intelligence.  He  directed  major 
Lee  to  meet  Champe,  and  to  take  care  that  Arnold 
should  not  be  hurt.  The  day  arrived,  and  Lee  with 
a  party  of  dragoons  left  camp  late  in  the  evening, 
with  three  led  accoutred  horses ;  one  for  Arnold, 
one  for  the  sergeant,  and  the  third  for  his  associate, 
never  doubting  the  success  of  the  enterprise,  from 
the  tenor  of  the  last  received  communication.     The 


414 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


party  reached  Hoboken  about  midnight,  where  they 
were  concealed  in  the  adjoining  wood, — Lee  with 
three  dragoons  stationing  himself  near  the  river 
shore.  Hour  after  hour  passed — no  boat  approached. 
At  length  the  day  broke  and  the  major  retired  to 
his  party,  and  with  his  led  horses  returned  to  camp, 
when  he  proceeded  to  headquarters  to  inform  the 
general  of  the  much  lamented  disappointment,  as 
mortifying  as  inexplicable.  Washington  having  pe- 
rused Charnpe's  plan  and  communication,  had  in- 
dulged the  presumption  that  at  length  the  object 
of  his  keen  and  constant  pursuit  was  sure  of  execu- 
tion, and  did  not  dissemble  the  joy  such  conviction 
produced.  He  was  chagrined  at  the  issue,  and  ap- 
prehended that  his  faithful  sergeant  must  have  been 
detected  in  the  last  scene  of  his  tedious  and  difficult 
enterprise. 

In  a  few  days,  Lee  received  an  anonymous  letter 
from  Charnpe's  patron  and  friend,  informing  him 
that  on  the  day  preceding  the  night  fixed  for  the 
execution  of  the  plot,  Arnold  had  removed  his  quar- 
ters to  another  part  of  the  town,  to  superintend  the 
embarkation  of  troops,  preparing  (as  was  rumored) 
for  an  expedition  to  be  directed  by  himself;  and 
that  the  American  legion,  consisting  chiefly  of  Ame- 
rican deserters,  had  been  transferred  from  their  bar- 
racks to  one  of  the  transports ;  it  being  apprehended 
that  if  left  on  shore  until  the  expedition  was  ready, 
many  of  them  might  desert.  Thus  it  happened  that 
John  Champe,  instead  of  crossing  the  Hudson  that 
night,  was  safely  deposited  on  board  one  of  the  fleet 
of  transports,  from  whence  he  never  departed  until 
the  troops  under  Arnold  landed  in  Virginia!  Nor 
was  he  able  to  escape  from  the  British  army  until 
after  the  junction  of  lord  Cornwallis  at  Petersburg, 
when  he  deserted ;  and  proceeding  high  up  into 
Virginia  he  passed  into  North  Carolina  near  the 
Saura  towns,  and  keeping  in  the  friendly  districts 
of  that  state,  safely  joined  the  army  soon  after  it 
had  passed  the  Congaree  in  pursuit  of  Lord  Raw- 
don. 

His  appearance  excited  extreme  surprise  among 
his  former  comrades,  which  was  not  a  little  increased 
when  they  saw  the  cordial  reception  he  met  with 
from  the  late  major,  now  lieutenant-colonel  Lee. 
His  whole  story  soon  became  known  to  the  corps, 
which  reproduced  the  love  and  respect  of  officer  and 
soldier  (heretofore  invariably  entertained  for  the 
sergeant),  heightened  by  universal  admiration  of  his 
late  daring  and  arduous  attempt. 

Champe  was  introduced  to  general  Greene,  who 
very  cheerfully  complied  with  the  promises  made 
by  the  commander-in-chief,  as  far  as  in  his  power ; 
and  having  provided  the  sergeant  with  a  good  horse 
and  money  for  his  journey,  sent  him  to  general 
Washington,  who  munificently  anticipated  every 
desire  of  the  sergeant  and  presented  him  with  his 
discharge  from  further  service,*  lest  he  might,  in 
the  vicissitudes  of  war,  fall  into  the  enemy's  hands ; 
when,  if  recognised,  he  was  sure  to  die  on  a  gibbet. 

FROM  THE  FUNERAL  ORATION  ON  TITE  DEATH  OF  GEN.  WASHING- 
TON,  DELIVERED  AT  THE    REQUEST   OF   CONGRESS. 

How,  my  fellow-citizens,  shall  I  single  to  your 
grateful  hearts  his  pre-eminent  worth!  Where 
sliall  I  begin  in  opening  to  your  view  a  character 
throughout  sublime  ?     Shall  I  speak  of  his  warlike 


*  When  General  "Washington  was  called  by  President  Adams 
to  the  command  of  the  army,  prepared  to  defend  the  conntry 
from  French  hostility,  he  sent  to  Lieutenant-colonel  Lee  to  in- 
quire for  Champe;  being  determined  to  bring  him  into  the 
field  at  the  head  of  a  company  of  infantry. 

Lee  sent  to  Loudon  county,  where  Champe  settled  after  his 
discharge  from  the  army ;  when  he  learned  that  the  gallant 
soldier  had  removed  to  Kentucky,  where  he  soon  after  died. 


achievements,  all  springing  from  obedience  to  his 
country's  will — all  directed  to  his  country's  good? 

Will  you  go  with  me  to  the  banks  of  the  Monon- 
gahela,  to  see  our  youthful  Washington  supporting, 
in  the  dismal  hour  of  Indian  victory,  the  ill-fated 
Br.iddock,  and  saving,  by  his  judgment  and  his  valour, 
the  remains  of  a  defeated  army,  pressed  by  the  con- 
quering savage  foe  ?  Or,  when  oppressed  America, 
nobly  resolving  to  risk  her  all  in  defence  of  her 
violated  rights,  he  was  elevated  by  the  unanimous 
voice  of  Congress  to  the  command  of  her  armies? 
Will  you  follow  him  to  the  high  grounds  of  Boston, 
where,  to  an  undisciplined,  courageous,  and  virtuous 
yeomanry,  his  presence  gave  the  stability  of  system, 
and  infused  the  invincibility  of  love  of  country? 
Or  shall  I  carry  you  to  the  painful  scenes  of  Long 
Island,  York  Island,  and  New  Jersey,  when,  com- 
bating superior  and  gallant  armies,  aided  by  power- 
ful fleets,  and  led  by  chiefs  high  in  the  roll  of  fame, 
he  stood  the  bulwark  of  our  safety,  undismayed  by 
disasters,  unchanged  by  change  of  fortune?  Or  will 
you  view  him  in  the  precarious  fields  of  Trenton, 
where  deep  gloom,  unnerving  every  arm,  reigned 
triumphant  through  our  thinned,  worn  down,  un- 
aided ranks,  himself  unmoved.  Dreadful  was  the 
night.  It  was  about  this  time  of  winter — the  storm 
raged — the  Delaware  rolling  furiously  with  floating 
ice,  forbade  the  approach  of  man.  Washington, 
self-collected,  viewed  the  tremendous  scene.  His 
country  called;  unappalled  by  surrounding  dangers, 
he  passed  to  the  hostile  shore;  he  fought,  he  con- 
quered. The  morning  sun  cheered  the  American 
world.  Our  country  rose  on  the  event,  and  her 
dauntless  chief  pursuing  his  blow,  completed,  in  the 
lawns  of  Princeton,  what  his  vast  soul  had  con- 
ceived on  the  shores  of  the  Delaware. 

Thence  to  the  strong  grounds  of  Morristown,  he 
led  his  small  but  gallant  band;  and  through  an 
eventful  winter,  by  the  high  effort  of  his  genius, 
whose  matchless  force  was  mensurable  only  by  the 
growth  of  difficulties,  he  held  in  check  formidable 
hostile  legions,  conducted  by  a  chief  experienced  in 
the  arts  of  war,  and  famed  for  his  valour  on  the 
ever  memorable  heights  of  Abraham,  where  fell 
Wolfe,  Montcalm,  and  since,  our  much  lamented 
Montgomery,  all  covered  with  glory.  In  this  fortu- 
nate interval,  produced  by  his  masterly  conduct,  our 
fathers,  ourselves,  animated  by.  his  restless  example, 
rallied  around  our  country's  standard,  and  continued 
to  follow  her  beloved  chief  through  the  various 
and  trying  scenes  to  which  the  destinies  of  our  union 
led. 

Who  is  there  that  has  forgotten  the  vales  of 
Brandywine — the  fields  of  Germantown — or  the 
plains  of  Monmouth?  Everywhere  present,  wants 
of  every  kind  obstructing,  numerous  and  valiant 
armies  encountering,  himself  a  host,  he  assuaged  our 
sufferings,  limited  our  privations,  and  upheld  our 
tottering  Republic.  Shall  I  display  to  you  the 
spread  of  the  fire  of  his  soul,  by  rehearsing  the 
praises  of  the  Hero  of  Saratoga,  and  his  much-loved 
compeer  of  the  Carolinas?  No  ;  our  Washington 
wears  not  borrowed  glory.  To  Gates — to  Greene, 
he  gave  without  reserve  the  applause  due  to  their 
eminent  merit ;  and  long  may  the  chiefs  of  Saratoga 
and  of  Eutaw  receive  the  grateful  respect  of  a  grate- 
ful people. 

Moving  in  his  own  orbit,  he  imparted  heat  and 
light  to  his  most  distant  satellites ;  and  combining 
the  physical  and  moral  force  of  all  within  his 
sphere,  with  irresistible  weight  he  took  his  course, 
commiserating  folly,  disdaining  vice,  dismaying 
treason,  and  invigorating  despondency  ;  until  the 
auspicious  hour  arrived,  when,  united  with  the 
intrepid  forces  of  a  potent  and  magnanimous  ally, 


ROYAL  TYLER. 


415 


he  brought  to  submission  the  since  conqueror  of 
India ;  tlms  finishing  his  long  career  of  military 
glory  with  a  lustre  corresponding  to  his  great  name, 
and  in  this  his  last  act  of  war,  affixing  the  seal  of 
fate  to  our  nations  birth. 

***** 

First  in  war,  kirst    in  peace,  and   first  in    toe 

HEARTS   OF    HIS    COUNTRYMEN,  lie    WUS    Second     lo    IlOlie 

in  the  humble  and  endearing  scenes  of  private  life. 
Pious,  just,  humane,  temperate,  and  sincere  urn 
form,  dignified,  and  commanding,  his  example  was 
edifying  to  all  around  linn,  as  were  the  effects  ol  lliat 
example  lasting. 

To  his  equals  he  was  condescending  ;  lo  his  in 
feriors  kind  ;  and  to  the  dear  object  of  his  affections 
exeniplarily  tender.  Correct  throughout,  vice  shud- 
dered in  his  presence,  and  virtue  always  felt  his 
fostering  hand,  the  purity  of  his  private  character 
gave  effulgence  to  his  public  virtues. 

His  last  scene  comported  with  the  whole  tenor  of 
his  life.  Although  in  extreme  pain,  not  a  sigh,  not 
a  groan  escaped  him  ;  and  with  undisturbed  serenity 
he  closed  his  well-spent  life.  Such  was  the  man 
America  has  lost !  Such  was  the  man  for  whom  our 
nation  mourns  1 

EOTAL  TYLER 

Was  a  wit,  a  poet,  and  a  Chief  Justice.  His  life 
certainly  deserves  to  be  narrated  with  more  par- 
ticularity than  it  has  yet  received.  His  writings, 
too,  should  be  collected  and  placed  in  an  accessi- 
ble form.  American  literature  cannot  be  charged 
with  poverty  while  it  has  such  valuables  unin- 
vested in  its  forgotten  repositories. 

Eoyal  Tyler  was  born  in  Boston,  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Faneuil  Hall,  about  the  year  1756.  He 
was  a  Harvard  graduate  of  the  class  of  1776; 
studied  law  in  that  school  of  patriotism,  the  office 
of  John  Adams,  and  was  for  a  short  tune  aide-de- 
camp  to  General  Lincoln,  lie  served  in  the  same 
capacity  in  t lie  suppression  of  Shay's  rebellion  in 
1786;  and  was  employed  in  some  negotiations 
connected  with  that  affair  in  a  visit  to  New  York, 
where  a  comedy  which  lie  had  written  during  his 
military  service  was  produced  on  the  stage.  It 
was  entitled  The  Contrast,  and  has  the  distinc- 
tion of  being  the  first  stage  production  in  which 
the  Yankee  dialect  and  story  telling,  since  so  fa- 
miliar in  the  parts  written  for  Hacked;,  Hill,  and 
others,  was  employed.  It  was  more  than  that; 
it  was  the  first  American  play  which  was  ever 
acted  on  a  regular  stage  by  an  established  compa- 
ny of  comedians.  It  was  played  at  the  old  John 
Street  Theatre  in  New  York,  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Ilallam  and  Henry,  April  16,  1786.*  Its 
success  was  such  as  to  induce  the  author  to  pro- 
duce a  second,  entitled  May  Day,  or  New  York 
in  an  Uproar,  for  the  benefit  of  the  actor  Wig- 
nell  in  the  May  following. 

The  Country  Jonathan,  in  the  Contrast,  on  a 
visit  to  town,  drops  into  the  theatre  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  seeing  '•  ahocuspocus  man,"  and  sits 
out  a  performance  of  the  School  for  Scandal  with- 
out any  notion  that  he  has  visited  a  playhouse. 
On  being  asked  if  he  saw  the  man  with  his  tricks — ■ 
"  Why  I  vow,"  says  he,  "  as  I  was  looking  out 
for  him,  they  lifted  up  a  great  green  cloth,  and  let 
us  look  right  into  the   next  neighbor's  house." 


*  He  gavo  the  copyright  to  the  principal  actor  in  the  piece, 
Vignell,  who  published  it  by  subscription. 


"  Have  you  a  good  many  houses  in  New  York 
made  in  that  ere  way  V  he  asks,  and  is  told  not 
many,  a  but  did  you  see  the  family?  Well,  and 
how  did  you  like  them  V  "  Why,  I  vow,  they 
were  pretty  mucli  like  other  families ; — there  was 
a  poor  good-natured  curse  of  a  husband,  and  a  sad 
rantipole  of  a  wife."  At  the  close,  he  asks  for  his 
money,  as  be  has  not  had  the  show : — "  the  dogs 
a  bit  of  a  sight  have  I  seen,  unless  you  call  listen- 
ing to  people's  private  business  a  sight."* 

Tyler  not  long  after  gained  considerable  repu- 
tation by  his  contributions  to  that  very  pleasant 
newspaper  and  miscellany,  one  of  the  very  best  of 
its  kind  ever  published  in  this  country,  the  Far- 
mer's Weekly  Museum,  published  at  Walpole  in 
New  Hampshire,  by  Isaiah  Thomas  and  David 
Carlisle.  When  Dennie  became  its  editor,  Tyler 
was  called  in  to  assist  him  with  his  contributions 
from  the  shop  of  Messrs.  Colon  and  Spondee,  an 
amusing  melange  of  light  verse  and  entertaining 
social  and  political  squibs,  which  he  had  already 
opened  in  the  journals,  the  Eagle,  at  Hanover,  the 
Federal  Orrery  at  Boston,  and  the  Tablet.  Tyler 
thus  announced  the  project  in  a  parody  of  the 
advertisements  of  the  "Universal  Stores"  of  those 
days. 

VARIETY  STORE. 


to  the  LITERATI. 
Mess.  COLON  &  SPONDEE 

WHOLESALE  DEALERS  IN 

VERSE  PROSE  and  MUSIC, 

Beg    leave    to    inform    the    public 

and  the  learned  in  particular,  that 

— previous  to  the  ensuing 

COMMENCEMENT— 

They  purpose  to  open  a  fresh  Assortment  of 
Lcxograpluc,  Bur'gursdician,  th  Parnassian 

GOODS, 

SUITABLE  FOR  THE  SEASON, 

_At  the  Room  on  the  Plain, f  lately  occupied 

by  Mr.  Frcderic  Wiser,  Tonsor, 

if  it  can  be  procured 

Where  they  will  expose  to  Sale 

OALUTATORY  and  Valedictory  Orations,  Syllo- 
^  gistic  and  Forensic  Disputations  and  Dialogues 
among  the  living  and  the  dead — Theses  and  Masters, 
Questions,  Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  Syriac,  Arabic  and 
the  ancient  Coptic,  neatly  modified  into  Dialogues, 
Orations  <fcc.  on  the  shortest  notice — with  Disserta- 
tions on  the  Targum  and  Talmud,  and  Collations 
after  the  manner  of  Kennicott — Hebrew  roots  and 
other  simples — Dead  Languages  for  living  Drones — 
Oriental  Languages  with  or  without  points,  prefixes, 
or  suffixes — Attic,  Doric,  Ionic,  and  jEolic  Dialects, 
with  the  Wabash,  Onondaga,  and  Mohawk  Guttur- 
als— Synakephas,  Elisions,  and  Ellipses  of  the  newest 
cut — v's  added  and  dove-tailed  to  their  vowels,  witli 
a  small  assortment  of  the  genuine  Peloponnesian  Na- 
sal Twangs — -Classic  Compliments  adapted  to  all 
dignities,  with  superlatives  in  o,  and  gerunds  in  di, 
gratia — Monologues,  Dialogues,  Trialogues,  Tetra- 
logues,  and  so  on  from  one  to  twenty  logues. 

Anagrams,  Acrostics,  Anacreontics;  Chro- 
nograms,  Epigrams,   Hudibrastics,   &   Panegyrics  ; 


*  Dunlap's  History  of  tho  American  Theatre,  pp.  T2-3. 
t  At  Hanover,  N.  H. 


410 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Rebusses,  Charades,  Puns,  and  Conundrums,  by  the 
gross  or  single  dozen.  Sonnets,  Elegies,  Epithalami- 
ums ;  Bucolics,  Georgies,  Pastorals ;  Epic  Poems, 
Dedications,  and  Adulatory  Prefaces,  in  verse  and 
prose. 

Ether,  Mist,  Sleet,  Rain,  Snow,  Lightning, 
and  Thunder,  prepared  and  personified,  after  the 
manner  of  Delia  Crusca,  will)  a  quantity  of  Brown. 
Horror,  Blue  Fear  and  Child  Begetting  Love,  from 
the  same  Manufactory;  with  a  pleasing  variety  of 
high-colored,     Compound    Epithets,    well   assorted 

Farragoes",   aud    other  Bruuoniau  Opiates — 

Anti-Institutes,  or  the  new  and  concise  patent  mode 
of  applying  forty  letters  to  the  spelling  of  a  monosyl- 
lable— Love  Letters  by  the  Ream — Summary  Argu- 
ments, both  Merry  and  Serious — Sermons,  moral,  oc- 
casional, or  polemical — Sermons  for  Texts,  and  Texts 
for  Sermons — Old  Orations  scoured,  Forensics  fur- 
bished, Blunt  Epigrams  newly  pointed,  and  cold 
Conferences  hashed ;  with  Extemporaneous  Prayers 
corrected  and  amended — Alliterations  artfully  allied 
— and  periods  polished  to  perfection. 

Aims,  Canons,  Catches,  and  Cantatas  — 
Fuges,  Overtures,  and  Symphonies  for  any  number 

of  Instruments ■ Serenades  for  Nocturnal  Lovers 

— with  Rrjse  Trees  full  blown,  and  Black  Jokes  of  all 

colours Aniens  and  Hallelujahs,  trilled,  quavered, 

and  slurred with  Couplets,  Syncopations,  Minims 

and  Crotchet  Rests,  for  female  voices and  Solos 

"with  three  parts,  for  hand  organs. 

Classic  College  Bows,  clear  starched, 
lately  imported  from  Cambridge,  and  now  used  by 
all  the  topping  scientific  connoisseurs,  in  hair  and 
wigs,  in  this  country. 

Adventures,  Paragraphs,  Letters  from 
Correspondents,  Country  Seats  for  Rural  Members 
of  Congress,  provided  for  Editors  of  Newspapers— 
with  Accidental  Deaths,' Battles,  Bloody  Murders, 
Premature  News,  Tempests,  Thunder  and  Lightning, 
and  Hail-Stones,  of  all  dimensions,  adapted  to  the 
Season. 

Circles  Squared,  and  Mathematical  points 
divided  into  quarters,  and  half  shares  ;  and  jointed 
Assymptotes,  which  will  meet  at  any  given  distance. 

Syllogisms  in  Bocardo,  and  Baralipton ; 
Serious  Cautions  against  Drunkenness,  &c,  and  other 
coarse  Wrapping-Paper,  gratis,  to  those  who  buy  the 
smallest  article. 


On  hand  a  few  Tierces  of  Attic  Salt- Also, 

Cash,  and  the  highest  price,  given  f 'or  Raw  Wit,  for  the 
use  of  the  Manufactory,  or  taken  in  exchange  for  the 
above  Articles. 

Tyler  also  published  a  series  of  papers  with  the 
title,  An  Author's  Evenings,  in  the  Port  Folio  for 
1801,  and  subsequently.  A  liberal  collection  of 
these  papers  is  included  in  a  volume  published  by 
Thomas  and  Thomas  tit  Walpole  in  1801,  enti- 
tled The  Spirit  of  the  Farmer's  Museum,  an/1  Lay 
Preacher's  Gazette.  Tyler  was  at  that  time  an 
attorney  in  Guilford,  Vermont.  His  facility  in 
verse  in  these  compositions  was  remarkable. 
He  had  great  command  of  versification  aud  an 
abundant  fund  of  impromptu  humor.  His  "Colon 
and  Spondee"  articles  are  divided  between  Fede- 
ral politics,  attacks  on  French  democracy,  the 
Delia  Cruscan  literature,  and  the  fashionable  fri- 
volities of  the  day.  The  paragraphs  in  prose 
show  the  author's  wit,  taste  in  literature,  and 
strongly  marked  opinions  of  the  federal  school 
in  politics. 

In  1797,  he  wrote  a  comedy  in  three  acts,  The 


Georgia  Spec,  or  Land  in  the  Moon,  in  ridicule 
of  a  speculating  mama  for  wild  Yazoo  lands. 
It  was  repeatedly  performed  in  Boston  with  suc- 
cess. He  wrote  some  other  dramatic  produc- 
tions, but  none  of  them  have  been  published. 

In  1797  appeared  from  the  press  of  David  Car- 
lisle, at  Walpole,  in  two  volumes,  his  Algerine 
Captive;  or  the  Life  and  Adventures  of  Doctor 
UpdAke  Underhill :  six  years  a  prisoner  among 
the  Algerines.  It  is  dedicated  to  the  poet  Hum- 
phreys. This  work  is  said  to  have  been  mistaken 
by  an  English  critic  for  a  narrative  of  actual  ad- 
venture. It  is  a  fictitious  book  of  memoirs,  in 
which  the  author  ventilates  his  opinions  on  vari- 
ous topics  of  American  society,  paints  the  hor- 
rors of  the  slave  trade  and  the  now  almost 
incomprehensible  grievances  which  the  European 
and  American  powers  for  a  long  time  endured 
from  the  assumptions  of  the  Algerines.  In  the 
close  of  the  work  there  are  some  sketches  of  Ma- 
hometanism.  The  book  is  written  in  short  chap- 
ters with  spirit  and  neatness  of  style.  There  is 
quite  enough  ingenuity  in  the  thought,  coupled 
with  the  descriptions  of  the  manners  of  the  times, 
to  redeem  this  work  from  the  neglect  into  which 
it  has  fallen.  Though  printed  in  at  least  a  second 
American  edition,  it  is  now  eN'ceedingly  scaroe. 

In  17U9,  he  composed  a  Fourth  of  July  ode  for 
the  public  celebration  of  the  day  at  Windsor, 
Vermont,  and  a  convivial  song  for  the  same  oc- 
casion. He  was  frequently  called  upon  for  these 
services,  and  for  the  occasional  prologues  in  vogue 
at  charitable  and  other  theatrical  benefits. 

The  Fourth  of  July  ode  is  fluent,  but  not  over 
vigorous.  A  stanza  will  show  its  sentiment  for 
the  times :  — 

When  haughty  Britons  strove  in  vain 
To  bind  our  land  with  slavery's  chain, 
Our  fathers  drew  their  warlike  swords. 
Our  fathers  drew  their  warlike  swords. 

Immortal  fields  of  Bennington, 

Attest  the  laurels  which  they  won. 

Now  faithless  France,  with  impious  hand, 
Strikes  at  the  glory  of  our  land — 
To  arms !  to  arms !  each  hardy  son, 
And  earn  the  fame  your  sires  have  won. 

The  Convivial  Song  in  the   evening  has  more 
spirit  in  it — ■ 

Here's  Washington,  the  brave,  boys, 

Source  of  all  Columbia's  joys, 
Here's  Washington,  the  brave,  boys, 
Come  rise  and  toast  him  standing : 
For  he's  the  hero  firm  and  brave, 
Who  all  our  country's  glory  gave, 
And  once  again  he  shall  us  save, 
Our  armies  bold  commanding. 

Here's  to  our  native  land,  boys, 

Land  of  liberty  and  joys, 
Here's  to  our  native  land,  boys, 
Your  glasses  raise  for  drinking; 

And  he  that  will  no*t  drink  this  toast, 
May  he  in  France  of  freedom  boast, 
There  dangling  on  a  lantern  post, 
Or  in  the  Rhone  be  sinking. 

In  1804  we  notice  Tyler  as  a  contributor  of 
verses  to  the  Columbian  Cerdinel. 

In  1800,  and  for  several  successive  years,  he 
was  elected  by  the  Legislature  of  Vermont  Chief 
Justice  of  the  Superior  Court.  In  1809  he  pub- 
lished two  volumes  of  Reports  of  Cases  in  the 


ROYAL  TYLER. 


417 


Supreme  Court  of  Vermont.  He  still  continued 
to  write  for  the  journals,  in  the  Port  Folio,  and 
other  quarters.  Some  of  his  latest  productions 
appeared  in  the  New  England  Galaxy. 

In  1806  he  was  a  contributor  to  Buckingham's 
monthly  periodical,  The  Polyanthus,  of  the 
papers  entitled  "Trash,"  and  a  number  of  fugi- 
tive poetical  pieces,  and  again  on  the  revival  of 
the  publication  in  1812.* 

The  last  portion  of  this  life  of  literary  gaiety 
was  melancholy.  Judge  Tyler  died  at  Brattleboro', 
Vermont,  Angust  16,  1826,  having  suffered  for 
several  years  from  a  cancer  in  the  face.t 

FROM  THE  6nOP  OF  MESSRS.  COLON    AND  SPONDEE. 

Address  to  Della  Crusca,  hunihly  attempted  in  tlie  sullimd 
style  of  that  fashionable  author. 

O  thou,  who,  with  thy  blue  cerulean  blaze, 
Hast  circled  Europe's  brow  with  lovelorn  praise; 
Whose  magic  pea  its  gelid  lightning  throws, 
Is  now  a  sunbeam,  now  a  fragrant  rose. 
Child  of  the  dappl'd  spring,  whose  green  delight, 
Drinks,  with  her  snowdrop  lips,  the  dewy  light. 
Son  of  the  summer's  bland,  prolific  rays, 
Who  sheds  her  loftiest  treasures  in  thy  lays ; 
Who  swells  her  golden  lips  to  trump  thy  name, 
Which  sinks  to  whispers,  at  thy  azure  fame. 
Brown  autumn  nurs'd  thee  with  her  dulcet  dews, 
And  lurid  winter  rock'd  thy  cradled  muse. 
Seasons  and  suns,  and  spangl'd  systems  roll, 
Like  atoms  vast,  beneath  thy  "  cloud  capt"  souL 
Time  wings  its  panting  flight  in  hurried  chase, 
But  sinks  in  dew  dropt  languor  in  the  immortal 
race. 
0  thou,  whose  soul  the  nooky  Britain  scorns  ; 
Whose  white  cliffs  tremble,  when  thy  genius  storms. 
The  sallow  Afrie,  with  her  curl'd  domains, 
And  purpled  Asia  with  her  muslin  plains, 
And  surgy  Europe — vain — thy  soul  confiu'd 
Which  rills  all  space — and  e'en  Matilda's  mlnd  1 
Anna's  capacious  mind,  which  all  agree, 
Contain' d  a  wilderness  of  words  in  thee. 
More  happy  thou  than  Macedonia's  Lord, 
Who  wept  for  \vorld3  to  feed  his  famish'd  sword, 
Fatigu'd  by  attic  conquest  of  the  old, 
Fortune  to  thee  a  novel  world  unfolds. 
Come,  mighty  conqueror,  thy  foes  disperse; 
Let  loose  "  thy  epithets,"  those  dogs  op  verse  ; 
Draw  forth  thy  gorgeous  sword  of  da-.nask'd  rhyme, 
And  ride  triumphant  through  Columbia's  clime, 
Till  sober  lettered  sense  shall  dying  smile, 
Before  the  mighty  magic  of  thy  style. 
What  tawny  tribes  in  dusky  forest  wait, 
To  grace  the  ovation  of  thy  victor  state. 
What  oeher'd  chiefs,  vcrmillion'd  by  thy  sword, 
Mark'd  by  thy  epithets,  shall  own  thee  lord. 
The  punie  Creek,  and  nigrilied  Choctaw, 
The  high  bo  1'd  Wabash,  and  bland  hanging  Maw; 
Great  Little  Billy,  PiamingO  brave, 
With  pity's  dew  drops  wet  M'Gilvery's  grave. 
What  sonorous  streams  meander  through  thy  lays. 
What  lakes  shall  bless  thy  rich  bequest  of  praise, 
Rough  Hockhocking,  and  gentle  Chicago, 
The  twin  Miamis — placid  Scioto. 
How  will  Ohio  roll  his  lordly  stream, 
What  blue  mists  dance  upon  the  liquid  scene, 
Gods!  how  sublime  shall  Delia  Crusea  range, 
When  all  Niagara  cataracts  tiiy  page. 
What  arts?  What  arms?  Unknown  to  thee  belong? 
What  ruddy  scalps  shall  deck  thy  sanguia'd  song  ? 


*  Buckingham's  Personal  Memoirs,  i.  DG,  50. 

J  Uaclunjcham's  Specimens  of  Newspaper  Literature.    Kct- 
tell's  Specimens. 
VOL.  1. — 2  7 


What  fumy  cal'mets  scent  the  ambient  air, 
What  lovelorn  Warhoops,  CAPITALS  declare 
Cerulean  tomahawks  shall  grace  each  line, 
And  blue  ey'd  wampum  glisten  through  thy  rhyme, 
Rise,  Delia  Crusea,  prince  of  bards  sublime, 
And  pour  on  us  whole  cataracts  of  rhyme. 
Son  of  the  sun,  arise,  whose  brightest  rays, 
All  merge  to  tapers  in  thy  ignite  blaze. 
Like  some  colossus,  stride  the  Atlantic  o'er, 
A  leg  of  genius  place  on  either  shore, 
Extend  thy  red  right  arm  to  either  wmrld ; 
Be  the  proud  standard  of  thy  style  unfurl'd ; 
Proclaim  thy  sounding  page,  from  shore  to  shore, 
And  swear  that  sense  in  verse,  shall  be  no  more. 

Della  Yankee. 

from  the  shop  of  messrs.  colon  and  8p0ndee. 
Spondee's  Mistresses. 
I. 
Let  Cowley  soft  in  am'rous  verse 
The  rovings  of  his  love  rehearse, 

With  passion  most  unruly, 
Boast  how  he  woo'd  sweet  Amoret, 
The  sobbing  Jane,  and  sprightly  Bet, 
The  lily  fair  and  smart  brunette, 
In  sweet  succession  truly. 

n. 
But  list,  ye  lovers,  and  you'll  swear, 
I  rov'd  with  him  beyond  compare, 

And  was  far  more  unlucky. 
For  never  yet  in  Yankee  coast 
Were  found  such  girls,  wdio  so  could  boast. 
An  honest  lover's  heart  to  roast, 

From  Casco  to  Kentucky. 

m. 
When  first  the  girls  nicknam'd  me  beau, 
■   And  I  was  all  for  dress  and  show, 
I  set  me  out  a  courting. 
A  romping  Miss,  with  heedless  art, 
First  caught,  then  almost  broke,  my  heart, 
Miss  Conduct  nam'd,  we  soon  did  part, 
I  did  not  like  such  sporting. 

IV. 

The  next  coquet,  who  rais'd  a  flame, 
Was  far  more  grave,  and  somewhat  lame 

She  in  my  heart  did  rankle. 
She  conquer'd,  with  a  sudden  glance, 
The  spiteful  slut  was  called  Mrss  Chance  ; 
I  took  the  gypsy  out  to  dance  ; 

She  almost  broke  my  ankle. 

v. 
A  thoughtless  girl,  just  in  her  teens, 
Was  the  next  fair,  whom  Love  it  seems 

Had  made  me  prize  most  highly, 
I  thought  to  court  a  lovely  mate, 
But,  how  it  made  my  heart  to  ache, 
It  was  that  jade,  the  vile  Miss  Take; 

In  troth,  Love  did  it  slyly. 

VI. 

And  last,  Miss  Fortune,  whimpering,  came, 
Cur'd  me  of  Love's  tormenting  flame, 

And  all  my  beau  pretences. 
In  Widow's  Weeds,  the  prude  appears  ; 
See  now — she  drowns  me  with  her  tears, 
With  bony  fist,  now  slaps  my  ears, 

And  brings  me  to  my  senses. 

FROM  TnE  SHOP  OF  MESSRS.  COLON  AND    SPONDEE. 

Ode  composed  for  the  Fourth  of  July,  calculated  for  the  meri- 
dian of  some  country  towns  in  Massachusetts,  and  Iiyo 
in  New  Hampshire. 

Squeak  the  fife,  and  beat  the  drum, 
Independence  day  is  come  I  1 


418 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN"  LITERATURE. 


Let  the  roasting  pig  be  bled. 

Quick  twist  off  the  cockerel's  head. 

Quickly  rub  the  pewter  platter, 

Heap  the  uutcakes  fried  in  butter. 

Set  the  cups,  and  beaker  glass, 

The  pumpkin,  and  the  apple  sauce, 

Send  the  keg  to  shop  for  brandy  ; 

Maple  sugar  we  have  handy, 

Independent,  staggering  Dick, 

A  noggin  mix  of  swinging  thick, 

Sal,  put  on  your  russel  skirt, 

Jotham,  get  your  boughten  shirt, 

To  day  we  dance  to  tiddle  diddle. 

— Here  comes  Sambo  with  his  fiddle ; 

Sambo,  take  a  dram  of  whisky, 

And  piny  up  Yankee  doodle  frisky. 

Moll,  come  leave  your  witched  tricks. 

And  let  us  have  a  reel  of  six. 

Father  and  mother  shall  mr.ke  two  ; 

Sail,  Moll  and  I  stand  all  a  row, 

Sambo,  play  and  dance  with  quality ; 

This  is  the  day  of  blest  Equality. 

Father  and  mother  are  but  men, 

.And  Sambo — is  a  Citizen, 

Come  foot  it,  Sal — Moll,  figure  in, 

And  mother,  you  dance  up  to  him ; 

How  saw  as  fast  as  e'er  you  can  do, 

And  Father,  you  cross  o'er  to  Sambo. 

— Thus  we  dance,  and  thus  we  play, 

On  glorious  Independent  day. — 

Rub  more  rosin  on  your  bow, 

And  let  us  have  another  go. 

Zounds,  as  sure  as  eggs  and  bacon, 

Here's  ensign  Sneak,  and  uncle  Deacon, 

Aunt  Thiah,  and  their  Bets  behind  her 

On  blundering  mare,  than  beetle  blinder. 

And  there's  the  'Squire  too  with  his  lady — 

Sal,  hold  the  beast,  I'll  take  the  baby. 

Moll,  bring  the  'Squire  our  great  arm  chair, 

Good  folks,  we're  glad  to  see  you  here. 

Jotham,  get  the  great  case  bottle, 

Your  teeth  can  pull  its  corn  cob  stopple. 

Ensign, — Deacon,  never  mind ; 

Squire,  drink  until  you're  blind ; 

Come,  here's  the  French — and  Guillotine, 

And  here  is  good  'Squire  Gallatin, 

And  here's  each  noisy  Jacobin. 

Here's  friend  Madison  so  hearty, 

And  here's  confusion  to  the  treaty. 

Come,  one  more  swig  to  southern  Demos 

Who  represent  our  brother  negroes. 

Thus  we  drink  and  dance  away, 

This  glorious  IndependentDay! 

LOVE  AND   LIBERTY. 

In  briery  dell  or  thicket  brown, 

On  mountain  high,  in  lowly  vale, 
Or  where  the  thistle  sheds  its  down, 

And  sweet  fern  scents  the  passing  gale. 
There  hop  the  birds  from  bush  to  tree  ; 
Love  fills  their  throats, 
Love  swells  their  note3, 
Their  song  is  love  and  liberty. 
No  parent  birds  their  love  direct; 

Each  seeks  his  fair  in  plumy  throng; 
Caught  by  the  lustre  of  her  neck, 

Or  kindred  softness  of  her  song. 
They  sing  and  bill  from  bush  to  tree; 
Love  fills  their  throats, 
Love  swells  their  notes, 
Their  song  is  love  and  liberty. 
Some  airy  songster's  feathered  shape, 

O!  could  my  love  and  I  assume — 
The  ring-dove's  glossy  neck  he  take, 

And  I  the  modest  turtle's  plume ; 


0  then  we'd  sing  from  bush  to  tree : 

Love  fill  our  throats, 

Love  swell  our  notes, 
Our  song  be  love  and  liberty. 

TEE    AUTHOR    KEEPETH    A    COUNTRY  SCHOOL:    THE    ANTICIPA- 
TIONS, PLEASURES,  AND    PROFITS   OF  A   PEDAGOGUE.* 

Delightful  task  [  to  rear  tbe  tender  thought, 
To  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot. 
To  pour  the  fresh  instruction  o'er  the  mind, 
To  breathe  th'  entivning  tpirit,  and  to  fix 
The  generous  purpose  in  the  glowing  breast 

Thomson "6  Seasons. 

By  our  minister's  recommendation,  I  was  engaged 
to  keep  a  school,  in  a  neighbouring  town,  so  soon  as 
our  fail's  work  was  over. 

How  my  heart  dilated  with  the  prospect,  in  the 
tedious  interval,  previous  to  my  entering  upon  my 
school.  How  often  have  I  stood  suspended  over  my 
dung  fork,  and  anticipated  my  scholars,  seated  in 
awful  silence  around  me,  my  arm  chair  and  birchen 
sceptre  of  authority.  There  was  an  echo  in  my 
father's  sheep  pasture.  More  than  once  have  I 
repaired  there  alone,  and  exclaimed  with  a  loud 
voice,  is  master  I'pdike  Underbill  at  home?  I 
would  speak  with  master.  Underbill,  for  the  pleasure 
of  hearing  how  my  title  sounded.  Dost  thou  smile, 
indignant  reader  ?  pause  and  recollect  if  these  sensa- 
tions have  not  been  familiar  to  thee,  at  some  time  in 
thy  life.  If  thou  answerest  disdainfully. — no — then 
I  aver  thou  hast  never  been  a  corporal  in  militia,  or 
a  sophomore  at  college. 

At  times,  I  however  entertained  less  pleasing,  but 
more  rational  contemplations  on  my  prospects.  As 
I  had  been  once  unmercifully  whipt,  for  detecting 
my  master  in  a  false  concord,  I  resolved  to  be  mild 
in  my  government,  to  avoid  all  manual  corrections, 
and  doubted  not  by  these  means  to  secure  the  love 
and  respect  of  my  pupils. 

In  the  interim  of  school  hours,  and  in  those  peace- 
ful intervals,  when  my  pupils  were  engaged  in 
study,  I  hoped  to  indulge  myself  with  my  favourite 
Greek.  I  expected  to  be  overwhelmed  with  the 
gratitude  of  their  parents,  for  pouring  the  fresh  in- 
struction over  the  minds  of  their  children,  and 
teaching  their  young  ideas  how  to  shoot.  I  antici- 
pated independence  from  my  salary,  which  was  to 
be  equal  to  four  dollars,  hard  money,  per  month, 
and  my  boarding;  and  expected  to  find  amusement 
and  pleasure  among  the  circles  of  the  young,  and  to 
derive  information  and  delight  from  the  classic  con- 
verse of  the  minister. 

In  due  time  my  ambition  was  gratified,  and  I 
placed  at  the  head  of  a  school,  consisting  of  about 
sixty  scholars.  Excepting  three  or  four  overgrown 
boys  of  eighteen,  the  generality  of  them  were  under 
the  age  of  seven  years.  Perhaps  a  more  ragged, 
ill  bred,  ignorant  set,  never  were  collected,  for  the 
punishment  of  a  poor  pedagogue.  To  study  in 
school  was  impossible.  Instead  of  the  silence  I  an- 
ticipated, there  was  an  incessant  clamour.  Predomi- 
nant among  the  jarring  sounds  were,  Sir,  may  I 
read?  May  I  spell?  Master,  may  I  go  out?  Will 
master  mend  my  pen?  What  with  the  pouting  of 
the  small  children,  6ent  to  school,  not  to  learn,  but 
to  keep  them  out  of  "  harm's  way,"  and  the  gruff, 
surly  complaints  of  the  larger  ones,  I  was  nearly 
distracted.  Homer's  poluphlosboio  thalasscs,  roaring 
sea,  was  a  whisper  to  it.  My  resolution,  to  avoid 
beating  of  them,  made  me  invent  small  punishments, 
which  often  have  a  salutary  impression  on  delicate 
minds;  but  they  were  insensible  to  shame.  The 
putting  of  a  paper  fool's  cap  on  one,  and  ordering 
another  under  my  great  chair,  only  excited  mirth  in 

*  From  the  Algerine  Captive. 


ROYAL  TYLER. 


419 


the  school ;  which  the  very  delinquents  themselves 
often  increased,  by  loud  peals  of  laughter.  Going, 
one  frosty  morning,  into  my  school,  1  found  one  of 
the  larger  buys  sitting  by  the  fire  in  my  arm  chair. 
I  gently  requested  him  to  remove.  He  replied  that 
he  would,  when  he  had  warmed  himself;  "  father 
finds  wood,  and  not  you."  To  have  my  throne 
usurped,  in  the  face  of  the  whole  school,  shook  my 
government  to  the  centre.  I  immediately  snatched 
my  two  foot  rule,  and  laid  it  pretty  smartly  across 
his  back.  He  quitted  the  chair,  muttering  that  he 
would  tell  father.  I  found  his  threats  of  more  con- 
sequence than  I  apprehended.  The  same  afternoon, 
a  tall,  rawboned  man  called  me  to  the  door;  imme- 
diately collaring  me  with  one  hand,  and  holding  a 
cart  whip  over  my  head  with  the  other ;  and  with 
fury  in  his  face,  he  vowed  he  would  whip  the  skin 
from  my  bones,  if  ever  I  struck  Jotham  again :  ay, 
he  would  do  it  that  very  moment,  if  he  was  not 
afraid  I  would  take  the  law  of  him.  This  was  the 
only  instance  of  the  overwhelming  gratitude  of 
parents  I  received.  The  next  day,  it  was  reported 
all  over  town,  what  a  cruel  man  the  master  was. 
"Poor  Jotham  came  into  school,  half  frozen  and 
near  fainting;  master  had  been  sitting  a  whole  hour 
by  the  warm  fire;  he  only  begged  him  to  let  him 
warm  himself  a  little,  when  the  master  rose  in  a 
rage  and  cut  open  his  head  with  the  tongs,  and  his 
life  was  despaired  of." 

Fatigued  with  the  vexations  of  my  school,  I  one 
evening  repaired  to  the  tavern,  and  mixed  with 
some  of  the  young  men  of  the  town.  Their  conver- 
sation I  could  not  relish;  mine  they  could  not  com- 
prehend. The  subject  of  race-horses  being  intro- 
duced, I  ventured  to  descant  upon  Xanthus,  the  im- 
mortal courser  of  Achilles.  They  had  never  heard 
of  'squire  Achilles,  or  his  horse;  but  they  offered  to 
bet  two  to  one,  that  Bajazet,  the  Old  Roan,  or  the 
deacon's  mare,  Pumpkin  and  Milk,  would  beat  him, 
and  challenged  me  to  appoint  time  and  place. 

Nor  was  I  more  acceptable  among  the  young  wo- 
men. Being  invited  to  spend  an  evening,  after  a 
quilting,  I  thought  this  a  happy  opportunity  to  in- 
troduce Andromache,  the  wife  of  the  great  Hector, 
at  her  loom;  and  Penelope,  the  faithful  wife  of 
Ulysses,  weaving  her  seven  years'  web.  This  was 
received  with  a  stupid  stare,  until  I  mentioned  the 
long  time  the  queen  of  Ulysses  was  weaving;  when 
a  smart  young  woman  observed,  that  she  supposed 
Miss  Penelope's  3'arn  was  rotted  in  whitening,  that 
m;ide  her  so  long:  and  then  told  a  tedious  story  of 
a  piece  of  cotton  and  linen  she  had  herself  woven, 
under  the  same  circumstances.  She  had  no  sooner 
finished,  than,  to  enforce  my  observations,  I  recited 
above  forty  lines  of  Greek,  from  the  Odyssey,  and 
then  began  a  dissertation  on  the  ccenura.  In  the 
midst  of  my  harangue,  a  florid-faced  young  man, 
at  the  further  end  of  the  room,  with  two  large  pro- 
minent foreteeth,  remarkably  white,  began  to  sing — 

Fire  upon  the  mountains,  run,  boys,  run ; 

And  immediately  the  whole  company  rushed  for- 
ward, to  see  who  should  get  a  chance  in  the  reel  of 
six. 

I  was  about  retiring,  fatigued  and  disgusted,  when 
it  was  hinted  to  me,  that  I  might  wait  on  Miss  Mima 
home ;  but  as  I  could  recollect  no  word  in  the  Greek, 
which  would  construe  into  bundling,  or  any  of 
Homer's  heroes,  who  got  the  bag,  I  declined.  In  the 
Latin,  it  is  true,  that  ^Eneas  and  Dido,  in  the  cave, 
seem  something  like  a  precedent.  It  was  reported 
all  over  the  town,  the  next  day,  that  master  was  a 
popish,  as  he  had  talked  French  two  hours. 

Disappointed  of  recreation  among  the  young,  my 
next  object  was  the  minister.     Here  I  expected  plea- 


sure and  profit.  He  had  spent  many  years  in  preach- 
ing, for  the  edification  of  private  families,  and  was 
settled  in  the  town,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm  ;  when  the 
people  drove  away  a  clergyman,  respectable  for  his 
years  and  learning.  This  he  was  pleased  to  call  an 
awakening.  He  lectured  me,  at  the  first  onset,  for 
not  attending  the  conference  and  night  meetings; 
talked  much  of  gifts,  and  decried  human  learning, 
as  carnal  and  devilish,  and  well  he  might,  he  cer- 
tainly was  under  no  obligations  to  it ;  for  a  new 
singing  master  coming  into  town,  the  young  people, 
by  their  mdster's  advice,  were  for  introducing  Dr. 
Watts's  version  of  the  Psalms.  Although  I  argued 
with  the  minister  an  hour,  lie  remains  firmly  con- 
vinced, to  this  day,  that  the  version  of  Sternhold 
and  Hopkins  is  the  same  in  language,  letter  and 
metre,  with  those  Psalms  King  David  chauuted,  in 
the  city  of  Jerusalem. 

As  for  the  independence  I  had  founded  on  my 
wages,  it  vanished,  like  the  rest  of  my  scholastic 
prospects.  I  had  contracted  some  debts.  My  re- 
quest for  present  payment,  was  received  with 
astonishment.  I  found  I  was  not  to  expect  it,  until 
the  next  autumn,  and  then  not  in  cash,  but  produce ; 
to  become  my  own  collector,  and  to  pick  up  my 
dues,  half  a  peck  of  corn  or  rye  in  a  place. 

I  was  almost  distracted,  and  yearned  for  the  ex- 
piration of  my  contract,  when  an  unexpected  period 
was  put  to  my  distress.  News  was  brought,  that, 
by  the  carelessness  of  the  boys,  the  school-house  was 
burnt  down.  The  common  cry  now  was,  that  I 
ought,  in  justice,  to  pay  for  it;  as  to  my  want  of 
proper  government  the  carelessness  of  the  boys 
ought  to  be  imputed.  The  beating  of  Jotham  was 
forgotten,  and  a  thousand  stories  of  my  want  of  pro- 
per spirit  circulated.  These  reports,  and  even  the 
loss  of  a  valuable  Gradus  ad  Pamassum,  did  not 
damp  my  joy.  I  am  sometimes  led  to  believe,  that 
my  emancipation  from  real  slavery  in  Algiers,  did 
not  afford  me  sincerer  joy,  than  1  experienced  at 
that  moment. 

I  returned  to  my  father,  who  received  me  with 
kindness.  My  mother  heard  the  story  of  my  dis- 
comfitures with  transport ;  as,  she  said,  she  had  no 
doubt  that  her  dream,  about  uiy  falling  into  the 
hands  of  savages,  was  now  out. 


ANECDOTES    OF    DE.   BENJAMIN   FRANELIN',   WHOM  THE  AUTHOE 
VISITS   IN   PniLADELPUIA. 

One  not  vers'd  in  schools, 
But  strong  in  sense,  and  wise  without  the  rules. 

Pope. 

I  carried  a  request  to  the  late  Doctor  Benjamin 
Franklin,  then  president  of  the  state  of  Pennsylva- 
nia, for  certain  papers,  I  was  to  deliver  further 
southward.  I  anticipated  much  pleasure,  from  the 
interview  with  this  truly  great  man :  To  see  one, 
who,  from  small  beginnings,  by  the  sole  exertion 
of  native  genius,  and  indefatigable  industry,  had 
raised  himself  to  the  pinnacle  of  polities  and  letters; 
a  man,  who,  from  an  humble  porter's  boy,  had  ele- 
vated himself  to  be  the  desirable  companion  of  the 
great  ones  of  the  earth :  who,  from  trundling  a 
wheelbarrow  in  bye  lanes,  had  been  advanced  to 
pass  in  splendour  through  the  courts  of  kings;  and, 
from  hawking  vile  ballads,  to  the  contracting  and 
signing  treaties,  which  gave  peace  and  independence 
to  three  millions  of  his  fellow  citizens,  was  a  sight 
interesting  in  the  extreme. 

I  found  the  doctor  surrounded  by  company,  most 
of  whom  were  j'oung  people.  He  received  me  with 
the  attention  due  to  a  young  stranger.  He  dispatch- 
ed a  person  for  the  papers  I  wanted ;  asked  me 
politely  to  be  seated;  inquired  after  the  family  I 
sprang  from ;  and  told  me  a  pleasing  anecdote  of  my 


420 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN"  LITERATURE 


biave  ancestor,  Captain  Underbill.  I  found,  in  the 
doctor,  all  that  simplicity  of  language,  which  is  re- 
markable in  the  fragment  of  his  life,  published  since 
his  decease;  and  which  was  conspicuous  in  my 
medical  preceptor.  I  have  since  been  in  a  room  a 
few  hours  with  Governour  Jay,  of  New  York;  have 
heard  of  the  late  Governour  Livingston,  of  New 
Jersey ;  and  am  now  confirmed  in  the  opinion,  I  have 
suggested,  that  men  of  genuine  merit,  as  thej'  possess 
the  essence,  need  not  the  parade  of  great  knowledge. 
A  rich  man  is  often  plain  in  his  attire,  and  the  man, 
who  has  abundant  treasures  of  learning,  simple  in 
his  manners  and  style. 

The  doctor,  in  early  life,  was  economical  from 
principle ;  in  his  latter  days,  perhaps  from  habit. 
Poor  Richard  held  the  purse  strings  of  the  president 
of  Pennsylvania.  Permit  me  to  illustrate  this  ob- 
servation by  an  anecdote.  Soon  after  I  was  intro- 
duced, a?i  aiiy,  thoughtless  relation,  from  a  New 
England  state,  entered  the  room.  It  seems  he  was 
on  a  party  of  pleasure,  and  had  been  so  much  in- 
volved in  it,  for  three  weeks,  as  not  to  have  paid  his 
respects  to  his  venerable  relative.  The  purpose  of 
his  present  visit  was,  to  solicit  the  loan  of  a  small 
sum  of  money,  to  enable  him  to  pay  his  bills,  and 
transport  himself  home.  He  preluded  his  request, 
with  a  detail  of  embarrassments,  which  might  have 
befallen  the  most  circumspect.     He  said  that  he  had 

loaded  a  vessel  for  B ,  and  as  he  did  not  deal  oa 

credit,  had  purchased  beyond  his  current  cash,  and 
could  not  readily  procure  a  draft  upon  home.  The 
doctor,  inquiring  how  much  he  wanted,  he  replied, 
with  some  hesitation,  fifty  dollars.  Ihe  benevolent 
old  gentleman  went  to  his  escritoir,  and  counted  him 
out  an  hundred.  He  received  them  with  many  pro- 
mises of  punctual  payment,  and  hastily  took  up  the 
writing  implements,  to  draught  a  note  of  hand,  for 
the  cash,  'ihe  doctor,  who  saw  the  nature  of  the 
borrower's  embarrassments,  better  than  he  was 
aware;  and  was  possessed  with  the  improbability  of 
ever  recovering  his  cash  again,  stepped  across  the 
room,  laying  his  hand  gently  upon  his  cousin's  arm, 
said,  stop  cousin,  we  will  save  the  paper;  a  quarter 
of  a  sheet  is  not  of  great  value,  but  it  is  worth 
saving:  conveying,  at  once,  a  liberal  gift  and  gentle 
reprimand  for  the  borrower's  prevarication  and  ex- 
travagance. Since  I  am  talking  of  Franklin,  the 
reader  may  be  as  unwilling  to  leave  him  as  I  wns. 
Allow  me  to  relate  another  anecdote.  I  do  not 
recollect  how  the  conversation  was  introduced;  but 
a  young  person  in  company  mentioned  his  surprise, 
that  the  possession  of  great  riches  should  ever  be 
attended  with  such  anxiety  and  solicitude;  and  in- 
stanced Mr.  R K ,  who,  he  said,  though  in 

possession  of  unbounded  wealth,  yet  was  as  busy 
and  more  anxious,  than  the  most  assiduous  clerk  in 
his  counting-house.  The  doctor  took  an  apple  from 
a  fruit  basket,  and  presented  it  to  a  little  child,  who 
could  just  totter  about  the  room.  The  child  could 
scarce  grasp  it  in  his  hand,  lie  then  gave  it  another, 
which  occupied  the  other  hand.  Then  choosing  a 
third,  remarkable  for  its  size  and  beauty,  he  present- 
ed that  also.  Ihe  child,  after  many  ineffectual  at- 
tempts to  hold  the  three,  dropped  the  last  on  the 
carpet,  and  burst  into  tears.  Bee  there,  said  the  phi- 
losopher ;  there  is  a  little  man,  with  more  riches  than 
he  can  enjoy. 

ALEXANDRE  ILAMILTON. 

Alexander  Hamilton,  the  soldier,  statesman, 
and  jurist,  the  right  arm  of  Washington  in  peace 
and  war,  was  not  a  native  of  the  United  States, 
though  no  name  is  more  thoroughly  American  in 
its  associations  than  his  in  our  home  annals.     He 


was  born  in  St.  Kitts,  one  of  the  West  India  Is- 
lands, January  11,  1757.  His  grandfather  was  a 
gentleman  of  Ayrshire,  in  Scotland,  whence  his 
father  emigrated  to  St.  Kitts,  where  he  became 
bankrupt  as  a  merchant.  He  married  at  that 
island  a  widow  of  Huguenot  descent,  and  thus  hi? 
son,  Alexander  Hamilton,  may  have  inherited  the 
Scottish  strength  with  the  French  vivacity  of 
character.  He  certainly  possessed  both  these 
qualities  in  a  very  eminent  degree,  and  exhibited 
them  at  a  very  early  age.  When  he  attained 
fortune  and  influence  in  New  York,  he  earnestly 
invited  his  father  to  join  him  ;  but  his  health  not 
suffering  him  to  leave  the  southern  climate,  the 
son  contributed  to  his  support  till  his  death  in 
1799.  His  mother, who  died  in  his  childhood, 
lie  recollected  as  his  warm  nature  and  her  quali- 
ties demanded,  says  his  own  son  and  biographer. 
"  with  inexpressible  fondness."  Upon  her  death, 
he  was  under  the  care  of  her  relations  at  St. 
Croix  acquiring  a  limited  West  India  education, 
with  such  progress  in  general  reading  as  his  own 
powers  of  mind  and  the  acquaintance  of  a  Pres- 
byterian clergyman  directed.  At  twelve  years  of 
age  he  is  in  the  counting-house  of  Nicholas  Cru- 
ger,  a  New  York  merchant,  transacting  business 
in  the  island,  who  took  the  strongest  interest  in 
his  prosperity,  and  by  whom  his  good  reception, 
when  he  went  to  America,  was  greatly  promoted. 
For  these  good  services  Hamilton  always  enter- 
tained the  warmest  recollections.  When  upon  the 
death  of  Cruger  a  litigation  grew  out  of  his  will, 
Hamilton  defended  and  secured  the  rights  of  his 
family,  steadily  refusing  any  compensation:  and 
when  upon  Hamilton's  death,  a  recompense  for 
his  services  was  offered  to  his  widow,  it  was  met 
by  the  production  of  a  paper  written  by  Hamilton, 
in  his  last  hours,  enjoining  his  family  never  to 
receive  money  from  any  of  the  name  of  Cruger; 
so  far  did  he  carry  his  sense  of  the  early  kindness 
shown  him. 

A  letter  of  that  date,  1769,  shows  the  ardent 
ambition  of  the  boy,  and  the  fire  at  that  early  age 
pent  up  within  him.  He  writes  to  a  school-fellow 
at  New  York:  "  To  confess  my  weakness,  Ned,  my 
ambition  is  prevalent,  so  that  I  contemn  the  gro- 
velling condition  of  a  clerk,  or  the  like,  to  which, 
my  fortune  condemns  me,  and  would  willingly 
risk  my  life,  though  not  my  character,  to  exalt 
my  station.  I  am  confident,  Ned,  that  my  youth 
excludes  me  from  any  hopes  of  immediate  prefer- 
ment, nor  do  I  desire  it ;  but  I  me:m  to  prepare 
the  way  for  futurity.  I'm  no  philosopher,  you 
see,  and  may  be  justly  said  to  build  castles  in  the 
air;  my  folly  makes  me  ashamed,  and  beg  yon'li 
conceal  it;  yet,  Neddy,  we  have  seen  such 
schemes  successful  when  the  projector  is  constant. 
I  shall  conclude  by  saying  I  wish  there  wns  a 
war."  There  was  nothing  of  the  indolence  of 
the  tropics  in  this  language.  "  The  child  was 
father  of  the  man."  He  was  a  thorough  mer- 
chant's clerk,  as  he  was  afterwards  the  finan- 
cier of  the  new  states  even  then  struggling  into 
being  on  the  main  land.  A  description  of  a  storm 
among  the  islands,  which  he  wrote  at  the  age 
of  fifteen,  influenced  his  friends  in  sending  him  to 
New  York  to  pursue  his  studies.  He  landed  at 
Boston,  October,  1772,  and  passing  to  New  York 
was  introduced  to  the  good  society  of  the  place. 
He  studied  Lard  at  the  school  of  Francis  Far- 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON. 


421 


ber*  at  Elizahethtown,  and  enjoyed  the  intimacy 
of  Governor  Livingston  ;  practising  his  pen  all  the 
while  in  such  occasional  verses  as  an  elegy,  and  a 
prologue  and  epilogue  for  a  play  acted  hy  British 
soldiers  in  the  neighborhood.  He  presented  him- 
self to-  Dr.  Witherspoon  at  Princeton  College, 
with  the  intention  of  passing  as  rapidly  through 
the  classes  as  his  powers  would  permit.  This  pri- 
vilege, was  not  allowed  by  the  rules  of  the  insti- 
tution, and  he  entered  King's,  after  the  Revolu- 
tion Columbia  College  at  New  York,  ne  exer- 
cised his  talents  as  a  speaker  in  a  debating  club 
of  the  college ;  and  his  ready  pen  in  doggrel 
rhymes  at  the  expense  of  the  ministerial  writers 
who  attacked  John  Holt's  Whig  newspaper.  His 
character  exhibited  itself  at  this  time  in  his  strong 
devotional  feeling. 

His  first  step  in  public  affairs  was  memorable, 
and,  as  it  is  related  in  his  memoirs,  would  form  a 
worthy  scene  for  the  pencil  of  the  artist.  A  meet- 
ing of  the  people  of  New  York  was  called  in  The 
Fields  to  consider  the  questions  preparatory  to  a 
general  congress.  It  was  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant occasions  in  the  city  of  the  early  Revolu- 
tionary period.  Hamilton  was  then  seventeen. 
His  patriotism  had  just  been  excited  by  a  visit  to 
Boston,  then  the  school  of  Revolution,  where 
Trumbull  at  the  same  time  learnt  the  lesson  of 
freedom.  The  story  is  thus  told  by  his  biogra- 
pher. 

"  It  has  been  related  to  have  been  his  habit  to 
walk  several  hours  each  day  under  the  shade  of 
some  largs  trees  which  stood  in  Batteau,  now 
Dey  street,  talking  to  himself  in  an  under  tone  of 
voic;,  apparently  engaged  in  deep  thought,  a 
practice  which  he  continued  through  life.  This 
circumstance  attracted  the  attention  of  his  neigh- 
bors, to  whom  he  was  known  as  the  'young 
West  Indian,'  and  led  them  to  engage  in  conver- 
sation with  him.  One  of  them  remarking  the 
vigor  and  maturity  of  his  thoughts,  urged  him  to 
address  this  meeting,  to  which  all  the  patriots 
were  looking  with  the  greatest  interest.  From 
this  seeming  intrusion  he  at  first  recoiled ;  but 
after  listening  attentively  to  the  successive  speak- 
ers, and  finding  several  points  untouched,  he  pre- 
sented himself  to  the  assembled  multitude.  The 
novelty  of  the  attempt,  his  youthful  countenance, 
his  slender  and  diminutive  form,  awakened  curi- 
osity and  arrested  attention.  Overawed  by  the 
scene  before  him,  ho  at  first  hesitated  and  fal- 
tered ;  but  as  ho  proceeded  almost  unconsciously 
to  utter  his  accustomed  reflections,  his  mind 
warmed  with  the  theme,  his  energies  were  reco- 
vered ;  and  after  a  discussion  clear,  cogent,  and 
novel,  of  the  great  principles  involved  in  the  con- 
troversy, he  depicted  in  glowing  colors  the  long 
continued  and  long  endured  oppressions  of  the 
mother  country ;  lie  insisted  on  the  duty  of  re- 
sistance, pointed  to  the  means  and  certainty  of 


*  Francis  Barber,  who  was  of  Irish  parentage,  was  born  at 
Princeton,  New  Jersey,  in  1751.  where  he  received  his  educa- 
tion, and  was  afterwards  in  charge  of  an  academy  at  Elizabeth- 
town  On  the  breaking  out  of  the  Revolution  he  was  an  officer 
In  the  Jersey  service,  and  rose  to  the  rank  of  Colonel,  being 
actively  engaged  in  Ihe  rccnes  of  the  war.  He  was  present  at 
the  capture  of  Yorktown.  He  met  with  his  death  in  a  singular 
manner  by  a  tree  falling  on  him  as  be  passed  the  edge  of  a 
wood  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  as  a  soldier  in  camp  with 
Washington  at  New  Windsor.— Nat.  Portrait  Gallery,  2d  Ed. 
1S35. 


success,  and  described  the  waves  of  rebellion  spark- 
ling  with  fire,  and  washing  back  on  the  shores  of 
England  the  wrecks  of  her  power,  her  wealth,  and 
her  glory.  The  breathless  silence  ceased  as  he 
closed;  and  the  whispered  murmur,  'it  is  a  col- 
legian! it  is  a  collegian!'  was  lost  in  loud  ex- 
pressions of  wonder  and  applause  at  the  extra- 
ordinary eloquence  of  the  young  stranger."* 

The  orator  was  thus  launched  on  the  troubled 
waters  of  the  times.  The  writer  soon  plunged 
after.  One  of  his  first  efforts  seems  to  have  been 
a  newspaper  reply  to  some  Tory  argument  by 
the  President  of  his  college,  the  youthful  Myles 
Cooper,  and  his  earliest  distinct  publication,  a 
pamphlet  issued  by  Rivington,  a  reply  to  a  go- 
vernment tract  of  the  times,  in  which  Dr.  Sea- 
bury  (afterwards  the  Bishop)  had  a  hand.t  The 
argument  of  this  piece  of  Hamilton's  is  direct,  the 
language  nervous.  Two  brief  sentences  are  al- 
ready in  this  early  effort  Hamiltonian  tests  of 
the  future  statesman.  Addressing  the  farmers  he 
intimates  that  he  affects  no  class  partialities  for 
them  as  such,  and  adds,  "  I  despise  all  false  pre- 
tensions and  mean  arts."  A  few  sentences  fur- 
ther on,  "  (iive  me  the  steady,  uniform,  unshaken 
security  of  constitutional  freedom."  A  second 
pamphlet'  followed  February,  1775,  from  his  pen, 
of  noticeable  vigor.J  President  Cooper  thought 
Mr.  Jay  must  have  written  it,  for  Hamilton  was 
quite  too  young  for  such  a  production. 

There  was  a  third  character  in  which  he  was 
to  be  known  to  his  countrymen — the  soldier. 
While  still  a  collegian  he  was  engaged  with  some 
of  the  youth  of  the  city  in  military  exercises  in 
the  churchyard  of  St.  George's  chapel.  They 
called  their  company  the  "  Hearts  of  Oak."  It 
was  sufficiently  organized  to  be  detailed  by  the 
revolutionary  committee  to  the  work  of  removing 
the  cannon. from  the  Battery.  A  boat  from  the 
Asia  man-of-war  was  fired  upon,  and  several  citi- 
zens killed  by  the  return  broadside  from  the  ship. 
Hamilton,  undisturbed  by  a  fallen  comrade,  ac- 
complished his  work.  A  convention  of  the  towns- 
people ensued,  which  drove  Dr.  Cooper  from  the 
college,  and  for  a  while  Toryism  and  literature 
were  at  a  discount. 

We  have  now  seen  Hamilton  fully  embarked 
on  his  great  American  career,  and  must  pass 
rapidly  over  the  incidents  of  his  manhood,  barely 
alluding  to  his  early  engagement  in  the  camp 
with  Washington,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  in  1777 ; 
his  military  life,  by  the  side  of  his  great  leader, 
from  Trenton  to  Yorktown,  in  which  his  bravery 
and  capacity  were  always  distinguished,  and 
the  services  of  his  pen  in  the  army  correspon- 


*  Life  of  Hamilton,  by  J.  C.  Hamilton,  i.  22. 

+  Hamilton's  pamphlet  was  entitled,  UA  full  Vindication  of  the 
Measures  of  Congress  from  the  Calumnies  of  their  enemies,  in 
answer  to  a  Letter  under  the  signature  of  a  W,  Farmer; 
whereby  his  sopltdstry  is  exposed,  his  cavils  confuted,  his  arti- 
fices detected,  and  bis  wit  ridiculed  in  a  General  Address  to 
the  Inhabitants  of  America,  aed  a  Particular  Address  to  the 
Farmers  of  the  Province  of  Arte  York.  Veritas  magna  est  et 
prevalebit.  Truth  is  powerful  and  will  prevail.  New  York. 
Printed  by  James  P.ivington.    1774. 

%  The  Farmer  Refuted;  or,  a  more  comprehensive  and  im-* 
partial  view  of  the  Disputes  between  Great  Britain  and  tbo 
Colonies.  Intended  as  a  further  Vindication  of  tho  Congress  in 
answer  to  a  letter  from  a  Westchester  Farmer,  entitled  a  View 
of  the  Controversy  between  Great  Britain  and  her  Colonies, 
including  a  mode  of  determining  the  present  disputes  finally 
and  effectually,  &c  By  a  sincere  fiiecd  to  America.  Tituli 
remedia  pollicentur.  sed  pixedes  ipsa;  venena  continent.  The 
title  promises  remedies,  but  the  box  itself  poisons. 


422 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


dence.  Two  incidents  of  the  war  may  be  men- 
tioned, for  the  light  which  they  throw  upon  his 
character — his  momentary  difficulty  with  Gene- 
ral Washington,  showing  his  high  sense  of  honor 
and  the  spur  of  his  southern  birth,  and  his  pathe- 
tic considerate  conduct  on  the  capture  of  Major 
Andre,  to  whom,  while  his  judgment  acquiesced 
in  his  rigorous  fate,  his  tenderness  was  un- 
bounded. There  is  no  finer  written  pathos  in 
our  history  than  Hamilton's  account,  sent  to 
Laurens,  of  the  treason  of  Arnold  and  the  death 
of  Andrt  .*  The  delicacy  with  which  Arnold's 
wife  is  mentioned ;  the  sensitiveness  and  almost 
reverence  with  which  he  writes  about  the  last 
offices  to  the  gallant  sufferer;  the  ardor  of  his 
emotion,  which  inspires  such  subtle  and  eloquent 
reflections  as  his  remarks  on  war,  that  "the  author- 
ized maxims  and  practices  of  war  are  the  satires 
of  human  nature" — and  of  Andre,  that  "  never, 
perhaps,  did  any  man  suffer  death  with  more 
justice,  or  deserve  it  less."  These  are  noble 
monuments  of  the  man. 


In  1780,  Hamilton  was  married  on  the  14th 
December  to  the  second  daughter  of  General 
Schuyler,  who  survived  her  husband  for  half  a 
century,  dying  at  the  age  of  ninety-six  in  the 
autumn  of  1854. 

In  1782,  he  withdrew  from  public  life,  which 
then  opened  to  him  some  of  its  rewards,  in  occu- 
pation in  the  service  of  his  country  abroad,  and 
devoted  himself  at  Albany  to  the  incessant  study 
of  the  law  for  four  months,  when  he  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  Supreme  Court.  At  the  close  of 
the  year  he  took  his  seat  in  Congress,  and  is 
henceforth  in  political  life.  Becoming  a  delegate 
from  New  York  to  the  Congress  of  1787  which 
formed  the  Constitution,  which  is  identified  with 
his  name  as  associated  with  Jay  and  Madison,  he 
defended  its  provisions,  and  asserted  its  principles 
in  the  pages  of  the  Federalist,  while  it  was  before 
the  several  states  for  adoption.  Of  the  eighty-five 
numbers  of  which  this  work  was  composed,  fifty- 

*  It  is  printed  in  the  first  volume  of  tho  Lifo,  by  bis  son. 


one  were  by  Hamilton  ;  Jay  wrote  but  five,  and 
Madison  the  remainder.*  The  introduction  and 
conclusion  were  from  the  pen  of  Hamilton.  He 
also  took  the  main  discussion  of  the  important 
points  in  respect  to  the  taxation  and  the  revenue, 
the  army  and  militia,  the  power  of  the  Executive, 
and  the  Judiciary. 

When  the  Constitution — which  he  had  done  so 
much  to  organize  and  secure,  both  for  the  country 
at  large  and  for  his  own  state  in  the  New  York 
Convention — went  into  effect  with  the  Presidency 
of  Washington,  that  great  man  again  called  Hamil- 
ton to  his  side  in  the  important  po-t — perhaps 
the  most  important  then  in  the  national  affairs — of 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury.  His  cabinet  papers  and 
practical  achievements  in  this  position  establish 
his  great  financial  reputation.  It  was  in  allusion 
to  these  financial  exertions  and  abilities  that 
Daniel  Webster  paid  an  eloquent  tribute  to  the 
genius  of  Hamilton  in  a  public  dinner  speech  in 
New  York.  "  He  smote  the  rock  of  the  national 
resources,  and  abundant  streams  of  revenue  gushed 
forth.  He  touched  the  dead  corpse  of  the  public 
credit,  and  it  sprung  upon  its  feet.'"t 

On  the  fourth  of  July,  1789,  ho  delivered  an 
Eulogium  on  Major-Gcneral  Greene  before  the 
Society  of  the  Cincinnati,  in  which  he  gave  full 
expression  to  his  admiration  of  the  life  of  that 
distinguished  officer  and  friend  of  Washington, 
and  traced  his  military  career  in  a  succinct  and 
forcible  narrative.  It  is  a  model  for  compositions 
of  its  class. 

The  letters  of  Pacificus,  in  1793,  exhibit  his 
course  when  France  urged  the  abandonment  of 
American  neutrality.  When,  in  the  Presidency 
of  Adams,  Washington  was  invited  to  the  com- 
mand of  the  national  forces,  on  the  prospect  of  an 
attack  from  France,  he  paid  a  last  compliment  to 
the  military  genius  of  his  friend  and  aide  of  the 
Revolution.  He  stipulated  that  Hamilton  should 
be  his  second  in  command.  On  the  death  of 
Washington  he  became  Commander-in-Chief. 

The  too  brief  remainder  of  Hamilton's  life  was 
passed  in  New  York,  in  the  practice  of  the  law 
and  the  agitations  of  politics,  till  his  fatal  and 
unnecessary  duel  with  Burr,  at  Weehawken,  closed 
his  life  July  12,  1804.  His  last  great  legal  effort 
was  made  but  a  short  time  before  his  death,  in 
Feb.,  1804,  being  his  argument  on  the  law  of 
libel  in  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State  of  New 
York,  in  the  case  of  the  People  against  Harry 
Croswell,  on  an  indictment  for  a  libel  on  Jeffer- 
son, in  which  he  maintained  the  popular  privi- 
lege of  the  jury  in  the  decision  of  both  law  and. 
fact. 

Never  was  American  more  sincerely  mourned. 
The  eloquence  of  the  pulpit,  the  bar,  and  the  press, 
was  expended  in  oration,  discourse,  and  eulogium.  j 


*  The  Federalist  originally  appeared  in  the  columns  of  the 
New  York  Daily  Advertiser.  The  papers  were  collected  and 
published  in  two  neat  duodecimo  volumes,  by  J.  &  A.  MXean, 
New  York,  17SS;  another  edition  appeared  during  Hamilton's 
lifetime,  in  1SC2,  from  the  press  of  George  F.  Hopkins  New 
York.  The  papers  were  also  included  in  an  edition  of  Hamil- 
ton's works,  in  three  vols.,  by  Williams  &  Whiting,  New  York, 
1S10.  In  ISIS,  an  edition  was  published  by  Jacob  Gideon  at 
Washington,  which  embraced  tho  revisions  by  Madison  of  lib 
papers. 

T  Speech,  Feb.,  1831. 

J  Coleman,  of  the  Evening  Post,  published  a  memorial  of  the 
occasion  in  A  Collection  of  the  Facts  and  Documents  relative 
to  the  Death  of  Major-Goncral  Alexander  Hamilton ;  with 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON. 


423 


Gouverneur  Morris  delivered  his  funeral  oration. 
Dr.  Mason  pronounced  his  Eulogy  in  the  pulpit. 

His  federal  compatriot  and  friend,  the  eminent 
Fisher  Ames,  horrowed  the  language  of  Scripture 
in  mourning  over  his  death,  and  measuring  his 
probable  earthly  future,  had  he  lived  by  his 
undoubted  past,  vented  his  feelings  in  the  excla- 
mation, that  "  his  soul  stiffened  with  despair 
when  he  thought  what  Hamilton  would  have 
been."* 

In  1851,  an  edition  of  the  works  of  Hamilton, 
including  his  correspondence  and  official  paper?, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Federalist,  was  published 
with  the  assistance  of  Oongress.t  It  was  pre- 
pared by  John  C.  Hamilton.  In  the  last  volume, 
two  papers  are  given  from  the  original  MS.  of 
Hamilton  bearing  upon  Washington's  Farewell 
Address  :  one,  an  Abstract  of  Points  to  form  an 
Address,  the  other,  a  draft  in  full,  the  variations 
from  which,  as  delivered,  are  noted.  This,  with 
the  previous  publication  by  Mr.  Lenox,  com- 
pleted the  materials  for  the  study  of  the  prepara- 
tion of  this  interesting  document.]: 

THE    FATE  OP  MAJOR  ANDRE. 

A  Letter  from  Hamilton  to  La/urena.% 

Since  my  return  from  Hartford,  my  dear  Laurens, 
my  mind  has  been  too  little  at  ease  to  permit  me  to 
write  to  you  sooner.  It  has  been  wholly  occupied  by 
the  affecting  and  tragic  consequences  of  Arnold's 
treason.  My  feelings  were  never  put  to  so  severe  a 
trial.  You  will  no  doubt  have  heard  the  principal 
facts  before  this  reaches  you  ;  but  there  are  particu- 
lars to  which  my  situation  gave  me  access,  that  can- 
not have  come  to  your  knowledge  from  public 
report,  which  I  am  persuaded  you  will  find  interest- 
ing. 

From  6everal  circumstances,  the  project  seems  to 
have  originated  with  Arnold  himself,  and  to  have 
been  long  premeditated.  The  first  overture  is 
traced  back  to  some  time  in  June  last.  It  was  con- 
veyed in  a  letter  to  Colonel  Robinson,  the  substance 
of  which  was,  that  the  ingratitude  he  had  expe- 
rienced from  Ins  country,  concurring  with  other 
causes,  had  entirely  changed  his  principles;  that  he 
now  only  sought  to  restore  himself  to  the  favour  of 
his  king  by  some  signal  proof  of  his  repentance,  and 
would  be  happy  to  open  a  correspondence  with  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  for  that  purpose.     About  this  period 

Comments:  together  with  the  various  Orations,  Sermons,  and 
Eulogies  that  have  been  published  or  written  on  his  Life  and 
Character.  Quoad  humanum  genus  incolume  manscrit,  quam- 
diu  usus  Uteris,  honor  sumniffiEi  iqaentiffi  pretium  erit,  qnam- 
diu  rerum  natura  aut  fortuna  steterit,  aut  memoria  duraverit, 
admirabile,  posterisvigebis  ingenium.  Aurf.lius  Fuscus.  By 
the  Editor  of  the  Evening  Post.  New  York:  J.  Riley  &  Co., 
1804.    Svo.  pp.  23S. 

*  Sketch  of  the  Character  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  18(14. 

f  The  Works  of  Alexander  Hamilton;  comprising  his  Cor- 
respondence, and  his  Political  and  Official  Writings,  exclusive 
of  the  Federalist.  Civil  and  Military.  Published  from  the 
Original  Manuscripts  deposited  in  the  Department  of  State,  by 
order  of  the  Joint  Library  Committee  of  Congress.  Edited  by 
John  C.  Hamilton,  Author  of  "  The  Life  of  Ham. Hon.11  7  vols. 
Svo.    New  York :  Francis  &  Co.    1851. 

t  Ante,  p.  ISO. 

§  The  feelings  of  the  whole  army  were  most  liberal  in  be- 
half of  Andre  :  but  none  was  more  impressed  with  those  senti- 
ments of  generosity  and  sympathy  than  Colonel  Hamilton. 
He  was  daily  searching  some  way  to  save  him.  Every  wish 
to  that  effect  having  proved  impossible,  Hamilton,  who  was  as 
sensible  as  any  other  of  that  impossibility,  and  one  of  those 
who  lamented  it  the  most,  published  a  narrative  of  tho  events, 
aud  a  portraiture  of  the  unfortunate  Andre,  which  is  a  mastcr- 

{)iece  of  literary  talents  and  amiable  sensibility.  As  it  em- 
)races  all  the  essential  circumstances  of  this  interesting  scene, 
and  has  been  erroneously  published,  it  may  not  improperly  be 
introduced  into  the  biography  of  its  author. — Note-  by  J.  C. 
Hamilton  in  Via  "  Life." 


he  made  a  journey  to  Connecticut;  on  his  return 
from  which  to  Philadelphia,  he  solicited  the  com- 
mand of  West  Point,  alleging  that  the  effects  of  his 
wound  had  disqualified  him  for  the  active  duties  of 
the  field.  The  sacrifice  of  this  important  post  was 
the  atonement  he  intended  to  make.  General  Wash- 
ington hesitated  the  less  to  gratify  an  officer  who 
had  rendered  such  eminent  services,  as  he  was  con- 
vinced the  post  might  be  safely  entrusted  to  one 
who  had  given  so  many  distinguished  proofs  of  his 
bravery.  In  the  beginning  of  August  he  joined  the 
army,  and  renewed  his  application.  The  enemy  at 
this  juncture  had  embarked  the  greatest  part  of 
their  force  on  an  expedition  to  Rhode  Island,  and 
our  army  was  in  motion  to  compel  them  to  relin- 
quish the  enterprise,  or  to  attack  New  York  in  its 
weakened  state.  The  General  offered  Arnold  the 
left  wing  of  the  army,  which  he  declined,  on  the 
pretext  already  mentioned,  but  not  without  visible 
embarrassment.  He  certainly  might  have  executed 
the  duties  of  such  a  temporary  command,  and  it  was 
expected  from  his  enterprising  temper,  that  he  would 
gladly  have  embraced  so  splendid  an  opportunity. 
Hut  he  did  not  choose  to  be  diverted  a  moment 
from  his  favourite  object;  probably  from  an  appre- 
hension, that  some  different  disposition  might  have 
taken  place  which  would  have  excluded  him.  The 
extreme  solicitude  he  discovered  to  get  possession  of 
the  post,  would  have  led  to  a  suspicion  of  the 
treachery,  had  it  been  possible,  from  his  past  con- 
duct, to  have  supposed  him  capable  of  it. 

The  correspondence  thus  begun,  was  carried  on 
between  Arnold  and  Major  Andre,  Adjutant  General 
to  the  British  army,  in  behalf  of  Sir  Henry  Clinton, 
under  feigned  signatures,  and  in  a  mercantile  dis- 
guise. In  an  intercepted  letter  of  Arnold,  which 
lately  fell  into  our  hands,  he  proposes  an  interview 
"  to  settle  the  risks  and  profits  of  the  copartnership," 
and  in  the  same  style  of  metaphor  intimates  an  ex- 
pected augmentation  of  the  garrison,  and  speaks  of 
it  as  the  means  of  extending  their  traffic.  It  appears 
by  another  letter,  that  Andre  was  to  have  met  him 
on  the  lines,  under  the  sanction  of  a  flag,  in  the 
character  of  Mr.  John  Anderson.  But  some  cause 
or  other,  not  known,  prevented  this  interview. 

The  twentieth  of  last  month,  Robinson  and  Andre1 
went  up  the  river  in  the  Vulture  sloop  of  war. 
Robinson  sent  a  flag  to  Arnold  with  two  letters,  one 
to  General  Putnam,  enclosed  in  another  to  himself, 
proposing  an  interview  with  Putnam,  or  in  his 
absence  with  Arnold,  to  adjust  some  private  con- 
cerns. The  one  to  General  Putnam  was  evidently 
meant  as  a  cover  to  the  other,  in  case,  by  accident, 
the  letters  should  have  fallen  under  the  inspection 
of  a  third  person. 

General  Washington  crossed  the  river  on  his  way 
to  Hartford,  the  day  these  despatches  arrived. 
Arnold,  conceiving  he  must  have  heard  of  the  flag, 
thought  it  necessary,  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  to 
submit  the  letters  to  him,  and  ask  his  opinion  of  the 
propriety  of  complying  with  the  request.  The  Ge- 
neral, with  his  usual  caution,  though  without  the 
least  surmise  of  the  design,  dissuaded  him  from  it, 
and  advised  him  to  reply  to  Robinson,  that  what- 
ever related  to  his  private  affairs  must  be  of  a  civil 
nature,  and  could  only  properly  be  addressed  to  the 
civil  authority.  This  reference  fortunately  deranged 
the  plan,  and  was  the  first  link  in  the  chain  of  events 
that  led  to  the  detection.  The  interview  could  no 
longer  take  place  in  the  form  of  a  flag,  but  was 
obliged  to  be  managed  in  a  secret  manner. 

Arnold  employed  one  Smith  to  go  on  board  the 
Vulture  the  night  of  the  twenty-second,  to  bring 
Andre  on  shore  with  a  pass  for  Mr.  John  Anderson. 
Andre  came  ashore  accordingly,  and  was  conducted 


424: 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


within  a  pieket  of  ours  to  the  house  of  Smith,  where 
Arnold  and  lie  remained  together  in  close  confer- 
ence all  that  night  and  the  day  following.  At  day- 
light in  the  morning,  the  commanding  officer  at 
King's  Ferry,  without  the  privity  of  Arnold,  moved 
a  couple  of  pieces  of  cannon  to  a  point  opposite  to 
where  the  Vulture  lay,  and  obliged  her  to  take  a 
more  remote  station.  This  event,  or  some  lurking 
distrust,  made  the  boatmen  refuse  to  convey  the 
two  passengers  back,  and  disconcerted  Arnold  so 
much,  that  by  one  of  those  strokes  of  infatuation 
which  often  confound  the  schemes  of  men  conscious 
of  guilt,  he  insisted  on  Andre's  exchanging  his  uni- 
form for  a  disguise,  and  returning  in  a  mode  differ- 
ent from  that  in  which  he  came.  Andre,  who  had 
been  undesignedly  brought  within  our  posts,  in  the 
first  instance,  remonstrated  warmly  against  this  new 
and  dangerous  expedient.  But  Arnold  persisting 
in  declaring  it  impossible  for  him  to  return  as  he 
came,  he  at  length  reluctantly  yielded  to  his  direc- 
tion, and  consented  to  change  his  dress,  and  take  the 
route  he  recommended,  bmitk  furnished  the  dis- 
guise, and  in  the  eveniug  passed  King's  Ferry  with 
him,  and  proceeded  to  Crompond,  where  they  stopped 
the  remainder  of  the  night  (at  the  instance  of  a 
militia  officer),  to  avoid  being  suspected  by  him. 
The  next  morning  they  resumed  their  journey, 
Smith  accompanying  Andre  a  little  beyond  Pine's 
Bridge,  where  he  left  him.  He  had  readied  Tarry- 
town,  when  he  was  taken  up  by  three  militia  men, 
who  rushed  out  of  the  woods,  aud  seized  his  horse. 
At  this  critical  moment,  his  presence  of  mind  for- 
sook him.  Instead  of  producing  his  pass,  which 
would  have  extricated  him  from  our  parties,  and 
could  have  done  him  no  harm  with  his  own,  he  asked 
the  militia  men  if  they  were  of  the  upper  or  lower 
party,  distinctive  appellations  known  among  the 
refugee  corps.  The  militia  men  replied,  they  were 
of  the  lower  party ;  upon  which  he  told  them  he 
was  a  British  officer,  and  pressed  them  not  to  detain 
him  as  he  was  upon  urgent  .business.  This  confes- 
sion removed  all  doubt;  and  it  was  in  vain  he  after- 
wards produced  his  pass.  He  was  instantly  forced 
off  to  a  place  of  greater  security ;  where,  after  a 
careful  search,  there  were  found  concealed  in  the 
feet  of  his  stockings,  several  papers  of  importance 
delivered  to  him  by  Arnold.  Among  these  there 
were  a  plan  of  the  fortifications  of  West  Point,  a 
memorial  from  the  engineer  on  the  attack  and 
defence  of  the  place,  returns  of  the  garrison,  cannon, 
and  stores,  copy  of  the  minutes  of  a  council  of  war 
held  by  General  Washington  a  few  weeks  before. 
The  prisoner  at  first  was  inadvertently  ordered  to 
Arnold;  but  on  recollection,  while  still  on  the  way, 
he  was  countermanded  and  sent  to  Old  Salem. 

The  papers  were  enclosed  in  a  letter  to  General 
Washington,  which  having  taken  a  route  different 
from  that  by  which  he  returned,  made  a  circuit, 
that  afforded  leisure  for  another  letter,  through  an 
ill-judged  delicacy,  written  to  Arnold,  with  infor- 
mation of  Anderson's  capture,  to  get  to  him  an  hour 
before  General  Washington  arrived  at  his  quarters, 
time  enough  to  elude  the  fate  that  awaited  him. 
He  went  down  the  river  in  his  barge  to  the  Vulture, 
with  such  precipitate  confusion,  that  he  did  not  take 
with  him  a  single  paper  useful  to  the  enemy.  On 
the  first  notice  of  the  affair  he  was  pursued,  but 
much  too  late  to  be  overtaken. 

There  was  some  colour  for  imagining  it  was  a 

Eart  of  the  plan  to  betray  the  General  into  the 
ands  of  the  enemy :  Arnold  was  very  anxious  to 
ascertain  from  him  the  precise  clay  of  his  return, 
and  the  enemj^'s  movements  seem  to  have  corres- 
ponded to  this  point.  But  if  it  was  really  the  ease, 
jt  was  very  injudicious.     The  success  must  have 


depended  on  surprise,  and  as  the  officers  at  the 
advanced  posts  were  not  in  the  secret,  their  measures 
might  have  given  the  alarm,  aud  General  Washing*-, 
ton,  taking  the  command  of  the  post,  might  have 
rendered  the  whole  6cheme  abortive.  Arnold,  it  is 
true,  had  so  dispersed  the  garrison  as  to  have  made 
a  defence  difficult,  but  not  impracticable;  and  the 
acquisition  of  West  Point  was  of  such  magnitude  to 
the  enemy,  that  it  would  have  been  unwise  to  con- 
nect it  with  any  other  object,  however  gieat,  which 
might  make  the  obtaining  of  it  precarious. 

Arnold,  a  moment  before  his  setting  out,  went 
into  Mrs.  Arnold's  apartment,  and  informed  her  that 
some  transactions  had  just  come  to  light,  which 
must  forever  banish  him  from  his  country.  She 
fell  into  a  swoon  at  this  declaration,  aud  he  left  her 
in  it  to  consult  his  own  safety,  till  the  servants, 
alarmed  by  her  cries,  came  to  her  relief.  She 
remained  frantic  all  day,  accusing  every  one  who 
approached  her  with  an  intention  to  murder  her 
child  (an  infant  in  her  arms),  and  exhibiting  every 
other  mark  of  the  most  genuine  and  agonizing  dis- 
tress. Exhausted  by  the  fatigue  aud  tumult  of  her 
spirits,  her  phiei.zy  subsided  towards  evening,  and 
she  sunk  into  all  the  sadness  of  affliction.  It  was 
impossible  not  to  have  been  touched  with  her  situa- 
tion; everything  affecting  in  female  tears,  or  in  the 
misfortunes  of  beauty,  everything  pathetic  in  the 
wounded  tenderness  of  a  wife,  or  in  the  appre- 
hensive fondness  of  a  mother,  and,  till  I  have  rea- 
son to  charge  the  opinion,  I  will  add,  everything 
amiable  in  Buffering  innocence,  conspired  to  make 
her  an  object  of  sympathy  to  all  who  were  present. 
She  experienced  the  most  delicate  attentions,  and 
every  friendly  office,  till  her  departure  for  Philadel- 
phia. 

Andre  was,  without  loss  of  time,  conducted  to  the 
head-quarters  of  the  army,  where  he  was  imme- 
diately brought  before  a  board  of  general  officers,  to 
prevent  all  possibility  of  misrepresentation  or  cavil 
on  the  part  of  the  enemy. 

The  board  leported  that  he  ought  to  be  considered 
as  a  spy,  and  according  to  the  laws  and  usages  of 
nations,  to  suffer  death,  which  was  executed  two 
days  after. 

Never,  perhaps,  did  any  man  suffer  death  with 
more  justice,  or  deserve  it  less.  The  first  step  ho 
took  after  his  enptui  e,  was  to  write  a  letter  to  Gene- 
ral Washington,  conceived  in  terms  of  dignity  with- 
out insolence,  and  apology  without  meanness.  The 
scope  of  it  was  to  vindicate  himself  from  the  impu- 
tation of  having  assumed  a  mean  character,  for 
treacherous  or  interested  purposes;  asserting  that 
he  had  been  involuntarily  an  im poster;  that  contrary 
to  his  intention,  which  was  to  meet  a  person  for  in- 
telligence on  neutral  ground,  he  had  been  betrayed 
within  our  posts,  and  forced  into  the  vile  condition 
of  an  enemy  in  disguise;  soliciting  only  that  to 
whatever  rigour  policy  might  devote  him,  a  decency 
of  treatment  might  be  observed  due  to  a  person 
who,  though  unfortunate,  had  been  guilty  of  nothing 
dishonourable.  His  request  was  granted  in  its  full 
extent;  for  in  the  whole  progress  of  the  affair,  ho 
was  treated  with  the  most  scrupulous  delicacy. 
When  brought  before  the  board  of  officers,  he  met 
with  every  mark  of  indulgence,  and  was  required 
to  answer  no  interrogatory  which  would  even  em- 
barrass his  feelings.  On  his  part,  while  he  carefully 
concealed  everything  that  might  implicate  others, 
he  frankly  confessed  all  the  facts  relating  to  him- 
self, and  upon  his  confession,  without  the  trouble  of 
examining  a  witness,  the  board  made  their  report. 
The  members  were  not  more  impressed  with  the 
candour  and  firmness,  mixed  with  a  becoming  sen- 
sibility, which  he  displayed,  than  he  was  penetrated 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON. 


425 


with  their  liberality  and  politeness.  He  acknow- 
ledged the  generosity  of  the  behaviour  towards  him 
in  every  respect,  but  particularly  in  this,  in  the 
strongest  terms  of  manly  gratitude.  In  a  conversa- 
tion with  a  gentleman  who  visited  him  after  bis 
trial,  he  said,  he  flattered  himself  he  had  never  been 
Illiberal ,  but  if  there  were  any  remains  of  prejudice 
in  his  mind,  his  present  experience  must  obliterate 
them. 

In  one  of  the  visits  I  made  to  him  (and  I  saw  him 
several  times  during  his  confinement),  lie  begged 
me  to  be  the  bearer  of  a  request  to  the  General,  for 
permission  to  send  an  open  letter  to  Sir  Henry 
Clinton.  "  I  foresee  rny  fate,"  said  he,  "  and  though 
I  pretend  not  to  play  the  hero,  or  to  be  indifferent 
about  life,  yet  I  am  reconciled  to  whatever  may 
happen,  conscious  that  misfortune,  not  guilt,  has 
brought  it  upon  me.  There  is  o  ily  one  thing  that 
disturbs  my  tranquillity.  Sir  Henry  Clinton  bios 
been  too  good  to  me;  he  has  been  lavish  of  his  kind- 
ness ;  I  am  bound  to  him  by  too  many  obligations, 
and  love  him  too  well  to  bear  the  thong  it  tnat  lie 
should  reproach  himself,  or  others  should  reproach 
him,  o  1  the  supposition  of  my  having  conceived 
myself  obliged,  by  his  instructions,  to  run  the  risk  I 
did.  I  would  not,  for  the  world,  leave  a  sting  in 
his  mind  that  should  embitter  his  future  days."  He 
could  scarce  finish, the  sentence  .  bursting  into  tears, 
in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  suppress  them,  and  with 
difficulty  collecting  himself  e  lough  afterwards  to 
add,  "  I  wish  to  be  permitted  to  assure  him,  I  did 
not  act  under  this  impression,  bat  submitted  to  a 
necessity  impose  I  upon  me,  as  contrary  to  my  own 
inclinations,  as  to  his  orders."  His  request  was 
readily  complied  with,  and  he  wrote  the  letter  an- 
nexe 1,  with  which  I  dare  say  you  wilt  be  as  much 
please  I  as  I  am,  both  for  the  sentiment  and  diction. 

When  bis  sentence  was  announce  1  to  him,  he 
remarke  1,  that  since  it  was  bis  lot  to  die,  there  was 
Gtill  a  choice  in  the  mode,  which  would  make  a 
material  difference  to  his  feelings;  and  he  would  be 
happy,  if  possible,  to  be  indulged  witli  a  professional 
death.  He  made  a  second  application  by  letter,  in 
concise  but  persuasive  terms.  It  was  thought  that 
tliis  indulgence,  being  incompatible  with  the  cus- 
toms of  war,  could  not  be  granted ;  and  it  was, 
therefore,  determined,  in  both  cases,  to  evade  an 
answer,  to  spare  him  the  sensations,  which  a  certain 
knowledge  of  the  intended  mode  would  inflict. 

In  going  to  the  place  of  execution,  he  bowed  fami- 
liarly as  he  went  along,  to  all  those  with  whom  he 
had  been  acquainted  in  bis  confinement.  A  smile 
of  complacency  expressed  the  serene  fortitude  of  his 
mind.  Arrived  at  the  fatal  spot,  he  asked,  with 
some  emotion,  "must  I  then  die  in  this  manner?" 
He  was  told  it  had  been  unavoidable.  "  I  am  recon- 
ciled to  my  fate  (said  he),  but  not  to  the  mode." 
Soon,  however,  recollecting  himself,  he  added,  "  it 
will  be  but  a  momentary  pang;"  and  springing  upon 
the  cart,  performed  the  last  offices  to  himself,  with  a 
composure  that  excited  the  admiration  and  melted 
the  hearts  of  the  beholders.  Upon  being  told  the 
final  moment  was  at  band,  and  asked  if  he  had  any- 
thing to  say,  he  answered,  "  nothing,  but  to  request 
you  will  witness  to  the  world,  that  I  die  like  a 
brave  man."  Among  the  extraordinary  circum- 
stances that  attended  him,  in  the  midst  of  bis 
enemies  he  died  universally  regretted,  and  univer- 
sally esteemed. 

There  was  something  singularly  interesting  in  the 
character  and  fortunes  of  Andre.  To  an  excellent 
understanding,  well  improved  by  education  and 
travel,  he  united  a  peculiar  elegance  of  mind  and 
manners,  and  the  advantage  of  a  pleasing  person. 
It  is  said,  he  possessed  a  pretty  taste  for  the  fine 


arts,  and  had  himself  attained  some  proficiency  in 
poetry,  music,  and  painting.  His  knowledge  ap- 
peared without  ostentation,  and  embellished  by  a 
diffidence  that  rarely  accompanies  so  many  talents 
and  accomplishments,  which  left  you  to  suppose 
more  than  appeared. 

His  sentiments  were  elevated,  and  inspired 
esteem  ; — they  had  a  softness  that  conciliated  affec- 
tion. His  elocution  was  handsome;  his  address 
easy,  polite,  and  insinuating.  By  his  merit,  he  bad 
acquired  the  unlimited  confidence  of  his  General, 
and  was  making  a  rapid  progress  in  military  rank 
and  reputation.  But.  in  the  height  of  bis  career, 
flushed  with  new  hopes  from  the  execution  of  a  pro- 
ject the  most  beneficial  to  his  party  that  could  be 
devised,  be  was  at  once  precipitated  from  the  sum- 
mit of  prosperity,  and  saw  all  the  expectations  of 
his  ambition  blasted,  and  himself  ruined. 

The  character  I  have  given  of  him,  is  drawn 
partly  from  what  1  saw  of  him  myself,  and  partly 
from  information.  I  am  aware,  that  a  man  of  real 
merit  is  never  seen  in  so  favourable  a  light  as 
through  the  medium  of  adversity.  The  clouds  that 
surround  lain  are  shades  that  set  off  his  goo  1  quali- 
ties. Misfortune  cuts  down  the  little  vanities,  that 
in  prosperous  times  serve  as  so  many  spots  in  his 
virtues,  and  gives  a  tone  of  humility  that  makes  his 
worth  more  amiable.  His  spectators,  who  enjoy  a 
happier  lot,  are  less  prone  to  detract  from  it  through 
envy;  and  are  more  disposed  by  compassion  to  give 
him  the  credit  he  deserves,  and  perhaps  even  to 
magnify  it. 

1  speak  not  of  Andre's  conduct  in  this  affair  as  a 
philosopher,  but  as  a  man  of  the  world.  The  author- 
ized maxims  and  practices  of  war  are  the  satires  of 
human  nature.  They  countenance  almost  every 
species  of  seduction,  as  well  as  violence;  and  the 
General  who  can  make  most  traitors  in  the  army  of 
his  adversary  is  frequently  most  applauded.  On 
this  scale  we  acquit  Andre,  while  we  would  not  but 
condemn  him  if  we  were  to  examine  his  conduct  by 
the  sober  rules  of  philosophy  and  moral  rectitude. 
It  is,  however,  a  blemish  on  his  fame,  that  he  once 
intended  to  prostitute  a  flag, — about  this,  a  man  of 
nice  honour  ought  to  have  find  a  scruple;  b.it  the 
temptation  was  great.  Let  his  misfortunes  east  a 
veil  over  his  error. 

Several  letters  from  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  and  others, 
were  received  in  the  course  of  the. affair,  feebly 
attempting  to  prove  that  Andre  came  out  under  the 
protection  of  a  flag,  with  a  passport  from  a  general 
officer  in  actual  service;  and  consequently  could 
not  be  justly  detained.  Clinton  sent  a  deputation, 
composed  of  Lieutenant-General  Robinson,  Mr.  El- 
liot, and  Mr.  William  Smith,  to  represent,  as  he  said, 
the  true  state  of  Major  Andres  case.  General 
Greene  met  Robinson,  and  bad  a  conversation  with 
him,  in  which  he  reiterated  the  pretence  of  a  flag, 
urged  Andre's  release  as  a  personal  favour  to  Sir 
Henry  Clinton,  and  offered  any  friend  of  ours  in 
their  power  in  exchange.  Nothing  could  have  been 
more  frivolous  than  the  plea  winch  was  used.  Tho 
fact  was,  that  besides  the  time,  manner,  ob'ect  of 
the  interview,  change  of  dress,  and  other  circum- 
stances, there  was  not  a  single  formality  customary 
with  flags;  and  the  passport  was  not  to  Major 
Andre,  but  to  Mr.  Anderson.  But  had  there  been, 
on  the  contrary,  all  the  formalities,  it  would  be  an 
abuse  of  language  to  say,  that  the  sanction  of  a  flag, 
for  corrupting  an  officer  to  betray  his  trust,  ought 
to  be  respected.  So  unjustifi  ible  a  purpose  would 
not  only  destroy  its  validity,  but  make  it  an  aggra- 
vation. 

Andre  himself  has  answered  the  argument,  by 
ridiculing  and  exploding  the  idea,  i:i  bis  examination 


426 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


before  the  board  of  officers.  It  was  a  weakness  to 
urge  it. 

There  was,  in  truth,  no  way  of  saving  him. 
Arnold  or  he  must  have  been  the  victim ;  the  for- 
mer was  out  of  our  power 

It  was  by  some  suspected,  Arnold  had  taken  his 
measures  in  such  a  manner,  that  if  the  interview 
had  been  discovered  in  the  act,  it  might  have  been 
in  his  power  to  sacrifice  Andre  to  his  own  security. 
This  surmise  of  double  treachery,  made  them  ima- 
gine Clinton  would  be  induced  to  give  up  Arnold 
for  Andre ;  and  a  gentleman  took  occasion  to  sug- 
gest the  expedient  to  the  latter,  as  a  thing  that 
might  be  proposed  by  him.  He  declined  it.  The 
moment  he  had  been  capable  of  so  much  frailty,  I 
Bhould  have  ceased  to  esteem  him. 

The  infamy  of  Arnold's  conduct,  previous  to  his 
desertion,  is  only  equalled  by  his  baseness  since. 
Besides  the  folly  of  writing  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton, 
that  Andre  had  acted  under  a  passport  from  him, 
and  according  to  his  directions,  while  commanding 
officer  at  a  post,  and  that  therefore  he  did  not 
doubt  he  would  be  immediately  sent  in,  he  had  the 
effrontery  to  write  to  General  Washington  in  the 
same  spirit,  with  the  addition  of  a  menace  of  retalia- 
tion, if  the  sentence  should  be  carried  into  execution. 
He  has  since  acted  the  farce  of  sending  in  his  resig- 
nation. This  man  is,  in  every  sense,  despicable.  In 
addition  to  the  scene  of  knavery  and  prostitution 
during  his  command  in  Philadelphia,  which  the  late 
seizure  of  his  papers  has  unfolded,  the  history  of  his 
command  at  West  Point  is  a  history  of  little  as  well 
as  great  villanies.  He  practised  every  art  of  pecu- 
lation; and  even  Btooped  to  connexion  with  the 
suttlers  of  the  garrison  to  defraud  the  public. 

To  his  conduct,  that  of  the  captors  of  Andre 
formed  a  striking  contrast.  He  tempted  them  with 
the  offer  of  his  watch,  his  horse,  and  any  sum 
of  money  they  should  name.  They  rejected  his 
offers  with  indignation  ;  and  the  gold  that  could 
seduce  a  man  high  in  the  esteem  and  confidence  of 
his  country,  who  had  the  remembrance  of  past  ex- 
ploits, the  motives  of  present  reputation  and  future 
glory,  to  prop  his  integrity,  had  no  charms  for  three 
simple  peasants,  leaning  ordy  on  their  virtue  and  an 
honest  sense  of  their  duty.  While  Arnold  is  handed 
down,  with  execration,  to  future  times,  posterity 
will  repeat  with  reverence  the  names  of  Van  Wart, 
Paulding,  and  Williams. 

I  congratulate  my  friend  on  our  happy  escape 
from  the  mischiefs  with  which  this  treason  was  big. 
It  is  a  new  comment  on  the  value  of  an  honest  man, 
and,  if  it  were  possible,  would  endear  you  to  me 
more  than  ever.     Adieu. 

FROM    TnE    EULOGIUM    ON   GEN.  GREENE,   UEFOEE    THE     SOCIETY 
OF  THE  CINCINNATI. 

There  is  no  duty  that  could  have  been  assigned  to 
me  by  this  society  which  I  should  execute  with 
greater  alacrity  than  the  one  I  am  now  called  upon 
to  perform.  All  the  motives  capable  of  interesting 
an  ingenuous  and  feeling  mind  conspire  to  prompt  me 
to  its  execution.  To  commemorate  the  talents,  vir- 
tues, and  exploits,  of  great  and  good  men,  is  at  all 
times  a  pleasing  task  to  those  who  know  how  to  es- 
teem them.  But  when  such  men,  to  the  title  of 
superior  merit,  join  that  of  having  been  the  defend- 
ers and  guardians  of  our  country;  when  they  have 
been  connected  with  us  as  companions  in  the  same 
dangers,  sufferings,  misfortunes,  and  triumphs;  when 
they  have  been  allied  to  us  in  the  still  more  endear- 
ing character  of  friends ;  we  recall  the  ideas  of  their 
worth  with  sensations  that  affect  us  yet  more  nearly, 
and  feel  an  involuntary  propensity  to  consider  their 
fame  as  our  own.     We  seem  to  appropriate  to  our- 


selves the  good  they  have  done ;  and  to  take  a  per- 
sonal interest  in  the  glory  they  have  acquired  ;  and 
to  share  in  the  very  praise  we  bestow. 

In  entering  upon  a  subject  in  which  your  feelings 
as  well  as  my  own  are  so  deeply  concerned,  however 
it  might  become  me  to  follow  examples  of  humility, 
I  shall  refrain  from  a  practice  perhaps  not  less  laud- 
able than  it  is  common.  I  cannot  prevail  upon  my- 
self to  check  the  current  of  your  sensibility  by  the 
cold  formalities  of  an  apology  for  the  defects  of  the 
speaker.  These  can  neither  be  concealed  nor  ex- 
tenuated by  the  affectation  of  diffidence  ;  nor  even 
by  the  genuine  concessions  of  conscious  inability. 
"lis  your  command,  and  the  reverence  we  all  bear 
to  the  memory  of  him  of  whom  I  am  to  speak,  that 
must  constitute  my  excuse,  and  my  claim  to  your 
indulgence.  Did  I  even  possess  the  powers  of  ora- 
tory, I  should  with  reluctance  attempt  to  employ 
them  upon  the  present  occasion.  The  native  bril- 
liancy of  the  diamond  needs  not  the  polish  of  art ; 
the  conspicuous  features  of  pre-eminent  merit,  need 
not  the  coloring  pencil  of  imagination,  nor  the  florid 
decorations  of  rhetoric. 

From  you  who  knew  and  loved  him,  I  fear  not 
the  imputation  of  flattery,  or  enthusiasm,  when  I  in- 
dulge an  expectation,  that  the  name  of  Geeene  will 
at  once  awaken  in  your  minds,  the  images  of  what- 
ever is  noble  and  estimable  in  htinian  nature.  The 
fidelity  of  the  portrait  1  shall  draw,  will  therefore 
have  nothing  to  apprehend  from  your  sentence.  But 
1  dare  not  hope  that  it  will  meet  with  equal  justice 
from  all  others;  or  that  it  will  entirely  escape  the 
cavils  of  ignorance  and  the  shafts  of  envy.  For 
high  as  this  great  man  stood  in  the  estimation  of  his 
country,  the  whole  extent  of  his  worth  was  little 
known.  The  situations  in  which  he  has  appeared, 
though  such  as  would  have  measured  the  faculties 
and  exhausted  the  resources  of  men  who  might 
justly  challenge  the  epithet  of  great,  were  yet  in- 
competent to  the  full  display  of  those  various,  rare, 
and  exalted  endowments,  with  which  nature  only 
now  and  then  decorates  a  favorite,  as  if  with  inten- 
tion to  astonish  mankind. 

As  a  man,  the  virtues  of  Greene  are  admitted ;  as 
a  patriot,  he  holds  a  place  in  the  foremost  rank ;  as 
a  statesman,  he  is  praised ;  as  a  soldier,  he  is  ad- 
mired. But  in  the  two  last  characters,  especially  in 
the  last  but  one,  his  reputation  falls  far  below  his 
desert.  It  required  a  longer  life,  and  still  greater 
opportunities,  to  have  enabled  him  to  exhibit,  in  full 
day,  the  vast,  I  had  almost  said  the  enormous,  powers 
of  his  mind. 

The  termination  of  the  American  war — not  too 
soon  for  his  wishes,  nor  for  the  welfare  of  his  coun- 
try, but  too  soon  for  his  glory — put  an  end  to  his 
military  career.  The  sudden  termination  of  his  life, 
cut  him  off  from  those  scenes,  which  the  progress  of 
a  new,  immense,  and  unsettled  empire,  could  not  fail 
to  open  to  the  complete  exertion  of  that  universal 
and  pervading  genius  which  qualified  him  not  less 
for  the  senate  than  for  the  field. 

In  forming  our  estimate,  nevertheless,  of  his  cha- 
racter, we  are  not  left  to  supposition  and  conjecture. 
We  are  not  left  to  vague  indications  or  uncertain 
appearances,  which  partiality  might  varnish  or  pre- 
judice discolor.  We  have  a  succession  of  deeds,  as 
glorious  as  they  are  unequivocal,  to  attest  his  great- 
ness and  perpetuate  the  honors  of  his  name. 

It  is  an  observation,  as  just  as  it  is  common,  that 
in  those  great  revolutions  which  occasionally  con- 
vulse society,  human  nature  never  fails  to  be  brought 
forward  in  its  brightest  as  well  as  in  its  blackest 
colors:  and  it  has  very  properly  been  ranked  not 
among  the  least  of  the  advantages  which  compensate 
for  the  evils  they  produce,  that  they  serve  to  briDg 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


427 


to  light,  talents  and  virtues,  -which  might  otherwise 
have  languishe  d  in  obscurity,  or  only  shot  forth  a 
few  scattered  and  wandering  rays. 

Nathaniel  Greene  descended  from  reputable  pa- 
rents; but  not  placed  by  birth  in  that  elevated 
rank  which,  under  a  monarchy,  is  the  only  sure  road 
to  those  employments  that  give  activity  and  scope 
to  abilities,  must,  in  all  probability,  have  contented 
himself  with  the  humble  lot  of  a  private  citizen,  or, 
at  most,  with  the  contracted  sphere  of  an  elective 
office,  in  a  colonial  and  dependent  government, 
scarcely  conscious  of  the  resources  of  his  own  mind, 
had  not  the  violated  rights  of  his  country  called 
him  to  act  a  part  on  a  more  splendid  and  more  am- 
ple theatre. 

Happily  for  America,  he  hesitated  not  to  obey  the 
call.  The  vigor  of  his  genius,  corresponding  with 
the  importance  of  the  p:-ize  to  be  contended  for, 
overcame  the  natural  moderation  of  his  temper;  aud 
though  not  hurried  on  by  enthusiasm,  but  animated 
by  an  enlightened  sense  of  the  value  of  free  govern- 
ment, he  cheerfully  resolved  to  stake  his  fnrtune,  his 
hopes,  his  life,  and  his  honor,  upon  an  enterprise,  of 
the  danger  of  which  he  knew  the  whole  magnitude  ; 
in  a  cause,  which  was  worthy  of  the  toils  and  of  the 
blood  of  heroes. 

The  sword  having  been  appealed  to,  at  Lexington, 
as  the  Arbiter  of-  the  controversy  between  Great 
Britain  and  America,  Greene,  shortly  after,  marched, 
at  the  head  of  a  regiment,  to  join  the  American 
forces  at  Cambridge;  determined  to  abide  the  awful 
decision. 

He  was  not  long  there  before  the  discerning  eye 
of  the  American  Fabius  marked  him  out  as  the  ob- 
ject of  his  confidence. 

His  abilities  entitled  him  to  a  pre-eminent  share 
in  the  councils  of  his  Chief.  He  gained  it,  and  he 
preserved  it,  amidst  all  the  checkered  varieties  of 
military  vicissitude,  and  in  defiance  of  all  the  in- 
trigues of  jealous  and  aspiring  rivals. 

As  long  as  the  measures  which  conducted  us  safely 
through  the  first  most  critical  stages  of  the  war 
shall  be  remembered  with  approbation  ;  as  long  as 
the  enterprises  of  Trenton  and  Princeton  shall  bo  re- 
garded as  the  dawnings  of  that  bright  day  which 
afterwards  broke  forth  wiih  sneh  resplendent  lus- 
tre ;  as  long  as  the  almost  magic  operations  of  the 
remainder  of  that  memorable  winter,  distinguished 
not  more  by  these  events  than  by  the  extraordinary 
spectacle  of  a  powerful  army  straitened  within 
narrow  limits  by  the  phantom  of  a  military  force, 
and  never  permitted  to  transgress  those  limits  with 
impunity,  in  which  skill  supplied  the  place  of  means, 
and  disposition  was  the  substitute  for  an  army ;  as 
long,  I  say,  as  these  operations  shall  continue  to  be  the 
objects  of  curiosity  aud  wonder,  so  long  ought  the 
name  of  Greene  to  be  reve.ed  by  a  grateful  country. 
To  attribute  to  him  a  port  on  of  the  praise  which  is 
due,  as  well  to  the  formation  as  to  the  execution  of 
the  plans  that  effected  the*e  important  ends,  can  be 
no  derogation  from  that  wisdom  and  magnanimity 
which  knew  how  to  select  and  embrace  counsels 
worthy  of  being  pursued. 

The  laurels  of  a  Henry  were  never  tarnished  by 
the  obligations  he  owed  and  acknowledged  to  a 
Sully. 

****** 

From  the  Heights  of  Monmouth  I  might  lead  you 
to  the  Plains  of  Springfield,  there  to  behold  the 
veteran  Knyphaussen,  at  the  head  of  a  veteran  army, 
baffled  and  almost  beaten  by  a  general  without  an 
army — aided,  or  rather  embarrassed,  by  small  fugi- 
tive bodies  of  volunteer  militia,  the  mimicry  of 
soldiership ! 

But  it  would  ill  become  me  to  detain  you  ia  the 


contemplation  of  objects  diminutive  in  comparison 
with  those  that  are  to  succeed. 

Hitherto,  we  have  seen  the  illustrious  Greene 
acting  in  a  subordinate  capacity,  the  faint  glimmer- 
ings of  his  fame  absorbed  and  lost  in  the  superior 
rays  of  a  Washington.  Happy  was  it  for  him  to 
have  been  called  to  a  more  explicit  station.  Had 
this  never  been  the  case,  the  future  historian,  per- 
plexed between  the  panegyric  of  friends  and  satire 
of  enemies,  might  have  doubted  in  what  colors  to 
draw  his  true  character.  Accident,  alone,  saved  a 
Greene  from  so  equivocal  a  fate ;  a  reflection  which 
might  damp  the  noble  ardor  of  emulation,  aud  check 
the  toweri.ig  flight  of  conscious  merit. 

The  defeat  of  Camden,  and  the  misfortune  of 
Gates,  opened  the  career  of  victory  and  of  glory  to 
Greene.  Congress  having  resolved  upon  a  successor 
to  the  former,  the  choice  was  left  to  the  Commander- 
in-Chief,  and  fell  upon  the  latter.  In  this  destina- 
tion, honorable  in  proportion  as  it  was  critical,  he 
acquiesced  with  the  mingled  emotions  of  a  great 
miud — impelled  by  a  sense  of  duty — allured  by  the 
hope  of  fame — apprised  of  the  danger  aud  preeari- 
ousness  of  the  situation,  yet  confident  of  its  own 
strength,  and  animated  by  the  magnitude  of  the  ob- 
ject for  which  it  was  to  be  exerted. 

Henceforth  we  are  to  view  him  on  a  more  exalted 
eminence.  He  is  no  longer  to  figure  in  an  ambigu- 
ous or  secondary  light;  he  is  to  shine  forth  the  arti- 
ficer of  his  own  glory — the  leader  of  armies  and  the 
deliverer  of  States! 

BALLAD  LITERATURE,  &c.  OF  THE  INDIAN, 
FRENCH,  AND  REVOLUTIONARY  1VAJJS. 

One  of  the  early  ballads  written  in  the  country 
is  that  composed  about  1724,  on  the  encounter 
between  Captain  Lovewell  and  Paugus,  an  Indian 
chief.  Lovewell  was  the  son  of  Zuccheus  Love- 
well,  an  ensign  in  Cromwell's  army,  who  emi- 
grated to  New  Hampshire  and  settled  at  Dun- 
stable, where  he  attained  the  wonderful  age  of 
one  hundred  and  twenty  years.  Captain  Love- 
well had,  previously  to  the  engagement  in  which 
he  lost  his  life,  taken  part  in  several  encounters 
with  the  Indians,  and  proved  himself  a  man  of 
skill  and  bravery.*  We  give  the  ballad  from  the 
appendix  to  the  reprint  of  Church's  Indian  Wars, 
by  Samuel  G.  Drake,  with  the  valuable  notes 
added  by  the  editor. 

LOVEWELL'S  FIGIIT. 

Of  worthy   Captain   Lovewell,  I   purpose  now  to 

sing, 
How  valiantly  he  served  his  country  and  his  King; 
He  and  his  valiant  soldiers,  did  range  the  woods 

full  wide, 
And  hardships  they  endured  to  quell  the  Indians' 

pride. 

Twas  nigh  unto  Pigwacket.f  on  the  eighth  day  of 
May,t 

They  spied  a  rebel  Indian  soon  after  break  of  day; 

He  on  a  bank  was  walking,  upon  a  neck  of  land, 

Which  leads  into  a  pond§  as  we're  made  to  under- 
stand. 


*  Farmer  and  Moore's  Hist.  Co!],  of  New  Hampshire,  i.  25 ; 
hi.  64. 

+  Situated  on  the  upper  part  of  the  river  Saco,  then  fifty  miles 
from  any  white  settlement. — Farmland  Moore's  Coll.  i.  27.  It 
is  in  the  present  town  of  Fryebum,  Maine. 

X  They  set  ont  from  Dunstable  about  the  16th  April,  1725. 
Symmes'  narrative,  in  Farmer  and  Moore's  Coll.  i.  27. 

§  Called  Saco  pond.  Some  call  this  Lovewell's  pond,  but 
Lovewell's  pond  is  in  Wakefield,  where  ho  some  time  befora 
"captured  a  company  of  Indians,  who  wero  ou  their  way  to 
attack  some  of  the  frontier  towns. 


428 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Our  men  resolved  to  have  him  and  travell'd  two 

miles  round, 
Until  they  met  .the  Indian,  who  boldly  stood  his 

ground;. 
Then  spake  up  Captain  Lovewell,  "  Take  you  good 

heed,"  says  he, 
"  This  rogue  is  to  decoy  us,  I  very  plainly  see.* 

"The  Indians  lie  in  ambush,  in  some  place  nigh  at 

hand, 
In  order  to  surround  us  upon  this  neck  of  land; 
Therefore  we'll  march  in  order,  and  each  man  leave 

his  pack, -}- 
That  we  may  briskly  fight  them  when  they  make 

their  attack." 

They  came  unto  this  Indian,  who  ill  1  them  thus  defy, 
As  soon  as  they  came  nigh  him,  two  guns  he  did 

let  fly,* 
Which  womidel  Captain  Lovewell,  and  likewise  one 

man  more,§ 
But  when  this  rogue  was  running,  they  laid  him  in 

his  go;  e.  jj 

Then  having  scalp'd  the  Indian,  they  went  back  to 

the  spot, 
Where  they  had  laid  their  packs  down,  but  there 

they  found  them  not, 
For  the  Indians  having  spy'd  them,  when  they  them 

down  did  lay, 
Did  seize  them   for  their  plunder,  and  carry  them 

away. 

These  rebels  lay  in  ambush,  this  very  place  hard  by, 
So  that  an  English  soldier  did  one  of  them  espy, 
And  cried  out  "Here's  an  Indian,"  with  that  they 

started  out, 
As  fiercely  as  old  lions,  and  hideously  did  shout. 

With  that  our  valiant  English,  all  gave  a  loud  huzza, 
To  show  the  rebel  Indians  they  fear'd  them  not  a 

straw; 
So  now  the  fight  began,  and  as  fiercely  as  eould  be, 
The  Indians  ran  up  to  them,  but  soon  were  forc'd  to 

flee.1T 

Then  spake  up  Captain  Lovewell,  when  first  the 

fight  began, 
"  Fight  on,  my  valiant  heroes !  you  see  they  fall  like 

rain." 
For  as  we  are  inform'd,  the  Indians  were  so  thick, 
A  man  could  scarcely  fire  a  gun  and  not  some  of 

them  hit. 

Then  did  the  rebels  try  their  best  our  soldiers  to 

surround, 
But  (hey  could  not  accomplish  it,  because  there  was 

a  pond, 
To  which   our  men  retreated  and  covered  all  the 

rear,** 


*  This  Indian  was  out  a  hunting,  and  probably  had  no  know- 
ledge of  the  English,  having  two  ducks  in  his  band,  and  liis 
guns  loaded  with  beaver  shot. — Symmesand  Belknap. 

t  The  Indians  finding  their  packs,  learned  their  number,  and 
placed  themselves  to  surround  them,  when  they  returned. 

Jit  appears  from  Mr.  Symines,  that  the  English  saw  the  In- 
dian coming,  and  secreted  themselves,  firing  at  him  first.  He 
then,  having  two  guns,  discharged  both,  and  wounded  the 
Captain  mortally. 

§  Samuel  Whiting. 

I  Ensign  Wyman  shot  him,  and  Mr.  Frye,  the  chaplain,  and 
another,  scalped  him. — Symmcs. 

1  Both  pomes  advanced  with  their  guns  presented,  and  when 
they  came  within"  a  few  yards,"  they  fired  on  both  sides. 
"The  Indians  fell  in  considerable  numbers,  but  the  English, 
most,  if  not  all  of  them,  escaped  the  first  shot." — lb.  Then  ad- 
vancing within  twice  the  length  of  their  guns,  slew  nine. — Pen- 
hallow. 

**  Twelve  were  killed  and  wounded  before  they  retreated  to 
the  pond.  There  was  a  small  bank,  which  6erved  them  as  a 
breastwork,  and,  perhaps,  saved  them  from  an  immediate  de- 


The  rogues  were  forc'd  to  flee  them,  altho'  they 
skulk'd  for  fear. 

Two  logs  there  were  behind  them,  that  close  toge- 
ther lay, 

Without  being  discovered,  they  could  not  get  away  ; 

Therefore  our  valiant  English,  they  travell'd  in  a 
row, 

And  at  a  handsome  distance  as  they  were  wontto  go. 

'Twas  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  first  the  fight 

begun, 
And  fiercely  did  continue  until  the  setting  sun  ; 
Excepting  that  the  Indiana,  some  hours  before  'twas 

night, 
Drew  off  into  the  bushes  and  ceased  awhile  to  fight* 

But  soon  again  returned,  in  fierce  and  furious  mood, 
Shouting  as  in  the  morning,  but  yet  not  half  so  loud ; 
For  as  we  are  informed,  so  thick  and  fast  the3'  fell, 
Scarce  twenty   of  their  number,  at  night  did  get 
home  well.f 

And  that  our  valiant  English,  till  midnight  there  did 

stay, 
To  see  whether  the  rebels  would  have  another  fray; 
But  they  no  more  returning,  they  made  off  towards 

their  home, 
And  brought  away  their  wounded  as  far  as  they 

could  come4 

Of  all  our  valiant  English,  there  were  but  thirty-four, 
And  of  the  rebel  Indians,  there  were   about  four 

score. 
And  sixteen  of  our  English  did  safely  home  return, 
The  rest  were  killed  and  wounded,  for  which  we  all 

must  mourn. § 

Our  worthy  Captain  Lovewell  among  them  there 

did  die, 
They  killed  Lt.  Robins,]  and  wounded  good  young 

Frye,! 
Who  "was  our  English  chaplain  ;  he  many  Indians 

slew, 
And  some  of  them  he  scalp'd  -when  bullets  round 

him  flew. 

Young  Fullam**  too  I'll  mention,  because  he  fought 
so  well, 

Endeavouring  to  save  a  man,  a  sacrifice  he  fell ; 

But  yet  our  valiant  Englishmen  in  fight  were  ne'er 
dismay'd, 

But  still  they  kept  their  motion,  and  Wyniau's'|-j'  Cap- 
tain made, 


feat.  This  is  the  more  probable,  as  but  few  were  killed  after- 
wards.— lb. 

*  They  probably  drew  off  to  take  care  of  the  wounded. 
Symines  nor  Pen  hallow  makes  mention  that  they  returned 
again  to  the  fight,  after  they  drew  oil'. 

t  Forty  were  said  to  be  killed  upon  the  spot,  and  eighteen 
more  died  of  their  wounds. — PenkuUow. 

%  Solomon  Keyes,  after  receiving  three  wounds,  crawled 
along  the  shore  of  the  pond,  where  lie  chanced  to  find  an  old 
canoe,  into  which  be  rolled  himself,  and  the  wind  wafted  him 
on  several  miles  toward  the  fort,  which  lie  reached  in  safety, 
lie  felt  Ins  end  approaching,  when  he  was  in  the  boat,  into 
which  he  had  crawled,  ou'y  to  die  in  peace,  and  to  escape  the 
scu'pmg  knife,  but  wonderfully  revived. — Syrrnne*. 

§  Eight  were  left  in  the  woods,  whose  wounds  were  so  bad 
that  they  could  not  travel,  of  whom  two  only  returned.  Ono 
ran  away  in  the  beginning  of  the  fight. 

H  Tic  belonged  to  Chelmesford.  Eeing  mortally  wounded, 
desired  to  have  two  guns  charged,  aid  left  wiih  him,  which 
they  did.  He  snirl,  "  As  the  Indians  will  come  in  the  morning 
to  scalp  me.  I  will  kill  one  more  of  them  if  I  can." — 76. 

°l  lie  fell  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  He  was  the  only 
son  of  Capt.  James  Frye  of  Andover,  graduated  at  Harvard 
college  in  1728,  and  wns  chaplain  of  the  company. — lb. 

*#  Only  son  of  Major  Fullam  of  Weston,  was  sergeant  of  the 
company,  and  fell  in  the  beginning  of  the  fight. — lb. 

11"  Ensign  Seth  Wyman  of  Wuburn.  He  was  presented  with 
a  silver  hilted  sword  for  bis  good  conduct,  and  commissioned 
Captain.    He  died  6oon.after. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


429 


Who  shot  the  old  chief  Paugus,*  which  did  the  foe 

defeat, 
Then  set  his  men  in  order,  and   brought  off  the 

retreat ; 
And  braving  many  dangers  and  hardships  in  the 

way, 
They  safe  arriv'd  at  Dunstable,  the  thirteenth  day 

of  May.f 

The  long-continued  contest  known  as  the  old 
French  War,  though  waged  at  a  comparative 
distance  from  the  settled  portion  of  the  country, 
was  one  which  could  not  fail  to  leave  its  trace  in 
the  popular  literature.  The  foe  was  one  whose 
ascendency,  in  the  opinion  of  a  great  part  of  the 
colonist*,  foreboded  destruction  to  soul  as  well  as 
body.  The  Roman  Catholic  priest  represented 
a  system  which  they  detested ;  the  Indian  was 
identified  with  infant  recollections  and  the  tales  of 
terror  of  the  fireside.  The  colonists  went  heart 
and  hand  with  the  mother  country,  and  shared  to 
the  full  the  John  Bull  prejudice  and  contempt  of 
a  Frenchman.  As  expedition  succeeded  expedi- 
tion, battle  followed  after  battle,  the  companion- 
ship in  different  scenes  of  danger  and  endurance 
led  to  a  union  of  feeling  among  the  represent- 
atives of  different  portions  of  the  countiy,  and 
while  it  furnished  a  school  of  warfare,  presented 
one  also  of  federative  union. 

History  has  been  active  in  identifying  the  local- 
ities of  the  war  and  in  preserving  the  memory 
of  its  heroes,  but  has  bestowed  slight  care  on  a 
department  which  has  claims  equal  to  these — the 
preservation  of  the  ballad  and  song  which  cheered 
the  long  march  of  the  soldier  through  the  wil- 
derness, and  warmed  the  hearts  of  his  kindred  at 
the  fireside,  ilany,  probably,  of  the  fugitive  pro- 
ductions of  which  we  have  spoken  have  perished, 
and  the  lines  of  some  which  remain  may  to  us 
have  little  of  the  spirit-stirring  element,  but  they 
are  worthy  of  regard  for  their  past  services. 

One  of  the  first  in  order  of  the  productions  to 
which  we  have  alluded  is  a  little  duodecimo  pam- 
phlet of  thirty  pages,  entitled  Tilden's  Miscel- 
laneous Poems  on  Dicers  Occasions,  chiefly  to 
animate  and  rouse  the  Soldiers.  Printed  1756. 
We  know  nothing  of  the  author  beyond  the  in- 
formation he  furnishes  us  in  his 

preface,  oe  introduction". 
Ingenious  and  Courteous  Reader: 

It  may  justly  seem  a  matter  of  great  surprise  that 
a  man  near  70  years  of  age  should  attempt  to  be  an 
author:  it  may  justly  be  deemed  by  you,  or  any 
other  gentleman,  to  be  the  product  of  superannua- 
tion. Yet,  Courteous  Reader,  I  have  some  excuses 
to  make,  for  digging  up  rusty  talents  out  of  the 
earth  so  long  lain  hid.  In  the  first  place,  when  I 
was  young  I  was  bashful,  and  could  not  stand  the 
gust  of  a  laugh  ;  but  having  observed  the  press  for 
60  years,  which  has  stood  open  and  free  to  every 
idle  scribbler,  who  have  come  off  with  impunity 
instead  of  the  punishment,  I  tho't  they  would  have 


*  Many  of  T.ovewe'Vs  men  knew  Paugus  personally.  A  huge 
bear's  skin  formed  a  part  of  bis  dress.  From  Mr.  Symmes'  ac- 
count, it  appears  that  John  Chamberlain  killed  h'im.  They 
had  spoken  together  some  time  in  the  fight  and  afterwards  both 
happened  togb  to  the  poDd  to  wash  out  their  trims,  which  were 
rendered  useless  by  so  frequent  firing.  Here  the  challenge  was 
given  by  Paugus,  "  It  is  you  or  I."  As  soon  as  the  guns  were 
prepared  they  fired,  and  Paugus  fell. 

T  Wyman  and  three  others  did  not  arrive  until  the  15th,  but 
the  main  body,  consisting  of  twelve,  arrived  the  18th. 


had ;  I  nm-thereby  emboldened  to  venture  myself 
among  the  rest.  But,  ingenious  sirs,  I  think  I  have 
greater  and  nobler  views;  for  since  brave  soldiers 
are  the  very  life,  nerves,  and  sinews  of  their  country, 
and  cannot  be  too  much  honored,  nor  too  well  paid 
— being  a  lover  of  martial  discipline — I  tho't  at  this 
critical  juncture  it  might  be  of  some  service  to  the 
public,  to  attempt  to  animate,  and  stir  up  the  mar- 
tial spirits  of  our  soldiery,  which  is  the  utmost  I  can 
do  under  my  present  circumstances.  The  small 
effort  I  made  last  spring  was  so  well  accepted  by  the 
j  gentlemen  of  the  army,  that  I  am  thereby  embold- 
I  ened  to  revise  that,  and  some  other  pieces,  and  put 
them  into  a  small  pamphlet.  I  have  nothing  further 
to  say,  Gentlemen,  but  conclude  with  the  two  fol- 
lowing stanzas : — 

Kind  Sirs,  if  that  you  will  accept, 
This  pretty  Pamphlet  as  a  gift : 
With  nil  the  powers  I  have  left, 

I  will  consult  your  Honor, 
But  if  you  throw  her  quite  away, 
As  I  confess  you  justly  may, 
I've  nothing  further  for  to  say  ; 

But  spit  and  tread  upon  her. 

But  if  that  kindly  you  receive, 

And  grant  the  Muse  a  blest  reprieve; 

That  little  while  she  has  to  live, 

'Twill  give  her  life  and  motion, 
And  make  her  crazy  pinions  strong; 
Thro'  lofty  theme  she'll  fly  along, 
And  every  stanza  in  her  song, 

Shall  stand  at  your  devotion. 

The  work  opens  as  a  patriotic  work,  designing 
to  fill,  in  due  course,  all  the  regular  requirements 
of  such  a  production,  with 

THE    BRITISH    LION   ROUSED. 

Hail !  great  Apollo  guide  my  feeble  pen, 
To  rouse  the  august  lion  from  his  den, 
Exciting  vengeance  on  the  worst  of  men. 

Rouse,  British  Lion,  from  thy  soft  repose, 
And  take  revenge  upon  the  worst  of  foes, 
Who  try  to  ring  and  haul  you  by  the  nose. 

They  always  did  thy  quiet  breast  annoy, 
Raising  rebellion  with  the  Rival  Boy, 
Seeking  thy  faith  and  iut'rest  to  destroy. 

Treaties  and  oaths  they  always  did  break  thro'; 
They  never  did  nor  wou'd  keep  faith  with  you, 
By  popes  and  priests  indulged  so  to  do. 

All  neighbouring  powers  and  neutral  standers  by 
Look  on  our  cause  with  an  impartial  eye, 
And  see  their  falseness  and  their  perfidy. 

Their  grand  encroachments  on  us  ne'er  did  eeaee, 
But  by  indulgence  mightily  increase, 
Killing  anil  sculping  us  in  times  of  peace 

They  buy  our  scalps,  exciting  savage  clans, 
In  children's  blood  for  to  embue  their  hands, 
Assisted  by  their  cruel  Gallic  bands. 

The  British  lion  on  his  legs,  with  rampant  tail, 
we  have  next  The  English  Soldiers  Encouraged, 
from  which  we  take  a,  passage  exhibiting  the 
grievances  complained  of: — 

From  Acadia  to  the  Ohio  river, 

They  seize  your  lands  where  Jove  is  not  the  giver  ; 

Laying  a  plan  that  they  in  time  to  come, 

O'er  all  these  lands  may  sing  their  To  Deum; 

And  cloud  your  sun  with  Popish  superstition, 

And  make  you  dread  their  bloody  Inquisition. 


4:30 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


In  vain  you'll  sigh,  and  make  your  sad  complaints 

Unto  these  idiot- worshippers  of  saints. 

Better  to  die  if  Heaven  sees  it  fit, 

In  fields  of  blood,  than  ever  to  submit : 

Go,  heroes  bold,  you've  a  commission  given 

From   George,   our  king,  and   the   great   King  of 

Heaven. 
The  blood  of  infants  crieth  from  the  ground, 
With  scalped  mothers  seatter'd  up  and  down. 
Revenge,  revenge  our  blood  and  righteous  cause 
Upon  these  rogues  who  break  all  nature's  laws. 
In  coverts  they  watch  many  days  and  nights, 
To  take  a  time  to  do  their  base  exploits, 
Scalp  a  few  children,  home  again  they  run, 
And  swing  their  scalps  and  sing  their  Te  Deum  : 
They've  murther'd  thus  in  all  our  north  frontiers, 
Fill'd  mothers'  hearts  with  sighs  and   groans  and 

tears, 
And  thus  they've  acted  more  than  three-score  years. 
Had  ever  mortals  such  a  cursed  foe  ? 
Ask  Jove  or  Mars,  and  they  will  tell  you  no. 

Next  follows  Braddoclcs  Fate,  with,  an  Incite- 
ment to  Revenge,  composed  August  20,  1755. 
We  select  a  passage,  headed 


HIS   EPITAPH. 


Beneath  this  stone  brave  Braddock  lies, 
Who  always  hated  cowardice, 
But  fell  a  savage  sacrifice ; 

Amidst  his  Indian  foes. 
I  charge  you,  heroes,  of  the  ground, 
To  guard  his  dark  pavilion  round, 
And  keep  off  all  obtruding  sound, 

And  cherish  his  repose. 

Sleep,  sleep,  I  say,  brave  valiant  man, 
Bold  death,  at  last,  has  bid  thee  stand, 
And  to  resign  thy  great  demand, 

And  cancel  thy  commission : 
Altho'  thou  didst  not  much  incline, 
Thy  post  and  honors  to  resign  ; 
Now  iron  slumber  doth  confine; 

None  envy's  thy  condition. 

A  survey  of  the  battle  so  rouses  the  author, 
that  he  gives  us  some  glimpses  of  his  own  indi- 
viduality : — 

Their  skulking,  scalping,  murdering  tricks 

Have  so  enraged  old  sixty-six,* 

With  legs  and  arms  like  withered  sticks, 

And  youthful  vigor  gone; 
That  if  he  lives  another  year, 
Complete  in  armor  he'll  appear, 
And  laugh  at  death,  and  scoff  at  fear, 

To  right  his  country's  wrong. 

Let  young  and  old,  both  high  and  low, 
Arm  well  against  this  savage  foe, 
Who  all  around  environ  us  6o ; 

The  sons  of  black  delusion. 
New  England's  sons,  you  know  their  way, 
And  how  to  cross  them  in  their  play, 
And  drive  these  murdering  dogs  away, 

Unto  their  last  confusion. 

One  bold  effort  0  let  us  make, 
And  at  one  blow  behead  the  snake ; 
And  then  these  savage  powers  will  break, 

Which  long  have  us  oppress'd. 
And  this,  brave  soldiers,  will  we  do, 
If  Heaven  and  George  shall  say  so  too: 
And  if  we  drive  the  matter  thro' 

The  land  will  be  at  rest. 


*  The  Author. 


Come,  every  soldier,  charge  your  gun, 
And  let  your  task  be  killing  one: 
Take  aim  until  the  work  is  done: 

Don't  throw  away  your  fire; 
For  he  that  fires  without  an  aim, 
May  kill  his  friend,  and  be  to  blame, 
And  in  the  end  come  off  with  shame, 

When  forced  to  retire. 

O  mother  land,  we  think  we're  sure 
Sufficient  is  thy  marine  powers, 
To  dissipate  all  eastern  showers: 

And  if  our  arms  be  blest, 
Thy  sons  in  North  America 
Will  drive  these  hell-born  dogs  awny 
As  far  beyond  the  realms  of  day, 

As  east  is  from  the  west. 

Forbear,  my  muse,  thy  barbarous  song, 
Upon  this  theme  thou'st  dwelt  too  long, 
It  is  too  high  and  mueh  too  strong, 

The  learned  won't  allow : 
Much  honor  should  accrue  to  him, 
Who  ne'er  was  at  their  Academ, 
Come,  blot  out  every  telcsem  ;* 

Get  home  unto  thy  plow. 

A  poem  follows  on  The  Christian  Hero,  or 
New  England's  Triumph :  written  soon  after  the 
success  of  our  arms  at  Nova  Scotia,  and  the  Sig- 
nal Victory  at  Lake  George,  after  which  we  find 
The  Soldiers  Reproved  for  Reflecting  on  one 
another.  The  remaining  pieces  consist  of  verses 
on  The  Vanity  and  Uncertainty  of  all  Sublu- 
nary Things  ;  An  Epitaph  upon  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton; and^ln  Essay  on  Progedies  and  Earthquakes. 

We  are  indebted  for  one  of  the  most  stirring  of 
our  specimens  to  The  History  of  An  Expedition 
against  Fort  Du  Quesne  in  1755  under  Hajor- 
General  Braddock,  edited  from  the  original  manu- 
scripts by  Winthrop  Sargent,  M.A. ;  published 
during  the  present  year  by  the  Pennsylvania  His- 
torical Society.  "  This  jingling  provincial  ballad," 
says  Mr.  Sargent,  "  was  composed  in  Chester  coun- 
ty, Pennsylvania,  while  the  army  was  on  its 
march  in  the  spring  or  early  summer  of  1755. 
During  the  Revolution  it  was  still  a  favorite  song 
there,  the  name  of  Lee  being  substituted  for  Brad- 
dock. It  has  never,  I  believe,  appeared  in  print 
before.     There  is  no  doubt  of  its  authenticity." 

To  arms,  to  arms!  my  jolly  grenadiers! 
Hark,  how  the  drums  do  roll  it  along ! 
To  horse,  to  horse,  with  valiant  good  cheer ; 
We'll  meet  our  proud  foe  before  it  is  long. 
Let  not  your  courage  fail  you ; 
Be  valiant,  stout,  and  bold ; 
And  it  will  soon  avail  you, 
My  loyal  hearts  of  gold. 
Huzzah,  my  valiant  countrymen  1 — again  I  say  huz- 

zah! 
Tis  nobly  done — the  day's  our  own — huzzah,  huzzah, 

March  on,  march  on,  brave  Braddock  leads  the  fore- 
most; 
The  battle  is  begun  as  you  may  fairly  see. 
Stand  firm,  be  bold,  and  it  will  soon  be  over; 
We'll  soon  gain  the  field  from  our  proud  enemy. 
A  squadron  now  appears,  my  boys; 

If  that  they  do  but  stand  I 
Boys,  never  fear,  be  sure  you  mind 
The  word  of  command  1 


*  A  name  the  author  gives  to  this  sort  of  metre — Author's  note. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


431 


Iluzzah,  my  valiant  countrymen!  again  I  say  huz- 

zah! 
Tis  nobly  done — the  day's  our  own — huzzah.huzzahl 

See  how,  see  how,  they  break  and  fly  before  us ! 
See  how  they  are  scattered  all  over  the  plain ! 
Now,  now — now,  now,  our  country  will  adore  us ! 
In  peace  and  in  triumph,  boys,  when  we  return 
again  I 
Then  laurels  shall  our  glory  crown 

For  all  our  actions  told : 
The  hills  Bhall  echo  all  around, 
My  loyal  hearts  of  gold. 
Iluzzah,  my  valiant  countrymen ! — again  I  say  huz- 

zah! 
Tis  nobly  done — the  day's  our  own — liuzzah,  huzzah ! 

The  Pennsylvania  Gazette   of  September  30, 
1756,  contains  the  following  spirited 

ODE  TO  THE   INHABITANTS    OP  PENNSYLVANIA. 

Still  shall  the  tyrant  scourge  of  Gaul 
With  wasteful  rage  resistless  fall 

On  Britain's  slumbering  race? 
Still  shall  she  wave  her  bloody  hand 
And  threatening  banners  o'er  this  land, 

To  Britain's  fell  disgrace  ? 

And  not  one  generous  chieftain  rise 
(Who  dares  the  frown  of  war  despise, 

And  treacherous  fear  disclaim) 
His  country's  ruin  to  oppose, 
To  hurl  destruction  on  her  foes, 

And  blast  their  rising  fame  ? 

In  Britain's  cause,  with  valour  fired, 
Braddock,  unhappy  chief!  expired, 

And  claim'd  a  nation's  tear; 
Nor  could  Oswego's  bulwarks  stand 
The  fury  of  a  savage  band, 

Though  Schuyler's  ai'm  was  there. 

Still  shall  this  motley,  murderous  crew 
Their  deep,  destructive  arts  pursue, 

And  general  horror  spread? 
No — see  Britannia's  genius  rise  I 
Swift  o'er  the  Atlantic  foam  she  fliea 

And  lifts  her  laurell'd  head! 

Lo!  streaming  through  the  clear  blue  sky, 
Great  Loudon's  awful  banners  fly, 

In  British  pomp  display'd! 
Soon  shall  the  gallant  chief  advance ; 
Before  him  shrink  the  sons  of  France, 

Coufouuded  and  dismay'd. 

Then  rise,  illustrious  Britons,  rise ! 
Great  Freedom  calls,  pursue  her  voice, 

And  save  your  country's  shame! 
Let  every  hand  for  Britain  arm'd, 
And  every  breast  with  virtue  warm'd, 

Aspire  at  deathless  fame! 

But  chief,  let  Pennsylvania  wake, 
And  on  her  foes  let  terrors  shake, 

Their  gloomy  troops  defy ; 
For,  lo  !   her  smoking  farms  and  plain?, 
Her  captured  youths,  and  murder'd  swains, 

For  vengeance  louder  cry. 

Why  should  we  seek  inglorious  rest, 
Or  sink,  with  thoughtless  ease  opprcss'd, 

While  war  insults  so  near? 
While  ruthless,  fierce,  athirst  for  blood, 
Bellona's  sons,  a  desperate  brood  I 

In  furious  bands  appear  I 

Rouse,  rouse  at  once,  and  boldly  chase 
From  their  deep  haunts,  the  savage  race, 
Till  they  confess  you  men. 


Let  other  Armstrongs*  grace  the  field: 
Let  other  Blaves  before  them  yield, 
And  tremble  round  Du  Quesne. 

And  thou,  our  chief,  and  martial  guide, 
Of  worth  approved,  of  valour  tried 

In  many  a  hard  campaign, 
0  Denny,  warmed  with  British  fire, 
Our  inexperienced  troops  inspire, 

And  conquest's  laurels  gaiu  1 

The  fine  song,  "  How  stands  the  glass  around  ?" 
is  said  to  have  been  composed  by  General  Wolfe 
the  evening  before  the  attack  on  Quebec.  Wolfe 
was  a  man  of  fine  taste  as  well  as  literary  ability, 
and  one  of  the  many  stories  of  the  repetition  of 
Gray's  Elegy  by  distinguished  men  on  their  death- 
beds, or  near  the  close  of  their  lives,  perpetuates 
an  incident  of  the  same  eventful  evening.  "As 
he  passed  from  ship  to  ship,"  of  the  fleet  contain- 
ing his  troops,  "he  spoke  to  those  in  the  boat 
with  him  of  the  poet  Gray,  and  the  Elegy  in  a 
Country  Churchyard.  '  I,'  said  he,  '  would  pre- 
fer being  the  author  of  that  poem  to  the  glory  of 
beating  the  French  to-morrow;'  and  while  the 
oars  struck  the  river  as  it  rippled  in  the  silence 
of  the  night  air  under  the  flowing  tide,  he  re- 
peated, 

"The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 
And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave 

Await  alike  th'  inevitable  hour, 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave."* 


HOW  STANDS  TnE  GLASS  AROUND  ? 

How  stands  the  glass  around? 
For  shame  ye  take  no  care,  my  boys, 

How  stands  the  glass  around? 

Let  mirth  and  wine  abound, 

The  trumpets  sound, 
The  colours  they  are  flying,  boys. 

To  fight,  kill,  or  wound, 

May  we  still  be  found 
Content  with  our  hard  fate,  my  boys, 

On  the  cold  ground. 

Why,  soldiers,  why, 
Should  we  be  melancholy,  boys? 

Why,  soldiers,  why  ? 

Whose  business  'tis  to  die ! 

What,  sighing?  fie! 
Don't  fear,  drink  on,  be  jolly,  boys! 

'Tis  he,  you  or  I ! 

Cold,  hot,  wet,  or  dry, 
We're  always  bound  to  follow,  boys, 

And  scorn  to  fly ! 

'Tis  but  in  vain, — 
I  mean  not  to  upbraid  you,  boys, — 

'Tis  but  in  vain, 

For  soldiers  to  complain : 

Should  next  campaign 
Send  us  to  him  who  made  us,  boys, 

We're  free  from  pain  ! 

But  if  we  remain, 
A  bottle  and  a  kind  landlady 

Cure  all  again. 


*  The  worthy  and  gallant  Colonel  Armstrong,  who,  at  the 
head  of  a  number  of  the  provincial  troops,  destroyed  an  Indian 
town,  and  its  inhabitants,  within  twenty-five  miles  of  Fort  Da 
Quesne. 

t  Bancroft's  History  United  States,  iv.  832. 


432 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  death  of  Wolfe  called  forth  many  mournful 
tributes  to  his  virtues.  We  select  a  few  lines 
which  appeared  in  the  Pennsylvania  Gazette, 
No?.  8,  1759. 

Thy  merits,  Wolfe,  transcend  all  human  praise, 

The  breathing  marble  or  the  muses'  lays. 

Art  is  but  vain — the  force  of  language  weak. 

To  paint  thy  virtues,  or  thy  actions  speak. 

Had  I  Duche's  or  Godfrey's  magic  skill, 

Each  line  to  raise,  and  animate  at  will — 

To  rouse  each  passion  dormant  in  the  soul, 

Point  out  its  object,  or  its  rage  control — 

Then,  Wolfe,  some  faint  resemblance  should  we  find 

Of  those  great  virtues  that  adoru'd  thy  mind. 

Like  Britain's  genius  shouldst  thou  then  appear, 

Hurling  destruction  on  the  Gallic  rear — 

While  France,  astonish'd,  trembled  at  thy  sight, 

And  placed  her  safety  in  ignoble  flight. 

Thy  last  great  scene  should  melt  each  Briton's  heart, 

And  rage  and  grief  alternately  impart. 

With  foes  surrounded,  midst  the  shades  of  death, 
These   were  the   words   that   closed   the  warrior's 

breath — 
"  My  eyesight  fails ! — but  does  the  foe  retreat  ? 
If  they  retire,  I'm  happy  in  my  fate!" 
A  generous  chief,  to  whom  the  hero  spoke, 
Cried,  "  Sir,  they  fly ! — their  ranks  entirely  broke : 
AVhilst  thy  bold  troops  o'er  slaughter'd   heaps  ad- 
vance, 
And  deal  due  vengeance  on  the  sons  of  France." 
The  pleasing  truth  recalls  his  parting  soul, 
And  from  his  lips  these  dying  accents  stole: — 
"  I'm  satisfied!"  he  said,  then  wing'd  his  way, 
Guarded  by  angels  to  celestial  day. 

An  awful  band! — Britannia's  mighty  dead, 
Receives  to  glory  his  immortal  shade. 
Marlborough  and  Talbot  hail  the  warlike  chief — 
Halket  and  Howe,  late  objects  of  our  grief, 
With  joyfnl  song  conduct  their  welcome  guest 
To  the  bright  mansions  of  eternal  rest — 
For  those  prepared  who  merit  just  applause 
By  bravely  dying  in  their  country's  cause. 

JOHN    MATLEM. 

John  Maylem  was  graduated  .it  Harvard  in 
1715.  lie  published,  in  1758,  The  Conquest  of 
Louisbourg,  a  Poem,  8vo.  pp.  1G,  and  in  the 
same  year,  Gallic  Perfidy,  a  Poem,  about  the 
same  length.  His  name  appears  on  the  title- 
pages  of  both  these  productions,  with  the  war- 
like affix,  "  Philo-hellnm."  From  the  character 
of  some  unpublished  poems,  copied  in  a  MS.  col- 
lection mace  by  Du  Simitiera  the  antiquary,  pre- 
served in  the  Philadelphia  library,  he  appears  to 
have  loved  wine  and  Venus  as  well.  Du  Simiticre, 
who  appears  to  have  had  a  special  fondness  for 
the  writer,  has  also  copied  a  letter  from  John 
Maylem  to  Mr.  J — s — pho — n,  in  which  he  calls 
himself  a  drunkard,  and  describes  an  attempt 
which  he  made  to  hang  himself,  in  which  a 
brief  tension  of  the  rope  by  his  suspended  neck 
was  followed  by  an  abandonment  of  the  project, 
serious  reflection,  and,  up  to  the  date  of  the  let- 
ter, a  thorough  reformation. 

Maylem's  poetic  ordnance  is  suggestive  of  the 
weight  of  the  metal  rather  than  the  fire  and 
momentum  of  the  discharge.  We  will,  however, 
give  a  brief  passage  from  one  of  the  most  intensi- 
fied of  his  "sound  and  fury"  strains: — 

Meanwhile,  alternate  deaths  promiscuous  fly, 
And  the  fierce  meteors  blazo  along  the  sky ; 


Then  6hiver  in  the  air,  and  sudden  pour 

A  cloud  of  atoms,  in  a  sulphur  shower ; 

Or  in  their  city  wild  convulsive  burst 

Tea  thousand  ways,  and  mingle  with  the  dust, 

A  gaping  chasm  in  their  wall  disclose, 

The  reeking  soldier  at  his  death  repose. 

While  fate  in  showers  of  lead  connected  rains, 

And  wings  famed  heroes  to  her  dark  domains; 

The  cutting  grape-shot  spatter  o'er  the  heath, 

And  the  fierce  langiel  aid  the  glare  of  death. 

In  such  sad  scenes  alternately  involved, 

Till  one  fair  season  half  her  course  dissolved ; 

Too  much  the  odds — the  Gallic  ensigns  6truck, 

By  all  their  patron  images  forsook, 

With  drooping  flag  and  solemn  pace  advance, 

Their  courage  faints,  nor  more  can  stand  the  chance, 

The  last  sad  purpose  of  their  souls  impart, 

And  claim  the  mercy  of  a  British  heart. 

The  following  decided  expression  of  opinion  is 
taken  from  Du  Simitiere's  MS.  copy: — 

SATIRE  ON  HALIFAX,  IX  NOVA  SCOTIA. 

The  dregs  of  Thames  and  Lilly's  sable  stream, 
Danubian  rubbish  and  the  Rhine's  my  theme, 
Of  them  I  sing,  the  rebel  vagrant  rout, 
Base  emigrants  that  Europe  speweth  out, 
Their  country's  bane,  such  traitrous scoundrel  crews, 
Torn  from  the  gaols,  the  gallows,  and  the  stews, 
From  Europe's  plains  to  ISova  Scotia's  woods, 
Transported  over  the  great  Atlantic  floods ; 
In  shoals  they  come,  and  fugitive  invade 
The  horrid  gloom  of  Halifax's  shade. 
Oh,  Halifax!  the  worst  of  God's  creation, 
Posscst  of  the  worst  scoundrels  of  each  nation: 
Whores,  rogues,  and  thieves,  the  dregs  and  scum  of 

vice, 
Bred  up  to  villainy,  theft,  rags,  and  lice — 
Proud  upstarts  here,  tho'  starved  from  whence  they 

come ; 
Just  such  a  scoundrel  pack  first  peopled  Rome ; 
Send  them  to  hell  and  then  they'll  be  at  home. 

Another  of  the  poets  of  the  war  was 

GEORGE    COOKINGS. 

We  know  nothing  of  this  writer  in  connexion 
with  America  except  that  he  wrote  a  portion  of 
his  poem  on  War  in  Newfoundland,  in  the  winter 
of  1758 ;  that  the  second  edition  of  his  perform- 
ance was  published  at  Portsmouth,  "in  Pisca- 
taqua,  or  New  Hampshire  Colony,  in  America, 
in  1701,"  the  first  having  appeared  in  London  in 
1760,  and  the  third  "  in  Massachusetts  Colony,  in 
1762."  The  fourth  and  last  edition  was  published 
in  London  without  date,  but  must  have  appeared 
in  or  before  1706,  as  we  find  it  advertised  in  its 
complete  form  on  the  title-page  of  a  play,  The 
Conquest  of  Canada,  by  the  same  writer,  and  it 
was  not  until  its  fourth  issue  that  it  attained  its 
full  growth  of  ten  books.  He  was  also  the  au- 
thor of  Stentorian  Eloquence  and  Medical  Infal- 
libility, a  satire  in  verse  on  itinerant  preachers 
and  advertising  quacks,  published  in  1771,  and  of 
Benerolence  and.  Gratitude,  a  Poem,  in  1772. 

The  longest  and  most  ambitious  of  these  pro- 
ductions is  the  Heroic  Poem  on  War.  The  sub- 
ject grew  upon  the  author  from  an  account  of 
the  conquest  of  Louisburg  to  a  chroniclo  of  the 
entire  war,  including  the  achievements  of  the 
English  at  the  Havana  and  Manilla.  Wolfe  is  of 
course  the  chief  hero  of  his  chronicle.  A  few 
lines  from  the  argument  of  his  poem  will  display- 
its  style : — 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


4:33 


I  sing  how  Wolfe,  the  faithless  foe  engag'd ; 
(For  where  Wolfe  led,  the  battle  fiercely  rag'd !) 
The  havoek  of  his  war,  the  mould'ring  walls! 
Quebec's,  Cape  Breton's  fate;  the  conquer'd  Gauls! 
His  warlike  deeds,  no  doubt,  you'll  all  approve, 
Whom  foes  admire!  and  conqu'ring  Britons  love. 
By  bloody  toils,  he  gain'd  on  hostile  ground, 
That    honour    great;     with    which    his    mem'ry's 

crown'd : 
In  Britain's  cause  (amidst  the  martial  strife) 
He  fought,  he  conquer'd,  and  resign'd  his  life: 
So  Sampson  flung  proud  Dngon's  temple  down, 
Gain'd  glorious  death!  and  conquest!   and  renown! 

*  *  *  *  *  # 

Where  English,  Scotch,  and  bold  Hibernians  storm, 
(A  formidable  triple  union  form!) 
The  three-fold  pow'rs  their  gallantry  display, 
Like  powder,  shot,  and  fire,  impetuous  force  their 

way! 

The  closing  simile  is  a  good  specimen  of  the 
strangely  combined  vigor  and  absurdity  which 
characterize  this  odd  production. 

Coekings's  versification  was  amended  by  prac- 
tice. His  progress  reminds  us  of  those  remarkable 
specimen.;  of  improvement  put  forth  by  advertis- 
ing writing-masters  as  proofs  of  the  proficiency  of 
their  pupils.  As  a  specimen  of  his  first  attempt 
we  will  give  the  salutation  of  Sophia  to  her  lover, 
Wolfe,  when  he  comes  to  take  leave  of  her  befi  ire 
leaving  for  America,  an  interview  to  which  the 
general  lias  worked  up  himself  and  his  audience 
by  a  preliminary  soliloquy : — 

Sophia. — When  I  find,  sir,  you  prefer  the  noise 
and 
Danger  of  the  Battle,  and  Fatigues  of 
A  foreign  Campaign,  to  the  quiet  enjoyment 
Of  j'our  Friends  in  Safety  in  your  native 
Country? 

Second  attempt — A  passage  from  the  descrip- 
tion of  Louisburg  during  the  siege ; — 

Disploded  shells  ami  shot  together  throng; 

Ami  mortars  from  their  brazen  bases  flung, 

A  prospect  odd,  of  iron,  brass,  and  lead: 

Of  stones,  and  mangled  bodies  of  the  dead. 

Fathers  to  future  sons  shall  this  report ; 

So  fought  brave  Wolfe ;  so  look'd  their  island  fort. 

Third  attempt — the  opening  of  his  satire — 

When  empiricks  illit'rate  rise, 
And  cram  the  press  with  bare-fae'd  lies, 
And  with  great  effront'ry  declare, 
Their  med'eines  most  effectual  are,  &c. 

Fourth  and  last  attempt,  from  Benevolence  and 
Gratitude,  a  very  fair  copy  of  verses,  Master 
Cockings,  with  an  exuberance  of  flourish  quite 
remarkable  as  compared  with  the  cramped  hand 
of  No.  1  :— 

Descend  celestial  muse !  my  song  inspire ; 
With  sentiments  sublime,  my' bosom  fire, 
To  sing  the  gifts  conferral  on  human  race; 
With  gratitude  the  streams  of  bliss  to  trace. 

Cookings,  but  little  successful  as  an  epic,  is  still 
less  so  as  a  dramatic  poet.  His  play  is  heavy  and 
absurd.  His  heroes  seem  to  forget  in  their  long 
speeches  that  they  have  started  with  blank  verse, 
their  language  soon  degenerates  into  the  plainest 
of  plain  prose.  A  passage  from  the  thick  of  the 
action  before  Quebec  will  show,  however,  that 
the  author  lavishes  his  choicest  similes  with  demo- 

vol.  i.— 28' 


cratic  impartiality  on  the  humbler  as  well  as  more 
exalted  of  the  dramatis  personse. 

Front  Trumpet. — My  brave  fellows  1    behave  like 
British  seamen. 
There's  warm  duty  for  ye! 

A  sailor  answers. — ?\ever  fear,  sir! 
We'll  tow  them  ashore,  if  the  grapples  hold ; 
Or  we'll  fry  like  sausages  in  the  flames! 

BENJAMIN   YOUNG  PRIME. 

The  Patriot  Muse,  or  Poems  on  some  of  the 
principal  events  of  the  late  war:  together  with 
a  poem  on  the  Peace:  Vincit  amor  patrim  :  By 
an  American  Gentleman,  was  published  at  Lon- 
don in  1764,  in  an  8vo.  pamphlet  of  94  pages. 
It  is  stated  in  a  note  in  the  copy  belonging  to  the 
Philadelphia  Library,  to  be  by  Benjamin  Young 
Prime  of  New  York.  It  contains  poems  on  Gen. 
Braddock's  defeat ;  on  the  surrender  of  Fort  Wil- 
liam Henry  ;  an  elegy  on  Governor  Belcher,  the 
g(  ivernor  of  New  Jersey,  and  the  Rev.  Aaron  Burr, 
President  of  Nassau  Hall.  A  few  lines  will  give 
a  sufficient  idea  of  the  last. 

But  whither  am  I  led?  why  all  this  grief? 
Though  great  our  sorrow  'tisn't  past  relief; 
Let  sad  Burrissa's  sighs  be  all  supprest, 
And  sooth'd  the  anguish  of  her  troubled  breast. 

An  Ode  on  Viscount  George  Augustus  Howe, 
slain  in  a  skirmish  near  Carillon,  July  6th,  1758, 
follows  an  ode  on  the  surrender  of  Louisburg. 
It  consists  of  thirty-four  stanzas  similar  to  the  fol- 
lowing:— 

'Tis  done,  'tis  done, 

The  day  is  won, 
At  length  the  destin'd  blow  is  giv'n ; 

Though  long  our  wroes, 

And  3trong  our  foes, 
Our  cause  is  still  the  cause  of  heav'n. 

Another  ode,  "  composed  on  the  taking  of  Que- 
bec," contains  a  tribute  to  Wolfe. 

Ah  Wolfe !  the  mention  of  thy  name 
Damps  in  my  breast  th'  heroic  flame, 
And  gloomy  scenes  far  other  thoughts  inspire; 
Smit  by  thy  truly  noble  deeds, 
Brave  man  !  my  conscious  bosom  bleeds, 
To  think  such  merit  should  so  soon  expire. 
And  shall  the  martial  lay 
Triumphantly  display 
Britannia's  victories? 
And  not  the  fun'ral  strain 
In  pensive  moans  complain, 
When  ah!  perhaps  her  bravest  hero  dies? 

Yes,  thou  shalt  now  my  thoughts  employ, 
Awhile  I'll  bid  adieu  to  joy, 
And  in  soft  mis'ry  mourn ; 
Awhile  my  cheerful  tongue 
Shall  drop  the  gay  unfinished  song, 
And  sing  the  dirge  funereal  o'er  thy  urn. 

Britain,  dear  shade,  indignant  grieves 
To  be  victorious  at  thy  cost ; 
She  mourns  thy  fall,  and  scarce  believes 
The  conquest  glorious,  where  her  Wolfe  is  lost. 

While  she  triumphant  twines 
For  her  surviving  sons  the  laurel  wreath 
To  martial  merit  due, 
Struck  by  thy  hapless  fate,  she  joins 
The  cypress  and  the  yew, 
To  mourn  her  loss  and  their's  in  thy  lamented  death. 
But  thou  couldstnot  repine, 
Thou  freely  couldst  resign 
In  Britain's  cause  thy  breath ; 


t31 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Couldst  a  -1  the  patriot  hero's  part, 
And  bear  tlijT  country  on  thy  heart, 
Ev'n  while  it  languish'd  in  the  pangs  of  deatli. 

As  once  the  Deeii  certain  death  defy'd, 
T'  insure  Rome  conquest  and  devoted  dy'd ; 
As  Curtius,  noble  youth !  intrepid  brav'd 
The  gulf  wide-yawning,  and  his  country  sav'd: 
80  thou,  brave  Wolfe,  durst,  at  the  heav'nty  call, 

Rush  into  ruin's  open  jaws. 
Thus  like  those  heroes  didst  thou  greatly  fall, 
Thyself  devoted  in  thy  country's  cause. 

Long  as  Quebec  shall  rear  aloft  her  head, 
Long  as  her  rocks  her  stable  walls  sustain, 

Long  as  Laurentius  in  his  spacious  bed, 
Rolls  his  vast  tide  of  waters  to  the  main  ; 
So  long,  O  Wolfe,  thy  memory  shall  bloom, 
And  deathless  laurels  flourish  on  thy  tomb. 

This  is  followed  by  two  patriotic  hymns,  com- 
posed for,  and  sung  on  days  of  national  thanksgiv- 
ing, "  by  desire  of  the  preacher  on  his  text." 

The  author  also  tries  his  hand  on  French  verse, 
and  gives  La  Lamentation  de  Louis  swr  les  vic- 
toires  des  Anglois.    A.D.  mdccls. 

Que  dirai-je? 

Que  ferai-je? 
Pauvre  miserable  roi ! 

Ah!  personne 

La  couronne 
N'embarrasse  autant  que  moL 

Pensive,  trembling,  and  embarrass'd 

What  expedients  shall  I  try  * 
Sure  no  monarch  e'er  was  harass'd 

With  such  ill  success  as  L 

This  is  followed  by  Loyal  Tears  shed  over 
Royal  Dust,  an  elegy  on  George  II.     Also,  "on 

the  Liberty  of  the  Press  to  Mr.  F ,  printer,  at 

jsew  'York,  a.d.  mdcclxii."  With  other  verses 
on  incidents  of  the  war,  and  two  Latin  paraphrases 
of  the  lament  of  David  over  Absalom,  and  the 
fight  with  Goliath. 

In  1791,  Dr.  Prime  published  Columbia's  Glory, 
or  British  Pride  Humbled,;  d  Poem  on  the 
American  Revolution:  some  part  of  it  being  a 
parody  on  an  ode  entitled  Britain's  Glory,  or 
Gallic  Pride  Humbled  /  con, posed  on  the  capture 
of  Quebec,  A.D.  1759,  by  Benjamin  Young 
Prime,  M.D.  In  a  brief  preface,  he  speaks  of 
his  former  publication  in  London,  in  1764,  and 
of  the  requests  of  his  friends  made  to  him  to 
compose  a  parody  upon  it  in  honor  of  the  Ameri- 
can revolution.  The  plan  expanded  to  a  compo- 
sition of  1441  lines,  occupied  with  a  review  of 
the  events  of  the  war,  a  eulogy  of  the  friends 
and  denunciation  of  the  enemies  of  the-  country. 
It  was  ready  for  publication  at  the  close  of  the 
war,  but,  as  the  author  informs  us,  in  consequence 
of  a  seven  years'  absence  from  the  city,  his  affairs 
had  become-  somewhat  deranged,  and  as  no 
printer  could  be  found  to  execute  the  work  on 
any  but  cash  terms,  he  postponed  publishing  for 
a  few  years.  We  extract  a  portion  of  a  panegy- 
ric upon  Washington : — 

0  Washington!  thou  dear,  illustrious  chief! 
Thou  ornament  and  blessing  to  mankind ! 
The  soldier's  glory  and  thy  country's  pride ! 
Columbia's  skilful  guide 
Through  the  dire  contest,  and  her  sweet  relief 
In  all  the  sorrows  of  her  state  forlorn ! 
IIow  has  fhv  character  refin'd 


Since  first  thy  great  career  began  ! 
Together  in  one  giorious  group  combin'd 
All  the  bright  virtues  that  adorn 
The  Christian,  Patriot,  Hero  or  the  Man ! 

*         *         #         *         *         * 
Nor  to  the  narrow  bounds 
Of  one  short  age  alone, 

Shall  poorly  be  confin'd 
The  gen'rous  things  which  thou  hast  done  . 
To  benefit  mankind : 
For  as  thy  fame  resounds 
To  foreign, climes ; 
So  future  times 
The  sweet  rehearsal  shall  regale, 
And  from  their  fathers'  lips,  in  a  long  line, 
Shall  children's  children  hear  the  pleasing  tale  1 

The  first  of  the  songs  which  mark  the  progress 
from  discontent  to  revolution,  comes  to  us  from 
the  Old  Dominion  : — 

From  the  Virginia  Gazette,  May  2, 1766. 

Sure  never  was  picture  drawn  more  to  the  life 
Or  affectionate  husband  more  fond  of  his  wife, 
Than  America  copies  and  loves  Britain's  sons, 
Who.  conscious  of  Freedom,  are  bold  as  great  guns. 
"  Hearts  of  Oak  are  we  still,  for  we're  sous  of 
those  Men, 
■  Who  always  are  ready,  steady,  boys,  steady, 
To  fight  for  their  freedom  again  and  again." 

Tho'  we  feast  and  grow  fat  on  America's  soil, 
Yet  we  own  ourselves  subjects  of  Britain's  fair  isle; 
And  who's  so  absurd  to  deny  us  the  name? " 
Since  true  British  blood  flows  in  every  vein. 
"  Hearts  of  Oak,  etc." 

Then  cheer  up,  my  lads,  to  your  country  be  firm, 
Like  kings  of  the  ocean,  we'll  weather  each  storm ; 
Integrity  calls  out.  fair  liberty,  see, 
Waves  her  Flag  o'er  our  heads  and  her  words  are 
he  free. 
"  Hearts  of  Oak,  <fee." 

To  King  George,   as  true  subjects,  we  loyal  bow 

down, 
But  hope  we  may  call  Magna  Charta  our  own. 
Let  the  rest  of  the  world  slavish  worship  decree, 
Great  Britain  has  ordered  her  sons  to  be  free. 
"  Hearts  of  Oak,  efce." 

Poor  Esau  his  birth-right  gave  up  for  a  bribe, 
Americans  scorn  th'  mean  soul-selling  tribe; 
Beyond  life  our  freedom  we  chuse  to  possess, 
Which,  thro'  life  we'll  defend,  and  abjure  a  broad  S. 
"  Hearts  of  Oak  are  we   still,  and  we're  sons  of 
those  men, 
Who   fear   not   the   ocean,  brave   roarings  of 

cannon, 
To  stop  all  oppression,  again  and  again. 

On  our  brow  while  we  laurel-ci  own'd  Liberty  wear. 
What  Englishmen  ought  we  Americans  dare  ; 
Though  tempests  and  terrors  around  us  we  see, 
Bribes  nor  fears  can  prevail  o'er  the  hearts  that  are 
free. 
"  Hearts  of  Oak  are  we  still,  for  we're  sons  of 
those  men 
Who  always  are  ready,  steadv,  boys,  steady, 
To  fight  for  their  freedom  again  and  again." 

With  Loyalty,  Liberty  let  us  entwine, 
Our  blood  shall  for  both  flow  as  free  as  our  wine; 
Let  us  set  an  example,  what  all  men  should  be, 
And  a  Toast  give  the  World,  "  Here's  to  those  dare 
be  free. 
"  Hearts  of  Oak,  &c." 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


435 


The  next  we  present  was  published  in  the  Penn- 
sylvania Chronicle,  July  4,  17S8.  It  was  one  of 
the  earliest  lyrics  of  the  Revolution,  and,  by  an 
advertisement  in  Hugh  Gaine's  Gazette,  appears 
to  have  been  published  with  the  music  to  which 
it  was  set.  It  has  been  attributed  both  to  Mrs. 
Mercy  Warren,*  and  to  John  Dickinson. 

A   BONG. 

To  Ow  Tune  of  "  Hearts  of  Oak,"  &a. 
Come,  join  hand  in  hand,  brave  Americans  all, 
And  rouse  your  bold  hearts  at  fair  Liberty's  call ; 
No  tyrannous  act  shall  suppress  your  just  claim, 
Or  stain  with  dishonour  America's  name. 

In   freedom   we're  born,  and  in   freedom  we'll 
live  I 
Our  purses  are  ready — - 
Steady,  friends,  steady  ; — 
Not  as  slaves,  but  as  freemen  our  money  we'll 
give. 

Our  worthy  forefathers  (let's  give  them  a  cheer) 
To  climates  unknown  did  courageously  steer; 
Through  oceans  to  deserts  for  freedom  thej'  came, 
And,  dying,  bequeathed  us  their  freedom  and  fame. 
In  freedom  we're  born,  (fee. 

Their  generous  bosoms  all  dangers  despised, 
So  highly,  so  wisely  their  birthrights  they  prized; 
We'll  keep  what  they  gave,  we  will  piously  keep, 
Nor  frustrate  their  toils  on  the  laud  and  the  deep. 
In  freedom  we're  born,  (fee. 

The  tree  their  own  hands  had  to  Liberty  rear'd, 
They  lived  to  behold  growing  strong  and  revered, 
A\  ltli   transport  then  cried,  "  Kow  our  wishes  we 

g;iin, 
For  our  children  shall  gather  the  fruits  of  our  pain." 

In  freedom  we're  born,  &c. 

How  sweet  are  the  labours  that  freemen  endure, 
That  they  shall  e.ijoy  all  the  profit,  secure — 
No  more  such  sweet  labours  Americans  know 
If  Britons  shall  reap  what  Americans  sow. 
In  freedom  we're  born,  (fee. 

Swarms   of  placemen    and    pensioners!    soon   will 

appear, 
Like  locusts  deforming  the  charms  of  the  year  ; 
Suns  vainly  will  rise,  showers  vainly  descend, 
If  we  are  to  .drudge  for  what  others  shall  spend. 

In  freedom  we're  born,  &c. 

Then  join  hand  in  hand,  bruve  Americans  all, 
By  uniting,  we  stand,  by  dividing,  we  fall ; 
In  so  righteous  a  cause  let  us  hope  to  succeed 
For  Heaven  approves  of  each  generous  deed. 
In  freedom  we're  burn,  (fee. 

All  ages  shall  speak  with  amaze  and  applause 
Of  the  courage  we'll  show  in  support  of  our  laws; 
To  die  we  can  bear,  but  to  serve  we  disdain, 
For  shame  is  to  freemen  more  dreadful  than  pain. 
In.  freedom  we're  born,  etc. 

This  bumper  I  crown  for  our  sovereign's  health, 
Ai.d  I  his  for  Britannia's  glory  and  wealth  ; 
That  wealth  and  that  glory  immortal  may  be, 
If  she  is  but  just,  and  if  we  are  but  free. 
In  freedom  we're  born,  Ac. 

A  tory  parody  of  this  song  appeared  in  the 
Supplement  Extraordinary  to  the  Boston  Gazette 
of  Monday,  September  20,  1768  : — 


Last  Tuesday   the  following   song  made  its  ap- 
pearance from  a  garret  at  C — st — e  W — m  : — 

Come,  shake  your  dull  noddles,  ye  pumpkins,  and 

bawl, 
And  own  that  you're  mad  at  fair  Liberty's  call. 
No  scandalous  conduct  can  add  to  your  shame, 
Condemn'd  to  dishonor,  inherit  the  fame  I 

In  folly  you're  born,  and  in  folly  you'll  live, 
To  madness  still  ready, 
And  stupidly  steady, 
Not  as  men  but  as  monkies,  the  tokens  you  give. 

Your  grandsire,  old  Satan — now  give  him  a  cheer! — 
Would  act  like  yourselves,  and  as  wildly  would  steer. 
So  great  an  example  in  prospect  still  keep; 
Whilst  you  are  alive,  old  Belzee  may  sleep. 

In  folly,  <fcc. 
Such  villains,  such  rascals,  all  dangers  despise, 
And  stick  not  at  mobbing,  when  mischief's  the  prize: 
They  burst  through  all  barriers,  and  piously  keep, 
Such  chattels  and  goods  the  vile  rascals  can  sweep. 

In  folly,  Ac. 

The  tree  which  the  wisdom  of  justice  hath  rear'd, 
Should  be  stout  for  their  use,  and  by  no  means  be 

spared, 
When  fuddled  with  rum,  the  mad  sots  to  restrain  ; 
Sure  Tyburn  will  sober  the  wretches  again. 

In  lolly,  tfec. 

Your  brats  and  your  bunters  by  no  means  forget, 
But  feather  your  nests,  for  they're  bare  enough  yet ; 
From  the  insolent  rich  sure  the  poor  knave  may 

steal, 
Who  ne'er  in  his  life  knew  the  scent  of  a  meal. 

In  folly,  (fee. 

When  in  your  own  cellars  you've  quaffed  a  regale, 
Then  drive,  tug  and  stink  the  next  house  to  assail. 
For  short  is  your  harvest,  nor  long  shall  you  know 
The  pleasure  of  reaping  what  other  men  sow. 
In  folly,  &a. 

Then  plunder,  my  lads,  for  when  red  coats  appear, 
You'll  melt  like  the  locusts  when  winter  is  near: 
Gold  vainly  will  glow ;  silver  vainly  will  shine  ; 
But  faith  you  must  skulk,  you  no  more  shall  purloin. 
In  folly,  (fee. 

Then  nod  vour  poor  numbskulls,  ye  pumpkins,  and 

bawl ! 
The  De'il  take  such  rascals,  fools,  whoresons  and  all. 
Your  cursed  old  trade  of  purloining  must  cease, 
The  curse  and  the  dread  of  all  order  and  peace. 

In  folly,  (fee. 

All  ages  shall  speak  with  contempt  and  amaze, 
Of  the  vilest  Banditti  that  swarni'd  in  those  days; 
In  defiance  of  halters,  of  whips,  and  of  chains, 
The  rogues  would  run  riot,  damu'd  fools  for  their 

pains. 

In  folly,  (fee. 

Gulp  down  your  last  dram,  for  the   gallows  now 

groans, 
And  order  depress'd  her  lost  empire  bemoans  ; 
While  we  quite  transported  and  happy  shall  be, 
From  snobs,  knaves  and  villains,  protected  and  free. 

In  folly,  lie. 

We  soon  after  have  the  tables  again  turned,  in 
a  new  version  of  this  popular  song.  It  was  pub- 
lished in  a  handbill  at  Boston.* 


*  We  are  indebted  for  tills  and  the  previous  sons  to  a  very 
*  .John  W.Moore  s  Encyclopedia  of  Music.  881.  :    valuable   collection    of  cuttintrs  from   American   and  English 

t  rhc  ministry  nave  already  begnn  to  give  away  in  pensions  ;  newspapers,  illustrating  the  history  of'onr  country  from  1660 
the  money  they  lately  took  out  of  our  pockets  'without  our  |  to  1840,  formed  by  the  antiquary  "William  TJpcott."  in  the  pus- 
consent.  :    seRsjon  0f  thK.New  York  Historical  Society. 


436 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


THE    PAEODT    PAEODIZED,     OB    THE    MASSACHUSETTS     SONG     OP 
LIBERTY. 

Come,  swallow  your  bumpers,  ye  Tories,  and  roar, 
That  the  sons  of  fair  freedom  are  hamper'd  once 

more; 
But  know  that  no  cut-throats  our  spirits  can  tame, 
Nor  a  host  of  oppressors  shall  smother  the  flame. 

Chorus. 
In  freedom  "we're  born,  and  like  sons  of  the  brave, 

Will  never  surrender, 

But  swear  to  defend  her, 
And  scorn  to  survive  if  unable  to  save. 

Our  grandsires, blest  heroes!  we'll  give  them  a  tear, 

Nor  sully  their  honors  by  stooping  to  fear; 

Thro'  deaths  and  thro'  dangers  their  trophies  they 

won, 
We  dare  be  their  rivals,  nor  will  be  outdone. 

Chorus. 

Let  tyrants  and  minions  presume  to  despise, 
Encroach  on  our  rights  and  make  freedom  their  prize ; 
The  fruits  of  their  rapine  they  never  shall  keep — 
Tbo'  vengeance  may  uod,  yet  how  short  is  her  sleep. 

Chorus. 

The  tree  which  proud  Haman  for  Mordecai  rear'd, 
Stands  recorded,  that  virtue  endanger'd  is  spar'd; 
That  rogues,  whom  no  bonds  and  no  laws  can  restrain, 
Must  be  stript  of  their  honors  and  humbled  again. 

Chorus. 
Our  wives  and  our  babes  still  protected,  shall  kuow 
Those  who  dare  to  be  free  shall  for  ever  be  so  ; 
Ou  these  arms  and  these  hearts  they  may  safely  rely, 
For  in  freedom  we'll  live,  or  like  heroes  we'll  die. 

Chorus. 

Ye  insolent  tyrants,  who  wish  to  enthrall, 
Ye  minions!  ye  placemen  !  pimps,  pensioners,  all ! 
How  short  is  your  triumph,  how  feeble  your  trust! 
Your  honors'  must  wither  and  nod  to  the  dust. 

Chorus. 

When  opprest  and  reproaeh'd,  our  king  we  implore, 
Still  firmly  persuaded  our  rights  he'll  restore  ; 
When  our  hearts  beat  to  arms  to  defend  a  just  right, 
Our  monarch  rules  there,  and  forbids  us  to  fight. 

Chorus. 

Not  the  glitter  of  arms,  nor  Hie  dread  of  a  fray, 
Could  make  us  submit  to  their  chains  for  a  day; 
"Withheld  by  affection,  on  Britons  we  call, 
Prevent  the  fierce  coniliet  which  threatens  your  fall. 

Chorus. 

All  ages  shall  speak  with  amaze  and  applause, 
Of  the  prudence  we  show  in  support  of  our  cause. 
Assur'd  of  our  safety  a  Brunswick  still  reigns, 
Whose  free,  loyal  subjects  are  strangers  to  chains. 

Chorus. 

Then  join  hand  in  hand,  brave  Americans  all, 
To  be  free,  is  to  live ;    to  be  slaves  is  to  fall ; 
Has  the  land  such  a  dnstard  as  scorns  not  a  lord? 
Who  dreads  not  a  fetter  much  more  than  a  sword  ? 

Gliorus. 

A  song  to  the  same  tune  was  composed  in  ^en- 
York,  in  honor  of  some  of  the  lenders  of  opinion 
in  that  day,  a  portion  of  whom  afterwards  figured 
on  the  royalist  side.  It  appeared  in  the  New  York 
Journal,  January  26,  1769. 

A  SONG. 

Come,  cheer  up,  my  lads,  like  a  true  British  band, 
In  the  cause  of  our  country  who  join  heart  and 

hand ; 
Fair  Freedom  invites — she  cries  out — "Agree  ! 
And  be  steadfast  for  those  that  are  steadfast  for  me." 


Hearts  of  oak  are  we  all, 
Hearts  of  oak  we'll  remain  : 

We  always  are  ready — 

Steady,  boys,  steady- — 
To  give  them  our  voices  again  and  again. 

With  the  brave  sons  of  Freedom,  of  every  degree, 
Unite  all  the  good — and  united  are  we  : 
But  still  be  the  lot  of  the  villains  disgrace — 
Whose  foul,  rotten  hearts  give  the  lie  to  their  face. 
Hearts  of  oak,  <fee. 

See !  their  unblushing  chieftain  !  perverter  of  laws  1 
His  teeth  are  the  shark's,  and  a  vulture's  his  claws — 
As  soon  would  I  venture — howe'er  he  may  talk, 
My  lambs  with  a  wolf,  or  my  fowls  with  a  hawk. 
Hearts  of  oak,  &c. 

First— the  worth  of  good  Cruger  let's  crown  with 

applause, 
Who  has  joiu'd  us  again  in  fair  Liberty's  cause — 
Sour  Envy,  herself,  is  afraid  of  his  name, 
And  weeps  that  she  finds  not  a  blot  in  his  fame. 
Hearts  of  oak,  &a. 

To  Jauncey,  my  souls,  let  your  praises  resound ! 
With    health    and    success1   may   his    goodness    be 

crown'd  : 
May  the  cup  of  his  joy  never  cease  to  run  o'er — 
For  he  gave  to  us  all  when  he  gave  to  the  poor  ! 
Hearts  of  oak,  <fec. 

What  Briton,  undaunted,  that  pants  to  be  free, 
But  warms  at  the  mention  of  brave  De  Launcey  ? 
"Happy  Freedom!"  said  Fame,  "what  a  sou  have 

you  here ! 
WTiose  head  is  approved,  and  whose  heart  is  sincere." 
Hearts  of  oak,  &c. 

Fo*r  worth  and  for  truth,  and  good  nature  renown'd, 
Let  the  name  and  applauses  of  Walton  go  round  : 
His  prudence  attracts — but  his  free,  honest  soul 
Gives  a  grace  to  the  rest,  and  enlivens  the  whole. 
Hearts  of  oak,  &a. 

Huzza  !  for  the  patriots  whose  virtue  is  tried — 
|    Unbiass'd  by  faction,  untainted  by  pride : 
I    Who  Liberty's  welfare  undaunted  pursue, 
I    With  heads  ever  clear,  and  hearts  ever  true. 
Hearts  of  oak,  <fec. 

The  planting  of  the  first  liberty  pole  in  the  coun- 
try in  The  Fields  at  New  York,  in  that  portion  of  the 
present  Park  between  the  west  end  of  the  City  Hall 
and  Broadway,  by  the  Sons  of  Liberty,  and  the 
struggle  which  ensned  between  that  energetic  band 
and  the  government  troops,  during  which  the  pole 
was  cut  down,  again  set  np,  again  felled,  and 
finally  hooped  and  otherwise  protected  with  iron, 
seems  to  have  excited  the  attention  of  some  Tory 
versifier,  who  perpetrated  a  burlesque  cantata;  a 
copy  of  which  is  preserved  in  its  original  form  of 
four  folio  pages,  printed  in  large  type,  in  the  col- 
lection of  broadsides  made  by  Du  Simitiere,  now 
in  the  possession  of  the  Library  Company  of  Phi- 
ladelphia. A  MS.  note  by  that  antiquary  on  the 
copy,  informs  us  that  "  this  paper  was  found 
under  the  front  door  of  a  great  many  houses  in 
New  York  on  the  morning  of  the  fifth  of  March, 
1770." 

The  Procession  with  the  Standard  of  Faction: 
a  Cantata,  opens  with  a  few  Lines  of 

P.ECTTATTVE. 

Twas  on  the  morn  when  Yirtue  wept  to  see 
Discord  stalk  forth  in  robes  of  liberty, 
The  sons  of  Faction  met  (a  ghastly  band !) 
To  fix  their  standard  in  our  bleeding  land: 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


437 


Pleas'd  with  the  plaything,  roar'd  the  youthful  train, 
Wond'ring  their  parents  had  grown  young  again. 
#**##'* 

High  o'er  tlie  rest  bra'  champion  Sawney  stood, 
The  brazen  trumpet  of  the  factious  brood. 

Sawney  sings  a  song  in  Scutch. 

He  ended,  while  amid  the  gazing  throng 
The  noble  captain  proudly  stalk'd  along. 

"  The  noble  captain  "  was  Sands,  who  sings  a 
song  to  the  air  Yankee  Doodle.  A  stanza  or  two 
may  be  given : — ■ 

Good  neighbors,  if  you're  not  afraid, 
Be  not  in  trepidation, 
Tho'  our  great  loss  before  did  raise 
Prodigious  consternation. 

Yankee  Doodle,  dec. 

Let  ev'ry  body  laugh  and  sing, 
And  be  a  very  gay  soul ; 
For  we  have  got  another  post 
As  big  as  any  May-pole. 

Recitative. 
In  solemn  pomp,  amid  the  shouting  throng, 
The  coursers  drew  the  massy  Pole  along. 

****** 
P r  then  sings, 

Of  all  the  men  in  our  town, 

The  dark,  the  fair,  the  red,  the  brown, 

That  toil  to  pull  the  churchmen  down, 

There's  none  like  S***  the  L r. 

Recitative. 
Brave,  honest  George,  of  genuine  British  mould, 
With  face  of  plenty,  and  with  heart  of  gold, 
As  'mong  the  bellowing  band  he  dauntless  stood, 
Soon  as  their  standard  rais'd  in  air  he  view'd, 
His  virtuous  breast  with  patriot  fervour  glow'd, 
While  thus  his  words  with  manly  freedom  flow'd : 

We  give  this  song  entire,  for  its  minute  descrip- 
tion of  the  liberty-pole. 

Air — "  Derry-dvicn." 
Come  listen,  good  neighbours  of  every  degree, 
Whose  hearts,  like  your  purses,  are  open  and  free, 
Let  this  pole  a  monument  ever  remain, 
Of  the  folly  and  arts  of  the  time-serving  train. 

Derry  down,  &c. 

Its  bottom,  so  artfully  fix'd  under  ground, 
Resembles  their  scheming,  so  low  and  profound  ; 
The  dark  underminings,  and  base  dirty  ends, 
On  which  the  success  of  the  faction  depends. 

Derry  down,  &c. 

The  vane,  mark'd  with  freedom,  may  put  us  in  mind, 
As  it  varies,  and  flutters,  and  turns,  with  the  wind, 
■That  no  faith  can  be  plac'd  in  the  words  of  our  foes, 
Who  change  as  the  wind  of  their  interest  blows. 

Derry  down,  &c. 
The  iron  elasp'd  around  it,  so  firm  and  so  neat, 
Resembles  too  closely  their  fraud  and  deceit, 
If  the  outside's  but  guarded,  they  eare  not  a  pin, 
How  rotten  and  hollow  the  heart  is  within. 

Derry  down,  <fec. 
Then  away,  ye  pretenders  to  freedom,  away, 
Who  strive  to  cajole  us  in  hopes  to  betray; 
Leave  the  pole  for  the  stroke  of  the  lightning  to 

sever, 
And,  huzzah  for  King  George  and  our  country  for 
ever! 

Derry  down,  &c. 


This  curious  production  has  never,  to  our 
knowledge,  been  reprinted  or  noticed.  Our  ex- 
tracts are  from  Du  Simitiere's  copy,  the  only  one 
we  have  met  with. 

The  burning  of  the  armed  schooner  Gaspee  in 
the  waters  of  Rhode  Island,  one  of  the  earliest  in- 
stances of  resistance  to  British  authority,  gave  rise 
to  a  ballad  at  the  time  which  has  a  genuine  flavor 
of  the  popular  feeling.  The  passage  of  history  to 
which  it  refers  is  thus  related  by  Bancroft.  The 
time  was  June,  1772. 

"  Inhabitants  of  Providence,  in  Rhode  Island, 
had  in  the  last  March,  complained  to  the  Deputy 
Governor  of  tho  conduct  of  Lieutenant  Duding- 
ston,  Commander  of  the  Gaspee,  who  obstructed 
their  vessels  and  boats,  without  showing  any  evi- 
dence of  his  authority.  Hopkins,  the  Chief  Jus- 
tice, on  being  consulted,  gave  the  opinion,  '  that 
any  person  who  should  come  into  the  Colony  and 
exercise  any  authority  by  force  of  arms,  without 
showing  his  commission  to  the  Governor,  and  if  a 
Custom  House  officer,  without  being  sworn  into 
his  office,  was  guilty  of  a  trespass,  if  not  piracy.' 
The  Governor,  therefore,  sent  a  sheriff  on  board 
the  Gaspee^  to  ascertain  by  what  orders  the  Lieu- 
tenant acted;  and  Dudingston  referred  the  sub- 
ject to  the  Admiral.  The  Admiral  answered 
from  Boston:  '  The  Lieutenant,  Sir,  has  done  his 
duty.  I  shall  give  the  King's  officers  directions, 
that  they  send  every  man  taken  in  molesting  them 
to  me.  As  sure  as  the  people  of  Newport  attempt 
to  rescue  any  vessel,  and  any  of  them  are  taken, 
I  will  hang  them  as  pirates.'  Dudingston  se- 
conded the  insolence  of  hi)  superior  officer,  in- 
sulted the  inhabitants,  plundered  the  islands  of 
sheep  and  hogs,  cut  .down  trees,  fired  at  market 
boats,  detained  vessels  without  a  colorable  pre- 
text, and  made  illegal  seizures  of  goods  of  which 
the  recovery  cost  more  than  they  were  worth. 

"On  the  ninth  of  June,  the  Providence  Packet 
was  returning  to  Providence,  and  proud  of  its 
speed,  went  gayly  on,  heedles?  of  the  Gaspee. 
Dudingston  gave  chase.  The  tide  being  at  flood, 
the  Packet  ventured  near  shore;  the  Gaspee  con- 
fidently followed;  and  drawing  more  water  ran 
aground  on  Nauquit,  a  little  below  Pautuxet. 
The  following  night  a  party  of  men  in  six  or  seven 
boats,  led  by  John  Brown  and  Joseph  Brown  of 
Providence,  and  Simeon  Potter  of  Bristol,  boarded 
the  stranded  schooner,  after  a  scuffle  in  which 
Dudingston  was  wounded,  took  and  landed  its 
crew,  and  then  set  it  on  fire."* 

The  author  of  the  old  ballad  is  unknown: 

NEW  SONG   CALLED  THE  GASPEE.f 

'Twas  in  the  reign  of  George  the  Third, 
The  public  peace  was  much  disturb'd, 
By  ships  of  war  that,  came  anil  laid, 
Within  our  ports  to  stop  our  trade. 

In  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy-two, 
In  ISewport  harbor  lay  a  crew 
That  play'd  the  parts  of  pirates  there, 
The  sons  of  Freedom  could  not  bear. 

Sometimes  they'd  weigh,  and  give  them  chase, 

Such  actions,  sure  were  very  base ! — 

No  honest  coasters  could  pass  by, 

But  what  they  would  let  some  shot  fly. 

*  Bancroft's  United  States,  vi.  416.  41T. 
f  From  Sketches  of  Newport  and  its  Vicinity,  published  by 
John  H.  Taylor,  New  York,  1642,  pp,  150-2. 


438 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Which  did  provoke  to  high  degree 
Those  true-born  Sons  of  Liberty, — 
So  that  they  could  no  longer  bear 
Those  sons  of  Belial  staying  there. 

It  was  not  long,  ere  it  fell  out 
That  William  Duddirgston,  so  stout, 
Commander  of  the  Gaspee  tender, 
Which  he  has  reason  to  remember — 

Because,  as  people  do  assert, 

He  almost  met  his  just  desert ; 

Here  on  the  twelfth*  day  of  last  June, 

Between  the  hours  of  twelve  and  one — 

Did  chase  the  sloop  called  the  Hannah, 
Of  which  one  Lindsay  was  commander — ■ 
They  dogg'd  her  up  Providence  Sound, 
And  there  the  rascals  got  aground. 

The  news  of  it  flew  that  very  day, 
That  they  on  Naquit  Poiit  did  lay  ; — 
That  night,  about  half  after  ten, 
Some  Karragansett  Indian-men, 

Being  sixty-four,  if  I  remember, 
Soon  made  this  stout  coxcomb  surrender — 
And  what  was  best  of  all  their  tricks. 
In  him  a  ball  too  they  did  fix — 

Then  set  the  men  upon  the  land 
And  burnt  her  up,  we  understand — 
Which  thi?  g  provok'd  the  king  so  high 
He  said  those  men  should  surely  die 

So  if  he  can  but  find  them  out, 
King  George  has  offered  very  stout 
One  thousand  pounds  to  find  out  one 
That  wounded  William  Duddirgston. 

One  thousand  more,  he  says  he'll  spare 
To  those  who  say  they  Sheriffs  were — 
One  thousand  more  there  doth  remain 
For  to  find  out  the  leader's  name. 

Likewise  one  hundred  pound  per  man, 
For  any  one  of  all  the  clan ; 
But  let  him  try  his  utmost  skill, 
I'm  apt  to  think  he  never  will 
Find  out  one  of  these  hearts  of  gold, 
Though  he  should  offer  fifty  fold. 

We  have  next  to  present  three  out  of  several 
scraps  of  verse  on  the  exciting  topic  of  tea.  The 
first  is  from  the  New  Hampshire  Gazette  of  July 
22,  1774 ;  the  second  from  the  Pennsylvania 
Journal  of  September  14,  in  the  same  year;  the 
third  is  also  from  a  newspaper  of  about  the  same 
period : — 

i. 

Rouse  ev'ry  generous  thoughtful  mind, 
The  rising  danger  flee  ; 
If  you  would  lasting  freedom  find, 
Now  then  abandon  tea. 


Scorn  to  be  bound  with  golden  eh; 
Though  they  allure  the  sight; 
Bid  them  defiance  if  they  claim 
Our  freedom  and  birth-right. 


Shall  we  our  freedom  give  away, 
And  all  our  comfort  place 
In  drinking  of  outlandish  tea, 
Only  to  please  our  taste. 

*  Historians  say  the  9th  of  June. 


Forbid  it,  Heaven,  let  us  be  wise, 
And  seek  our  country's  good ; 
Nor  ever  let  a  thought  arise, 
That  tea  should  be  our  food. 


Since  we  so  great  a  plenty  have, 
Of  all  that's  for  our  health; 
Shall  we  that  baleful  Iieb  receive, 
Lmpoverishing  our  wealth. 


When  we  survey  the  breathless  corpse. 

With  putrid  matter  fill'd  ; 

For  crawling  worms  a  sweet  resort. 


By  us  reputed  ill. 


Noxious  effluvia  sending  out 
From  its  pernicious  store, 
Not  only  from  the  foaming  mouth, 
But  every  lifeless  pore. 


To  view  the  same  enroll'd  in  te.. 
Besmear'd  with  such  perfumes, 
And  then  the  herb  sent  o'er  the  i 
To  us  it  tainted  comes. 


Some  of  it  tinctur'd  with  the  filth 
Of  carcases  embalm'd ; 
Taste  of  this  herb  then  if  thou  wilt, 
Sure  me  it  cannot  charm. 


Adieu,  away,  0  tea  begone, 
Salute  our  taste  no  more ; 
Though  thou  art  coveted  by  some, 
Who're  destiu'd  to  be  poor. 

VIRGINIA  BANISHING  TEA, 

£y  a  Lady. 
Begone,  pernicious  baneful  tea, 

With  all  Pandora's  ills  possess'd; 
Hyson,  no  more  beguiled  by  thee, 

My  noble  sons  shall  be  oppress'd. 
To  Britain  fly,  where  gold  enslaves 

And  venal  men  their  birth-right  sell; 
Tell  North  and  his  brib'd  clan  of  knaves 

Theft1  bloody  acts  were  made  in  hell. 
In  Henry's  reign  those  acts  began, 

Which  sacred  rules  of  justice  broke;' 
North  now  pursues  the  hellish  plan, 

To  fix  on  us  his  slavish  yoke. 
But  we  oppose,  and  will  be  free, 

This  great  good  cause  we  will  defend; 
Nor  bribe,  nor  Gage,  nor  North's  decree, 

Shall  make  us  '"  at  his  feet  to  bend." 
From  Anglia's  ancient  sons  we  came, 

Those  heroes  who  for  freedom  fought ; 
In  Freedom's  cause  we'll  match  their  fame. 

By  their  example  greatly  taught. 
Our  king  we  love,  but  North  we  hate, 

Nor  will  to  him  submission  own ; 
If  death's  our  doom,  we'll  brave  our  fate, 

But  pay  allegiance  to  the  throne. 

A  lady's  adieu  to  her  tea-table. 

Farewell  the  tea-board,  witli  its  gaudy  equipage 
Of  cups  ami  saucers,  cream-bucket,  sugar-tongs, 
The  pretty  tea-chest  also,  lately  stor'd 
With  Hyson,  Congou,  and  best  double  fine. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


439 


Full  many  a  joyous  moment  have  I  pat  by  ye, 

Hearing  the  girls  tattle,  tiie  old  maids  talk  scandal, 

And  the  spruce  coxcomb  laugh  at — may  be — nothing. 

No  more  shall  I  dish  out  the  once  lov'd  liquor, 

Though  now  detectable, 

Because  I  am  taught  (and  I  believe  it  true) 

Its  use  will  fasten  slavish  chains  upon  my  country, 

And  Liuehty's  the  goddess  I  would  chose 

To  reign  triumphant  in  America. 

The  Association,  &c.,  of  the  Colonies  at  the 
Q-rand  Congress  held  at  Philadelphia,  September 
1, 1774,  by  "  Bob  Jingle,  Esq.,  Poet-Laureat  to  the 

Congress,"  printed  in  that  year,  is  a  parody  in 
verse  of  the  Articles  of  Association,  which 
seems  to  have  been  a  favorite  species  of  wit  with 
the  Tory  bards,  who  found  in  the  new  proceed- 
ings of  legislation  novel  matter  for  their  jocularity. 
A  clever  squib,  in  verse,  -A  Dialogue  between  a 
Southern  Delegate  and  his  Spouse,  on  his  return 
from  the  Grand  Continental  Congress,  of  the 
same  year,  is  in  a  similar  vein,  the  humor  con- 
sisting in  the  indignant  wife  rating  "tier  simple- 
minded  husband  for  his  rashness  in  intermeddling 
with  affairs  of  state.  A  single  passage  of  the 
altercation  will  suffice  : — 

Wife.     Good  Lord!  how  magnanimous ! 

I  fear,  child,  thou'rt  drunk, 

Lost  thou  think  thyself,  deary,  a  Cromwell,  or  Monek? 

Dost  thou  think  that  wise  nature  meant  thy  shallow 

pate, 
To  digest,  the  important  affairs  of  a  state? 
Thou   born!    thou!    the  machine  of  an   empire   to 

wield? 
And  thou  wise  in  debate?  Should'st  feel  bold  in  the 

field  1 
If  thou'st  wisdom  to  manage  tobacco,  and  slave, 
It's  as  much  as  God  ever  designed  thee  to  have: 
Because  meii  are  males,  are  they  all  politicians? 
Why  then  I  presume  they're  divines  and  physicians, 
And  born  all  with  talents  every  station  to  fill, 
Noble  proofs  you've  given  !  no  doubt  of  your  skill : 
Would!  instead  of  .Delegates,  they'd  sent  Delegates' 

wives ; 
Heavens!  we  couldn't  have  bungled  it  so  for  our 

lives! 
If  you  had  even  consulted  the  boys  of  a  school, 
Beiieve  me,  Love,  you  could  not  have  played  so  the 

fool : 
Would  it  bluster,  and  frighten  its  own  poor  dear 

wife, 
As  the   Congress  does  England!  quite  out  of  her 

Ufe? 

Husband.     This  same  Congress,  my  dear,  much  dis- 

turbeth  thy  rest, 
God  and  man  ask  no  more  than  that  men  do  their 

best; 
Tis  their  fate,  not  their  crimes,  if  they've  little  pre- 
tence, 
To  your  most  transcendent  penetration  and  sense;' 
Tis  great  pity,  I  grant,  they  hadn't  ask'd  the  advice 
Of  a  judge  of  affairs,  so  profound  and  so  nice; 
You're  so  patient,  so  cool,  so  monstrous  eloquent, 
Next  Congress,  my  Empress  shall  be  made  President, 

A  mild  remonstrance  against  a  famous  practice 
appears  in  Rivingtou's  Gazette  at  this  date.  We 
give  it  with  its  introductory  note,  showing  its 
author  at  least  did  not  set  an  extravagant  value 
on  his  contribution. 

Mr.  Rivinciton* — 

I  shall  lake  it  very  kind  in  you,  sir,  if  you  will  be 
so  good  to  put  the  verses,  wrapt  up  in  this  paper, 


into  your  next  Gazetteer,  for  fear  of  some  terrible 
mischief:  I  am  concerned  I  can't  afford  to  give  you 
any  thing  for't,  but  1  hope  you  will  do  it  for 
nothing,  for 

A  Poor  Man. 
New  York,  Dec.  19, 1774 

ON  HEARING  THAT  TIIE  POOR  MAN  WAS  TARRED  ANT>  FEATHERED. 

Upon  my  word  it's  very  hard 

A  man  can't  speak  his  mind. 
But  he  must  tarr'd  and  feather'd  be, 

And  left  to  north-west  wind. 

God  knows  my  heart,  my  neighbours  dear, 

I  meant  to  serve  you  all ; 
And  little  did  I  think  or  fear 

My  pride  would  have  such  fall. 

Oh  sad!  the  toil  of  many  an  hour, 

One  moment  can  destroy. 
How  great  is  inspectioual  power, 

How  vain  all  human  joy. 

I  meant  to  serve  you  all,  'tis  true, 

With  heart,  and  strength,  and  might, 

Yet  selfish  hop'd  some  praise  was  due 
To  what  I  did  indite. 

Alas !  'twas  all  an  idle  dream, 

These  tyrants  to  oppose, 
In  vain  Ave  strive  against  the  stream, 

They  have  us  by  the  nose. 

Our  noses  they  will  grind  full  well, 

On  grindstone  hard  and  ruff, 
Until  we  wish  them  all  at  h — 11, 

And  cry,  Enuff,  enuff. 

Ah,  where's  the  man  in  your  defence, 

That  boldly  will  arise, 
With  homely  language,  downright  sense. 

To  open  on  your  eyes. 

Tar,  feathers,  haunt  him  day  and  night. 

And  check  his  bold  career. 
He's  not  afraid  of  human  wight, 

But  loves  his  wife  full  dear. 

Ah,  should  she  view  him  dress'd  in  tar, 

And  feathers,  ah  so  grim. 
She'd  rage  and  rave,  and  storm  and  swear, 

And  tear  them  limb  from  limb. 

Inspectors  all,  beware,  beware, 

Come  not  unto  our  house. 
She'll  scratch  your  eyes,  and  tear  your  hair, 

And  crack  you  like  a  louse. 

Twould  be  a  shame,  a  woman  poor 

Your  pow'r  should  dare  oppose, 
Kick  yon,  and  cuff  you  out  of  door, 

As  God  and  nature's  foes. 

Itivington's  New  Yo-k  Gazette,  Thursday, 
Dec.  22,  1774 

Another,  but  more  vigorous  Tory  strain,  ap- 
pears in  the  same  journal  a  little  later.  As  these 
pieces  show  the  spirit  of  the  time,  and  the  activity 
of  the  foe  enhances  the  glory  of  the  conqueror, 
we  do  not  scruple  to  insert  them.  Each  section 
of  the  country  seems  to  have  furnished  its 
quota. 

On  Calvert's  plains  new  faction  reigns, 
Great  Britain — we  defy,  Sir  ; 
True  liberty — lies  gag'd  in  chains, 
Tho'  freedom  is  the  cry,  Sir  • 
The  Congress,  and  their  factious  tools, 
Most  wantonly  oppress  us, 
Hypocrisy  triumphant  rules, 
And  sorely  does  distress  us. 


MO 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  British  bands  with  glory  crown'd, 
No  longer  shall  withstand  us; 
Our  martial  deeds  loud  fume  shall  sound, 
Since  mad  Lee — now  commands  us  : 
Triumphant  soon,  a  blow  he'll  strike, 
That  all  the  world  shall  awe,  Sir, 
And  General  Gage,  Sir,  Perseus-like, 
Behind  his  wheels, — he'll  draw,  Sir. 

"When  Gallic  hosts,  ungrateful  men, 
Our  race  meant  to  exterminate, 
Pray,  did  Committees  save  us  then, 

Or  H k,  or  such  vermin  i 

Then' faction  spurn,  think  for  yourselves, 
Your  parent  state,  believe  me, 
From  real  griefs,  from  factious  elves, 
Will  speedily  relieve  ye. 
Baltimore,  Dec.  19. 
Contributed   by   "  Agricola"  to  Rivington's  New 
York  Gazetteer,  Thursday,  Jan.  6,  1775. 

We  find  in  the  Penns3-lvania  Journal  of  May 
31,  1775,  a  song,  which  we  have  not  met  in  any 
other  shape,  and  which  well  deserves  the  honor 
of  a  reprint : — 

A  BONG. 

To  tlie  tune  of  "  The  Echoing  llorn? 
Hark!  'tis  Freedom  that  calls,  come,  patriots,  awake! 

To  arms,  my  brave  boys,  and  away: 
Tis  Honour,  'tis  Virtue,  'tis  Liberty  calls, 

And  upbraids  the  too  tedious  delay. 
What  pleasure  we  find  in  pursuing  our  foes, 

Thro'  blood  and  thro'  carnage  we'll  fly ; 
Then  follow,  we'll  soon  overtake  them,  huzza! 

The  tyrants  are  seized  on,  they  die. 


Triumphant  returning  with  Freedom  secur'd, 

Like  men,  we'll  be  joyful  and  gay — ■ 
With  our  wives  and  our  friends,  we'll  sport,  love, 
and  drink, 

And  lose  the  fatigues  of  the  day. 
"Tis  freedom  alone  gives  a  relish  to  mirth, 

But  oppression  all  happiness  sours; 
It  will  smooth  life's  dull  passage,  'twill  slope  the  de- 
scent, 

And  strew  the  way  over  with  flowers. 

A  few  months  later  in  the  same  year,  we  meet 
the  date,  October,  1775,  of  the  composition  of  one 
of  the  finest  and  most  popular  productions  of  the 
war,  the  "  Why  should  vain  mortals  tremble  ?"  of 
Nathaniel  Niles : — ■ 

TIEE  AMERICAN  ITEEO. 

A  Sapphic  ode,  written  in  the  time  of  tlie.  American  Resolu- 
tion, at  Norwich)  Conn.,  October,  1775. 

Why  should  vain  mortals  tremble  at  the  sight  of 
Death  and  destruction  in  the  field  of  battle, 
Where  blood   and   carnage  clothe  the   ground   in 
crimson, 

Sounding  with  death-groans  ? 

Death  will  invade  us  by  the  means  appointed, 
And  we  must  all  bow  to  the  king  of  terrors; 
Nor  am  I  anxious,  if  I  am  prepared. 
What  shape  he  comes  in. 

Infinite  Goodness  teaches  us  submission, 
Bids  us  be  (juiet  under  all  his  dealings; 
Never  repining,  but  forever  praising 
God,  our  Creator. 

Well  may  we  praise  him:  all  his  ways  are  perfect: 
Though  a  resplendence,  infinitely  glowing, 
Dazzles  in  glory  on  the  sight  of  mortals, 
Struck  blind  by  lustre. 


Good  is  Jehovah  in  bestowing  sunshine, 
Nor  less  his  goodness  in  the  storm  and  thunder, 
Mercies  and  judgment  both  proceed  from  kindness, 
Infinite  kindness. 

O,  then,  exult  that  God  forever  reigneth ; 
Clouds  which,  around  him.  hinder  our  perception, 
Bind  us  tlie  stronger  to  exalt  his  name,  and     , 
Shout  louder  praises. 

Then  to  the  wisdom  of  my  Lord  and  Master 
I  will  commit  all  that  I  have  or  wish  for, 
Sweetly  as  babes'  sleep  will  I  give  my  life  up, 
When  call'd  to  yield  it. 

Now,  Mars,  I  dare  thee,  clad  in  smoky  pillars, 
Bursting  from  bomb-shells,  roaring  from  the  cannon, 
Rattling  in  grape-shot  like  a  storm  of  hailstones, 
Torturing  ether. 

Up  the  bleak  heavens  let  the  spreading  flames  rise, 
Breaking,  like  JEtnn,  through  the  smoky  columns, 
Lowering,  like  Egypt,  o'er  the  falling  city, 
Wantonly  burn'd  down.'* 

While  all  their  hearts  quick  palpitate  for  havoc, 
Let  slip  your  blood-hounds,  nani'd  the  British  lions; 
Dauntless  as  death  stares,  nimble  as  the  whirl-wind. 

Dreadful  as  demons! 

f 

Let  oceans  waft  on  all  your  floating  castles, 
Fraught  with  destruction,  horrible  to  nature; 
Then,  with  your  sails  fi'l'd  by  a  storm  of  vengeance. 
Bear  down  to  battle. 

From  the  dire  caverns,  made  by  ghostly  miners, 
Let  the  explosion,  dreadful  as  volcanoes, 
Heave  the  broad  town,  with  all  its  wealth  and  peo- 
ple. 

Quick  to  destruction. 

Still  shall  the  banner  of  the  King  of  neaven 
Never  advance  where  I  am  afraid  to  follow: 
While  that  precedes  me,  with  an  open  bosom, 
War,  I  defy  thee. 

Fame  and  dear  freedom  lure  me  on  to  battle, 
While  a  fell  despot,  grimmer  than  a  death's-head, 
Stings  me  with  serpents,  fiercer  than  Medusa's, 
To  the  encounter. 

Life,  for  my  country  and  the  cause  of  freedom, 
Is  but  a  trifle  for  a  worm  to  part  with ; 
And,  if  preserved  in  so  great  a  contest, 
Life  is  redoubled. 

Nathaniel  Niles  was  a  graduate  of  Pn'noeton 
of  17C6  and  Master  of  Arts  of  Harvard  1772 ;  be 
settled  in  Vermont,  where  he  became  District 
Judge  of  the  United  States.  He  died  in  West 
Fairlee,  Vermont,  in  November,  1828,  at  the  age 
•of  eighty-six.  His  grandfather,  Samuel  Niles, 
the  minister  of  Braintree,  Ma-s.,  was  an  author 
of  note.  He  wrote  Tristia  Ecclesiarwm,  an  ac- 
count of  the  New  England  churches  in  1745,  and 
a  tract  in  verse,  God's  Wonder  Working  Provi- 
dence for  New  England  in  (he  reduction  of  Loufs- 
lurg,  in  1747,  also  several  theological  publica- 
tions, and  a  History  of  the  Indian  Wars  published 
in  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Collections,  dying 
in  1702  at  the  age  of  eighty-nlne.t 

Niles,  we  learn  further,  preached  occasionally 
as  a  Presbyterian  clergyman  in  Norwich,  Conn., 
during  the  Revolution,  where  he  also  established 
a  wire  manufactory,  previous  to  his  removal  to 


*  Charlestown,  near  BostoD. 

t  Mass.  llist.  Coil.,  Tmrd  t  erics,  vi.  154-270.    Updike's  Nar. 
CIj.  37. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


441 


the  Vermont  District.*  He  was  an  acute  preach- 
er; two  sermons  delivered  by  him  at  Tor- 
ringford,  Oomi.,  The  Perfection  of  God,  the 
Fountain  of  God,  and  published  at  Norwich, 
"  for  a  number  of  hearers,"  fully  supporting 
a  reputation  in  this  particular.  There  is  an 
improvement  in  one  of  them  in  an  allusion  to 
Washington  which  is  curious.  He  is  illustrating 
the  providence  of  the  Deity:  "Observe  the  sun- 
beams that  shoot  by  stealth  into  a  darkened  room. 
There  you  will  see  myriads  of  playing  motes. 
Can  there  be  any  importance  in  these?  Indeed 
there  can,  indeed  there  is:  too  much  for  any 
except  God  to  manage.  One  of  these  may  over- 
throw an  empire,  give  the  world  a.  shock,  and 
extend  its  influence  into  eternity.  It  may  fall  on 
the  lungs  of  some  monarch,  and  occasion  great 
revolutions  in  his  dominions.  It  may  light  on  the 
e\"e  of  a  David,  a  Solomon,  a  Cyrus,  an  Alex- 
ander, bring  on  an  inflammation  which  may 
spread  to  the  other;  produce  a  mortification,  first 
of  those  parts,  and  then  of  the  whole  body. 
Should  this  be  the  ea-<e  with  the  Commander-in- 
Chief  of  the  present  American  forces,  what  dread- 
ful consequences  might  not  follow.  Our  strength 
might  give  way;  our  country  be  subdued;  our 
religious  privileges  be  wrested  from  us;  super- 
stition and  idolatry  be  introduced,  and,  by  and  by, 
spread  from  us  throughout  this  continent;  and 
then  spread  over  the  other  quarters  of  the  world, 
in  an  heavier  cloud  than  they  now  lie  under." 
He  also  published  several  other  discourses,  but  he 
will  be  mainly  remembered  by  his  American 
Hero,  a  sapphie  ode,  sung  vigorously  in  Norwich 
in  the  olden  time,  and  still  revived,  we  under- 
stand, on  certain  occasions  in  New  Haven.* 

The  bombardment  of  Bristol  occurred  on  the 
7th  of  October,  1775,  and  the  ballad  on  the  sub- 
ject wa;  written  not  long  after.  We  extract  the 
lines  from  Mrs.  Williams's  Biography  of  Barton. 
Wallace  was  the  commander  of  the  English 
squadron  oft'  Newport : — ■ 

THE  BOMBARDMENT  OF  BRISTOL. 

The  incident  which  occasioned  the  following  bal- 
lad is  thus 'described  by  an  eye-witness  (whose  name 
is  not  given)  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Williams. 

October  7,  1775,  the  day  when  Wallace  fired 
upon  the  town  of  Bristol,  I  was  something  over  ten 
years  old,  and  all  the  circumstances  relating  to  that 
event  are  fresh  in  my  memory.  It  was  on  a  plea- 
sant afternoon,  with  a  gentle  breeze  from  the  south, 
that  the  ships  at  Newport  got  under  weigh,  and  stood 
up  towards  Bristol  (appearing  to  us  a  pretty  sight). 
The  wind  being  light  they  did  not  arrive  till  sun- 
set. Wallace,  in  the  Rose,  led  the  way,  run  up  and 
anchored  within  a  cable's  length  of  the  wharf.  I 
think  the  other  ships'  names  were  the  Gaspee  and 
Eskew.  The  next  followed,  and  anchored  one 
cable's  length  to  the  south.  The  other  one,  in  en- 
deavouring to  go  further  south,  grounded  on  the 
middle  ground.  Besides  these,  I  think  there  was  a 
bomb  brig  and  a  schooner.  The  schooner  run  up 
opposite  the  bridge,  and  anchored.  I  was  on  the 
wharf,  with  hundreds  of  others,  viewing  the  same, 
and  suspecting  no  evil.  At  eight  o'clock  the  Com- 
modore fired  a  gun.  Even  then  the  people  felt  no 
alarm,  but  in  a  very  short  time  they  began  to  fire 


*  History  of  Norwich.  Conn.,  from  its  first  settlement,  in 
1660,  to  January,  1  45,  by  Miss  F.  M.  Caulkins,  p.  298.  Doad's 
Kevolntionary  Memorials,  p.  66. 


all  along  the  line,  and  continued  to  fire  for  an  hour. 
The  bomb  brig  threw  carcasses,  machines  made  of 
iron  hoops,  and  filled  with  all  manner  of  combusti- 
bles, to  set  fire  to  the  town.  They  threw  them  up 
nearly  perpendicular,  with  a  tremendous  tail  to 
them,  and  when  they  fell  on  the  ground  they  blazed 
up  many  yards  high,  several  of  which  were  put  out. 
*  *  *  The  cowardly,  rascal,  after  firing  for  an 
hour  or  so,  being  hailed  by  one  of  our  citizens, 
ceased  firing,  and  a  committee  from  the  town  went 
on  board,  and  his  demand  on  them  was  a  number  of 
sheep  and  cattle.  I  believe  they  collected  a  few ; 
and  the  next  day,  being  Sunday,  he  got  under  way, 
and  left  us,  with  a  name  not  yet  forgotten.  *  *  * 
It  is  marvellous  that  there  were  not  more  people 
killed,  as  the  bridge  was  crowded  with  people  all 
the  time  of  the  firing,  and  the  schooner  lay  within 
pistol  shot  of  the  bridge,  and  kept  up  a  constant 
fire.  The  rest  of  the  ships  fired  grape,  round  and 
double  head  shot,  which  were  plentifully  found 
after  the  firing.  *  *  *  The  following  verses 
were  made  on  the  occasion  : — 

In  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy-five, 
Our  Bristol  town  was  much  surprised 
By  a  pack  of  thievish  villains, 
That  will  not  work  to  earn  their  livings. 

October  't  was  the  seventh  day, 
As  I  have  heard  the  people  say, 
Wallace,  his  name  be  ever  curst, 
Came  on  our  harbor  just  at  dusk. 

And  there  his  ships  did  safely  moor, 
And  quickly  sent  his  barge  on  shore, 
With  orders  that  should  not  be  broke, 
Or  they  might  expect  a  smoke. 

Demanding  that  the  magistrates 
Should  quickly  come  on  board  his  ships, 
And  let  him  have  some  sheep  and  cattle, 
Or  they  might  expect  a  battle. 

At  eight  o'clock,  by  signal  given, 
Onr  peaceful  atmosphere  was  riven 
By  British  balls,  both  grape  and  roun 
As  plenty  afterwards  were  found. 

But  oh !  to  hear  the  doleful  cries 
Of  people  running  for  their  lives  ! 
Women,  with  children  in  their  arms, 
Running  away  to  the  farms  ! 

With  all  their  firing  and  their  skill 
They  did  not  any  person  kill ; 
Neither  was  any  person  hurt, 
But  the  Reverend  Parson  Burt. 

And  he  was  not  killed  by  a  ball, 

As  judged  by  jurors  one  and  all ; 

But  being  in  a  sickly  state, 

He,  frightened,  fell,  which  proved  his  fate. 

Another  truth  to  you  I'll  tell, 
That  you  may  see  they  levelled  well; 
For  aiming  for  to  kill  the  people, 
They  fired  their  shot  into  a  steeple. 

They  fired  low,  they  fired  high, 
The  women  scream,  the  children  cry; 
And  all  their  firing  and  their  racket 
Shot  off  the  topmast  of  a  packet. 

In  relation  to  the  following,  we  find  the 
schooner  True  American,  twelve  guns,  Captain 
Daniel  Hawthorne,  spoken  of  as  in  service  in 
1777  in  a  list  of  Salem  Privateers,  in  Joseph  B. 
Felt's  Annals  of  Salem  (Salem,  1849),  vol.  ii. 
268.  The  ballad  is  given  in  McCarthy's  Songs,  vol. 
ii.  250,  from  R.  W.  Griswold's  manuscript  col- 


442 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


lection  of  American  Historical  Ballads,  and  is 
said  to  have  been  taken  down  "from  the  mouths 
of  the  surviving  shipmates  of  Hawthorne,  who 
were  accustomed  to  meet  at  the  office  of  the 
Marine  Insurance  Company  in  Salem." 

BOLD    HAU'lHORNE  ;    OP.  'THE    CBUT3E   OF  THE  FATE  AITEEICAN, 
COMMANDED    BY   CAPT.  DANIEL  IIAWTI10ENE. 

Written  by  the  Surgeon  of  Vie  Yeexel. 
The  twenty-second  of  August, 

Before  the  close  of  day, 
All  hands  on  board  of  our  privateer, 

"We  got  her  under  weigh  ; 
We  kept  the  Eastern  shore  along, 

For  forty  leagues  or  more, 
Then  our  departure  took  for  sea, 

From  the  isle  of  Mauhegnu  shore. 

Bold  Hawthorne  was  commander, 

A  man  of  real  worth, 
Old  England's  cruel  tyranny 

Induced  him  to  go  forth  ; 
She,  with  relentless  fury, 

Was  plundering  all  our  coast, 
And  thought,  because  her  strength  was  great, 

Our  glorious  cause  was  lost. 

Yet  boast  not,  haughty  Britons, 

Of  power  and  dignity, 
By  land  thy  conquering  armies, 

Thy  matchless  strength  at  sea; 
Since  taught  by  numerous  instances 

Americans  can  fight, 
With  valour  can  equip  their  stand, 

Your  armies  put  to  flight. 

Now  farewell  to  fair  America, 

Farewell  our  friends  and  wives  ■ 
We  trust  in  Heaven's  peculiar  care, 

For  to  protect  their  lives  ; 
To  prosper  our  intended  cruise 

Upon  the  raging  main, 
And  to  preserve  our  dearest  friends 

Till  we  return  again. 

The  wind  it  being  leading, 

It  bore  us  on  our  way, 
As  far  unto  the  southward 

As  the  Gulf  of  Florida; 
Where  we  fell  in  with  a  British  ship, 

Bound  homeward  from  the  main  ; 
We  gave  her  two  bow-chasers, 

And  she  return'd  the  same. 

We  hauled  up  our  courses, 

And  so  prepared  for  fight ; 
The  content  held  four  glasses, 

Until  the  dusk  of  night ; 
Then  having  sprung  our  mainmast, 

And  had  so  large  a  sea. 
We  dsoppM  astern  and  left  our  chase 

Till  the  returning  day. 

Next  morn  we  fish'd  our  mainmast, 

The  ship  still  being  nigh, 
All  hands  made  for  engaging 

Our  chance  once  move  to  try; 
But  wind  and  sea  being  boisterous 

Our  cannon  would  not  bear, 
We  thought  it  quite  imprudent 

And  so  we  left  her  there. 

We  cruised  to  the  eastward, 

Near  the  coast  of  Portugal, 
In  longitude  of  twenty -seven 

We  saw  a  lofty  sail ; 
We  gave  her  chase,  and  soon  perceived 

She  was  a  British  snow 


Standing  for  fair  America, 

With  troops  for  General  Howe. 

Our  captain  did  inspect  her 

With  glasses,  and  he  said, 
"My  boys,  she  means  to  fight  us, 

But  be  you  not  aft  aid  ; 
All  hands  repair  to  quarters, 

See  evcrj-  tiling  is  clear, 
We'll  give  her  a  bioadside,  my  boys, 

As  soon  as  she  comes  near." 

She  was  prepared  with  nettings, 

And  her  men  were  well  secured, 
And  bore  directly  for  us, 

And  put  us  close  on  board ; 
When  the  cannon  roar'd  like  thunder, 

And  the  muskets  fired  amain, 
But  soon  we  were  alongside 

And  grappled  to  her  chain. 

And  now  the  scene  it  alter'd. 

The  cannon  ceased  to  roar, 
We  fought  with  swords  and  boarding-pikes 

One  glass  or  somethii  g  more, 
Till  British  pride  and  glory 

No  longer  dared  to  stay, 
But  cut  the  Yankee  giapplings, 

And  quickly  bore  away. 

Our  case  was  not  so  desperate 

As  plainly  might  appear ; 
Yet  sudden  death  did  enter 

On  board  our  privateer. 
Mnhoney,  Crew,  and  Clemmons, 

The  valiant  and  the  brave, 
Fell  glorious  in  the  contest, 

And  met  a  watery  grave. 

Ten  other  men  were  wounded 

Among  our  warlike  crew, 
With  them  our  noble  captain,* 

To  whom  all  praise  is  due ; 
To  him  and  all  our  officers, 

Let's  give  a  hearty  cheer ; 
Success  to  fair  America 

And  our  good  privateer! 

Joseph  Warren  contributed  by  his  voice  and 
pen,  as  well  as  his  sword,  to  the  progress  of  the 
American  cause.  He  delivered  in  1772-  and  1775 
orations  on  the  Boston  Massacre,  the  second  of 
which  was  pronounced  in  defiance  of  the  threats 
of  the  soldiery  of  the  garrison,  who  lined  the 
pulpit  stairs.  Warren,  to  avoid  confusion,  en- 
tered by  the  window  in  the  rear.  The  address 
was  an  animated  and  vigorous  performance.  The 
interest  it  excited  out  of  Boston  may  be  gathered 
from  the  abusive  account  of  its  delivery  in 
Rivington's  Gazette,  March  1  ♦  •_  1775,  an  amusing 
specimen  of  the  style  of  writing  in  that  peri- 
odical.! 

On  Monday,  the  5th  instant,  the  Old  South  Meet- 
ing-house being  crowded  with  mobility  and  fame, 
the  selectmen,  with  Adams,  Church  and  Hancock, 
Cooper  and  others,  assembled  in  the  pulpit,  which 
was  covered  with  black,  and  we  all  sat  gaping  at 
one  another,  above  an  hour,  expecting!  At  last,  a 
single  horse  chair  stopped  at  the  apothecary's,  oppo- 
site the  meeting,  from  which  descended  the  orator 
(Warren)  of  the  day,  and,  entering  the  shop,  was 
followed  by  a  servant  with  a  bundle,  in  which  were 
the  Ciceronian  toga,  etc 

Having  robed  himself,  he  proceeded  across  the 

*  Hawthorne  was  wono/ed  in  tli  ■  h*?ad  by  a  mnsket  ball. 
+  Quoted  in  Lorillg^s  Hundred  liuston  Orators,  p.  60. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


443 


street  to  the  meeting,  and,  being  received  into  the 
pulpit,  he  was  announced  by  one  of  his  fraternity 
to  be  the  person  appointed  to  declaim  on  the  occa- 
sion. He  then  put  himself  into  a  Demosthenian 
posture,  with  a  white  handkerchief  in  his  right 
hand,  and  his  left  in  his  breeches, — began  and  ended 
without  action.  He  was  applauded  by  the  mob, 
but  groaned  at  by  people  of  understanding.  One  of 
the  pulpiteers  (Adams)  then  got  up  and  proposed 
the  nomination  of  another  to  speak  next  year  on  the 
bloody  massacre, — the  first  time  that  expression  was 
made  to  the  audience, — when  some  officers  cried,  O 
fie,  fie !  The  gallcrians,  apprehending  tire,  bounded 
out  of  the  windows,  and  swarmed  down  the  gutters 
like  rats,  into  the  street.  The  43  I  regiment,  return- 
ing accidentally  from  exercise,  with  drums  beating, 
threw  the  whole  body  into  the  greatest  consterna- 
tion. There  were  neither  pageantry,  exhibitions, 
processions,  or  bells  tolling,  as  usual,  but  the  night 
was  remarked  for  being  the  quietest  these  many 
months  past. 

"Warren  wrote  for  the  newspapers  in  favor  of 
freedom,  and  turned  his  poetical  abilities  in  the 
same  direction.  His  Free  America,  written  pro- 
bably not  long  before  his  lamented  death,  shows 
that  he  possessed  facility  as  a  versifier. 

FREE  AMEEICA. 

Tune — "  British  Grenadiers" 
That  Beat  of  science,  Athens, 

And  earth's  proud  unstress,  Rome  ; 
Where  now  are  all  their  glories '! 

We  scarce  can  find  a  tomb. 
Then  guard  your  rights,  Americans, 

Nor  stoop  to  lawless  sway  ; 
Oppose,  oppose,  oppose,  oppose, 

For  North  America. 

We  led  fair  Freedom  hither,    ' 

And  lo,  the  desert  smiled  1 
A  paradise  of  pleasure 

Was  opened  in  the  wild! 
Your  harvest,  bold  Americans, 

No  power  shall  snatch  away ! 
Huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza, 

For  free  America. 

Torn  fi'om  a  world  of  tyrants, 

Beneath  this  western  sky, 
We  formed  a  new  dominion, 

A  land  of  liberty  : 
The  world  shall  own  we're  masters  here ; 

Then  hasten  on  the  day  : 
Huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza, 

For  free  America. 

Proud  Albion  bow'd  to  Cesar, 

And  numerous  lords  before; 
To  Picts,  to  Danes,  to  Normans, 

And  many  masters  more: 
But  we  can  boast,  Americans, 

We've  never  fallen  a  prey; 
Huzza,  huzz,i,  huzza,  huzza, 

For  free  America. 

God  bless  this  maiden  climate, 

And  through  its  vast  domain 
May  hosts  of  heroes  cluster, 

Who  scorn  to  wear  a  chain  : 
And  blast  the  venal  sycophant 

That  dares  our  rights  betray  ; 
Huzza,  huzrza,  huzza,  huzza, 

For  free  America. 

Lift  up  your  hands,  ye  heroes, 
And  swear  with  proud  disdain, 


The  wretch  that  would  ensnare  you, 

Shall  lay  his  snares  in  vain  : 
Should  Europe  empty  all  her  force, 

We'll  meet  her  in  array, 
And  fight  and  shout,  and  shout  and  fight 

For  North  America. 

Come  future  day  shall  crown  us, 

The  masters  of  the  main. 
Our  fleets  shall  speak  in  thunder 

To  England,  France,  and  bpain; 
And  the  nations  over  the  ocean  spread 

Shall  tremble  and  obey 
The  sons,  the  sons,  the  sons,  the  sons 

Of  brave  America. 

A  pamphlet  collection  of  Poems  upon  Seve- 
ral Occasions,  printed  in  Boston,  17-99,  opens 
with  a  ballad  of  a  simple  earnest  feeling,  which, 
in  reviewing  the  early  incidents  of  the  war,  gives 
an  account  of  the  deatli  of  Warren,  of  value  as 
a  probably  contemporary  testimony.* 

A  POEM,  CONTAINING  SOME    REMARKS   ON  THE  PRESENT 
WAR,  ETC. 

Britons  grown  big  with"  pride 

And  wanton  ease, 
And  tyranny  beside, 

They  sought  to  please 
Their  craving  appetite; 
They  strove  with  all  their  might, 
They  vow'd  to  rise  and  fight, 
To  make  us  bow. 

The  plan  they  laid  was  deep, 

Even  like  hell ; 
With  sympathy  I  weep, 

While  here  I  tell 
Of  that  base  murderous  brood, 
Void  of  the  fear  of  Go  1, 
Who  came  to  spill  our  blood 
In  our  own  land. 

They  bid  their  armies  sail 

Through  billows'  roar, 
And  take  the  first  fair  gale 

For  Boston's  shore  ; 
They  cross'd  the  Atlantic  sea 
A  long  and  watery  way, 
Poor  Boston  fell  a  prey 
To  tyranny. 

They  felt  proud  tyrants'  rage 

And  cruelty, 
A  monster  of  a  Gage 

There  passing  by, 
With  every  trap  and  snare. 
Whose  oaths  did  taint  the  air; 
The  illustrious  city  fair 
Was  in  distress. 

No  pen  can  fully  write, 

Nor  tongue  express, 
Nor  heart  that  can  indite 

The  wickedness 
Of  tiiat  army  so  base  ; 
Void  of  all  fear  and  grace, 
Infesting  of  that  place 
On  every  side. 


*  Poems  npon  Several  Occasions,  viz. : — 1.  A  Poom  on  the 
Enemy's  first  coming  to  Boston:  the  Burning  of  Charlestown; 
the  fight  at  Bunker-Hill,  &c.  2.  The  Widow's  Lamentation. 
8.  Nebuchadnezzar's  Dream.     4.  Against  Oppression.     5.  An 

Heroic  Poem  on  the  taking  of  General  Burgoyne,  &c. 

Shall  every  sense  of  Virtue  sleep,  and  every  talent  lie  buried 
in  the  Earth,  when  subjects  of  such  importance  call  for  them 
to  be  improved  ? 

Boston  :  Printed  for  the  Author.    1799. 


444 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


The  harbour  was  block'd  up 

No  ship  coulil  sail ; 
Our  fishery  was  stopt, 

A  doleful  tale ! 
Of  tyrants'  cruelty ; 
Their  banners  lifted  high, 
Made  sons  of  freedom  cry 
Unto  their  God. 

The  Congress  that  we  chose 

Bid  us  unite, 
And  to  withstand  our  foes, 

For  freedom  fight ; 
They  bid  us  ready  stand, 
Fight  for  our  fathers'  land, 
Though  we  a  feeble  band, 
Lid  us  not  fear. 

With  great  reluctancy 

We  ready  stood, 
And  with  our  spirits  high, 

Trusting  in  God  ; 
Our  prayers  did  ascend, 
That  lie  would  be  our  friend, 
That  he  would  us  defend 
In  troubles  great. 

But  oh!  when  cruel  Gage 

Lid  see  that  we 
Would  not  bow  to  his  rage 

And  tyranny ; 
Did  fortify  most  strong, 
His  guards  were  stretcli'd  along 
A  base  and  brutish  throng, 
Of  British  troops. 

Gage  wns  both  base  and  mean, 

He  dare  not  fight ; 
The  men  he  sent  were  seen 

Like  owls  in  night. 

It  was  in  Lexington, 

Where  patriots'  blood  did  run 

Before  the  rising  sun 

In  crimson  gore. 

Here  sons  of  freedom  fell 

Rather  than  flee, 
Unto  those  brutes  of  hell 

They  fell  a  prey ; 
But  they  shall  live  again, 
Their  names  shall  rise  and  reign 
Among  the  noble  slain 
In  all  our  land. 

But  oh !  this  cruel  foe 

Went  on  in  haste, 
To  Concord  they  did  go, 

And  there  did  waste 
Some  stores  in  their  rage, 
To  gratify  old  Gage, 
His  name  in  every  page 
Shall  be  defam'd. 

Their  practice  thus  so  base 

And  murder  too, 
Rous'd  up  the  patriot  race, 

Who  did  pursue, 
And  put  this  foe  to  flight, 
They  could  not  bear  the  light, 
Some  rue'd  the  very  night 
They  left  their  den. 

And  now  this  cruelty 

Was  spread  abroad, 
The  sons  of  liberty 

This  act  nbliorr'd  ; 
Their  noble  blood  did  boil, 
Forgetting  all  the  toil, 
In  troubles  they  could  smile, 
And  went  in  haste. 


Our  army  willingly 

Did  then  engage 
To  stop  the  cruelty 

Of  tyrants'  rage. 
They  did  not  fear  our  foe, 
But  ready  were  to  go, 
And  let  the  tyrants  know 
Whose  sons  they  were. 

But  when  old  Gage  did  see 

All  us  withstand, 
And  strive  for  liberty 

Through  all  our  land, 
He  strove  with  all  his  might, 
For  rage  was  his  delight, 
With  fire  he  did  fight, 
A  monster  he. 

On  Charlestown  he  display'd 

His  fire  abroad  ; 
He  it  in  ashes  laid, 

An  act  abhoir'd 
By  sons  of  liberty — 
Who  saw  the  flames  on  high 
Piercing  their  native  sky, 
And  now  Lies  waste. 

To  Bunker-hill  they  came 

Most  rapidly, 
And  many  there  were  slain, 

And  there  did  die. 
They  call'd  it  bloody  hill, 
Although  they  gain'd  their  will 
In  triumph  they  were  still, 
'Cause  of  their  slain. 

Here  sons  of  freedom  fought 

Right  manfully  ; 
A  wonder  here  was  wrought, 

Though  some  did  die. 
Here  Waiiren  bow'd  to  death 
His  last  expiring  breath, 
In  language  mild  he  saith — 
Fight  on,  brave  boys. 

Oh  !  this  did  stain  the  pride 

Of  British  troops ; 
They  saw  they  were  deny'd 

Of  their  vain  hopes 
Of  marching  thro'  our  land, 
When  twice  a  feeble  band 
Did  fight,  and  boldly  stand 
In  our  defence. 

Brave  Washington  did  come 

To  our  relief ; 
He  left  his  native  home, 

Filled  with  grief ; 
He  did  not  covet  gain, 
The  cause  he  would  maintain 
And  die  among  tlie  slain 
Rather  than  flee. 

His  bosom  glow'd  with  love 

For  liberty ; 
His  passions  much  did  move 

To  orphans'  cry. 
He  let  proud  tyrants  know, 
How  far  their  bounds  should  go, 
And  then  his  bombs  did  throw 
Into  their  den. 

This  frighted  them  full  sore 
When  bombs  were  sent, 

When  cannon  loud  did  roar 
They  left  each  tent; 

Oh!  thus  did  the  tyrants  fly, 

Went  precipitately, 

Their  shipping  being  nigh, 
They  sailed  off. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


445 


And  now  Boston  is  free 

From  tyrants  ba9e ; 
The  sons  of  liberty 

Possess  the  place ; 
They  now  in  safety  dwell, 
Free  from  those  brutes  of  hell, 
Their  raptured  tongues  do  tell 
Their  joys  great. 

But  they  must  try  again 

Us  to  undo; 
Their  fleets  have  cross'd  the  main 

And  do  pursue.    • 
They've  come  in  mighty  haste 
To  lay  our  country  waste, 
The  Southern  States  must  taste 
Of  tyrants'  rage. 

Britons  and  Hessian  troops, 

A  brutish  throng, 
To  prosecute  their  hopes 

They've  sail'd  along; 
The  Tories  ask'd  them  o'er, 
To  come  and  try  once  more, 
Some  landed  on  the  shore 
Near  Charleston  bar. 

Brave  Charleston  was  prepar'd 

For  this  brave  foe  ; 
A  fortress  they  had  rear'd 

To  let  them  know 
That  freedom's  cause  was  good, 
They  would  resist  for  blood, 
And"  manfully  withstood, 

And  drubb'd  them  welL 

Oh  !  here  Parker  was  beat 

Right  manfully; 
And  with  his  scatter'd  fleet 

With  wounded's  cry: 
His  ammunition  fail'd, 
He  took  the  first  fair  gale, 
With  scarce  a  must  or  sail 
To  join  old  Howe. 

Howe's  fleet  cover'd  the  sea 

Near  New  York  shore 
And  very  subtle  he 

To  try  once  more  ; 
Here  Tories  join'd  our  foe, 
As  base  as  hell  below, 
Who  did  our  shores  know, 
Help'd  them  to  land. 

But  oh  !  the  bloody  scene 

I  now  will  write  ; 
Long  Island  I  do  mean, 

Where  was  the  fight, 
Where  our  brave  men  did  die, 
Fighting  for  liberty, 
No  succor  could  come  nigh 
For  their  relief 

Here  valiant  men  did  bleed, 

And  fell  a  prey ; 
Here  tyrants  did  succeed 

And  win  the  day  ; 
It  was  by  Tories'  art, 
Who  took  the  tyrants'  part 
We  yet  do  feel  the  smart 
Of  that  base  crew. 

Brave  Washington  did  say, 

Ahis!  good  God, 
Brave  men  I've  lost  to-day, 

They're  in  their  blood. 
His  grief  he  did  express 
To  see  them  in  distress, 
His  tears  and  hands  witness 
He  lov'd  his  men. 


And  then  he  thought  best 

To  leave  that  place, 
Thau  there  to  stand  the  test 

With  men  so  base. 
He  was  wise  and  discreet, 
He  bid  his  men  retreat, 
Go  farther  from  the  fleet, 
So  left  New  York. 

Du  Simitiere's  volume  of  poetical  selections  in 
MS.,  to  which  we  have  frequently  expressed  our 
obligations,  furnishes  us  with  some  lively  verses 
for  the  outset  of  1776,  which  are  there  entitled 

Parody  by  John  Tabor  Kemp,  Attorney-General  of  New 
York,  to  welcome  Cortland  Skinner,   Attorney- General  of 

New  Jersey,  on  board  of  the  Asm  Man-of-  War,  at  New  York, 
Feb.,  177C. 


Welcome,  welcome,  brother  Tory, 

To  this  merry  floating  place; 
I  came  here  a  while  before  you ; 

Coming  here  is  no  disgrace. 
Freedom  finds  a  safe  retreat  here, 

On  the  bosom  of  the  waves  ; 
You  she  now  invites  to  meet  her. 

Welcome,  then,  thou  Tory  brave. 

n. 

As  you  serve,  like  us,  the  King,  sir, 

In  a  hammock  you  must  lay  ; 
Better  far  'tis  so  to  swing,  sir, 

Thau  to  swing  another  way. 
Tho'  we've  not  dry  land  to  walk  on, 

The  quarter  deck  is  smooth  to  tread  : 
Hear  how  fast,  while  we  are  talking, 

Barrow*  trips  it  over  head. 


Should  vile  Whigs  come  here  to  plunder, 

Quick  we  send  them  whence  they  came ; 
They'd  soon  hear  the  Asia  thunder, 

And  the  Phoenix  in  a  flame. 
Neptune's  gallant  sons  befriend  us, 

While  at  anchor  here  we  ride; 
Britain's  wooden  walls  defend  us, 

Britain's  glory  and  her  pride. 

In  1776,  appeared  The  Fall  of  British  Tyranny : 
or  American  Liberty  Triumphant, — The  First 
Campaign  ;  a  Tragi-Comedy  of  five  acts,  as  lately 
planned  at  the  Royal  Theatrum  Pandemonium, 
at  St.  James'.  Phila.  8vo.  pp.66.  It  is  one  of 
several  dramatic  satires,  like  the  Group  of  Mrs. 
Warren,  which  appeared  during  the  war.  We 
present  a  portion  of 

THE  DEDICATION. 

To  Lord  Boston,  and  the  Remnant  of  the  Actors, 
Merry-Andrews,  and  Strolling  Players  in  Boston, 
Lord  Kidnapper,  and  the  rest  of  the  Pirates  and 
Buccaneers,  and  the  innumerable  and  never-ending 
Clan  of  Macs  and  Donalds  upon  Donalds,  in 
America : 

My  Lords  and  Gentlemen, 

Understanding  you  are  vastly  fond  of  plays  and 
farces,  and  frequently  exhibit  them  for  your  own 
amusement,  and  the  laudable  purpose  of  ridiculing 
your  masters  (the  Yankees,  as  you  call  'em),  it  was 
expected  you  would  have  been  polite  enough  to 
have  favoured  the  world,  or  America  at  least  (at 


*  The  deputy  paymaster  jrener.il  of  the  King's  army,  that 
has  also  fled  on  board  of  the  Asia,  and  continually  walks  tho 
quarter. deck. 


416 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


■whose  expence  you   act  them)  with  some  of  your 
play-bills,  or  with  a  sample  of  your  conipositioo. 

*  *  *  *  *-  *  *- 

This  is  signed  "Dick  Pufle,"  and  is  followed  by 
a  prose  preface,  and  this  by 

THE  GODDESS   OP  LIBERTY. 

Hail !  patriots,  hail !  by  me  inspired  be! 

Speak  boldly,  think  and  act  for  Liberty, 

United  sons,  America's  choice  band, 

Ye  patriots  firm,  ye  sav'ours  of  the  land. 

Hail!'  patriots,  hail !   rise  with  the  rising  sun, 

Nor  quit  your  labour,  till  the  work  be  done. 

Ye  early  risers  in  your  country's  cause, 

Shine  forth  at  noon,  for  Liberty  and  Laws, 

Build  a  stro  g  tow'r,  whose  fabric  may  endure 

Firm  as  a  rock  from  tyranny  secure. 

Yet  would  you  build  my  fabric  to  endure, 

Be  your  hearts  warm — but  let  your  hands  be  pure, 

Never  to  shine  yourselves,  your  country  sell; 

But  think  you  nobly,  while  in  place  act  well. 

Let  no  self-ser\ter  general  trust  betray, 

No  pique,  no  party,  bar  the  public  way. 

Front  an  arm'd  world,  with  union  on  your  side : 

No  foe  shall  shake  you, — if  no  friends  divide. 

At  night  repose,  and  sweetly  take  your  rest; 

None  sleeps  so  sound  as  those  by  conscience  blest : 

May  martyr'd  patriots  whisper  in  your  ear, 

To  tread  the  paths  of  virtue  without  fear  ; 

May  pleasing  visions  charm  your  patriot  eyes, 

While  Freedom's  sons  shall  hail  you  b'.est  and  wise. 

Hail!   my  hist  hope,  she  cries,  inspir'd  by  me, 

Wish,  write,  talk,  fight,  and  die — for  Liberty  ! 

The  characters  of  the  play  consist  of  the 
leading  statesmen  of  England,  who  are  intro- 
duced under  descriptive  names,  Bute  being  Lord 
Paramount,  Mansfield  Lord  Mocklaw,  &c. ;  Gage 
figures  us  Lord  Boston,  and  Washington,  Lee, 
and  Putnam  appear  in  propria  persona.  The 
:  scene  is  laid  in  England,  and  at  Lexington  and 
Bunker's  Hill.  The  dialogue  is  in  pro.e  and 
somewhat  stiff.  The  following  song  is  sung  by 
one  of  two  shepherds,  near  Lexington,  who  have 
a  discussion  of  public  affairs  "  after  the  defeat 
and  flight  of  the  Regulars."  Roger  says,  "  This  is 
the  First  of  May  ;  our  shepherds  and  nymphs  are 
celebrating  our  glorious  St.  Tammany's  day; 
we'll  hear  the  song  out,  and  then  join  in  the 
frolic,  and  chorus  it  o'er  and  o'er  again.  This 
day  shall  be  devoted  to  joy  and  festivity." 

SONG. 

Tune. — "  The  Hounds  arc  all  out." 


Of  St.  George,  or  St.  Bute,  let  the  poet  laureat  sing, 

Of  Pharaoh  or  Pluto  of  old, 

AVhile  he  rhimes  forth  their  praise,  in  false  flattering 

lays, 
I'll  sing  of  St.  Tamm'ny  the  bold,  my  brave  boys. 


Let  Hibernia's  sons  boast,  make  Patrick  their  toast, 
And  Scots  Andrew's  fame  spread  abroad  ; 
Potatoes  and  oats,  and  Welch  leeks  for  Welch  goats, 
Was  never  St.  Tammany's  food,  my  brave  boys. 


In   freedom's  bright  cause,  Tamm'ny  pled  with  ap- 
plause, 
And  reason'd  most  justly  from  nature ; 
For  this  was  his  song,  all,  all  the  day  long; 
Liberty's  the  right  of  each  creature,  brave  boys. 


Whilst  under  an  oak  his  great  parliament  sat, 
His  throne  was  the  crotch  of  the  tree ; 
With  Solomon's  look,  without  statutes  or  book, 
He  wisely  sent  forth  his  decree,  my  brave  boys. 

v. 

His  subjects  stood  round,  not  the  least  noise  or  sound, 
Whilst  freedom  blaz'd  full  in  each  face  ; 
So  plain  were  the  laws,  and  each  pleaded  his  cause, 
That  might  Bute,  North,  and  Mansfield  disgrace,  mj 
brave  boys. 

VI. 

No  duties,  nor  stamps,  their  blest  liberty  cramps, 
A  king,  though  no  tyrant  was  he  ; 
He  did  ofttimes  declare,  nay  sometimes  would  swear 
The  least  of  his  subjects  were  free,  my  brave  boys. 

VII. 

He,  as  king  of  the  woods,  of  the  rivers  and  floods, 
Had  a  right  all  beasts  to  control  ; 
Yet,  content  with  a  few,  to  give  nature  her  due; 
So  geu'rous  was  Tammany's  soul,  my  brave  boys. 

VIII. 

In  the  morn  he  arose,  and  a  hunting  he  goes, 
Bold  Nimrod  his  second  was  he. 
For  his  breakfast  he'd  take  a  large  venison  steak, 
And  despis'd  your  slip-slops  and  tea,  my  brave  boys 

IX 

While  all  in  a  row,  with  squaw,  dog  and  bow, 
Vermillion  adorning  his  face, 
With  feathery  head  he  ra:  g'd  the  woods  wide: 
St.  George   sure   had   never  such  grace,  my  brave 
boys. 

x. 

His  jetty  black  hair,  such  as  Buckskin  saints  wear, 
Perfumed  with  bear's  grease  well  smear'd, 
Which  illum'd  the  saint's  face,  and  ran  down  apace, 
Like  the  oil  from  Aaron's  old  beard,  my  brave  boys. 

XL 

The  strong  nervous  deer,  with  amazing  career, 
In  swiftness  he'd  fairly  run  down  ; 
And,  like  Sampson,  wou'd  tear  wolf,  lion  or  bear, 
Ne'er  was  such  a  saint  as  our  own,  my  brave  boys. 

XII. 

When  he'd  run  down  a  stag,  he  behind  him  would 

lag, 
For,  so  noble  a  soul  had  he; 
He'd  stop,  tlio'  he  lost  it.  tradition  reports  it, 
To   give   him  fresh  chance  to  get  free,   my  brave 

boys. 

xm. 

With  a  mighty  strong  arm,  and  a  masculine  bow, 
His  arrow  he  drew  to  the  head, 
And  as  sure  as  he  shot,  it  was  ever  his  lot, 
His  prey  it  fell  instantly  dead,  my  brave  boys. 

xrv." 

His  table  he  spread  where  the  venison  bled, 

Be  thankful,  he  used  to  say  ; 

He'd  laugh  and  he'd  sing,  tho'  a  saint  and  a  king, 

And  sumptuously  dine  on  his  prey,  my  brave  boys. 


Then  over  the  hills,  o'er  the  mountains  and  rills, 

He'd  caper,  such  was  his  delight  ; 

And  ne'er  in  his  days,  Indian  history  says, 

Did  lack  a  good  supper  at  night,  my  brave  boys. 

XVI. 

On  an  old  stump  he  sat,  without  cap  or  hat, 
When  supper  was  ready  to  eat, 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


U7 


Snap,  his  do;*,  he  stood  by,  and  cast  a  sheep's  eye ; 
For  veii'son,  the  king  of  all  meat,  my  brave  boys. 

xvn. 
Like  Isaac  of  old,  and  both  cast  in  one  mould, 
Tho'  a  wigwam  was  Tamm'ny's  cottage, 
lie  lov'd  sav'ry  meat,  such  that  patriarch  eat, 
Of  ven'son  and  squirrel  made  pottage,  brave  boys. 


As  old  nge  came  on,  he  grew  blind,  deaf  and  dumb, 

Tho'  his  sport,  'twere  hard  to  keep  from  it, 

Quite  tired  of  life,  bid  adieu  to  his  wife, 

And  blaz'd  like  the  tail  of  a  comet,  brave  boys. 

xx. 

What  country  on  earth,  thea,  did  ever  give  birth, 

To  such  a  magnanimous  sai-it  'i 

His  acts  far  excel  all  that  history  tell, 

And  language  too  feeble  to  paint,  my  brave  boys. 

XXI. 

Now,  to  finish  my  song,  a  full  flowing  bowl 

I'll  quaff,  and  sing  all  t!ie  long  day, 

And  with  punch  and  wine  paint  my  cheeks  for  my 

saint, 
And  hail  ev'ry  first  of  sweet  May,  my  brave  boys. 

Wo  have  next  to  present  a  poem,  which, 
though  dated  from  a  distant  city,  has  the  true 
home  spirit  of  the  time. 

To  ilce  tune  of  li  Smile  Britannia." 
Rise,  rise,  bright  genius  rise, 

Conduct  thy  sons  to  war ; 
Thy  spear  pois'd  to  the  skies, 

Whirl,  whirl  thy  rapid  car ; 
Fire  each  firm  breast  with  noble  zeal, 
To  conquer  for  the  common  weal. 

For  years  the  iron  rod 

Has  hover'd  o'er  our  heads, 
Submit  to  George's  nod, 

Whose  power  all  Europe  dreads; 
The  slavish  minion  cries. 
But  Freedom's  sons  all  fears  despise. 

All  means  for  peace  we've  tried, 
But  found  those  measures  vain ; 

North's  ministerial  pride 

Thought  fear  made  us  complain. 

But  in  the  end,  convinc'd  he'll  see, 

We  dread  not  death,  but  slavery. 

Tho'  fatal  lust  of  pow'r 

Has  steel'd  the  tyrant's  soul ; 
Though  in  an  ill-tim'd  hour 

He  bids  his  thunders  roll, 
Great  Liberty,  inspired  by  thee, 
We  fly  to  death  or  victory. 

Great  Nature's  law  inspires, 

And  free-born  souls  unite, 
While  common  interest  fires 

Us  to  defend  our  right 
Against  corruption's  boundless  claim, 
And  firmly  fix  great  Freedom's  reigu 

They  foreign  troops  employ, 

For  merce  lary  hire  ; 
Their  weakness  we  enjoy, 

Each  pulse  new  ardors  fire, 
Convine'd  the  wretch  who  fights  for  pay. 
Will  never  bear  the  palm  away. 

They  boast  their  power  by  sea, 

The  ruin  of  our  trade  ; 
Our  navy  soon  they'll  see, 

Wide  o'er  the  ocean  spread ; 


Britain  not  long  shall  boast  her  reign 
O'er  the  wide  empire  of  the  main. 

Throughout  the  universe 

Our  commerce  we'll  extend, 
Each  power  on  the  reverse 

Shall  seek  to  be  our  friend, 
Whilstour  sons  crown'd  with  wealth  immense, 
Sing  Washington  and  Common  Sense. 
Bordeaux,  July  1, 1776. 
Freeman's  Journal,  or  New  Hampshire  Gazette, 
Oct.  2'J  177S. 

The  poets  seem  to  have  felt  the  spur  of  the 
passage  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and 
the  newspaper  corners  of  the  time  abound  with 
patriotic  lines.  We  select  two,  which  we  havo 
not  found  in  any  reprinted  form. 

ON  independence. 

Come  all  you  brave  soldiers,  both  valiant  and  free, 
It's  for  Independence  we  all  now  agree, 

Let  us  gird  on  our  swords,  and  prepare  to  defend 
Our  liberty,  property,  ourselves  and  our  friends. 

In  a  cause  that's  so  righteous,  come  let  us  agree, 
And  from  hostile  invaders  set  America  free  ; 

The  cause  is  so  glorious  we  need  not  to  fear 

But  from  merciless  tyrants  we'll  set  ourselves  clear. 

Heaven's  blessing  attending  us,  no  tyrant  shall  say 
That  Americans  e'er  to  such  monsters  gave  way  ; 

But,  fighting,  we'll  die  in  America's  cause, 
Before  we'll  submit  to  tyrannical  laws. 

George  the  Third,  of  Great  Britain,  no  more  shall 
he  reign, 

With  unlimited  sway  o'er  these  free  states  again  ; 
Lord  North,  tun-  old  Bute,  nor  none  of  their  clan, 

Shall  ever  be  honor'd  by  an  American. 

May  heaven's  blessing  descend  on  our  United  States, 
And  grant  that  the  union  may  never  abate ; 

May  love,  peace  and  harmony  ever  be  found 
For  to  go  hand  in  hand  America  round. 

Upon  our  grand  Congress,  may  heaven  bestow 
Both  wisdom  and  skill  our  good  to  pursue  ; 

On  heaven  alone  depeude  it  we'll  be, 

But  from  all  earthly  tyrants  we  mean  to  be  free. 

Unto  our  brave  generals  may  heaven  give  skill, 
Our  armies  to  guide  and  the  sword  for  to  wield; 

May  their  hands  taught  to  war  and  their  fingers  it 
fight, 
Be  able  to  put  British  armies  to  flight. 

And  now,  brave  Americans,  since  it  is  so, 

That   we    are    independent   we'll    have   them  to 
know, 
That  united  we  are,  and  united  we'll  be, 

And  from  all  British  tyrants  we'll  try  to  keep 
free. 

May  heaven -smile  on  us  in  all  our  endeavours,' 
Safe   guard   our   sea-ports,    our   towns   and   our 
rivers ; 
Keep  us  from  invaders,  by  land  and  by  sea, 
And  from  all  who'd  deprive  us  of  our  liberty. 
Freeman's  Journal,  or  New  Hampshire  Gazette, 
August  17, 1776. 

A  continuation  of  Hudibras,  in  Two  Cantos, 
written  in  the  time  of  the  Unhappy  Contest  be- 
tween Great  Britain  and  America,  in  1777  and 
1778,  published  in  London  in  the  latter  year,  con- 
tains a  parody,  with  comments,  on  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence,  and  may  with  propriety  bo 
inserted  here.  We  are  without  clue,  to  the 
name  or  place  of  nativity  of  the  author,  but 
it  is  probably  an  American  production. 


.443 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAS"  LITERATURE 


When  in  the  course  of  human  tilings, 

All  subjects  may  desert  their  kings, 

And  thus  becoming  disaffected, 

Break  bonds  by  which  they  were  connected; 

Assuming  'mougst  the  powers  on  earth 

An  equal  rank,  to  which  their  birth, 

The  laws  of  heav'n  and  of  nature, 

Intitle  every  humau  creature, 

Respect  when  men  are  thus  inclin'd, 

For  the  opinions  of  mankind, 

Requires  they  should  the  causes  tell, 

That  have  induc'd  them  to  rebel. 

First,  let  this  downright  maxim  strike, 

That  all  men  are  bora  free  alike, 

And  are  undoubtedly  allow'd. 

By  Providence  to  be  endow'd 

(As  many  a  learned  author  writes) 

With  some  unalienable  rights  ; 

'Mong  these  we  lay  the  greatest  stress, 

On  life,  pursuit  of  happiness, 

And  (what  is  best  of  all  the  three) 

Of  uncontrolled  liberty. 

For  surely  no  one  can  believe, 

But  he's  a  certain  right  to  live, 

Without  receiving  cheek  or  stop  here, 

As  long  as  ever  he  think  proper: 

Neither  is  life  like  chair  or  table, 

.To  one  another  alienable, 

Neither  can  any  mortal  have,  . 

The  right  to  make  himself  a  slave 

(Although  by  thieving  we  must  say 

Some  people  do  it  ev'ry  day) : 

Neither  can  any  one  entrap  ye, 

From  the  just  right  of  being  happy 

(Tho'  your  chief  happiness  in  life, 

Should  be  to  kiss  your  neighbour's  wife). 

To  keep  these  rights  by  their  consents, 

Men  instituted  governments  ; 

And  should  they  afterwards  be  tir'd, 

Of  systems  that  the  world  admir'd, 

The  people  have  a  right  t'  abolish, 

Alter,  relinquish,  and  demolish, 

By  methods  novel  and  surprising, 

New  states  and  powers  organizing, 

In  such  a  form  and  figure  diest, 

As  the  wise  authors  shall  think  best. 

Prudence  indeed  might  plainly  dictate, 

(To  any  but  a  dull  and  thick  pate) 

That  governments  establish 'd  ancient, 

Should  not  be  chang'd  for  causes  transient, — 

And  therefore  all  experience  shews. 

That  men  would  rather  something  lose, 

Than  to  be  rash, — because  they're  strong, 

And  right  themselves  by  doing  wrong.— 

But  when  we  had  refused  assent, 

To  British  acts  of  parliament, 

(Tho'  bulwarks  of  the  constitution) 

And  stuck  to  this  our  resolution 

When  we  determined  to  be  free, 

And  seiz'd  on  other  people's  tea, 

Tarring  and  feathering  ev'ry  fool, 

That  spoke  in  favour  of  good  rule ; 

Broke  up  the  courts  of  law  and  justice, 

(For  in  ourselves — our  hope  and  trust  is) 

Forcing  from  every  one — concession, 

To  things  of  which  we  made  profession, 

And  setting  those  we  could  not  guide, 

To  ride  upon  a  stick — astride, 

Because  we  plainly  saw  designs, 

To  catch  us  in  despotic  mines ; 

When  after  thin — the  plans  absurd, 

Of  that  harsh  tyrant  George  the  Third. 

Under  a  notion  of  expedience, 

To  bring  us  to  a  due  obedience, 

Pursued  thro'  regular  gradation, 


Of  great  abuse  and  usurpation, 
Prove  an  invariable  design, 
Our  liberties  to  undermine, 
A  resolution  to  betray, 
And  rule  us  by  despotic  sway  ; 
It  is  our  right  and  our  intent, 
To  throw  off  such  a  government, 
Whilst  other  methods  may  be  tried, 
For  future  safety  to  provide. 

During  the  winter  which  followed  the  battle 
of  Trenton  occurred.  We  have  a  ballad  in  its 
honor. 

BATTLE  OF  TKENTOI*. 

On  Christmas  day  in  '76,  . 

Our  rugged  troops  with  bayonets  fix'd, 
For  Trenton  marched  away. 

The  Delaware  see,  the  boats  below, 
The  light  obscured  by  hail  and  snow, 
But  no  symptoms  of  dismay. 

Our  object  waj  the  Plessian  band, 
That  dared  to  invade  fair  freedom's  land, 
And  quarter  in  that  place. 

Great  Washington  he  led  us  on, 
With  ensigns  streaming  with  renown, 
Which  ne'er  had  known  disgrace. 

In  silent  march  we  pass'd  the  night, 
Each  soldier  panting  for  the  fig'it,     . 
Though  quite  benumb'd  with  frost. 
Greene  on  the  left,  at  six  began, 
The  right  was  with  brave  Sullivan, 
Who  in  battle  no  time  lost. 

Their  pickets  storm'd,  the  alarm  was  spread, 
That  rebels  risen  from  the  dead 
Were  marching  into  town. 

Some  scamper'd  here,  some  scamper'd  there. 
And  some  for  action  did  prepare, 
But  soon  their  arms  laid  down. 

Twelve  hundred  servile  miscreants, 
With  all  their  colours,  guns,  and  tents, 
Were  trophies  of  the  day  : 

The  frolic  o'er,  the  blight  canteen, 
In  centre,  front,  and  rear  was  seen 
Driving  fatigue  away. 

Now,  brothel's  of  the  patriot  bands, 
Let's  sing  our  safe  deliverance 
From  arbitrary  sway. 

And  as  life  you  know  is  but  a  span, 
Let's  touch  the  tankard  while  we  can, 
In  memory  of  the  day.* 

One  of  the  patriotic  productions  of  the  same 
year  was  a  poem,  in  a  pamphlet  of  fifteen  pages, 
commenting  in  a  severe  but  not  equally  forcible 
style  on  the  conduct  of  Lord  North.  We  quote 
the  title-page,  confident  that  the  reader  will  not 
"  ask  for  more." 

The  Continental  Key  of  the  Liberties  of  America; 
in  three  parts. 

Perhaps  the  critics  of  the  age, 

May  find  a  fault  in  ev'ry  page, 

Or  yet,  perhaps,  in  ev'ry  line, 

Well,  they  have  their  faults,  I  have  mine. 

If  any  man  should  ask  the  price, 

One  or  two  shillings  take  your  choice, 

Sometimes  true  Whigs  have  given  twenty, 

But  Tories  think  that  five  is  plenty. 

New  York,  printed  for  Elijah  Weige,  1776. 


*  MeCarty's  Songs,  i.  24 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


449 


We  are  indebted  to  the  Curiosities  of  American 
Literature,  by  R.  W.  Griswold,  printed  as  an 
Appendix  to  a  reprint  (New  York,  1843)  of 
Disraeli's  Curiosities,  for  two  spirited  produc- 
tions on  the  defeat  of  Burgoyne. 

THE  FATE   OF  JOHN  BTTRGOTNTJ.. 

When  Jack  the  king's  commander 

"Was  going  to  his  duty, 
Through  all  the  crowd  he  smiled  and  bow'd 

To  every  blooming  beauty. 

The  city  rung  with  feats  he'd  done 

In  Portugal  and  Flanders, 
And  all  the  town  thought  he'd  be  crown'd 

The  first  of  Alexanders. 

To  Hampton  Court  he  first  repairs 

To  kiss  great  George's  hand,  sirs  ; 
Then  to  harangue  on  state  affairs 

Before  he  left  the  laud,  sirs. 

The  "  Lower  House"  sat  mute  as  mouse 

To  hear  his  grand  oration  ; 
And  "  all  the  peers,"  with  loudest  cheers, 

Proclaimed  him  to  the  nation. 

Then  off  he  went  to  Canada, 

Next  to  Ticonderoga, 
And  quitting  those  away  he  goes 

Straightway  to  Saratoga. 

With  great  parade  his  march  he  made 

To  gain  his  wished-for  station, 
While  far  and  wide  his  minions  hied 

To  spread  his  "  Proclamation." 

To  such  as  staid  he  offers  made 

Of  "  pardon  on  submission  ; 
But  savage  bands  should  waste  the  lands 

Of  all  in  opposition." 

But  ah,  the  cruel  fates  of  war  1 

This  boasted  son  of  Britain, 
When  mounting  his  triumphal  car 

With  sudden  fear  was  smitten. 

The  sons  of  Freedom  gathered  round, 

His  hostile  bands  confounded, 
And  when  they'd  fain  have  turn'd  their  back 

They  found  themselves  surrounded  ! 

In  vain  they  fought,  in  vain  they  fled, 

Their  chief,  humane  and  tender, 
To  save  the  rest  soon  thought  it  best 

His  forces  to  surrender. 

Brave  St.  Clair,  when  he  first  retired 

Knew  what  the  fates  portended; 
And  Arnold  and  heroic  Gates 

His  conduct  have  defended. 

Thus  may  America's  brave  sons 

With  honour  be  rewarded, 
And  be  the  fate  of  all  her  foes 

The  same  as  here  recorded. 

TUB  NORTH   CAMPAIGN. 

Come  unto  me,  ye  heroes, 

Whose  hearts  are  true  and  bold, 
Who  value  more  your  honour 

Than  others  do  their  gold  ; 
Give  ear  unto  my  story, 

And  I  the  truth  will  tell 
Concerning  many  a  soldier, 

Who  for  his  country  fell. 

Burgoyne,  the  king's  commander, 

From  Canada  set  sail 
With  full  eight  thousand  reg'lars, 

He  thought  he  could  not  fail  ; 
vol.  I. — 29 


With  Indians  and  Canadians, 
And  his  cursed  Tory  crew, 

On  board  his  fleet  of  shipping 
He  up  the  Champlain  flew. 

Before  Ticonderoga, 

The  first  day  of  July, 
Appear'd  his  ships  and  army, 

And  we  did  them  espy. 
Their  motions  we  observed 

Full  well  both  night  and  day, 
And  our  brave  boys  prepared 

To  have  a  bloody  fray. 

Our  garrison  they  viewed  them, 

As  straight  their  troops  did  land, 
And  when  St.  Clair,  our  chieftain, 

The  fact  did  understand 
That  they  the  Mount  Defiance 

Were  bent  to  fortify, 
He  found  we  must  surrender, 

Or  else  prepare  to  die. 

The  fifth  day  of  July,  then, 

He  order'd  a  retreat, 
And  when  next  morn  we  started, 

Burgoyne  thought  we  were  beat. 
And  closely  he  pursued  us, 

Till  when  near  Hubbardton, 
Our  rear  guards  were  defeated, 

He  thought  the  country  won. 

And  when  't  was  told  in  Congress, 

That  we  our  forts  had  left, 
To  Albany  retreated, 

Of  all  the  North  bereft. 
Brave  General  Gates  they  sent  us, 

Our  fortunes  to  retrieve, 
And  him  with  shouts  of  gladness 

The  army  did  receive. 

Where  first  the  Mohawk's  waters 

Do  in  the  sunshine  play, 
For  Herkimer's  brave  soldiers 

Bellinger*  ambush'd  lay ; 
And  thein  he  there  defeated, 

But  soon  he  had  his  due, 
And  seared  f  by  Brooks  and  Arnoid. 

He  to  the  North  withdrew. 

To  take  the  stores  and  cattle 

That  we  had  gather'd  then, 
Burgoyne  sent  a  detachment 

Of  fifteen  hundred  men  ; 
By  Baum  they  were  commanded, 

To  Bennington  they  went; 
To  plunder  and  to  murder 

Was  fully  their  intent. 

But  little  did  they  know  then, 

With  whom  they  had  to  deal ; 
It  was  not  quite  so  easy 

Our  stores  and  stock  to  steal : 
Bold  Starke  would  give  them  only 

A  portion  of  his  lead  ; 
With  half  his  crew  ere  sunset 

Baum  lay  among  the  dead. 

The  nineteenth  of  September, 
The  morning  cool  and  clear, 

Brave  Gates  rode  through  our  army, 
Each  soldier's  heart  to  cheer ; 


*  St.  Leger. 

f  A  man  employed  by  the  British  as  a  spy,  was  taken  by 
Arnold,  and  at  the  suggestion  of  Colonel  Brooks  sent  back  to 
St.  Leger  with  such  deceptive  accounts  of  the  strength  of  the 
Americans  as  induced  him  to  retreat  towards  Montreal. 


450 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


"  Burgoyne,"  he  cried,  "  advances, 
But  we  will  never  fly  ; 
No — rather  than  surrender, 
We'll  fight  him  till  we  die." 

The  news  was  quickly  brought  us, 

The  enemy  was  near, 
And  all  along  our  lines  then, 

There  was  no  sign  of  fear  ; 
It  was  above  Stillwater 

We  met  at  noon  that  day, 
And  every  one  expected 

To  see  a  bloody  fray. 

Six  hours  the  battle  lasted, 

Each  heart  was  true  as  gold, 
The  British  fought  like  lions, 

And  we  like  Yankees  bold  ; 
The  leaves  with  blood  were  crimson, 

And  then  brave  Gates  did  cry — 
"  Tis  diamond  now  cut  diamond ! 

We'll  beat  them,  boys,  or  die." 

The  darkness  soon  approaching, 

It  forced  us  to  retreat 
Into  our  lines  till  morning, 

Which  made  them  think  us  beat; 
But  ere  the  sun  was  risen, 

They  saw  before  their  eyes 
Us  ready  to  engage  them, 

Which  did  them  much  surprise. 

Of  fighting  they  seem'd  weary, 

Therefore  to  work  they  go 
Their  thousand  dead  to  bury, 

And  breastworks  up  to  throw  : 
With  grape  and  bombs  intending 

Our  army  to  destroy, 
Or  from  our  works  our  forces 

By  stratagem  decoy. 

The  seventh  day  of  October, 

The  British  tried  again, — 
Shells  from  their  cannon  throwing 

Which  fell  on  us  like  rain, — 
To  drive  us  from  our  stations 

That  they  might  thus  retreat; 
For  now  Burgoyne  saw  plainly 

He  never  us  could  beat. 

But  vain  was  his  endeavour 

Our  men  to  terrify ; 
Though  death  was  all  around  us, 

Not  one  of  us  would  fly. 
But  when  an  hour  we'd  fought  them, 

And  they  began  to  yield, 
Along  our  lines  the  cry  ran, 
"  The  next  blow  wins  the  field !" 

Great  God,  who  guides  their  battles 

Whose  cause  is  just  and  true, 
Inspired  our  bold  commander 

The  course  he  should  pursue. 
He  order'd  Arnold  forward, 

And  Brooks  to  follow  on  ; 
The  enemy  were  routed 

Our  liberty  was  won  ! 

Then,  burning  all  their  luggage, 

They  fled  with  haste  and  fear, 
Burgoyne  with  all  his  forces 

To  Saratogue  did  steer ; 
And  Gates  our  brave  commander, 

Soon  after  him  did  hie, 
Resolving  lie  would  take  them 

Or  in  the  effort  die. 

As  we  came  nigh  the  village, 
We  overtook  the  foe; 


They'd  burn'd  each  house  to  ashes, 

Like  all  where'er  they  go. 
The  seventeenth  of  October, 

They  did  capitulate — 
Burgoyne  and  his  proud  army 

Did  we  our  pris'ners  make. 

Now  here's  a  health  to  Arnold, 

And  our  commander  Gates  ; 
To  Lincoln  and  to  Washington, 

Whom  ev'ry  Tory  hates  ; 
Likewise  unto  our  Congress, 

God  grant  it  long  to  reign, 
Our  Country,  Right  and  Justice 

For  ever  to  maintain. 

Now  finish'd  is  my  story, 

My  song  is  at  an  end  ; 
The  freedom  we're  enjoying 

We're  ready  to  defend  ; 
For  while  our  cause  is  righteous, 

Heaven  nerves  the  soldier's  arm, 
And  vain  is  their  endeavour 

Who  strive  to  do  us  harm. 

To  these  we  may  add  a  third  on  the  same  sub- 
jeet,  from  MoCarty's  National  Song  Book. 

THE  PROGRESS  OF  SIR  JACK  BRAG. 

Said  Burgoyne  to  his  men,  as  they  pass'd  in  review, 

Tullalo,  tullalo,  tullalo,  boys ! 
These  rebels  their  course  very  quickly  will  rue, 
And  fly  as  the  leaves  'fore  the  autumn  tempest  flew, 
When  him,  who   is   your   leader,  they  know, 
boys  ! 
They  with  men  have  now  to  deal, 
And  we  soon  will  make  them  feel — 
Tullalo,  tullalo,  tullalo,  boys ! 
That  a  loyal  Briton's  arm,  and  a  loyal  Briton's  steel, 
Can  put  to  flight  a  rebel,  as  quick  as  other  foe, 
boys  ! 
Tullalo,  tullalo,  tullalo— 
Tullalo,  tullalo,  tullalo-o-o-o,  boys  ! 

As  to  Sa-ra-tog'  lie  came,  thinking  how  to  jo  the 
game, 
Tullalo,  tullalo,  tullalo,  boys  ! 
He  began  to  sec  the  grubs,  in  the  branches  of  his 

fame, 
He  began  to  have  the  trembles,  lest  a  flash  should 
be  the  flame, 
For  which  he  had  agreed  his  perfume  to  forego, 
boys  ! 
No  lack  of  skill,  but  fates, 
Shall  make  us  yield  to  Gates, 
Tullalo,  tullalo,  tullalo,  boys  ! 
The  devils  may  have  leagued,  as  you  know,  with 
the  States, 
But  we  never  will  be  beat  by  any  mortal  foe, 

boys  ! 
Tullalo,  tullalo,  tullalo — 
Tullalo,  tullalo,  tullalo-o-o-o,  boys  ! 

Burgoyne,  like  Andre,  amused  himself  with 
literature.  He  was  the  author  of  four  five-act 
plays,  three  of  which,  The  Maid  of  the  Oaks,  The 
Lord  of  the  Manor,  and  The  Heiress,  are  comedies. 
The  fourth,  Richard  CiBnr  de  Lion,  is  an  "  His- 
torical Romance,"  from  the  French  of  M.  Sedaine. 
The  four  were  published  with  a  few  miscellaneous 
poems,  and  a  Life  of  the  Author,  in  two  volumes, 
8vo.  London,  1808.  The  comedies  are  in  prose, 
interspersed  with  songs,  and  were  acted  by  the 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


451 


British   officers  in  garrison  at  Boston  and  New 
York.*     They  possess  little  merit.     We  give  the 

PROLOGUE    TO   ZAEA. 

Spoken  by  Lord  Raicdon,  at  Boston. 
In  Britain  once  (it  stains  the  historic  page) 
Freedom  was  vital-struck  by  party  rage:     , 
Cromwell  the  fever  watch'd,  the  knife  supplied, 
She  madden'd,  and  by  suicide  she  died. 
Amidst  the  groans  Bunk  every  liberal  art 
That  polishM  life,  or  humanized  the  heart ; 
Then  fell  the  st:ige,  quell'd  by  the  bigots'  roar, 
Truth  fell  with  sense,  and   Shakspeare  charm' d  no 
more. 

To  sooth  the  times  too  nrueh  resembling  those, 
And  lull  the  care-tir'd  thought,  this  stage  arose; 
Proud  if  you  hear,  rewarded  if  you're  pleased, 
We  come  to  minister  to  minds  diseased. 
To  you,  who,  guardians  of  a  nation's  cause, 
Unsheath  the  sword  to  vindicate  her  laws, 
The  tragic  scene  holds  glory  up  to  view, 
And  bids  he.'oie  virtue  live  in  you: 
Unite  tiie  patriot's  with  the  warrior's  care 
And,  while  you  burn  to  conquer,  wish  to  spare. 
The  comic  scene  presides  o'er  social  life, 
And  forms  the  husband,  father,  friend  and  wife  ; 
To  paint  from  nature,  and  with  colours  nice 
Shew  us  ourselves,  and  laugh  us  out  of  vice. 
Now  say,  ye  Bosto  >  prudes,  (if  prudes  there  are) 
Is  this  a  task  unworthy  of  the  fair? 
Will  fame,  decorum,  piety  refuse 
A  call  on  beauty  to  conduct  the  Muse  ? 
Perish  the  narrow  thought,  the  sland'rous  tongue  1 
When  the  heart's  right,  the  action  can't  be  wrong. 
Behold  the  test,  mark  at  the  curtain's  rise 
How  Malice  sinks  abashed  at  Zura's  eyes.-j- 

The  adventurous  capture  of  General  Prescott 
at  Newport  furnished  ready  material  for  a  po- 
pular ballad,  which  was  not  lost  sight  of.  Pres- 
cott was  the  commanding  officer  of  the  British 
troops  in  possession  of  Newport,  and  had  rendered 
himself  very  unpopular  by  acts  of  petty  tyranny. 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Barton,  of  the  American  mi- 
litia at  Providence,  determined  to  take  him  pri- 
soner. Embarking  with  a  small  party  of  picked 
men  in  four  whale-boats,  they  crossed  on  the  night 
of  the  tenth  of  July,  1777,  Narragansett  bay  to 
the  house  of  a  Quaker  named  Overing,  Prescott's 
head-quarters,  about  five  miles  from  the  town. 
Gagging  the  sentinel,  they  entered  the  house  un- 
perceived,  roused  Prescott  from  his  bed,  and  car- 
ried him  oft'  without  giving  him  time  to  dress, 
speed  being  essential  to  success  in  the  daring  ex- 
ploit, from  the  presence  of  three  British  frigates 
in  the  bay  close  to  the  house.     The  party  re- 


*  The  following  paragraph  from  an  English  journal  of  the 
period  famishes  as  with  some  valuable  information,  hitherto 
we  believe  unnoticed,  relative  to  the  amateur  performances  by 
officers  of  the  army,  which  appear  from  their  frequency  to 
hive  b -en  extremely  popular  dining  tbo  British  occupancy 
of  our  cities. 

"  An  American  Correspondent  says,  that  the  officers  of  the 
army  in  New  York,  concerned  in  the  management  of  the 
theatre,  there  form  a  body  like  any  other  company  of  Come- 
dians, and  share  the  profits  arising  from  their  exhibitions.  To 
people  on  this  side  the  water,  it  may  seem  mean  for  British 
officers  to  perform  for  hire  :  but  in  New  York  necessaries  are 
so  extremely  dear,  that  an  inferior  officer,  who  has  no  other 
resources  than  his  pay,  undergoes  more  difficulties  than  the 
common  soldier  ;  and  circumstanced  as  many  brave  men  now 
are  in  America,  such  an  exertion  of  their  talents  to  increase 
their  incomes  deserves  the  greatest  encouragement." — 1TS1, 
Upcott  s  Newspaper  Cuttings. 

t  A  parody  on  this  prologue  was  published  in  the  Freeman's 
Journal  or  New  Hampshire  Gazette,  June  22, 1776. 


crossed  in  safety,  and  conveyed  their  prisoner  to 
Providence,  and  thence  to  Washington's  head- 
quarters on  the  Hudson.  Prescott  remained  a 
prisoner  until  the  following  April,  when  he  was 
exchanged  for  General  Charles  Lee,  and  returned 
to  his  troops  in  Rhode  Island.  Barton  received 
a  sword,  and  a  grant  of  land  in  Vermont,  from 
Congress.  He  subsequently  became  involved  in 
legal  proceedings  in  consequence  of  a  transfer  of 
a  portion  of  this  tract,  and  was  thrown  into  pri- 
son for  debt,  where  he  remained  until  the  visit 
of  Lafayette  in  1825,  who,  hearing  of  the  circum- 
stance, paid  the  debt  and  released  the  old  sol- 
dier.* 

The  ballad  written  on  the  occasion,  it  is  said, 
was  served  up  to  Prescott  himself  when  he  re- 
turned to  his  station.     The  story  is  thus  told  : — 

Shortly  after  his  exchange  he  returned  to  Rhode 
Island,  and  was  invited  to  dine  on  board  the  admi- 
ral's ship,  with  many  other  officers  of  the  highest 
grade.  General  Prescott  was  naturally  a  haughty, 
imperious  man,  and  as  a  commander  was  very  un- 
popular with  his  officers  and  soldiers,  and  with  the 
citizens  of  Newport,  but  a  brave  and  skilful  officer. 

It  was  often  that  boys  as  well  as  men  were  sent 
from  the  town  on  board  the  admiral's  ship  for  any 
offence,  and  confined  there  for  some  time,  by  the 
arbitrary  authority  of  those  in  power.  Martial  law 
was  the  law  of  the  place.  A  small  lad,  about  thir- 
teen years  of  age,  was  placed  in  this  situation  pre- 
vious to  General  Preseott's  return,  and  was  on  board, 
with  many  others,  at  the  time  the  general  dined 
there.     He  did  not  know  General  Prescott. 

After  dinner  the  wine  circulated  freel}7,  and  a 
toast  and  soug  were  repeatedly  called  for.  In  the 
course  of  the  evening  the  first  lieutenant  observed 
to  the  admiral,  who  was  a  real  jolly  son  of  Neptune, 
that  "there  was  a  Yankee  lad  on  board  who  would 
shame  all  the  singing."  "  Bring  him  up  here,"  says 
Prescott.  The  boy  was  accordingly  brought  into 
the  cabin.  The  admiral  called  on  him  to  give  them 
a  song.  The  little  fellow,  being  somewhat  intimidat- 
ed by  gold-laced  coats,  epaulettes,  <tc,  replied,  "  I 
can't  sing  any  songs  but  Yankee  songs."  The  admi- 
ral, perceiving  that  he  was  embarrassed,  ordered 
the  steward  to  give  him  a  glass  of  wine,  saying, 
"  Come,  my  little  fellow,  don't  be  frightened ;  give 
ns  one  of  your  Yankee  songs."  General  Prescott 
spoke  in  his  usual  haughty,  imperious  manner, 
"  You  d — d  young  rebel,  give  us  a  song  or  I'll  give 
you  a  dozen."  The  admiral  interfered,  and  assured 
the  lad  that  he  should  be  set  at  liberty  the  next  day, 
"if  he  would  give  them  a  song — any  one  he  could 
recollect." 

The  following  doggerel,  written  by  a  sailor  of 
Newport,  was  then  given,  to  the  great  amusement 
of  the  company. 

'Twas  on  a  dark  and  stormy  night, 

The  wind  and  waves  did  roar, 
Bold  Barton  then,  with  twenty  men, 

Went  down  upon  the  shore. 

And  in  a  whale-boat  they  set  off 

To  Rhode  Island  fair, 
To  catch  a  red-coat  general 

Who  then  resided  there. 

Through  British  fleets  and  guard-boats  strong. 

They  held  their  dangerous  wa}', 
Till  they  arrived  unto  their  port, 

And  then  did  not  delay. 

*  Losslng's  Field-Book,  ii.  75. 


4:52 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


A  tawny  son  of  Afric's  race 

Them  through  the  ravine  led, 
And  entering  then  the  Overiug  House, 

They  found  him  in  his  bed. 

But  to  get  in  they  had  no  means 

Except  poor  CufFee's  head, 
Who  beat  the  door  down,  then  rush'd  in, 

And  seized  him  in  his  bed. 

"Stop!  let  me  put  my  breeches  on," 

The  general  then  did  pray : 
"  Your  breeches,  massa,  I  will  take, 

For  dress  we  cannot  stay." 

Then  through  rye-stubble  him  they  led, 

With  shoes  and  breeches  none, 
And  placed  him  in  their  boat  quite  snug, 

And  from  the  shore  were  gone. 

Soon  the  alarm  was  sounded  loud, 
"  The  Yankees  they  have  come, 
And  stolen  Prescott  from  his  bed, 
And  him  they've  carried  hum." 

The  drums  were  beat,  skyrockets  flew, 

The  soldiers  shoulder'd  arms, 
And  march'd  around  the  ground  they  knew, 

Fill'd  with  most  dire  alarms. 

But  through  the  fleet  with  muffled  oars 

They  held  their  devious  way, 
And  landed  him  on  'Ganset  shore 

Where  Britain  held  no  sway. 

When  unto  land  they  came, 

Where  rescue  there  was  nor.e, 
"  A  d — d  bold  push,"  the  general  cried, 
"  Of  prisoners  I  am  one." 

There  was  a  general  shout  of  all  the  company 
during  the  whole  song,  and  at  the  close,  one  who 
was  a  prisoner  on  board  at  the  time,  observed,  he 
"  thought  the  deck  would  come  through  with  the 
stamping  and  cheering." 

General  Prescott  joined  most  heartily  in  the  mer- 
riment. Thrusting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  he 
handed  the  boy  a  guinea,  saying,  "  Here,  you  young 
dog.isaguineafor  you."  The  boy  was  set  at  liberty 
the  next  morning. 

This  anecdote  is  often  related  by  an  aged  gentle- 
man living  at  Newport. * 

There  13  another  version  thus  given  in  Mrs. 
Williams's  Life  of  Barton. 

The  day  was  spent,  the  evening  fair, 
When  Barton  marched  his  men  with  caref 

Down  to  the  river's  side ; 
And  unto  them  most  nobly  said — 
"  Let  none  embark  who  are  afraid 

To  cross  the  swelling  tide." 

But  they,  like  hardy  sons  of  Mars, 
Inurrd  to  hardships  and  to  wars, 

Most  nobly  did  reply ; 
"  With  manly  rage  our  souls  on  fire, 
We  scorn  the  thought  for  to  retire  ; 

We  conquer  will  or  die." 

Tims  did  they  cross  and  march  away, 
Where  Prescott's  host  encamped  lay, 
On  hostile  measures  bent ; 


*  McCarty's  Songs,  ii.  367-369,  quoted  f,  om  Plymouth  Me- 
morial, 1835. 

t  This  song  is  still  in  traditional  circulation.  A  friend  had 
it  from  an  old  soldier,  who  commenced  his  recitation  vigor- 
ously :— 

The  moon  shone  bright,  the  night  was  clear, 
Bold  Barton  march'd  his  men  with  keer. 


Young  David  took  this  bloody  Saul, 
And  sentry,  aid-de-canrp,  and  all, 
Back  to  the  boat  they  went. 

You  watchful  host  who  round  him  kept, 
To  guard  your  General  while  he  slept, 

Now  you  have  lost  your  head ; 
Since  they  from  freedom's  happy  shore, 
Return'd  and  brought  their  booty  o'er, 

The  hero  from  his  bed. 

Go  to  your  king,  and  to  him  say, 
"  Call  home  your  troops,  call  them  away, 

Or  Prescott's  fate  they'll  share." 
For  Barton,  with  his  sling  and  stone, 
Will  bring  the  great  Goliah  down, 

And  catch  him  in  a  snare.* 

We  are  indebted  to  North  Carolina  "Wood 
Notes"'t  for  the  following 

TEIBUTE  TO  GENERAL   FRANCIS  NASH. 

Genius  of  Freedom  !  whither  art  thou  fled  ? 
While  fields  of  death  thy  sons  undaunted  tread, 
Lo,  where  for  thee  thy  brightest  heroes  fall, 
And  not  thy  shield  to  ward  the  winged  ball. 

On  Bunker's  height  great  Warren  is  no  more  ; 
The  brave  Montgomery's  fate  we  next  deplore  ; 
Princeton's  fam'd  fields  to  trembling  Britain  tell, 
How,  scored  with  wounds,  the  conquering  Mercer 

fell; 
New  England's  boast,  the  generous  Wooster,  slain, 
Demands  our  tears  ;  while  Britons  fly  the  plain. 
Last  flow  our  sorrows  for  a  favourite  son, 
Whom,  weeping,  Carolina  claims  her  own, 
The  gallant  Nash,  who,  with  the  fatal  wound, 
Though  tortured,  welt'ring  on  the  hostile  ground, 
"  Fight  on,  my  troops,"  with  smiling  ardor  said, 
"  'Tis  but  the  fate  of  war,  be  not  dismay'd." 

High  Heaven  ordain'd   for  great  designs  this  woe. 
Which,  till  the  destined  period,  none  must  know. 
Heroes  of  old  thus  for  their  country  stood, 
Raised  mighty  empires,  founded  with  their  blood  ; 
In  this  new  world  like  great  events  must  come  ; 
Thus  Athens  rose,  and  thus  imperial  Rome. 

Inscribed  to  Col.  Thomas  Clark,  of  the  First  North 
Carolina  Battabon,  by  his  friend  and  most  obedient 
humble  servant, 

Alex.  Martin. 
Camp,  near  Germantown. 
Oct.  30,  17T7. 

General  Nash  was  wounded  on  the  fourth,  and 
died  on  the  seventh  of  October,  1 777.  Lieut.-Col. 
Alexander  Martin,  the  author  of  the  lines,  at  the 
close  of  the  war  became  governor  of  his  native 
state  of  North  Carolina,  and  afterwards  a  senator 
of  the  United  States.  Col.  Clark  succeeded  to 
Nash's  command.J 

The  unsuccessful  attempt,  in  connexion  with  the 
French  fleet,  to  dislodge  the  British  from  New- 
port, in  July,  1778,  gave  occasion  to  a  lively 
Tory  effusion. 

YANKEE  DOODLE'S  EXPEDITION   TO   T.HODE  ISLAND. 

Written  at  Philadelphia. 
I. 
From  Lewis,  Monsieur  Gerard  came 
To  Congress  in  this  town,  Sir, 


*  Mrs.  Williams's  Biog.  of  Eevolutionary  Heroes.  Provi- 
dence :  1839.    p.  128. 

t  Wood  Notes  ;  or  Carolina  Carols:  a  Collection  of  North 
Carolina  Poetry.  Compiled  hy  Tenella.  Ealeigh:  Warren  L. 
Pomeroy.    1854.     2  vols.  12mo. 

t  Wood  Notes,  ii.  235. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


They  bow'd  to  him,  and  he  to  them, 
And  then  they"  all  sat  down,  Sir. 

Chorus.     Yankee  Doodle,  &a. 


Begar,  said  Monsieur,  one  grand  coup 
You  shall  bientot  behold.  Sir, 

This  was  believ'd  as  Gospel  true, 
And  Jonathan  felt  bold,  Sir. 


So  Yankee  Doodle  did  forget 
The  sound  of  British  drum,  Sir, 

How  oft  it  made  him  quake  and  sweat 
In  spite  of  Yankee  rum,  Sir. 


He  took  his  wallet  on  his  baek, 
His  rifle  on  his  shoulder, 

And  vom'd  Rhode  Island  to  attack 
Before  he  was  much  older. 


In  dread  array  their  tatter'd  crew, 
Advanced  with  colours  spread,  Sir; 

Their  fifes  play'd  Yankee  Doodle  doo, 
King  Hancock  at  their  head,  Sir. 


What  numbers  bravely  crossM  the  seas, 

I  cannot  well  determine, 
A  swarm  of  rebels  and  of  fleas, 

And  every  other  vermin. 

VII. 

Their  mighty  hearts  might  shrink  they  tho't. 

For  all  flesh  only  grass  is, 
A  plenteous  store  they  therefore  brougt 

Of  whiskey  and  molasses. 


They  swore  they'd  make  bold  Pigot  squeak, 

So  did  their  good  Ally,  Sir, 
And  take  him  prisoner  in  a  week ; 

But  that  was  all  my  eye,  Sir. 


As  Jonathan  so  much  desir'd, 

To  shine  in  martial  story, 
D'Estaing  with  politesse  retir'd 

To  leave  him  all  the  glory. 

x. 

He  left  him  what  was  better  yet, 
At  least  it  was  more  use,  Sir, 

He  left  him  for  a  quick  retreat, 
A  ver}-  good  excuse,  Sir. 

XI. 

To  stay,  unless  he  ruled  the  sea, 
He  thought  would  not  be  right,  Sir, 

And  Continental  troops,  said  he, 
On  islands  should  not  fight,  Sir. 


Another  cause  with  these  corabin'd, 

To  throw  him  in  the  dumps,  Sir, 
For  Clinton's  name  alarmed  his  mind 
And  made  him  stir  his  stamps,  Sir, 

Sing  Yankee  doodle  doodle  doo. 
Eivington's  Eoyal  Gazette,  Oct.  3, 1778. 

The  next  event  of  the  war  of  which  we  offer 
poetical  commemoration,  is  the  Massacre  at 
Wyoming.  The  ballad  which  follows  is  printed, 
apparently  for  the  first  time,  in  the  Appendix  to 


the  History  of  Wyoming  by  Charles  Miner,*  where 
it  is  stated  to  have  been  written  soon  after  the 
tragedy  by  "  Mr.  Uriah  Terry,  of  Kingston." 

WYOMING  MASSACRE. 

Kind  Heaven,  assist  the  trembling  muse. 

While  she  attempts  to  tell 
Of  poor  "Wyoming's  overthrow, 

By  savage  sons  of  hell. 

One  hundred  whites,  in  painted  hue. 

Whom  Butler  there  did  lead, 
Supported  by  a  barb'rous  crew 

Of  the  fierce  savage  breed. 

The  last  of  June  the  siege-began, 

And  several  days  it  held, 
While  many  a  brave  and  valiant  man 

Lay  slaughtered  on  the  field. 

Our  troops  marched  out  from  Forty  Fort. 

The  third  day  of  Jul}", 
Three  hundred  strong,  they  marched  along, 

The  fate  of  war  to  try. 

But  oh  !  alas !   three  hundred  men, 

Is  much  too  small  a  band, 
To  meet  eight  hundred  men  complete, 

And  make  a  glorious  stand. 

Four  miles  they  marched  from  the  Fort 

Their  enemy  to  meet, 
Too  far  indeed  did  Butler  lead, 

To  keep  a  safe  retreat. 

And  now  the  fatal  hour  is  come — 

They  bravely  charge  the  foe. 
And  they  with  ire,  returned  the  fire. 

Which  prov'd  our  overthrow. 

Some  minutes  they  sustained  the  fire, 

But  ere  they  were  aware 
They  were  encompassed  all  around 

Which  prov'd  a  fatal  snare. 

And  then  they  did  attempt  to  fly, 

But  all  was  now  in  vain, 
Their  little  host — by  far  the  most — 

Was  by  those  Indians  slain. 

And  as  they  fly,  for  quarters  cry; 

Oh  hear!   indulgent  Ilcav'n  ! 
Hard  to  relate — their  dreadful  fate, 

No  quarters  must  be  given. 

With  bitter  cries  and  mournful  sighs 

They  seek  some  safe  retreat, 
Run  here  and  there,  they  know  not  where. 

Till  awful  deatli  they  meet. 

Their  piercing  cries  salute  the  skies — 
Mercy  is  all  their  cry  : 
'  Our  souls  prepare  God's  grace  to  share. 
We  instantly  must  die." 

Some  men  yet  found  are  flying  round 

Sagacious  to  get  clear ; 
In  vain  to  fly,  their  foes  too  nigh  I 

They  front  the  flank  and  rear. 

And  now  the  foe  hath  won  the  day, 
Methinks  their  words  are  these : 
"  Ye  cursed,  rebel,  Yankee  race, 

Will  this  your  Congress  please  V 

"  Your  pardons  crave,  you  them  shall  have, 
Behold  them  in  our  hands ; 
We'll  all  agree  to  set  you  free, 
By  dashing  out  your  brains. 


*  History  of  Wyoming  in  a  Series  of  Letters,  from  Charles 
Miner,  to  his  son,  William  Penn  Miner,  Esq.  Phila. :  J.  Oessy. 
1S45. 


454 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


'And  as  for  you,  enlisted  crew, 

We'll  raise  your  honours  higher : 
Pray  turn  your  eye,  where  you  must  lie, 
In  yonder  burning  fire." 

Then  naked  in  those  flames  they're  cast, 

Too  dreadful  'tis  to  tell, 
Where  they  must  fry,  and  burn  and  die, 

While  cursed  Indians  yell. 

Nor  son,  nor  sire,  these  tigers  spare, — 

The  youth,  and  hoary  head, 
Were  by  those  monsters  murdered  there, 

And  numbered  with  the  dead. 

Methinks  I  hear  some  sprightly  youth, 
His  mournful  state  condole  : 
'  0,  that  my  tender  parents  knew, 
The  anguish  of  my  soul. 

'But  0  !  there's  none  to  save  my  life, 
Or  heed  my  dreadful  fear ; 
I  see  the  tomahawk  arid  knife, 
And  the  more  glittering  spear. 

When  years  ago,  I  dandled  was 

Upon  my  parents'  knees, 
I  little  thought  I  should  be  brought 

To  feel  such  pangs  as  these. 

'  I  hoped  for  many  a  joyful  day, 
I  hoped  for  riches'  store — 
These  golden  dreams  are  fled  away; 
I  strniglit  shall  be  no  more. 

'  Farewell,  fond  mother ;  late  I  was, 
Locked  up  in  your  embrace ; 
Your  heart  would  ache,  and  even  break, 
If  you  could  know  my  case. 

'  Farewell,  indulgent  parents  dear, 
I  must  resign  my  bre;ith  ; 
I  now  must  die,  and  here  must  lie 
In  the  cold  arms  of  death. 

'  For  0 !  the  fatal  hour  is  come, 
I  see  the  bloody  knife, — 
The  Lord  have  mercy  on  my  soul !" 
And  quick  resigned  his  life. 

A  doleful  theme  ;  yet,  pensive  muse, 

Pursue  the  doleful  theme: 
It  is  no  fancy  to  delude, 

Nor  transitory  dream. 

The  Forty  Fort  was  the  resort, 

For  mother  and  for  child, 
To  save  them  from  the  cruel  rage, 

Of  the  fierce  savage  wild. 

Now,  when  the  news  of  this  defeat, 

Had  sounded  in  our  ears, 
You  well  may  know  our  dreadful  woe, 

And  our  foreboding  fears. 

A  doleful  sound  is  whispered  round, 

The  sun  now  hides  his  head  ; 
The  nightly  gloom  forebodes  our  doom, 

We  all  shall  soon  be  dead. 

How  can  we  bear  the  dreadful  spear, 

The  tomahawk  and  knife  \ 
And  if  we  run,  the  awful  gun, 

Will  rob  us  of  our  life. 

But  Heaven  !  kind  Heaven,  propitious  power  I 

His  hand  we  must  adore. 
He  did  assuage  the  savage  rage, 

That  they  should  kill  no  more. 

The  gloomy  night  now  gone  and  past, 

The  sun  returns  again, 
The  little  birds  from  every  bush, 

Seem  to  lament  the  slain. 


With  aching  hearts  and  trembling  hands 

We  walked  here  and  there, 
Till  through  the  northern  pines  we  saw, 

A  flag  approaching  near. 

Some  men  were  chose  to  meet  this  flag, 

Our  colonel  was  the  chief, 
Who  soon  returned  and  in  his  mouth 

He  brought  an  olive  leaf. 

This  olive  leaf  was  granted  life, 

But  then  we  must  no  more, 
Pretend  to  fight  with  Britain's  king, 

Until  the  wars  are  o'er. 

And  now  poor  Westmoreland  is  lost, 

Our  forts  are  all  resigned, 
Our  buildings  they  are  all  on  fire, — 

What  shelter  can  we  find  ? 

They  did  agree  in  black  and  white, 

If  we'd  lay  down  our  arms, 
That  all  who  pleased  might  quietly 

Remain  upon  their  farms. 

But  0!  they've  robbed  us  of  our  all, 

They've  taken  all  but  life, 
And  we'll  rejoice  and  bless  the  Lord, 

If  this  may  end  the  strife. 

And  now  I've  told  my  mournful  tale, 

I  hope  you'll  all  agree, 
To  help  our  cause  and  break  the  jaws 

Of  cruel  tyranny. 

In  the  same  year,  appeared  from  the  press  of 
Thomas  and  Samuel  Green,  New  Haven,  a  pamph- 
let entitled  Poems,  occasioned  by  several  circum- 
stances and  reminiscences  in  the  present  grand  corn- 
iest of  America  for  Liberty.  The  author  has  been 
ascertained  by  the  Rev.  Stephen  Dodd,  of  East 
Haven  church,  who  has  republished  the  poems,* 
to  have  been  the  Rev.  Wheeler  Case,  pastor  of  the 
Presbyterian  church  of  Pleasant  Valley,  Dutchess 
county,  New  York.  He  states  in  his  preface  that 
some  of  the  pieces  have  been  written  merely  for 
amusement,  and  others  with  design  to  promote 
the  cause  ofliberty,  into  whose  Treasury  he  casts 
his  mite  in  publishing  them.  They  are  quaint 
and  spirited  expressions  of  patriotism  and  piety, 
mainly  elicited  by  the  defeat  of  Burgoyne.  The 
struggle  is  symbolized  by  a  contest  between  the 
eagle  and  the  crane,  in  which  the  latter  (in  1776) 
is  hopefully  made  to  come  off  victorious.  The 
"  tragical  death  of  Miss  M'Crea"  is  celebrated  with 
more  feeling  than  art.  In  the  verses,  "  An  An- 
swer to  the  Messengers  of  the  Nation,"  with  a 
text  from  Isaiah,  the  writer  expresses  the  not  un- 
common feeling  of  the  pulpit  of  those  days  towards 
General  Washington,  who  was  looked  to  as  a  de- 
liverer under  the  protection  of  heaven,  "  the  sword 
of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon." 

We  give  two  passages  from  this  old  volume  for 
their  earnestness  and  their  historical  value. 

WASHINGTON. 

Let  not  my  theme  by  any  be  abus'd, 
Tho'  Ziorfs  founded,  means  must  yet  be  us'd. 
When  foes  with  spears  rush  on  us  like  a  flood, 
Cursd  be  the  man  who  keeps  his  sword  from  blood,] 
When  wonders  great  for  Zion  have  been  done, 
God  and  his  people  went  to  war  as  one. 


*  Revolutionary  Memorials,  embracing  Poems  by  the  Ber. 
Wheeler  Case.    Now  York :  M.  W.  Dodd.    1S52. 
+  Jcr.  xlviii.  10. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


455 


Gideon  went  forth  against  a  mighty  host, 

Three  hundred  men  were  all  that  he  could  boast; 

Before  these  few  the  Midianites  now  fall. 

It  was  one  sword  alone  that  did  it  all, 

E'en  by  the  sword  of  God  and  Gideon. 

What  great  exploits  were  done  by  Israel's  King, 

How  we  hear  this  hero  vict'ry  sing. 

Where  did  he  learn  this  skill,  or  whence  this  might? 

The  God  of  armies  taught  his  hands  to  fight. 

When  Zion's  foes  against  her  did  conspire, 

Hail-stones  from  heaven  were  sent,  and  flames  of  fire. 

To  crush  her  foes  and  maintain  her  cause, 

The  God  of  nature  alters  nature's  laws  ; 

The  sun  and  moon  are  stopp'd,  they  cease  to  ruo, 

'Till  Joshuas  work  is  o'er,  his  work  is  done. 

Joshua  the  hero,  and  the  man  of  God, 

Rais'd  up  his  eye,  his  mandate  sent  abroad, 

Thou  sun,  bright  lamp  of  day,  thou  moon,  stand  still, 

Nor  dare  advance  to  yonder  Western  hill, 

'Till  I  have  erush'd  my  foes  and  done  Jehovah's  will. 

But  why  need  we  go  back  to  ancient  dates, 

While  wonders  great  are  done  within  these  States? 

Jehovah's  power,  his  all-wise  providence, 

Hath  been  engag'd  for  us  in  our  defence. 

Let's  eye  that  Providence,  adore  the  hand, 

That  rais'd  for  us  a  Joshua  in  our  land. 

O  what  a  blessing  to  the  States !  it  is  our  bliss, 

Great  Washington  was  rais'd  for  such  a  day  as  this. 

How  g"od,  how  kind  is  most  indulgent  heav'n, 

That  such  a  leader  to  ourjariny's  giv'n  ! 

What  great  exploits  he  and  his  troops  have  done! 

How  bravely  they  have  fought,  what  vict'ries  won. 

It  was  the  Lord  that  did  their  breasts  inspire 

With  thirst  for  liberty  and  martial  fire, 

'Twas  he  their  operations  planu'd  so  well, 

And  fought  for  them,  e'eu  when  ten  thousand  fell. 

When  these  affairs  are  viewM  and  duly  scann'd, 

He's  blind  that  does  not  see  Jehovah's  hand. 

See  Washington  thro'  Jersey  State  retreat, 

His  foes  rejoice — they  thought  that  he  was  beat; 

Howe  hint  pursues  with  speed,  he  presses  on, 

He  thought  the  day  his  own,  the  vict'ry  won. 

The  secret  friends  of  George  their  off  rings  bring, 

They  boldly  raise  their  head,  and  own  their  King; 

A  gloom  is  spread  around,  alas!  what  grief, 

We  know  not  where  to  go  to  find  relief. 

A  storm  of  snow  and  hail  the  Lord  sent  down, 

A  blessed  season  this  for  Washington  : 

He  now  return'd,  and  thro'  the  storm  he  press'd, 

And  caught  twelve  hundred  Hessians  in  their  nest. 

Our  hero  pitch'd  his  tents  near  Trenton  bridge, 

Home  gather'd  all  his  troops  upon  a  ridge, 

Not  far  from  where  his  little  army  lay, 

Impatient  waits  his  vengeance  to  display, 

Determin'd  when  the  shades  of  night  were  o'er, 

Great  Washington  should  fall  and  be  no  more. 

But  he  with  skill  consummate  did  retire, 

Soon  made  the  foe  at  Princeton  feel  his  ire. 

Leaving  the  valiant  Howe  to  tight  the  fire* 

THE  FALL  OF  BURGOTNE. 

Is  this  Burgogne,  Burgogne  the  great, 

Who  fill'd  our  land  with  woe, 
And  threaten'd  vengeance  from  the  state, 

Is  he  now  fell  so  low? 

Is't  he  that  made  the  earth  to  tremble, 
That  was  so  great  a  curse, 


*  General  Washington  ordered  a  number  of  fires  to  be  made, 
and  kept  burning  till  towards  da}'.  In  the  middle  of  the  nteht 
be  made  a  forced  march  Lo  Princeton,  where  he  attacked  and 
took  two  regiments  stationed  there.  In  t lie  morning  Howe  was 
preparing  to  attack  Washington,  and  mrch  elated  with  expec- 
tations of  crushing  birn,  sent  oat  bisspies  to  make  discoveries  ; 
but  to  bis  great  surprise  was  soon  informed  where  Washington 
was,  by  hearing  the  heavy  cannonade  at  Princeton. 


That  doth  great  Babel's  king  resemble, 
Is  he  now  weak  like  us? 

To  Indians  he  gives  stretch  no  more, 

Nor  them  supplies  with  knives 
To  stain  our  land  with  crimson  gore, 

With  them  to  sealp  our  wives. 

His  threat'niug  proclamation's  stopp'd, 
He's  now  o'erspread  with  gloom, 

The  wings  with  which  he  flew  are  cropp'd, 
He  has  no  elbow-room. 

His  titles  he  proclaims  no  more, 

No  more  his  triumphs  spread, 
His  thund'riug  cannon  cease  to  roar, 

And  all  his  joys  are  fled. 

Where  is  his  great  and  mighty  host, 

That  huge  gigantic  race, 
The  sons  of  Anak,  Britain's  boast? 

They're  pris'ners  in  disgrace. 

Pris'ners  to  rebels,  Yankies  too, 

O  mortifying  stroke ! 
They  caught  Burgogne  witli  all  his  crew, 

Britons  now  wear  the  yoke. 

Great  Washington,  that  man  of  might, 

Hath  laid  a  snare  for  Howe, 
Unless  with  speed  he  takes  his  flight, 

He  to  the  yoke  must  bow. 

During  this  year  Eivington's  contributors  kept 
up  a  constant  succession  of  pasquinades.  We 
quote  a  few  : — 

New  York,  October  24,  1778. 

INTELLIGENCE    EXTRAORDINARY. 

We  learn  from  Philadelphia,  that  there  was  lately 
exhibited  in  that  city,  an  admirable  Farce  called 
Indei-endence.  Who  was  the  author  is  not  posi- 
tively known.  Some  people  are  of  opinion,  that  it 
is  the  work  of  a  certain  Quack  Doctor,  called  Frank- 
lin. Others  assert,  that  it  is  the  joint  production  of 
the  strolling  company  by  whom  it  was  acted  ;  it  is, 
however,  generally  allowed,  that  one  Adams  gave 
the  first  hint,  contrived  the  plot,  and  cast  the 
parts.  It  appeared  in  the  exhibition  so  tragi-comical 
that  the  audience  were  at  a  loss  whether  to  laugh 
or  cry;  they  were,  however,  well  pleased  with  the 
catastrophe,  and  joined  heartily  in  the  following 
chorus,  which  was  sung  by  the  excellent  actor  who 
played  the  part  of  the  President.  The  celebrated 
Voltaire  somewhere  relates,  that  a  soug  was  the 
cause  of  the  Reformation  in  France, 


Our  farce  is  now  finish'd,  your  sport's  at  an  end, 
But  ere  you  depart,  let  the  voice  of  a  friend, 
By  way  of  a  chorus  the  evening  crown. 
With  a  song  to  the  tune  of  a  hey  derry  down. 

Derry  down,  down,  hey  derry  down. 

Old  Shakspeare,  a  poet  who  should  not  be  spit  on, 
Altho'  lie  was  born  in  the  island  called  Briton, 
Hath  said  that  mankind  are  all  players  at  best, 
A  truth  we'll  admit  of,  for  the  sake  of  the  jest. 
Derry  down,  &a. 

On  this  puny  stage  we  have  strutted  our  hour, 
And  have  acted  our  parts  to  the  best  of  our  power. 
That  the  farce  has  concluded  not  perfectly  well 
Was  surely  the  fault  of  the  Devil  in  Hell. 

Derry  down,  &e. 
This  Devil,  you  know,  out  of  spleen  to  the  church, 
Will  often  times  leave  his  best  friends  in  the  lurch, 
And  turn  them  adrift  in  the  midst  of  their  joy ; 
Tis  a  difficult  matter  to  cheat  the  old  boy. 

Derry  down,  <fec. 


456 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


Since  this  is  the  case,  we  must  e'en  make  the  best 

Of  a  game  that  is  lost ;  let  us  turn  it  to  jest, 

We'll  smile,  nay,  we'll  laugh,  we'll  carouse  and  we'll 

sing, 
And  cheerfully  drink  life  and  health  to  the  King. 
Derry  down,  <fec. 

Let  "Washington  now  from  his  mountains  descend, 
Who   knows   but   in   George   he   may  still  find  a 

friend. 
A.  Briton,  although  he  loves  bottle  and  wench, 
Jb  an  honester  fellow  than  parlez  vous  French. 
Derry  down,  <tc. 

Our  great  Independence  we  give  to  the  wind, 

And   pray  that  Great  Britain  may  once  more  be 

kind, 
In  this  jovial  6ong  all  hostility  ends, 
And  Britons  and  we  will  for  ever  be  friends. 
Derry  down,  (fee. 

Boy,  fill  me  a  bumper,  now  join  in  the  chorns, 
There's  happiness  still  in  the  prospect  before  us; 
In  this  sparkling  glass  all  hostility  ends, 
And  Britons  and  we  will  for  ever  be  friends. 
Derry  down,  <fec. 

Good  night,  my  good  people,  retire  to  your  houses, 
Fair  ladies,  I  beg  you  convince  your  fair  spouses, 
That  Britons  and  we  are  united  in  bliss, 
And  ratify  all  with  a  conjugal  kiss-. 
Derry  down,  <fcc. 

Once  more,  here's  a  health  to  the  King  and  the 

Queen, 
Confusion  to  him  who  in  rancor  and  spleen, 
Refuses  to  drink  witli  an  English  friend, 
Immutable  amity  to  the  world's  end. 
Derry  down,  <fec. 

P.ivington's  Eoval  Gazette,  Saturday, 
October  24,  177S. 

Our  next  extract  is  from  a  production  of  some 
hundred  and  fifty  lines,  which  appeared  Nov. 
6,  entitled, 

THE  CONGRATULATION. 

Joy  to  great  Congress,  joy  an  hundred  fold, 
The  great  cnjolers  are  themselves  cajol'd: 
What,  now,  is  left  of  continental  brags, 
Taxes  unpaid,  though  payable  in  rags. 
What  now  remains  of  continental  force? 
Battalions  mouldering,  waste  without  resource. 
What  rests  there  yet  of  continental  sway  ? 
A  ruin'd  people  ripe  to  disobey ; 
Hate  now  of  men,  and  soon  to  be  the  jest, 
Such  is  your  state,  ye  monsters  of  the  west, 
Yet  must  on  every  face  a  smile  be  worn, 
Whilst  every  breast  with  agony  ib  torn, 
Hopeless  yourselves,  yet  hope  you  must  impart, 
And  comfort  others  with  an  aching  heart. 
HI  fated  they,  who,  lost  at  home,  must  boast 
Of  help  expected  from  a  foreign  coast, 
How  wretched  is  their  lot  to  France  and  Spain, 
Who  look  for  succour,  but  who  look  in  vain. 

Joy  to  great  Congress,  joy  an  hundred  fold, 

The  grand  cajolers  are  themselves  cajol'd. 

Courage,  my  boys,  dismiss  your  chilling  fears, 

Attend  to  me.  Til  put  you  in  your  gears, 

Come,  I'll  instruct  you  how  to  advertise 

Your  missing  friends,  your  hide-and-seek  allies. 

0  TE3 !  if  any  man  alive  will  bring 

News  of  the  squadron  of  the  Christian  King, 

If  any  man  will  fiiid  out  Count  d'Estaing, 

With  wdiose  scrub  actions  both  the  Indies  rang ; 

If  any  man  will  ascertain  on  oath, 

What  is  become  of  Monsieur  de  la  Mothe ; 


Whoever  these  important  points  explains, 
Congress  will  nobly  pay  him  for  his  pains, 
Of  pewter  dollars  what  both  hands  can  hold, 
A  thimblef ull  of  plate,  a  mite  of  gold ; 
The  lauds  of  some  big  Tory,  he  shall  get, 
And  strut  a  famous  Col'nel  en  brevet, 
And  last,  to  honour  him  (we  scorn  to  bribe), 
We'll  make  him  chief  of  the  Oneida  tribe. 

This  was  followed  on  the  27th  of  the  same 
month  by 

THE  SIEGE  OF  SAVANNAH. 

Come  let  us  rejoice, 

With  heart  and  with  voice 
Her  triumphs  let  loyalty  show,  sir, 

While  bumpers  go  round 

Re-echo  the  sound, 
Huzza,  for  the  King  and  Prevost,  sir. 

With  warlike  parade, 

And  his  Irish  brigade, 
His  ships  and  his  spruce  Gallic  host,  Bir, 

As  proud  as  an  elf, 

D'Estaing  came  himself, 
And  landed  on  Georgia's  coast,  sir. 

There  joining  a  band, 

Under  Lincoln's  command, 
Of  rebels  and  traitors  and  Whigs,  sir, 

'Gainst  the  town  of  Savannah, 

He  planted  his  banner, 
And  then  he  felt  wonderous  big,  sir. 

With  thund'ring  of  guns, 

And  bursting  of  bombs, 
He  thought  to  have  frighted  our  Boys,  sir, 

But  amidst  all  their  din, 

Brave  Maitland  push'd  in. 
And  Moncrieff  cry'd,  "  a  fig  for  your  noise,  sir." 

Chagrin'd  at  delay 

(As  he  meant  not  to  stay), 
The  bold  Count  form'd  his  troops  in  the  morn,  sir, 

Van,  centre,  and  rear 

March'd  up  without  fear, 
Cock  sure  of  success — by  a  storm,  sir. 

Though  rude  was  the  shock, 

Unmov'd  as  a  rock, 
Stood  our  firm  British  bands  to  their  works,  sir. 

While  the  brave  German  corps, 

And  Americans  bore, 
Their  parts  as  intrepid  as  Turks,  sir. 

Then  muskets  did  rattle, 

Fierce  raged  the  battle, 
Grape  shot  it  flew  thicker  than  hail,  sir. 

The  ditch  fill'd  with  slain, 

Blood  dyed  all  the  plain, 
When  the  rebels  and  French  turned  tail,  sir.. 

See,  see,  how  they  run  ! 

Lord !  what  glorious  fun ! 
How  they  tumble  by  cannon  mow'd  down,  sirl 

Brains  fly  all  around, 

Dying  screeches  resound, 
And  mangled  limbs  cover  the  ground,  sir. 

There  Polasky  fell 

That  Imp  of  old  Bell, 
Who  attempted  to  murder  his  King,  sir, 

But  now  he  is  gone 

Whence  he'll  never  return, 
But  will  make  II — ■  with  treason  to  ring,  sir. 

To  Charlestown  with  fear, 

The  rebels  repair, 
D'Estaing  scampers  back  to  his  boats,  sir, 

Each  blaming  the  other, 

Each  cursing  his  brother, 
And  may  they  cut  each  other's  throats,  sir. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


457 


Scarce  three  thousand  men, 

The  town  did  maintain, 
'Gainst  three  times  their  number  of  foes,  sir, 

Who  left  on  the  plain, 

Of  wounded  and  slain, 
Three  thousand  to  fatten  the  crows,  sir. 

Three  thousand  ?     No  less ! 

For  the  rebels  confess 
Some  loss,  as  you  very  well  know,  sir, 

Then  let  bumpers  go  round, 

And  re-echo  the  sound, 
Huzza  for  the  King  and  Prevost,  sir. 
Eivington's  Gazette,  Nov.  27, 177y. 

A  poem  on  Washington,  dated  in  1770,  merits 
insertion  here. 

Let  venal  poets  praise  a  King 

For  virtues  unpossessM, 
A  volunteer,  unbrib'd  I  sing 

The  Hero  of  the  West. 

When  Gaul  came  on  with  rapid  stride, 

And  vict'ry  was  the  word, 
First  shone  his  country's  future  pride, 

And  flesh'd  his  maiden  sword. 

With  conquest  crown'd,  from  war's  alarms, 
To  study  bent  his  mind  ;  — 
"  Equal  to  both,  to  arts  or  arms 
indiff'rently  inclin'd." 

Elate  with  fancied  pow'r  and  pride, 

Impell'd  by  angry  Jove  ; 
Nor  fates  nor  justice  on  their  side, 

The  British  legions  move. 

With  them  a  tribe  of  foreign  slaves 

A  mercenary  band, 
For  plunder  bold,  inur'd  to  blood, 

Invade  his  native  laud. 

His  country  calls,  to  arms  lie  flies, 

Nor  fears  a  tyrant's  frown  ; 
Leads  heroes,  favour'd  by  the  skies, 

To  glory  and  renown. 

In  vain  the  British  tyrant  storms, 

His  thunders  fright  no  more, — 
His  hardy  vet'rans,  vainly  brave, 

Shall  rly  the  happy  shore. 

The  willing  Chiefs  around  him  throng, 

Impatient  of  delay; 
Their  noble  ardour  he  restrains, 

And  points  the  surer  way. 

Pursue,  Great  Chief,  the  glorious  race — 
Thy  country's  sword  and  shield  ; — 

Thrice  happy  !  bo    i  alike  to  grace 
The  senate  a  dt:o  field. 
New  Hampshire  Gazette,  Oct.  12,  1779. 

We  now  come  to  one  of  the  most  famous  pieces 
of  verse  composed  during  the  war.  It  owes  its 
reputation,  however,  more  to  the  untimely  death 
of  its  author  than  to  its  own  merits.  Having  al- 
ready given,  in  our  extract  from  Hamilton,  the 
best  account  of  the  most  memorable  portion  of 
Andre's  life,  we  present  without  further  preface 

THE    COW-CHASE. 
CANTO  I. 

To  drive  the  kine  one  summer's  morn, 

The  Tinner*  took  his  way. 
The  calf  shall  rue  that  is  unborn 

The  jumbling  of  that  day. 


And  Wayne  descending  steers  shall  know 

And  tauntingly  deride, 
And  call  to  mi.nl  in  ev'ry  low 

The  tanning  of  his  hide. 

Yet  Bergen  cows  still  ruminate 

Unconscious  in  the  stall, 
What  mighty  means  were  used  to  get 

And  loose  them  after  all. 

For  many  heroes  bold  and  brave 
From  New-Bridge  and  Tapaan,* 

And  those  that  drink  Passaick's  wave, 
And  those  that  eat  Soupaun. 

And  sons  of  distant  Delaware 

And  still  remoter  Shannon, 
And  Major  Lee  with  horses  rare 

And  Proctor  with  his  cannon. 

All  wondrous  proud  in  arms  they  came, 

What  hero  could  refuse, 
To  trend  the  rugged  path  to  fame, 

Who  had  a  pair  of  shoes? 

At  six  the  Host  "with  sweating  buff, 

Arrived  at  Freedom's  pole, 
When  Wayne  who  thought  he'd  time  enough, 

Thus  speechified  the  whole. 

0  ye  whom  glory  doth  unite 
Who  Freedom's  cause  espouse, 

Whether  the  wing  that's  doomed  to  fight 
Or  that  to  drive  the  cows. 

Ere  yet  you  tempt  your  further  way 

Or  into  action  come. 
Hear,  soldiers,  what  I  have  to  say, 

And  take  a  pint  of  rum. 

Intemp'rate  valor  then  will  string, 

Eaeh  nervous  arm  the  better, 
So  all  the  land  shall  10  sing 

And  read  the  geu'ral's  letter. 

Know  that  some  paltry  Refugees, 

Whom  I've  a  mind  to  fright, 
Are  playing  h — 1  amongst  the  trees 

That  grow  on  yonder  height. 

Their  Fort  and  block-houses  we'll  level, 

And  deal  a  horrid  slaughter, 
We'll  drive  the  scoundrels  to  the  devil, 

And  ravish  wife  and  daughter. 

1  under  cover  of  th'  attack, 

Whilst  you  are  all  at  blows, 
From  English  Neighborhood  and  Tinack* 
Will  drive  away  the  cows. 

For  well  you  know  the  latter  is 

The  serious  operation, 
And  fighting  with  the  Refugees 

Is  only  recreation. 

His  daring  words  from  all  the  crowd, 

Such  great  applause  did  gain, 
That  every  man  declared  aloud 

For  serious  work  with  Wayne. 

Then  from  the  cask  of  rum  once  more 

They  took  a  heady  gill, 
When  one  and  nil  they  loudly  swore, 

They'd  fight  upon  the  hill. 

But  here — the  Muse  has  not  a  strain 

Befitting  such  great  deeds, 
Huzza,  they  cried,  huzza  for  Wayne, 

And  shouting — <hd  their  neels. 


*  General  Wayne's  legal  occupation. 


*  Villages  in  New  Jersey. 


458 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


canto  n. 
Near  his  meridian  pomp,  the  sun 

Had  journey'd  from  the  hor'zon, 
When  fierce  the  dusky  tribe  mov'd  on, 

Of  heroes  drunk  as  poison. 

The  sounds  confused  of  boasting  oaths, 

Re-eehoed  thro'  the  wood, 
Some  vow'd  to  sleep  in  dead  men's  clothes 

And  some  to  swim  in  blood. 

At  Irving's  nod  'twas  fine  to  see, 

The  left  prepare  to  fight, 
The  while  the  drovers,  Wayne  and  Lee, 

Drew  off  upon  the  right. 

Which  Irving  'twas  fame  don't  relate, 

Nor  can  the  iluse  assist  her, 
Whether  'twas  he  that  cocks  a  hat 

Or  he  that  gives  a  glister. 

For  greatly  one  was  signalized, 

That  fought  at  Chesnut-Hill, 
And  Canada  immortalized, 

The  vender  of  the  pill 

Yet  their  attendance  upon  Proctor, 
They  both  might  have  to  boast  of; 

For  there  was  business  for  the  doctor, 
And  hats  to  be  disposed  of. 

Let  none  uncandidly  infer, 

That  Stirling  wanted  spunk, 
The  self-made  peer  had  sure  been  there, 

But  that  the  peer  was  drunk. 

But  turn  we  to  the  Hudson's  banks, 
Where  stood  the  modest  train, 

With  purpose  finu  tho'  slender  ranks, 
Nor  card  a  pin  for  Wayne. 

For  them  the  unrelenting  hand 

Of  rebel  fury  drove 
And  tore  from  ev'ry  gerial  band, 

Of  friendship  and  of  love. 

And  some  within  a  dungeon's  gloom, 

By  mock  tribunals  laid, 
Had  waited  long  a  cruel  doom, 

Impending  o'er  their  head. 

Here  one  bewails  a  brother's  fate 

There  one  a  sire  demands, 
Cut  off,  alas !  before  their  date, 

By  ignominious  hands. 

And  silver'd  grandsires  here  appear'd 

In  deep  distress  serene, 
Of  reverend  manners  that  declared, 

The  better  days  they'd  seen. 

Oh  cursed  rebellion  these  are  thine, 

Thine  all  these  tales  of  wo, 
Shall  at  thy  dire  insatiate  shrine 

Blood  never  eease  to  flow? 

And  now  the  foe  began  to  lead 

His  forces  to  th'  attack : 
Balls  whistling  unto  balls  succeed. 

And  make  the  block-house  crack. 

No  shot  could  pass,  if  you  will  take 

The  Gen'ral's  word  for  true; 
But  'tis  a  d ble  mistake. 

For  ev'ry  shot  went  thro'. 

The  firmer  as  the  rebels  pressed, 

The  loyal  heroes  stand  ; 
Virtue  had  nerv'd  each  honest  breast, 

And  industry  each  hand. 

In*  valour's  phrensy.  Hamilton 
Rode  like  a  soldier  big, 

*  Vide  Lee"s  Trial. 


And  Secretary  Harrison, 
With  pen  stuck  in  his  wig. 

But  lest  their  Chieftain  Washington, 
Should  mourn  them  in  the  mumps,* 

The  fate  of  Withrii  gton  to  shun, 
They  fought  behind  the  stumps. 

But  ah,  Thaddasus  Posset,  why 

Should  thy  poor  soul  elope  ? 
And  why  should  Titus  Hooper  die, 

Ah  die — without  a  rope? 

Apostate  Murphy,  thou  to  whom 

Fair  Sbela  ne'er  was  cruel ; 
In  death  shalt  hear  her  mourn  thy  doom, 

Ouch  wou'd  ye  die  my  Jewel? 

Thee  Nathan  Pumpkin,  I  lament, 

Of  melancholy  fate, 
The  gray  goose  stolen  as  he  went, 

In  his  heart's  b.ood  was  wet. 

Now  as  the  fight  was  further  fought, 

And  balls  began  to  thicken, 
The  fray  assuin'd,  the  Gen'rals  thought, 

The  colour  of  a  licking. 

Yet  undismay'd  the  chiefs  command, 

And  to  redeem  the  day, 
Cry,  solliees  ciurge  !  they  hear,  they  stand, 

They  turn  and  run  away. 

canto  m. 

Not  all  delights  the  bloody  spear, 

Or  horrid  din  of  battle, 
There  are,  I'm  sure,  who'd  like  to  hear, 

A  word  about  the  cattle. 

The  chief  whom  we  beheld  of  late, 
Near  Schralenberg  haranguing, 

At  Yan  "Van  Poop's,  j-  unconscious  sat 
Of  Irving's  hearty  bai  ging. 

Whilst  valiant  Lee,  with  courage  wild, 

Most  bravely  did  oppose 
The  tears  of  woman  and  of  child, 

Who  begg'd  he'd  leave  the  cows. 
But  Wayne,  of  sympathizing  heart, 

Required  a  relief, 
Not  all  the  blessii  gs  could  impart 

Of  battle  or  of  beef. 
For  now  a  prey  to  female  charms, 

His  soul  took  more  delight  in 
A  lovely  hamadryad's^  arms, 

Than  driving  cows  or  fighting: 

A  nymph,  the  Refugees  had  drove 

Far  from  her  native  tree, 
Just  happen'd  to  be  on  the  move, 

When  up  came  Wayne  and  Lee. 
She  in  mad  Anthony's  fierce  eye 

The  hero  saw  poitray'd, 
And  all  in  tears  she  took  him  by 

The  biidle  of  his  jade.ij 

Hear,  said  the  nymph,  0  great  commander! 

No  human  lamentations; 
The  trees  you  see  them  cutting  yonder, 

Are  all  my  near  relations. 

And  I,  forlorn  !  implore  thine  aid, 

To  free  the  sacred  grove : 
So  shall  thy  prowess  be  repaid 

With  an  immortal's  love. 


*  A  disorder  prevalent  in  the  Rebel  lines.  The  merit  of 
these  lines,  which  is  doubtless  very  great,  can  only  be  felt  by 
true  Connoisseurs,  conversant  in  ancient  song. 

t  Who  kept  a  dram  shop. 

±A  Deity  of  1  he  woods. 

§  A  New  -Lnglaud  name  for  a  horse,  mare  or  gelding. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


459 


Now  some,  to  prove  she  was  a  goddess ! 

Said  this  enchanting  fair 
Had  late  retired  from  the  Bodies* 

In  all  the  pomp  of  war. 
That  drums  and  merry  fifes  had  play'd 

To  honour  her  retreat, 
And  Cunninghamf  himself  convey'd 

The  lady  thro'  the  street. 

Great  Wayne,  by  soft  compassion  sway'd, 

To  no  inquiry  sloops, 
But  takes  the  fair  afflicted  maid 

Right  into  Yan  Van  Poop's. 

So  Roman  Anthony,  they  say, 

Disgraced  th'  imperial  banner, 
And  for  a  gipsy  lost  a  day, 

Like  Anthony  the  tanner. 

The  hamadryad  had  but  half 
Received  redress  from  Wayne, 

When  drums  and  colours,  cow  and  calf, 
Came  down  the  road  amain. 

All  in  a  cloud  of  dust  were  seen 
The  sheep,  the  horse,  the  goat, 

The  gentle  heifer,  ass  obscene, 
The  yearling  and  the  shoat 

And  pack-horses  with  fowls  came  by, 

Bet'eathered  on  each  side, 
Like  Pegasus,  the  horse  that  I 

And  other  poets  ride. 

Sublime  upon  his  stirrups  rose 

The  mighty  Lee  behind. 
And  drove  the  terrour-smitten  cows, 

Like  chaff  before  the  wind. 

But  sudden  see  the  woods  above 

Pour  down  Mfriother  corps, 
All  belter  skelter  in  a  drove, 

Like  that  I  sung  before. 

Irving  and  terrour  in  the  van, 

Came  flying  all  abroad, 
And  cannon,  colours,  horse,  and  man, 

Ran  tumbling  to  the  road. 

Still  as  he  fled,  'twas  Irving's  cry, 

And  his  example  too, 
'Run  on,  my  merry  men  all — for  why?" 
\  The  shot  will  not  go  thro'. 

As  when  two  kennels  in  the  street, 

Swell'd  with  a  recent  rain, 
In  gushing  streams  together  meet, 

And  seek  the  neighbouring  drain. 

So  met  these  dung-born  tribes  in  one, 

As  swift  in  their  career, 
And  so  to  Newbridge  they  ran  on — 

But  all  the  cows  got  clear. 

Poor  Parson  Caldwell,  all  in  wonder, 

Saw  the  returning  train, 
And  mouruM  to  Wayne  the  lack  of  plunder, 

For  them  to  steal  again. 

For  'twas  his  right  to  seize  the  spoil,  and 
To  share  with  each  commander, 

As  he  had  done  at  Stateu  Island 
With  frostbit  Alexander. 8 


*  A  cant  appellation  given  among  the  soldiery  to  the  corps 
that  have  the  honour  to  gnftTd  his  majesty's  person. 

+  Provost-Marshal    of  New  York.'  who  attended  the  drum- 
ming of  her  out  of  the  regiment  and  city. 

X  Five  Refugees  ('tis  true)  were  found 
Stiff  on  the  block-house  floor, 
But  th'-n  'tis  thought  the  shot  went  round, 
And  in  at  the  back-door. 
S  Earl  of  Stirling. 


In  his  dismay  the  frantic  priest* 

Began  to  grow  prophetic, 
You'd  swore,  to  see  his  lab' ring  breast, 

He'd  taken  an  emetic. 
I  view  a  future  day,  said  he, 

Brighter  than  this  day  dark  is, 
And  you  shall  see  what  yon  shall  see 

Ha!  ha  I  one  pretty  Marquis  ;f 

And  he  shall  come  to  Paulue-Hoot, 

And  great  achievements  think  on, 
And  make  a  bow  and  take  a  look, 

Like  Satan  over  Lincoln. 
And  all  the  land  around  shall  glory 

To  see  the  Frenchmen  caper, 
And  pretty  Susan  tell  the  story 

In  the  next  Chatham  paper. 

This  solemn  prophecy,  of  course, 

Gave  all  much  consolation, 
Except  to  Wayne,  who  lost  his  horse 

Upon  the  great  occasion. 

His  horse  that  carried  all  his  prog, 

His  military  speeches, 
His  corn-stalk  whiskey  for  his  grog, 

Blue  stockings  and  brown  breeches. 

And  now  I've  closed  my  epic  strain, 

I  tremble  as  I  show  it. 
Lest  this  same  warrior-drover,  Wayne, 

Should  ever  catch  the  poet. 

The  gallant  act  of  Andre's  captors  could  not 
fail  of  calling  forth  a  ballad: — 

BRAVE  PAULDING  AND  THE  SPY. 

Come,  all  you  brave  Americans,  and  unto  me  give 

ear, 
And  I'll  sing  you  a  ditty  that  will  make  your  hearts 

cheer, 
Concerning   a   young    gentleman    whose    age   was 

twenty-two ; 
He  fought  for  North  America;  his  heart  was  just 

and  true. 

They  took  him  from  his  dwelling-place,  and  they 

did  him  confine, 
They  cast  him  into  prison,  and  kept  him  for  a  time: 
But  he  with  resolution  resolved  not  lung  to  stay; 
He  set  himself  at  liberty,  and  soon  he  ran  away. 

He  with  a  scouting-party  ran  down  to  Tarrytown, 

Where  he  met  a  British  officer,  a  man  of  high  re- 
nown : 

He  says  to  those  young  gentlemen,  "  You're  of  the 
British  cheer, 

I  trust  that  you  can  tell  me  now  if  there's  any  dan- 
ger here." 

Then  up  stepp'd  this  young  gentleman,  John  Paul- 
ding was  his  name ; 

"  Come,  tell  me  where  you're  going  to,  also  from 
whence  you  came." 

"  I  bear  the  British  flag,  sir ;  I've  a  pass  to  go  this 

I'm  on  an  expedition,  and  have  no  time  to  stay." 

Then  up  stepp'd  those  young  gentlemen,  and  bid 

him  to  dismount; 
"  Come  tell  us  where. you're  going  to,  give  us  a  strict 

account ; 
For  we  are  now  resolved  that  you  shall  ne'er  pass 

by." 

On  strict  examination,  they  found  out  he  was  a  spy. 


*  Caldwell,  a  minister  at  "Elizabethtown,  appointed  Quarter- 
Mastcr-General  to  the  rebel  army. 

t  Lafayette,  a  French  coxcomb  in  the  rebel  service. — Note, 
London  ed.,  1781. 


460 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


He  begged  for  his  liberty,  he  plead  for  his  discharge, 
And  oftentimes  he  told  them,  if  they'd  set  him  at 

large, 
"Here's  all  the  gold  and  silver  I  have  laid  up  in 

store, 
But  when  I  get  down  to  New  York  I'll  give  you 

ten  times  more." 

"  I  scorn  your  gold  and  silver,  I've  enough  laid  up 

in  store, 
And  when  that  is  all  spent  and  gone,  I'll  freely  fight 

for  more ; 
So  you  may  take  your  sword  in  hand  and  gain  your 

liberty, 
And  if  that  you  do  conquer  me,  0,  then  you  shall 

go  free." 

"  The  time  it  is  improper  our  valour  for  to  try, 
For  if  we  take  our  swords  in  hand,  then  one  of  us 

must  die; 
I  am  a  man  of  honour,  with  courage  brave  and  bold, 
I  fear  not  the  face  of  clay,  although  it's  clothed  in 

gold." 

He  saw  that  his  conspiracy  would  soon  be  brought 

to  light ; 
He  begg'd  for  pen  and  paper,  and  asked  leave  to 

write 
A  line  to  General  Arnold,  to  let  him  know  his  fate, 
And  begg'd  for  his  assistance ;   but  alas,  it  was  too 

late. 

When  the  news  it  came  to  Arnold,  it  put  him  in  a 

fret ; 
He  walk'd  the  room  in  trouble,  till  tears  his  cheeks 

did  wet ; 
The  news  it  went  throughout  the  camp,  likewise 

throughout  the  fort; 
He  called  for  the  Vulture,  and  sailed  for  New  York. 

Now  Arnold  to  New  York  has  gone,  a  fighting  for 

his  kii  g, 
And  left  poor  Major  Andre,  on  the  gallows  for  to 

swing; 
When  he  was  executed,  he  look'd  both  meek  and 

mild, 
He   look'd   on   his   spectators,  and  pleasantly  did 

smile. 

It  moved  each  eye  with  pity,  caused  every  heart  to 

bleed ; 
And  ever}'  one  wish'd  him  released,  and  had  Arnold 

in  his  stead. 
He  was  a  man  of  honour,  in  Britain  he  was  born ; 
To  die  upon  the  gallows  most  highly  he  did  scorn. 

Here's  health  unto  John  Paulding !  so  let  your 
voices  sound, 

Fill  up  your  flowing  glasses,  and  drink  his  health 
around ; 

Also  to  those  young  gentlemen  who  bore  him  com- 
pany; 

Success  to  North  America,  ye  sons  of  liberty  I 

The  territory  of  the  present  state  of  Vermont 
was  for  some  time  a  contested  possession  between 
New  York  and  New  Hampshire,  the  former 
colony  claiming  sixty  townships,  grants  of  which 
had  been  given  by  the  latter.  The  occupants  of 
the  soil  were  inclined  to  set  up  for  themselves, 
and,  in  1777,  declared  their  independence.  New 
York  would  not  give  up  her  claim,  New  Hamp- 
shire insisted  on  her  demands,  while  the  third 
neighbor,  Massachusetts,  asserted  a  right  to  two 
thirds  of  the  territory  in  dispute.  It  was  during 
the  height  of  the  discussion,  in  1779,  when  words 
were  expected  to  speedily  lead  to  blows,  that  the 
following  spirited  verses  appeared. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  VEEMONTER8, 1779. 

Ho — all  to  the  borders !     Vermonters,  come  down, 
With   your  breeches  of  deer-skin,  and   jackets   of 

brown  ; 
With  your  red  woolen  caps,    and  your  moccasins, 

come, 
To  the  gathering  summons  of  trumpet  and  drum. 

Come  down  with  your  rifles! — let  grey  wolf  and  fox 
Howl  on  in  the  shade  of  their  primitive  rocks  ; 
Let  the  bear  feed  securely  from  pig-pen  and  stall ; 
Here's  a  two-legged  game  for  your  powder  and  ball. 

On   our  South   come  the  Dutchmen,  enveloped  in 

grease  ; 
And,  arrniLg  for  battle,  while  canting  of  peace ; 
On  our  East,  crafty  Meshech*  has  gathered  his  band 
To  hang  up  our  leaders,  and  eat  out  our  land. 

Ho — all  to  the  rescue !     For  Satan  shall  work 
No  gain  for  his  legions  of  Hampshire  and  York  ! 
They  claim  our  possessions, — the  pitiful  knaves, — 
The  tribute  we  pay,  shall  be  prisons  and  graves  1 
Let  Clinton  and  Ten  Broek.f  with  bribes  in  their 

hands, 
Still  seek  to  divide  us,  and  parcel  our  lands ; — 
We've  coats  for  our  traitors,  whoever  they  are  ; 
The  warp  is  of  feathers — the  filling  of  tar  ! 

Does  the  "  old  bay  State"  threaten  ?     Does  Congress 

complain  ? 
Swarms  Hampshire  in  arms  on  our  borders  again  ? 
Bark  the  war-dogs  of  Britain  aloud  on  the  lake  ? 
Let  'em  come ; — what  they  can,  they  are  welcome 

to  take. 
What   seek   they   among  us  ?      The   pride   of  our 

wealth 
Is  comfort,  contentment,  and  labour  and  health, 
And  lands  which,  as  Freemen,  we  only  have  trod, 
Independent  of  all,  save  the  mercies  of  God. 

Yet  we  owe  no  allegiance  ;  we  bow  to  no  throne; 

Our  ruler  is  law,  and  the  law  is  our  own  ; 

Our  leaders  themselves  are  our  own  fel!ow-men, 

Who  can  handle  the  sword,  or  the  scythe,  or  the 
pen. 

Our  wives  are  all  true,  and  our  daughters  are  fair, 

With  their  blue  eyes  of  smiles,  and  their  light  flow- 
ing hair  ; 

All  brisk  at  their  wheels  till  the  dark  even-fall, 

Then  blithe  at  the  sleigh-ride,  the  husking,  and 
ball! 

We've  sheep  on  the  hill  sides  ;  we've  cows  on  the 
plain  ; 

And  gay-tasseled  corn-fields,  and  rank-growing 
grain  ; 

There  are  deer  on  the  mountains ;  and  wood-pigeons 

fly 

From  the  crack  of  our  muskets,  like  clouds  on  the 

sky. 
And  there's  fish  in  our  streamlets  and  rivers,  which 

take 
Their  course  from  the  hills  to  our  broad-bosomed 

lake ; 
Through  rock-arched  Winooski   the   salmon   leaps 

free, 
And  the  portly  shad  follows  all  fresh  from  the  sea. 

Like   a   sun-beam  the   pickerel  glides   through  his 

pool  ; 
And  the  spotted    trout   sleeps  where  the  water  is 

cool ; 


*  Hon.  Mesbech  Weare,  Governor  of  New  Hampshire, 
t  Governor  Clinton  of  New  York,  and  Hon.  A.  Ten  Broek, 
President  of  the  New  York  Convention. 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


461 


Or  darts  from  his  shelter  of  rock  and  of  root 
At  the  beaver's  quick  plunge,  or  the  angler's  pur- 
suit 

And  ours  are  the  mountains,  which  awfully  rise 
'Till  they  rest  their  green  heads  on  the  blue  of  the 

skies ; 
And  ours  are  the  forests  unwasted,  unshorn, 
Save  where  the  wild  path  of  the  tempest  is  torn. 

And  though  savage  and  wild  be  this  climate  of  ours, 
And  brief  be  our  season  of  fruits  and  of  flowers, 
Far  dearer  the  blast  round  our  mountains  which 

raves, 
Than  the   sweet  summer   zephyr,  which   breathes 

over  slaves. 

Hurra  for  Vermont  !  for  the  land  which  we  till 
Must  have  sons  to  defend  her  from  valley  and  hill ; 
Leave   the   harvest   to   rot   on   the  field  where  it 

grows, 
And  the  reaping  of  wheat  for  the  reaping  of  foes. 

From  far  Miehiscoui's  wild  valley,  to  where 
Poosoomsuck   steals   down   from    his    wood-circled 

lair, 
From  Shocticook  river  to  Lutterlock  town, — ■ 
Ho — all  to  the  rescue  !     Vermonters,  come  down. 

Come  York  or  come  Hampshire, — come  traitors  and 

knaves 
If  ye   rule   o'er   our  land,   ye   shall   rule   o'er   our 

graven; 
Our  vow  is  recorded — our  banner  unfurled; 
In  the  name  of  Vermont  we  defy  all  the  world  ! 

In  Rivington's  Royal  Gazette  of  March  2-t, 
1781,  we  tind  the  i'ollo wing  advertisement : — 

This  day  are  published,  price  six  shillings,  neatly 
printed,  Cow  Chace.  Complete  in  three  cantos. 
Published  on  occasion  of  the  Rebel  General  Wayne's 
attack  on  the  Refugees'  Block  House,  on  Friday,  July 
21,  1780.  With  the  American  Times.  In  which 
are  delineated  the  Characters  of  the  Leaders  of  the 
American  Rebellion.  Amongst  the  principal  are, 
Franklin,  Laurens,  Adams,  Hancock,  Jay,  Duer, 
Duaue,  Wilson,  Pulaski,  Witherspoon,  Reed,  Mc- 
Kean,  Washington,  Robewieau,  Chace,  &e.  &a.  &a. 
Also,  Yankee  Doo  lie's  Expe  lition  to  Rlio  le  Island  ; 
and  a  Lampoon,  or  the  Bloodless  Encounter  between 
the  Generals  Howe  and  James  Gadsden. 

We  are  enabled  to  furnish  our  readers  with  a 
specimen  of  the  leading  poem  in  this  collection, 
from  the  copy  in  the  valuable  American  Library 
of  Col.  Peter  Force  of  Washington.  It  appears, 
from  the  following  earlier  and  fuller  announce- 
ment of  the  title,  to  have  been  published  in 
England,*  and  may  have  been  written  in  that 
country. 

"  On  Saturday  morning  next  will  be  published, 
price  2s.,  The  American  Times,  a  Satire  in  three 
parts.  In  winch  are  delineated  the  characters  of 
the  leaders  of  the  American  Rebellion.  Amongst 
the  principal  are,  Franklin,  eic.  (as  already  given). 
By  Camillo  Querno,  Poet  Laureate  to  the  Con- 
gress. Facitiudignatio  versum — Juvenal.  Print- 
ed for  the  author,  and  sold  by  William  Richard- 
son, opposite  Salisbury  street,  in  the  Strand, 
1780." 

We  extract  the  "characters"  of  Robert  and 
Gouvorneur  Morris. 


*  The  advertisement  forms  partof  the  Upcott  Cuttings.  No 
Indication  is  given  of  the  title  of  the  paper  from  which  it  is 
taken. 


What  spectre's  that  with  eyes  on  earth  intent, 
Whose  God  is  gold,  whose  glory's  cent,  per  cent., 
Whose  soul,  devoted  to  the  love  of  gain, 
Revolts  from  feelings  noble  and  humane  ? 
Let  friends,  let  family,  let  country  groan, 
Despairing  widows  shriek,  or  orphans  moan  ; 
Turned  to  the  centre  where  his  riches  grow, 
His  eye  regards  not  spectacles  of  woe. 
Morns,  look  up,  for  so  thy  name  we  spell — 
Ou  earth  Bob  Morris,  Mammon  'tis  in  hell, 
Wretch,  thou  hast  meanly  sold  thy  native  land  ; 
Tremble,  thou  wretch,  for  vengeance  is  at  hand. 
Soou  shall  thy  treasure  fly  on  eagle's  wings, 
And  conscience  goad  thee  with  her  thousand  stings. 

Of  head  erect  and  self-sufficient  mien, 
Another  Morris  presses  to  be  seen. 
Demons  of  vanity,  you  know  him  sure, 
This  is  your  pupil — this  is  Gouverneur ! 
Some  little  knowledge,  with  some  little  sense, 
More  affectation  far,  and  more  pretence  ; — 
Such  is  the  man  ;  his  tongue  he  never  baulks; 
On  all  things  talkable  he  boldly  talks; 
A  specious  orator,  of  law  he  prates, 
A  pompous  nothing,  mingles  in  debates; 
Consummate  impudence,  sheer  brass  of  soul, 
Crowns  every  sentence,  and  completes  the  whole. 
In  other  times  unnoticed  he  might  drop, 
These  times  can  make  a  statesman  of  a  fop. 

The  spirited  resumi  of  many  of  the  events  of  the 
war,  entitled  American  Taxation,  was  written  by 
Samuel  St.  John,  who  was  born  and  died  in  New 
Canaan,  Conn.  He  was  on  one  occasion,  in  1781, 
carried  off  with  others  from  Middlesex  (now 
Darien)  across  the  Sound  to  Oyster  Bay,  and 
thence  to  the  Provost,  New  York.  They  were 
imprisoned  eighteen  days  and  then  exchanged. 
St.  John  wrote  an  account  of  the  affair  in  verse, 
from  which  we  extract  a  passage. 

In  boats  the  ferry  soon  we  passed, 

And  at  New  York  arrived  at  last. 

As  through  the  streets  we  passed  along, 

Ten  thousand  curses  round  us  rung  ; 

But  some  would  laugh,  and  some  would  sneer, 

And  some  would  grin,  and  some  would  leer; 

A  mixed  mob,  a  medley  crew, 

I  guess,  as  e'er  the  devil  knew. 

To  the  Provost  we  then  were  hauled, 

Though  we,  of  war,  were  prisoners  called ; 

Our  irons  now  were  ordered  off, 

The  standers-by  would  swear  and  scoff. 

But  0  !  what  company  we  found ; 

With  great  surprise  we  looked  around  1 

I  must  conclude  that  in  this  place, 

We  found  the  worst  of  Adam's  race : 

Thieves,  murderers,  and  pickpockets  too. 

And  everything  that's  bad  they'd  do, 

One  of  our  men  found  to  his  cost, 

Three  pounds,  York  money,  he  had  lost. 

His  pocket  picked,  I  guess,  before 

We  had  been  there  one  single  hour. 

AMERICAN  TAXATION. 

While  I  relate  my  story,  Americans  give  ear; 
Of  Britain's  fading  glory,  you  presently  shall  hear, 
I'll  give  you  a  true  relation,  attend  to  what  I  say, 
Concerning  the  taxation  of  North  America. 

The  cruel  lords  of  Britain,  who  glory  in  their  shame, 
The  project  they  have  lit  on  they  joyfully  proclaim ; 
'Tis  what  they're  striving  after,  our  rights  to  take 

away, 
And  rob  us  of  our  charter  in  North  America. 


462 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


There  are  two  mighty  speakers,  who  rule  in  Parlia- 
ment, 

Who  always  have  been  seeking  some  mischief  to 
invent, 

'Twas  North,  and  Bute,  his  father,  this  horrid  plan 
did  lay, 

A  mighty  tax  to  gather  in  North  America, 

He  senrch'd  the  gloomy  regions  of  the  infernal  pit, 
To  find  among  tiiose  legions  one  who  excell'd  in  wit, 
To  ask  of  him  assistance,  or  tell  them  how  they  may 
Subdue  without  resistance  this  North  America. 

Old  Satan,  the  arch  traitor,  resolved  a  voyage  to 

take, 
Who  rules  sole  navigator  on  the  burning  lake  ; 
For  the  Britannic  ocean  he  launches  far  away, 
To  land  he  had  no  notion  in  North  America. 

He  takes  his  seat  in  Britain,  it  was  his  soul's  intent, 
Great  George's  throne  to  sit  on,  and  rule  the  Parlia- 
ment, 
His  comrades  were  pursuing  a  diabolic  way, 
For  to  complete  the  ruin  of  North  America. 

He  tried  the  art  of  magic  to   bring   his  schemes 

about, 
At  lei.gth  the  gloomy  project  he  artfully  found  out; 
The  plan  was  long  indulged  in  a  clandestine  way, 
But  lately  Was  divulged  in  North  America. 

These  subtle  arch-combiners  address'd  the  British 
court, 

All  three  were  undersigners  of  this  obscene  re- 
port— 

There  is  a  pleasant  landscape  that  lieth  far  away, 

Beyond  the  wide  Atlantic  in  North  America. 

There  is  a  wealthy  people,   who   sojourn   in   that 

laud  ; 
Their   churches   all  with  steeples,  most  delicately 

6tand ; 
•Their  houses,  like  the  gilly,  are  painted  red  and 

They  flourish  like  the  lily  in  North  America. 

Their  land  with  milk  and  honey  continually  doth 

flow, 
The  want  of  food  or  money  they  seldom  ever  know  : 
They  heap  up  golden  treasure,  they  have  no  debts 

to  pay, 
They  spend  their  time  in  pleasure  in  North  America. 

On  turkeys,  fowls,  and  fishes  most  frequently  they 

dine, 
With  gold  and  silver  dishes,   their  tables   always 

shine, 
They  crown  their  feasts  with  butter,  they  eat  and 

rise  to  play, 
In  silks  their  ladies  flutter  in  North  America. 

With  gold  and  silver  laces,  they  do  themselves 
adorn, 

The  rubies  deck  their  faces,  refulgent  as  the  morn  ! 

Wine  sparkles  in  their  glasses,  they  spend  each  hap- 
py d:iy 

In  merriment  and  dances,  in  North  America, 

Let  not  our  suit  affront  you,  when  we  address  your 

throne, 
0  kii  g,  this  wealthy  country  and  subjects  are  your 

own, 
And  you  their  rightful  sovereign,  they  truly  must 

obey, 
You  have  a  right  to  govern  this  North  America 

O  king,  you've  heard  the  sequel  of  what  we  now 

subscribe, 
Is  it  not  just  and  equal  to  tax  this  wealthy  tribe? 
The  question  bcii  g  asked,  his  majesty  did  say, 
My  subjects  shall  be  taxed  in  North  America, 


Invested  with  a  warrant,  my  publicans  shall  go, 
The  tenth  of  all  their  current  they  surely  shall  be- 
stow, 
If  they  indulge  rebellion,  or  from  my  precepts  stray, 
I'll  send  my  war  battalion  to  North  America. 

I'll  rally  all  my  forces  by  water  and  by  laud, 

My  light  dragoons  and  horses  shall  go  at  my  com- 
mand, 

I'll  burn  both  town  and  city,  with  smoke  becloud 
the  day, 

I'll  show  no  human  pity  for  North  America. 

Go  on,  my  hearty  soldiers,  yon  need  not  fear  of  ill — 
There's  Hutchinson  and  Rogers,  their  functions  will 

fulfil— 
They  tell  such  ample  stories,  believe  them  6ure  we 

may, 
That  one  half  of  them  are  tories  in  North  America. 

My  gallant  ships  are  ready  to  hoist  you  o'er  the 

flood, 
And  in  my  cause  be  steady,  which  is  supremely 

good ; 
Go  ravage,  steal,  and  plunder,  and  you  shall  have 

the  prey  ; 
They  quickly  will  knock  under  in  North  America. 

The  laws  I  have  enacted,  I  never  will  revoke, 
Although  they  are  neglected,  my  fury  to  provoke, 
I  will  forbear  to  flatter,  I'll  rule  with  mighty  sway; 
I'll  take  away  the  charter  from  North  Auieriea. 

0  George !  you  are  distracted,  bv  sail  experience 

find 
The  laws  you  have  enacted  are   of  the   blackest 

kind. 
I'll  make   a  short  digression,  and  tell  you  by  the 

way, 
We  fear  not  your  oppression  in  North  America. 

Our  fathers  were  distressed,  while  in  their  native 

laud  ; 
By  tyrants  were  oppressed,  as  I  do  understand ; 
For  freedom  and  religion   they  were   resolved   to 

stray, 
And  try  the  desert  regions  of  North  America. 

Heaven  was  their  protector  while  on  the  roaring 

tide, 
Kind  fortune  their  director,  and  providence  their 

guide  ; 
If  I  am  not  mistaken,  about  the  first  of  May, 
Tins  voyage  was  undertaken  for  North  America. 

To  sail  they  were  commanded,  about  the  hour  of 

noon, 
At  Plymouth  shore  they  landed,  the  twenty-first  of 

June; 
The  savages  were  nettled,  with  fear  they  fled  away, 
And  peaceably  they  settled  in  North  America. 

We  are  their  bold   descendants,   for   liberty  we'll 

fight, 
The  claim  to   independence  we   challenge   as   our 

right, 
Tis  what  kind  heaven  gave  us,  who  can  take  away? 
Kind  heaven,  too,  will  save  us  in  North  America. 

We  never  will  knock  under,  0  George,  we  do  not 

fear 
The  rattling  of  your  thunder,  nor  lightning  of  your 

spear : 
Though  rebels  you  declare  us,  we're  strangers  to 

dismay  ; 
Therefore  you  can't  scare  us  in  North  America. 

To  what  you  have  commanded,  we  never  will  eon- 
sent  ; 

Although  your  troops  are  landed  upon  the  conti- 
nent ; 


BALLAD  LITERATURE. 


403 


We'll  take  our  swords  and  muskets,  and  march  in 

bright  array, 
And  drive  the  British  rustics  from  North  America. 

We  have  a  bold  commander  who  fears  not  sword 

nor  gun, 
The  second  Alexander,  his  name  is  Washington, 
His  men  are  all  collected,  and  ready  for  the  fray, 
To  fight  they  are  directed  for  North  America. 

We've  Green,  Gates,  and  Putnam,  to  manage  in  the 

field, 
A  gallant  train  of  footmen,  who'd  rather  die  than 

yield; 
A  stately  troop  of  horses  train'd  in  a  martial  way, 
For  to  augment  our  forces  in  North  America. 

Proud  George,  you  are  engaged  all  in  a  dirty  cause, 
A  cruel  war  hath  raged  repugnant  to  all  laws, 
Go  tell  the  savage  nations  you're  crueller  than  they, 
To  fight  your  own  relations  in  North  America. 

Ten  millions  you've  expended,  and  twice  ten  mil- 
lions more, 

Our  riches  you  intended  should  pay  the  mighty 
score, 

Who  now  will  stand  your  sponsor,  your  charges  to 
defray, 

For  sure  you  cannot  conquer  this  North  America? 

I'll  tell  you,  George,  in  metre,  if  you  attend  awhile, 
We  forced  your  Sir  Peter  from  Sullivan's  fair  isle ; 
At  Monmouth  too  we  gained  the  honours  of  the 

day— 
The  victory  we  obtained  for  North  America. 

Surely  we  were  your  betters,  hard  by  the  Brandy- 
wine  ; 

We  laid  him  fast  in  fetters,  whose  name  was  John 
B'irgoyne, 

We  made  your  Howe  to  tremble  with  terror  and 
dismay, 

True  heroes  we  resemble  in  North  America. 

Confusion  to  the  tm'ies,  that  black  infernal  name, 
In  which  Great  Britain   glories,  for   ever   to   her 

shame ; 
We'll  send  each  foul  revolter  to  smutty  Africa, 
Or  noose  him  in  a  halter  in  North  America. 

A  healrh  to  our  brave  footmen,  who  handle  sword 
and  gun, 

To  Greene,  Gates,  and  Putnam,  and  conquering 
Washington; 

Their  names  be  wrote  in  letters  which  never  shall 
decay 

While  sun  and  moon  doth  glitter  in  North  America. 

Success  unto  our  allies  in  Holland,  France,  and 
Spain, 

Who  man  their  ships  and  gallies,  our  freedom  to 
maintain, 

May  they  subdue  the  rangers  of  proud  Britannia, 

And  drive  them  from  their  anchor  in  North  Ame- 
rica. 

Success  unto  the  Congress  of  these  United  States, 
Who   glory   in   the   conquest   of  Washington   and 

Gates ; 
To  all,  both  land  and  seamen,   who  glory  in  the 

day, 
When  we  shall  all  be  freemen  in  North  America. 

Success  to  the  legislation   that   rules  with   gentle 

hand, 
To  trade  and  navigation,  by  water  and  by  land  ; 
May  all  with  one  opinion  our  wholesome  laws  obey. 
Throughout  this  vast  dominion  of  North  Amarip.ii, 

YANKEE  DOODLE. 

The  tune  of  Yankee  Doodle  is  said  to  have  been 
composed  by  a  Dr.  Skackburg,  attacked  to  tke 


British  Army,  in  1755,  when  the  (roops  of  the 
northern  colonies  inarched  into  Albany,  prepara- 
tory to  the  attack  on  the  French  posts  of  Niagara 
and  Frontemic.  The  habiliments  of  these  recruits 
presented  a  strange  contrast  to  the  orderly  ap- 
pointments of  the  English  soldiery,  and  the  music 
to  which  they  marched  was  as  antiquated  and  outre 
as  their  uniforms.  Sliackburg,  who  possessed 
some  musical  knowledge,  composed  a  tune  for 
the  new-comers,  which  lie  told  them  was  one  of 
the  most  celebrated  of  those  in  use  by  the  army. 
To  the  great  amusement  of  the  British,  the  pro- 
vincials accepted  the  gift,  and  "  Yankee  Doodle  " 
became  very  popular  among  them. 

The  tune  was  not  original  with  Sliackburg,  as 
it  has  been  traced  back  to  the  time  of  Charles  I., 
in  England.  In  the  reign  of  his  son  we  find  it  an 
accompaniment  to  a  little  song  on  a  famous  lady 
of  easy  virtue  of  that  date,  which  has  been  per- 
petuated as  a  nursery  rhyme — 

Lucy  Locket  lo*t  her  pocket, 

Kitty  Fisher  found  it ; 
Nothing  in  it,  nothing  in  it, 

But  the  binding  round  it. 

A  little  later  we  have  the  first  appearance  of 
that  redoubtable  personage  Yankee  Doodle.  He 
seems  even  at  that  early  stage  of  his  career  to 
have  shown  his  characteristic  trait  of  making  the 
most  of  himself — 

Yankee  Doodle  came  to  town, 

Upon  a  Kentish  pony  ; 
He  stuck  a  feather  in  his  hat, 

And  called  him  Macaroni. 

It  is  not  impossible,  however,  that  Yankee 
Doodle  may  be  from  Holland.  A  song  in  use 
among  the  laborers,  who  in  the  time  of  harvest 
migrate  from  Germany  to  the  Low  Countries, 
where  they  receive  for  their  work  as  much  butter- 
milk as  they  can  drink  and  a  tenth  of  the  grain 
secured  by  their  exertions,  has  this  burden — 

Yanker  didel,  doodel  down 

Didel,  dudel  lauter, 
Yanke  viver,  voover  vown, 

Botermilk  uud  Tanther. 

That  is,  buttermilk  and  a  tenth. 

This  song  our  informant  has  heard  repeated 
by  a  native  of  that  country,  who  had  often  lis- 
tened to  it  at  harvest  time  in  his  youth. 

The  precise  date  when 

Father  and  I  went  down  to  camp — 

cannot,  we  fear,  be  fixed  with  accuracy;  hut  as 
the  tune  was  sung  at  Bunker  Hill,  may  be  as- 
sumed to  have  been  in  1775. 

Our  copy  of  the  words  is  from  a  broadside  in 
a  collection  of  "  Songs,  Ballads,  &c,  purchased 
from  a  ballad  printer  and  seller  in  Boston  in 
1813,"  made  by  Isaiah  Thomas.  The  variations 
and  additional  stanzas  in  the  notes  are  from 
a  version  given  in  Fanner  and  Moore's  Historical 
Collections  of  New  Hampshire,  iii.  157. 

the  Yankee's  return  from  camp. 
Father  and  I  went  down  to  camp, 

Along  with  Captain  Gooding, 
And  there  we  see  the  men  and  boys, 

A3  thick  as  hasty  pudding. 


464 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Chorus — Yankee  Doodle,  keep  it  up, 
Yankee  Doodle,  dandy, 
Mind  the  music  aud  the  step, 
And  with  the  girls  be  handy. 

And  there  we  see  a  thousand  men, 

As  rich  as  'Squire  David ; 
And  what  they  wasted  every  day, 

I  wish  it  could  be  saved. 

The  'lasses  they  eat  every  day, 
Would  keep  an  house  a  winter; 

They  have  as  much  that,  I'll  be  bound, 
They  eat  it  when  they're  a  mind  to. 

And  there  we  see  a  swamping  gun, 

Large  as  a  log  of  maple, 
Upon  a  deuced  little  cart, 

A  load  for  father's  cattle. 

And  every  time  they  shoot  it  off, 

It  takes  a  horn  of  powder, 
And  makes  a  noise  like  father's  gun, 

Only  a  nation  louder. 

I  went  as  nigh  to  one  myself, 

As  Siah's  underpinning ; 
And  father  went  as  nigli  again, 

I  thought  the  deuce  was  in  him. 

Cousin  Simon  grew  so  bold, 

I  thought  he  would  have  cock'd  it ; 

It  scar'd  me  so,  I  shrink'd  it  off, 
And  hung  by  father's  pocket. 

And  Captain  Davis  had  a  gun, 

He  kind  of  clapt  his  hand  on't, 
And  stuck  a  crooked  stabbing  iron 

Upon  the  little  end  on't. 

And  there  I  see  a  pumpkin  shell 

As  big  as  mother's  bason  ; 
And  every  time  they  touch'd  it  off, 

They  scamper'd  like  the  nation. 

I  see  a  little  barrel  too, 

The  heads  were  made  of  leather, 
They  kuoek'd  upon't  with  little  clubs, 

And  call'd  the  folks  together. 

And  there  was  Captain  Washington,* 

And  gentlefolks  about  him, 
They  say  he's  grown  so  tarnal  proud, 

He  will  not  ride  without  'em. 

He  got  him  on  his  meeting  clothes, 

Upon  a  slapping  stallion, 
He  set  the  world  along  in  rows, 

In  hundreds  and  in  millions. 


*  There  was  Captain  Washington, 
Upon  a  slapping  stallion, 
A  giving  orders  to  his  men — 
I  guess  there  was  a  million. 

And  then  the  feathers  on  his  hat, 
They  look  d  so  tarnal  fina, 

I  wasted  pockily  to  get 
To  give  to  my  Jemima. 

And  there  they'd  fife  away  lite  fun, 
And  play  on  cornstalk  fiddles, 

And  some  had  ribbons  red  as  blood, 
All  wound  about  their  middles. 

The  troopers,  too,  would  gallop  up, 
And  fire  right  in  our  faces ; 

It  scar'd  me  almost  half  to  death, 
To  see  them  run  such  races. 

Old  Uncle  Bam  come  there  to  change 
Some  paDCakes  and  some  onions, 

For  'lasses-cakes,  to  carry  home 
To  give  his  wife  and  young  ones. 

But  I  can't  tell  you  half  I  see. 
They  kept  up  such  a  smother; 

So  I  took  my  hat  off,  made  a  bow, 
And  scamper'd  home  to  mother. 


The  flaming  ribbons  in  his  hat, 

They  look'd  so  taring  fine  ah, 
I  wanted  poekity  to  get, 

To  give  to  my  Jemimah. 

I  see  another  snarl  of  men 

A  digging  graves,  they  told  me, 
So  tarnal  long,  so  tarnal  deep, 

They  'tended  they  should  hold  me. 
It  scar'd  me  so,  I  hook'd  it  off, 

Nor  stop'd,  as  I  remember, 
Nor  turn'd  about,  'till  I  got  home, 

Lock'd  up  in  mother's  chamber. 

"WILLIAM  CIIAELES  WELLS. 
The  pleasant  and  confiding  autobiography  pre- 
fixed to  the  volume  of  Miscellanies  by  Dr.  Wells, 
informs  us  that  he  wa<  born  at  Charleston,  S.  C, 
in  May,  1757.  His  father  and  mother  were 
both  of  Scottish  birth,  and  emigrated  to  the 
colony  in  1753.  By  way  of  preventive  to  the 
"  disloyal  principles  which  began,  immediately 
after  the  peace  of  1763,  to  prevail  throughout 
America,"  his  father  arrayed  the  boy  in  "a  tartan 
coat,  and  a  blue  Scotch  bonnet ;  hoping  by  these 
means  to  make  him  consider  himself  a  Scotch- 
man." A  more  efficacious  course  to  the  desired 
result,  was  the  removal  of  the  son  to  Scotland, 
where  he  was  placed  at  Dumfries  school,  in  his 
tenth  year.  In  177'J  he  was  removed  to  Edin- 
burgh, and  attended  several  of  the  lower  classes 
in  the  Universitj".  The  next  year  he  returned  to 
Carolina,  and  remained  quietly  studying  medicine 
as  an  apprentice  to  Dr.  Alexander  Garden,  until 
"  the  American  rebellion  first  broke  out  in  New 
England."  Upon  this  his  father,  the  printer  of  a 
newspaper,  and  an  unflinching  Royalist,  left  for 
England,  and  was  followed  three  months  after  by 
the  son. 

From  1775  to  1778  he  was  employed  in  the 
study  of  his  profession  at  Edinburgh.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  he  obtained  the  position  of  a 
surgeon  in  a  Scotch  regiment  in  the  service  of 
Holland.  He  had  not  been  long  in  that  country 
before  feeling  himself  aggrieved  by  the  acts  of 
his  commanding  officer,  who  twice  imprisoned 
him,  he  resigned  his  commission,  and  the  same 
day  challenged  his  late  superior.  The  opponent 
immediately  arrested  him,  and  transmitted  a  com- 
plaint of  insubordination  to  the  higher  powers. 
The  circumstances  of  the  resignation  of  his  com- 
mission being  made  known,  he  was  at  once  set  at 
liberty. 

In  1780,  "  Carolina  having  been  conquered  by 
the  king's  troops,"  he  returned  to  Charleston  to 
settle  his  father's  business,  which  had  been  greatly 
injured  by  the  war.  While  thus  occupied  he 
wrote  an  article  directed  against  Americans,  who, 
on  being  released  on  parole  by  the  British,  took 
up  arms  against  the  mother  country.  The  article 
was  ordered  to  be  frequently  printed  in  the 
newspapers  by  the  British  commander,  and  its 
author  "thinks  it  highly  probable,  that  it  was 
owing  to  this  warning,  that  General  Balfour  and 
Lord  Moira  thought  themselves  justified  in  putting 
to  death  a  Colonel  Hayne,"  one  of  the  most  me- 
morable acts  of  the  southern  campaigns. 

On  the  evacuation  of  Charleston  in  1782, 
Wells  removed  to  East  Florida.  Here  he  remained 
until  the-  preliminaries  of  peace  having  been 
signed,  he  returned,  at  his  father's  request,  to 


ROBERT  DIHSMOOE. 


405 


Charleston,  under  the  protection  of  a  flag  of 
truce.  On  his  arrival  he  was  arrested  "  upon  a 
private  suit,  growing  out  of  a  transaction  of  his 
brother's."  He  refused  to  give  bail,  on  the  ground 
that  doing  so  would  be  an  admission  of  the  in- 
validity of  the  flag  as  a  means  of  protection 
against  arrest,  and  was  imprisoned.  He  applied 
to  the  English  commander  in  Florida  for  relief, 
who  after  a  delay  of  two  months  demanded  his 
release.  The  affair  was  finally  settled  by  the 
payment  of  the  claim  on  which  he  was  arrested, 
and  he  immediately  after  returned  to  Florida. 
He  was  shipwrecked  off  St.  Augustine,  but  none 
of  the  ship's  company  were  lost  or  injured.  In 
May,  1784,  he  returned  to  England,  and  about 
midsummer,  1785,  "had  the  name  of  Br.  Wells 
affixed  to  the  door"  of  his  lodging.  He  "  passed 
several  years  almost  without  taking  a  single  fee," 
but  at  last  received  some  aid  in  the  shape  of  an  ap- 
pointment as  one  of  the  physicians  to  the  Fins- 
bury  Dispensary,  with  a  salary  of  £50  a  year. 
It  was  ten  years  before  his  income  from  every 
source  amounted  to  £250. 

During  this  period  he  published  in  1792,  An 
Essay  on  Vision;  in  1795,  a  paper  in  the  Philo- 
sophical Transactions,  on  the  Influence  which  in- 
cites the  muscles  of  animals  to  contract,  in  Mr. 
GalvanVs  experiments ;  in  1797,  Experiments  on 
the  Colour  of  the  Blood;  and  in  1811,  Experi- 
ments and  Observations  on  Vision. 

In  1800  he  was  attacked  with  a  slight  fit  of 
apoplexy,  the  recurrence  of  which  he  warded  oft', 
as  he  supposes,  by  the  adoption  of  vegetable  diet. 

In  1812  he  commenced  some  researches  on  the 
subject  of  Dew.  Night  exposure,  and  labor  in 
autumn  in  this  matter,  brought  on  an  attack  of 
illness,  which  his  medical  friends  anticipated 
would  cause  his  death  in  a  few  months.  Upon 
receiving  this  intelligence,  he  immediately  set 
about  preparing  his  paper  on  Dew  for  publication, 
as  his  scattered  memoranda  would  have  been  of 
no  service  to  the  world  after  his  death.  His 
philanthropic  endeavors  secured  his  fame  and  per- 
haps his  life,  for  he  recovered  from  his  dangerous 
disease. 

His  Essay  was  published  in  August,  1814.  It 
at  once  established  the  author  in  the  high  position 
as  a  scientific  writer  which  he  has  since  main- 
tained, the  work  having  been  recently  cited  by 
Lyell,  in  his  lectures  in  this  country,  as  the  best 
authority  on  its  subject.  Its  style,  like  that  of 
his  other  philosophical  writings,  is  marked  by  its 
ease  and  simplicity. 

The  restoration  to  health  was  but  a  temporary 
respite  from  the  attacks  of  disease  to  which  the 
closing  years  of  his  life  were  subjected.  "His 
autobiography  was  dictated  by  him  at  intervals," 
says  the  editor  of  his  works,  "during  his  illness, 
after  he  had  lost  all  hope  of  recovery,  and  while 
he  was  uncertain  whether  he  should  live  to  finish 
it,  and  when  he  was  too  feeble  to  speak  long,  or 
to  write  much."  It  must  be  considered  a  proof 
of  extraordinary  composure  and  vigor  of  mind 
in  such  circumstances.  The  closing  sentence  is 
dated  August  28,  1817,  and  a  brief  note  informs 
us  that  their  author  died  on  the  evening  of  the 
18th  of  September  following. 

Dr.  Wells's  writings,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  brief  biographical  sketches,  were  all  on  medi- 
cal and  scientific  topics.     A  volume  of  his  works, 

vol.  i. — 30 


Containing  Essays  on  Vision  and  Dew,  was  pub- 
lished in  London  in  1816. 

ROBEET  DINSMOOE. 

In  1828  was  published  at  Haverhill,  Mass.,  a  vo- 
lume entitled,  Incidental  Poems,  accompanied 
with  Letters,  and  a  few  select  Pieces,  mostly  ori- 
ginal, for  their  illustration,  together  with  a  Pre- 
face and  Sketch  of  the  Author's  Life,  by  Robert 
Dinsmoor,  the  "  Rustic  Bard."  This  was  a  wri- 
ter of  originality,  who  penned  verses  in  the  Scot- 
tish dialect  and  good  Saxon  English  on  occasional 
topics,  arising  from  personal  incidents,  the  corre- 
spondence of  his  friends,  or  his  own  emotions. 
What  he  found  worth  living  for  he  considered 
good  enough  to  write  about,  and  set  it  down  with 
skill  and  simplicity.  He  belonged  to  a  family  of 
Scotch  Presbyterians,  who  had  settled  in  the  north 
of  Ireland,  and  had  emigrated  to  America  at  the 
beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century.  He  was 
born  at  Windham  in  New  Hampshire,  October 
7,  1757.  His  father  (something  of  a  rhymer  too 
in  his  day)  was  a  soldier  in  the  old  French  war. 
The  son  followed  the  example,  and  at  twenty 
was  at  the  battle  of  Saratoga,  Returning  he  be- 
came a  farmer  at  Windham,  and  a  zealous  Pres- 
byterian, passing  his  long  life  among  the  staunch 
old  settlers  of  Londonderry*  The  bard's  early 
education  was  of  the  scantiest,  picked  up  at  the 
village  school  from  Master  Sauce,  an  old  British 
soldier,  and  a  Master  McKeen,  "  a  man  of  pro- 
found erudition,  but  very  dilatory  in  attending, 
who  if  he  took  in  hand  to  catch  a  squirrel  by  the 
way,  would  do  it  if  it  took  him  half  the  fore- 
noon,"! from  whom  he  learned  reading  and  writ- 
ing. His  poetry  seems  to  have  come  by  nature 
and  the  reading  of  Robert  Burns.  It  had  its 
sentiment  and  its  Doric  humor,  which  did  not 
disdain  very  homely  realities,  as  in  the  account 
of  his  illness,  of  which  the  reader  will  be  satisfied 
on  the  production  of  a  single  stanza  : — 

With  senna,  salts,  and  castor  oil, 

They  dreneh'd  me  every  little  while; 
The  strong  disease  such  power  could  foil, 
To  yield  full  loth, 
At  length  we  found  the  foe  recoil, 
At  the  hot-bath. 


^l^^'^/' 


Whittier  has  described  his  old  age  in  a  genial 
picture  of  the  man  and  his  writings  : — "  The  last 
time  I  saw  him  he  was  chaffering  in  the  market- 
place of  my  native  village  (Haverhill),  swapping 
potatoes,  and  onions,  and  pumpkins,  for  tea,  cof- 
fee, molasses,  and,  if  the  truth  be  told,  New  Eng- 
land rum.  Three-score  years  and  ten,  to  use  his 
own  words — 

Hung  o'er  his  back, 
And  bent  him  like  a  muckle  pack. 

Yet  he  still  stood  stoutly  and  sturdily  in  his  thick 
shoes  of  cowhide,  like  one  accustomed  to  tread 


*  For  some  interesting  memorials  of  this  settlement.  The 
History  of  Londonderry,  by  the  Rev.  Edward  L.  Parker,  pub- 
lished in  Boston  in  1861,  niav  be  consulted. 

t  Life  of  the  Author,  written  b>'  himself,  in  a  letter  to  Silas 
Betton,  Esq.,  of  Salem,  N.  H. 


4:66 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LTEERATUEE 


independently  the  soil  of  his  own  acres — his 
broad,  honest  face,  seamed  by  care,  and  darkened 
by  exposure  to  '  all  the  airts  that  blow,'  and  his 
white  hair  flowing  in  patriarchal  glory  beneath 
his  felt  hat.  A  genial,  jovial,  large-hearted  old 
man,  simple  as  a  child,  and  betraying,  neither  in 
look  nor  manner,  that  he  was  accustomed  to 

Feed  on  thoughts  which  voluntary  move 
Harmonious  numbers 

"  Peace  to  him.  In  the  ancient  burial-ground 
of  Windham,  by  the  side  of  his  '  beloved  Molly,' 
and  in  view  of  the  old  meeting-house,  there  is  a 
mound  of  earth,  where,  every  spring,  green  grasses 
tremble  in  the  wind,  and  the  warm  sunshine  calls 
out  the  flowers.  There,  gathered  like  one  of  his 
own  ripe  sheaves,  the  farmer-poet  sleeps  with  his 
fathers."* 

BKTP"9   LAST  ADVICE. 

Written  in  lite  seventeenth  year  of  the  author's  age.  on  his  fa- 
ther's favorite  old  dvg,  who  had  survived  his  lhtji  year.  It 
was  sent  with  the  following  note  to  William  Dirmnoor,the 
bard's  uncle,  who  had  requested  a  copy  of  it. 

At  your  request,  kind  sir,  I  send  it, 
Skip's  last  advice — I  long  since  penn'd  it. 

In  honor  to  his  name. 
He  was  a  dog  of  noble  spirit, 
Possessing  talents,  worth,  and  merit, 

And  died  in  honest  fame. 
The  rational  creation  may 

Learn  wisdom  from  the  brute — 
Profound  instruction  they  convey, 

Sometimes  in  language  mute. 
Take  heed  thou,  and  read  thou 

This  moral  from  my  page, 
And  see  now,  with  me  now, 

A  base  degenerate  age. 

Introduction. 

This  poor  auld  dog  liv'd  mony  a  year, 

But  now  he  did  begin  to  fear 

That  death  about  the  doors  was  creepin', 

To  whip  him  off  when  he  was  sleepin' ; 

For  now  he  was  b.iith  deaf  an'  dumb, 

An'  cou'dna  hear  when  death  wad  come. 

When  he  was  young,  b.'lith  spry  an'  nimble, 

The  fear  o'  beasts  ne'er  made  him  tremble; 

He  try'd  to  keep  the  corn  fiae  bears, 

An'  help'd  us  aye  to  sing  our  prayeis; 

But  now  his  teeth  were  a'  worn  out, 

An'  him  grown  weak  instead  of  stout, 

He  cou'dna  sing  he  was  sae  weak, 

An'  I  took  pity  for  his  sake. 

He  turn'd  his  een  to  me  inviting, 

An'  sign'd  to  me  to  do  Ins  writing; 

I  took  the  hint,  an'  gat  my  pen, 

But  what  to  write  I  knew  not  then. 

I  by  acquaintance  knew  him  well, 

An'  by  his  looks  his  thoughts  could  tell, 

What  he  advis'd,  I  to  befriend  'im, 

In  Scottish  rhyme  have  rightly  penn'd  'em — 

From  those  who  want  to  hear  these  lines, 

I  crave  th'  attention  o'  their  minds: — 

Tent  weel !  for  'tis  Skip's  last  advice ! 
He  warns  ye  a'  now  to  be  wise ; 
Take  heed,  for  he'll  no  tell  you't  twice, 

For  now  he's  gawin' 
To  lea'  the  filthy  fleas  an'  lice, 

That  us'd  to  gnaw  'im. 


*  Old  Portraits  and  Modern  Sketches,  p.  803. 


After  breakfast  he  lay  down ; 
Quoth  he,  "  I  fear  I  shall  die  soon, 
Because  I  carina  sing  my  tune, 

I  us'd  to  sing, 
Till  a'  the  hills  an'  vallies  round 

Like  bells  wad  ring. 

Hear  me  a'  sizes  o'  my  kind, 

Baith  young  an'  auld,  keep  this  in  mind, 

An'  hearken  to  wdiat  I've  design'd 

Now  to  advise  ye : 
Be  guid,  an'  they'll  be  hard  to  find, 

That  will  despise  ye. 

Do  a'  you're  able  for  your  bluid, 
And  forward  a'  your  masters'  guid — 
You  ought  to  do  't  since  you're  allow'd 

To  serve  mankind  ; 
The  best  that  e'er  on  four  feet  stood, 

This  law  shall  find. 

Let  generations  yet  to  breed, 

Keep  mind  'o  this,  when  we  are  dead! 

I'm  gaun  the  gate  alack  wi'  speed, 

0'  a'  the  earth ! 
Wow  !  but  they're  simpletons  indeed 

Wha  live  in  mirth. 

Don't  you  like  those  your  guid  time  spend, 
But  aye  think  on  your  latter  end  ; 
If  you've  done  ill,  try  to  amend, 

An'  gi'e  aye  praise, 
An'  thank  the  Ane  wha  did  you  send 

Sae  mony  days. 

Though  like  a  lord  man  o'er 

An'  bang  ye  round  wi'  chairs  an  stools 

An'  bruise  ye  wi'  the  auld  pot  bails, 

Mind  not  their  powers — 
Their  bodies  maun  gang  to  the  niools, 

As  weel  as  ours. 

Now  ere  I  quat,  I'll  ask  ye  a', 
If  deacons  this  a  fau't  can  ea', 
An'  for  the  same  hoist  me  awa' 

Unto  the  Session, 
An'  gar  me  satisfy  their  law 

For  my  transgression? 

Gif  ye  say  na  then,  I'll  believ'  it, 
An'  never  let  mysel'  be  griev't, 
Nor  o'  my  rest  at  night  be  reav't, 

Nor  be  concern'd; 
But  say  it  is  a  lesson  priev't, 

Aye  to  be  learn'd 

I  maun  hae  done,  farewell,  adieu! 
Farewell  to  master  Billy  too, 
I  hae  na  breath  to  name  cnou ; 

Death's  come  to  plunder — 
He's  taken  me  for  ane  1  trow, 

Sae  I  knock  under." 


THE  POETS  FAREWELL  TO  TIIE  MUSES. 
I. 

Forbear,  my  friend,  withdraw  your  plssi. 
Ask  not  a  song  from  one  like  me, 

O'ercast  with  clouds  of  sorrow ! 
My  spring  of  life,  and  summer's  fled, 
I  mourn  those  darling  comforts  dead, 

Regardless  of  to-morrow ! 
My  harp  is  on  the  willow  hung, 

Nor  dissipates  the  gloom  ! 
My  sweetest  minstrel's  all  unstrung, 

And  silent  as  the  tomb ! 

My  lute  too,  is  mute  too, 

While  drops  the  trickling  tear! 

My  organ  makes  jargon, 

And  grates  my  wounded  ear. 


ROBERT  DIXSMOOR. 


467 


Farewell,  yon  mould'ring  mansion,  there, 
Where  first  I  drew  the  natal  air, 

And  learn'd  to  prate  and  plaj'. 
There  rose  a  little  filial  band, 
Beneath  kind  parents'  fostering  hand — 

Their  names  let  live  for  aye! 
They  taught  their  offspring  there  to  real 

And  hymn  their  Maker's  praise, 
To  say  their  catechism  and  creed, 

And  shun  all  vicious  ways. 

They  careful  and  prayerful, 

Their  pious  precepts  press'd, 

"With  ample  example 

Their  children  still  were  bless'd. 

in. 
Kind  man  !  my  gunvdinn  and  my  sire, 
Friend  of  the  muse  and  poet's  lyre, 

With  genuine  wit  and  glee, 
How  sweetly  did  his  numbers  glide, 
When  all  delighted  by  his  side, 

He  read  his  verse  to  me! 
The  parallel  was  drawn  between 

The  freedom  we  possess'd, 
And  where  our  fathers  long  had  been 

By  lords  and  bishops  press'd. 

His  rhyme  then  did  chime  then, 

Like  music  through  my  heart; 

Desiring,  aspiring, 

I  strove  to  gain  his  art. 

IV. 

No  more  I'll  tune  the  poet's  lyre, 
No  more  I'll  ask  the  muses'  fire, 

To  warm  my  chilling  breast; 
No  more  I'll  feel  the  genial  flame, 
Nor  seek  a  poet's  deathless  fame, 

But  silent  sink  to  rest. 
Farewell,  the  mount,  eall'd  Jenny's  Hill — 

Ye  stately  oaks  and  pines! 
Farewell,  yon  pretty  purling  rill, 

Which  from  its  brow  declines, 

Meandering  and  wandering 

The  woodbines  sweet  among, 

Where  pleasure  could  measure 

The  bobyliukorn'e  song! 

v. 
On  summer  evenings,  calm  and  bright, 
O'er  yonder  summit's  towering  height, 

With  pleasure  did  I  roam  ; 
Perhaps  to  seek  the  robin's  young, 
Or  the  mavis'  warbling  tongue, 

And  bring  the  heifers  home — 
See  from  my  foot,  the  night-hawk  rise, 

And  leave  her  unfledged  pair, 
Then  quick  descending  from  the  skies, 

Like  lightning  cut  the  air. 

The  hares  there,  she  scares  there, 

And  through  the  pines  they  trip, 

They're  sought  then,  and  caught  then, 

By  my  companion,  Skip. 

VI. 

Andover's  steeples  there  were  seen, 
While  o'er  the  vast  expanse  between, 

I  did  with  wonder  gaze  ; 
There,  as  it  were  beneath  my  feet, 
I  view'd  my  father's  pleasant  seat — 

My  joy  in  younger  days. 
There  Windham  Range,  in  flowery  vest, 

Was  seen  in  robes  of  green, 
While  Gobbet's  Pond,  from  east  to  west. 

Spread  her  bright  waves  between. 

Cows  lowing,  cocks  crowing. 

While  frogs  on  Cobbet's  shore, 


Lay  croaking  and  mocking 
The  bull's  tremendous  roar. 


The  fields  no  more  their  glories  wear, 
The  forests  now  stand  bleak  and  bare, 

Alt  of  their  foliage  stript; 
The  rosy  lawn,  the  flowery  mead, 
Where  lambkins  used  to  play  and  feed, 

By  icy  fingers  nipt. 
No  more  I'll  hear  with  ravish'd  ears, 

The  music  of  the  wood, 
Sweet  scenes  of  youth,  now  gone  with  ye:ir3 

Long  pass'd  beyond  the  flood. 

Bereaved  and  grieved, 

I  solitary  wail, 

With  sighing  and  crying, 

My  drooping  spirits  fail. 

vni. 
No  more  will  I  the  Spring  Brook  trace, 
No  more  with  sorrow  view  the  place 

Where  Mary's  wash-tub  stood, 
No  more  I'll  wander  there  alone, 
And  lean  upon  the  mossy  stone, 

Where  once  she  pil'd  her  wood. 
'Twas  there  she  bleached  her  linen  cloth, 

By  yonder  bass-wood  tree  ; 
From  that  sweet  stream  she  made  her  broth, 

Her  pudding  anil  her  tea, 

Whose  rumbling  and  tumbling 

O'er  rocks  with  quick  despatch, 

Made  ringing  and  singing, 

None  but  her  voice  could  match. 

IX. 

Farewell,  sweet  scenes  of  rural  life, 
My  faithful  friends  and  loving  wife, 

But  transient  blessings  nil. 
Bereft  of  those,  I  sit  and  mourn ; 
The  spring  of  life  will  ne'er  return, 

Chill  death  grasps  great  and  small; 
I  fall  before  thee,  God  of  truth  1 

O,  hear  my  prayer  and  cry  ; 
Let  me  enjoy  immortal  youth, 

With  saints  above  the  sky. 

Thy  praise  there,  I'll  raise  there. 

With  all  my  heart  and  soul, 

Where  pleasure  and  treasure, 

In  boundless  oceans  rolL 


THE  SPARROW.* 

Poor  innocent  and  hapless  Sparrow  ! 

Why  should  my  moul-board  gie  thee  sorrow 

This  day  thou'll  chirp,  an'  mourn  the  morrow. 

Wi'  anxious  breast — 
The  plough  has  turn'd  the  mould'ring  furrow 

Deep  o'er  thy  nest. 

Just  in  the  middle  o'  the  hill. 

Thy  nest  was  plac'd  wi'  curious  skill ; 

There  I  espy'd  thy  little  bill 

Beneath  the  shade — 
In  that  sweet  bower  secure  frae  ill, 

Thine  eggs  thou  laid. 


*  Robert  Dinsmoor  to, Silas  Button. 

Mr  Bear  Sir — I  take  tlie  liberty  to  address  the  following 
poem  to  you,  and  'wish  you  to  correct  it  and  send  me  your  can- 
did remarks  upon  it.  I  will  not  say  criticism,  lest  it  should 
prevent  my  ever  writing  any  more.  It  was  occasioned  by  my 
crushing  a  nest  of  Sparrow's  eggs,  when  ploughing  among  the 
corn.  July  20,  1612.  And  about  that  time,  I  saw  a  well-done 
piece  in  the  Haverhill  Intelligencer,  in  imitation  of  Burns's 
delightful  Nanny,  which  induced  me  to  adopt  the  Scottish  dia- 
lect, that  it  might  the  better  resemble  his  beautiful  mountain 
daisy. — I  call  it  The  Sparrow. 


408 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Five  corns  o'  maize  had  there  been  drappit, 
A.11'  through  the  stalks  thine  head,  thou  pappit ; 
The  drawing  nowt  couldna'  be  stappit, 

I  quickly  foun' — 
Syne  frae  thy  cozie  nest  thou  happit, 

An'  fluttering  ran. 

The  sklentin  Btane  beguil'd  the  sheer, 
In  vain  I  try'd  the  plough  to  steer; 
A  wee  bit  stumpie  i'  the  rear, 

Cam'  'tween  my  legs — 
An'  to  the  jee  side  gart  me  veer, 

An'  crush  thine  eggs. 

Alas!  alas!  my  bonnie  birdie! 

Thy  faitlifu'  mate  flits  roun'  to  guard  ye. 

Connubial  love!  a  pattern  wordy 

The  pious  priest! 
"What  savage  heart  could  be  sae  hardy, 

As  wound  thy  breast  ? 

Thy  ruin  was  nae  fau't  o'  mine, 
(It  gars  me  greet  to  see  thee  pine ;) 
It  may  be  serves  his  great  design, 

Who  governs  all ; 
Omniscience  tents  wi'  eyes  divine, 

The  Sparrow's  fall. 

A  pair  more  friendly  ne'er  were  married. 
Their  joys  an'  pains  were  equal  carried ; 
But  now,  ah  me  !  to  grief  they're  hurried, 

"Without  remead ; 
When  all  their  hope  an'  treasure's  buried 

'Tis  sad  indeed. 

How  much  like  theirs  are  human  dools  1 
Their  sweet  wee  bairns  laid  i'  the  mools, 
That  sovereign  Pow'r  who  nature  rules, 

Has  said  so  be  it ; 
Eut  poor  bli:i'  mortals  are  sic'  fools, 

They  canna'  see  it. 

Nae  doubt,  that  He  wha  first  did  mate  us, 

Has  fixt  our  lot  as  sure  as  fate  is, 

And  when  lie  wounds,  he  disna'  hate  us, 

But  only  this — 
He'll  gar  the  ills  that  here  await  us, 

"i'ield  lasting  bliss. 


Robert  Dinsmoor  to  Den.  Isaac  Cochran,  of  Antrim,  N.  H.,  his 
mother's  brother,  who  teas  a  lii  utenant  at  the  taking  of  Ge- 
neral Rurgotjne,  October  17,  1TT7.  A  Short  Review  of  that 
Expedition.* 

My  faithful  friend,  and  uncle,  kind, 

I  would  bring  some  things  to  your  mind, 

Which  still  impress'd  on  mine  I  find, 

By  recollection ; 
That  seems  my  heart  with  yours  to  bind, 

In  strong  affection. 

From  my  first  dawn  of  life  you've  known  me  ; 
When  nature  on  the  world  had  thrown  me, 
You  did  a  first-born  nephew  own  me, 

Or  younger  brother ; 
And  friendship  ever  since  have  shown  me, 

Kind  like  my  mother. 

Childhood  and  youth,  manhood  and  age, 
You've  been  my  friend  in  every  stage  ; 
Sometimes  in  sport,  we  would  engage 

Our  nerves  to  try  ; 
Sometimes,  t'  explore  the  music  page, 

The  genius  ply. 

"When  British  laws  would  us  enthral, 
Our  country  for  defence  did  call ; 


*  This  was  not  the  first  campaign  they  hud  been  in  the  war 
together. 


Then  martial  fire  inspir'd  us  all, 

To  arms  we  flew ; 
And  as  a  soldier,  stand  or  fall, 

I  went  with  you  I 

O'er  western  hills  we  travell'd  fj?, 
Pass'd  Saratoga  the  site  of  war, 
Where  Burgoyne  roll'd  his  feudal  car, 

Down  Hudson's  strand ; 
And  Gates,  our  glorious  western  star, 

Held  high  command. 

From  the  green  ridge,  we  glanc'd  our  eyes, 
Where  village  flames  illum'd  the  skies, 
Destruction  there  was  no  surprise, 

On  Hudson's  shore! 
Though  smoke  in  burning  pillars  rise, 

And  cannons  roar  1 

But  to  Fort  Edward*  we  were  sent, 
Through  icy  Barteuskiln  we  went, 
And  on  that  plain  we  pitch'd  our  tent, 

'Gainst  rain  and  snow ; 
Our  orders  there,  was  to  prevent 

The  flying  foe. 

By  counter  orders,  back  we  came, 
And  cross'd  the  Hudson  s  rapid  stream. 
At  Schuyler's  Mills, f  of  no  small  fame. 

Thence  took  our  post, 
Near  Burgoyne's  line,  with  fixed  aim, 

To  take  his  host ! 

With  courage  bold,  we  took  the  field, 
Our  foes  no  more  their  swords  could  wield, 
God  was  our  strength,  and  He  our  shield, 

A  present  aid ! 
Proud  Burgoyne's  army  there  did  yield, 

All  captive  made ! 

Great  Britain's  honor  there  was  stain'd, 
We  sang  a  glorious  victory  gain'd! 
From  hence  our  States  a  rank  obtain'd, 

'Mongst  nations  great ; 
Our  future  glory  was  ordain'd, 

As  sure  as  fate  ! 

To  Windham,  back  with  joy  we  turn'd, 
Where  parents  dear  our  absence  mour:.  d  ; 
And  our  fair  friends  in  rapture  burn'd, 

To  see  our  faces ! 
Sweet  pearly  drops  their  cheeks  adorn'd. 

In  our  embraces ! 

When  all  our  vanquish 'd  foes  were  fled, 
Love,  peace,  and  harmony  were  shed, 
Like  oil  descending  on  the  head, 

Or  milk  or  wine  ; 
Williams,:):  the  man  of  God  us  fed, 

With  food  divine. 

0  !  let  not  you  and  I  forget, 
How  often  we've  together  met, 
Like  Heman  and  Jeduthon,§  set 

In  God's  own  house ; 
And  solemnly  his  table  at, 

Renew 'd  our  vowsl 

And  when  the  sacred  scene  was  past, 

We  sang  Doxology  at  last, 

To  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 

United  Three ! 
One  God,  our  souls  redeemed  hast, 

So  let  it  be ! 


*  Fort  Edward  lies  on  the  east  side  of  the  river,  twelve 
miles  above  Saratoga. 

+  Then  called  Fort  Miller — the  remains  of  the  old  fort  were 
then  to  be  seen. 

X  Rev.  Simon  "Williams. 

§  The  two  principal  leaders  of  the  singing  in  the  Congrega- 
tion. 


FISHER  AMES. 


469 


While  reason  in  her  seat  remains, 

And  blood  runs  streaming  through  my  veins, 

Or  memory  her  power  retains, 

I  shall  review. 
And  think  upon  the  various  scenes, 

I've  pass'd  with  you. 

FISHEE  AMES. 
The  traditional  reputation  of  Ames  for  eloquence, 
Landed  down  by  his  friends  and  fellow  politicians, 
has  not  expired  in  his  published  writings.  One 
of  these  anecdotes  which  we  heard  related,  ex- 
hibits the  man  ;  sensitive,  oratorical,  and  poetical 
in  his  ordinary  conversation.  The  news  of  the 
death  of  Hamilton,  which  gave  occasion  to  one 
of  the  most  pathetic  and  brilliant  of  his  oratori- 
cal essays,  was  communicated  to  him  at  Dedham 
by  two  of  his  friends,  who  went  thither  for  the 
purpose.  They  found  him  on  his  grounds,  walk- 
ing with  his  stick  in  his  hand,  superintending 
some  carpenters  at  work  for  him.  He  was  told 
of  the  death  of  Hamilton,  and  its  manner.  Ab- 
sorbed in  the  intelligence,  he  expressed  himself  in 
an  eloquent  soliloquy  :  "A  great  man  has  fallen" 
— and  continued  enumerating  the  virtues  of  Ham- 
ilton, and  his  relations  to  his  times,  when,  as  he 
looked  down,  he  struck  a  thistle  with  his  cane. 
It  supplied  him  with  his  favorite  imager}' : 
"  Salient  and  pungent,  in  the  acuteness  of  his 
mind,"  he  proceeded,  "as  the  thorn  on  that  this- 
tle ;  soft  and  gentle  in  the  affections  of  his  heart, 
as  its  down." 

The  part  borne  by  Ames  in  politics  identifies 
him  with  the  history  of  Federalism.  His  statue 
should  always  preserve  its  niche  among  the  states- 
men of  his  country. 


Fisher  Ames  was  born  at  Dedham,  near  Boston, 
April  9,  1758.  Of  his  early  career  we  have  but 
scant  mention  in  the  "Life"  prefixed  to  his 
writings  by  President  Kirkland,  a  composition 


which  is  rather  a  eulogy  than  a  biography.*  His 
family  ran  back  to  the  Rev.  William  Ames,  the 
author,  in  England,  of  the  Medulla  Theologian. 
His  grandfather  and  father  were  physicians,  the 
latter,  Dr.  Nathaniel  Ames,  having  acquired  a 
household  reputation  throughout  New  England 
by  his  calculations  as  an  astronomer,  in  his  alma- 
;  nacs  or  Astronomical  Diaries,  which  were  pub- 
lished successively  from  the  year  1726  to  the 
year  1775.t  He  kept  a  tavern  at  Dedham,  which 
in  those  days  added  to  his  celebrity  and  influence. 

Fisher  Ames  gave  early  attention  to  classical 
literature,  for  which  he  maintained  a  fondness 
through  life.  He  was  a  student  of  Harvard,  re- 
ceiving his  degree  in  1774.  He  then  passed  a 
short  time  as  a  teacher,  studied  law  in  the  office 
of  William  Tudor,  wrote  some  essays  on  the  poli- 
tics of  his  state  in  the  new-papers,  signed  Lucius 
Junius  Brutus  and  Camillas,  in  1780;  was  chosen 
representative  to  the  state  legislature  in  1788; 
was  the  first  representative  from  Suffolk  district 
,  to  the  first  Congress  under  the  Constitution, 
where  lie  remained  during  the  whole  term  of 
Washington's  administration,  ardently  advocating 
the  federal  policy,  and  delivering  his  great  speech; 
in  the  House  of  Representatives,  on  sustaining 
the  provisions  of  the  British  Treaty,  April  28, 
1796.  It  was  extorted  from  his  feeble  health  by 
the  pressure  of  the  times,  and  remains  a  master- 
piece of  argument  supported  by  good  sense  and  a 
high  honor.  The  skill  displayed  in  his  oratorical 
policy  is  admirable.  It  courteously  winds  round 
the  opposition,  with  its  generous  allowances,  and 
strangles  them  in  its  embraces. 

After  he  left  Congress,  he  passed  hi ;  time  most- 
ly in  retirement  on  his  farm  at  Dedham,  exer- 
cising his  pen  in  a  large  correspondence  on  public 
affairs,  and  watching  the  position  of  his  country 
towards  France  with  unabated  interest.  In  Feb- 
ruary,' 1800,  he  delivered  a  eulogy  on  Washing- 
ton, at  the  request  of  the  Legislature  of  Massa- 
chusetts, a  statesmanlike  and  eloquent  view  of 
the  character  and  position  of  his  hero. 

His  health,  broken  from  the  time  of  his  con- 
gressional life,  rapidly  declined  till  ho  expired  on 
the  anniversary  of  the  National  Independence,  July 
4,  1808,  having  just  completed  his  fiftieth  year. 

The  qualities  of  his  mind  were  delicate  sensi- 
bility, an  instinctive  sagacity  for  the  higher 
moralities  of  politics,  a  fine  poetical  vein  in  an 
active  fancy,  which  combined  with  his  physical 
accomplishments  of  a  manly,  winning  attitude 
and  well-toned  voice,  to  render  him  a  most  effi- 
cient orator. 

The  quick  and  forgetive  fancy  of  Ames  led  to 
that  condensation  of  expression  which  is  the  pe- 
culiarity of  his  writings.  He  thought  in  figures. 
What  labored  deduction  could  so  well  express  the 
twin  qualities  of  Hamilton's  private  and  public 
life  as  this  brilliant  poetical  sentence  :  "  It  is  not 
as  Apollo,  enchanting  the  shepherds  with  his  lyre, 
that  we  deplore  him  ;  it  is  as  Hercules,  treache- 
rously slain  in  the  midst  of  his  unfinished  labors, 
leaving  the  world  overrun  with  monsters."  Or 
what  finer   transition  could  there  be  from  the 


*  This  life  was  originally  prefixed  to  the  collection  of  Ames's 
speeches  and  writings  in  1809. 

+  They  were  published  by  father  mid  son  ;  to  the  year  1TG5 
by  N.  Ames,  and  after  that  by  N.  Ames,  Jr. 


470 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


softness  of  grief  to  its  energy,  than  in  this  passage 
of  lament,  steeped  in  the  very  life-blood  of  the 
heart:  "The  tears  that  flow  on  this  fond  recital 
■will  never  dry  up.  My  heart,  penetrated  with 
the  remembrance  of  the  man,  grows  liquid  as  I 
write,  and  I  could  pour  it  out  like  water.  I  could 
weep,  too,  for  my  country,  which,  mournful  as  it 
is,  does  not  know  the  half  of  its  loss.  It  deeply 
laments,  when  it  turns  its  eyes  back  and  sees 
what  Hamilton  was ;  but  my  soul  stiffens  with 
despair  when  I  think  what  Hamilton  would  have 
been."  How  finely  he  compares  the  course  of 
Washington  to  that  of  the  river  on  which  he 
dwelt:  "The  unambitious  life  of  Washington, 
declining  fame  yet  courted  by  it,  seemed,  like  the 
Ohio,  to  choose  its  long  way  through  solitudes, 
diffusing  fertility ;  or,  like  his  own  Potomac, 
widening  and  deepening  his  channel,  as  he  ap- 
proaches the  sea,  and  displaying  most  the  useful- 
ness and  serenity  of  his  greatness  towards  the 
end  of  his  course."  In  his  fears  of  the  progress 
of  democracy,  he  looks  in  vain  for  any  power  to 
check  its  excesses:  "Surely,"  says  he,  "not  the 
Judiciary,  for  we  cannot  expect  the  office  of  the 
priesthood  from  the  victim  at  the  altar."  Again 
he  writes :  "  We  have  no  Juvenal ;  and  if  we 
had,  he  would  scorn  to  dissect  the  vice  that  wants 
firmness  for  the  knife,  to  elevate  that  he  might 
hit  his  object,  and  to  dignity  low  profligacy  to  be 
the  vehicle  of  a  loathsome  immortality."  Of  the 
supporters  of  the  French  Revolution,  he  wrote  : 
"The  'enlightened'  philosophists  surveyed  the 
agitations  of  the  world  as  if  they  did  not  live  in 
it ;  as  if  they  occupied,  as  mere  spectators,  a  safe 
position  in  some  star,  and  beheld  revolutions 
sometimes  brightening  the  disk  of  this  planet 
with  their  fires,  and  at  others  dimming  it  with 
their  vapors.  They  could  contemplate,  unmoved, 
the  whirlwind,  lifting  the  hills  from  their  base 
and  mixing  their  ruins  with  the  clouds.  They 
could  see  the  foundations  of  society  gaping  in 
fissures,  as  when  an  earthquake  struggles  from  the 
centre.  A  true  philosopher  is  superior  to  humani- 
ty ;  he  could  walk  at  ease  over  this  earth  if  it 
were  unpeopled ;  he  could  tread,  with  all  the 
pleasure  of  curiosity,  on  its  cinders  the  day  after 
the  final  conflagration."  In  his  Lessons  from 
History,  comparing  the  policy  of  Jefferson 
towards  France  with  that  of  England  in  the  old 
French  war,  he  has  this  bold  illustration  :  "  Great 
Britain  looked  at  these  aggressions,  and  she  saw 
in  the  whole  aspect  of  affairs,  as  in  a  looking- 
glass,  blotches  of  dishonor,  like  leprosy,  in  her 
face,  if  she  should  bear  these  wrongs  with  a 
tameness  that  she  foresaw  would  multiply 
them." 

The  conclusion  of  his  speech  on  the  British 
Treaty,  when  he  alludes  to  his  feeble  health,  could 
hardly  be  surpassed  for  delicacy  or  force :  *  "  I 

*  Dr.  Charles  Caldwell,  who  'attended  the  debates,  in  his 
Autobiography  thus  speaks  of  Ames's  eloquence:  "He  was 
decidedly  one  of  the  most  splendid  rhetoricians  of  the  age. 
Two  of  his  speeches,  in  a  special  manner — that  on  Jay's  treaty, 
and  that  usually  called  his  '  Tomahawk  Speech,"  (because  it  in- 
cluded some  resplendent  passages  on  Indian  massacres) — were 
the  most  brilliant  and  fascinating  specimens  of  eloquence  I 
have  ever  heard  :  yet  have  I  listened  to  some  of  the  most  cele- 
brated speakers  in  the  British  parliament — among  others,  to 
Wilberforee  ami  Mackintosh,  Plunket,  Brougham  and  Can- 
Ding  ;  and  Dr.  Priestley,  who  was  familiar  with  the  oratory  of 
Pitt  the  father  and  Pitt  the  son,  and  also  with  that  of  Burke 
and  Fox,  made  to  myself  the  acknowledgment,  that,  in  his 
own  words,  the  speech  of  Ames,  on  the  British  Treaty,  was 


have  been  led  by  my  feelings  to  speak  more  at 
length  than  I  had  intended.  Yet  I  have  perhaps 
as  little  personal  interest  in  the  event  as  any  one 
here.  There  is,  I  believe,  no  member,  who  will 
not  think  his  chance  to  be  a  witness  of  the  con- 
sequences greater  than  mine.  If,  however,  the 
vote  should  pass  to  reject,  and  a  spirit  should  rise, 
as  it  will,  with  the  public  disorders,  to  make 
'  confusion  worse  confounded,'  even  I,  slender 
and  almost  broken  as  my  hold  upon  life  is,  may 
outlive  the  government  and  constitution  of  my 
country." 

The  correspondence  of  Ames,  recently  pub- 
lished* by  his  son,  Seth  Ames,  shows  the  politi- 
cian in  his  most  confidential  moods,  writing  to 
his  political  friends  on  the  polities  in  which  he 
bore  a  personal  part,  from  his  introduction  to  the 
first  Congress  under  the  Constitution,  in  New 
York,  in  1780,  to  his  last  Dedham  letters  to 
Timothy  Pickering  and  Josiah  Quincy,  at  the 
close  of  the  year  preceding  his  death.  The  party 
spirit  of  Federalism  lives  again  in  these  pages. 
Well  grounded  in  the  principles  of  conservatism, 
and  with  a  deeply  founded  respect  for  the  Consti- 
tution, Ames  mingled  with  his  convictions  the 
restless  anticipations  of  a  mind  given  to  despon- 
dency. For  a  new  state,  he  was  something  of  a 
croaker  ;  a  man  constitutionally  timid.  There 
were  "  the  fears  of  the  brave  "  in  his  composition ; 
but,  if  he  doubted  of  affairs,  it  was  with  a  pa- 
triotic motive  and  acute  philosophic  argument  to 
support  him.  "  Government,"  he  writes  from 
Philadelphia,  to  his  constant  correspondent, 
George  Richards  ilinot,  "  here  is  in  the  cradle, 
and  good  men  must  watch  their  own  child,  or  it 
will  die  and  be  made  away  with."  No  one  watch- 
ed more  vigilantly  than  Ames,  or  cried  "Wolf! 
wolf!"  to  the  child  oftener. 

The  letters  of  Ames  are  sharply  written,  with 
point  and  occasional  felicities  of  expression,  but 
they  are  not  elaborate  or  highly  finished  compo- 
sitions, rarely  partaking  of  the  essay  character  of 
some  of  Webster's  epistles. 

In  his  religious  views,  Ames  was,  by  choice 
and  principle,  a  member  of  the  Protestant  Epis- 
copal Church. 

MO.NSTEOUS  EOLATIONS  IS  NEWSPAPEES.+ 

(Addressed  to  Printers.) 

It  seems  ns  if  newspaper  wares  were  made  to  suit 
a  market,  as  much  as  any  other.  The  starers,  and 
wonderers,  and  gapers,  engross  a  very  large  share 
of  the  attention  of  all  the  sons  of  the  type.  Extra- 
ordinary events  multiply  upon  us  surprisingly. 
Gazettes,  it  is  seriously  to  be  feared,  will  not  long 
allow  room  to  any  thiDg  that  is  not  loathsome  or 
shocking.  A  newspaper  is  pronounced  to  be  very 
lean  and  destitute  of  matter,  if  it  contains  no  account 
of  murders,  suicides,  prodigies,  or  monstrous  births. 

Some  of  these  tales  excite  horror,  and  others  dis- 
gust; yet  the  fashion  reigns,  like  a  tyrant,  to  relish 
wonders,  and  almost  to  relish  nothing  else.  Is  this 
a  reasonable  taste  ?  or  is  it  monstrous  and  worthy 
of  ridicule?  Is  the  History  of  Xewgate  the  only 
one  worth  reading  ?     Are  oddities  only  to  be  hunf- 

'the  most  bewitching  piece  of  parliamentary  oratory  he  had 
ever  listened  to.'  " — CaldwdTs  Autoliography,  114. 

*  Works  of  Fisher  Ames,  with  a  selection  from  his  Speech/* 
and  Correspondence.  Edited  by  his  son,  Seth  Ames.  Two" 
vols.  Svo.    Boston.    Little.  Brown  &  Co.    1?54. 

+  First  published  in  the  Palladium,  October,  1SC1. 


FI3IIER  AMES. 


47J 


ed  ?  Pray  tell  us,  men  of  ink,  if  our  free  presses  are 
to  diffuse  information,  and  we,  the  poor  ignorant 
people,  ean  get  it  in  no  other  way  than  by  newspa- 
pers, what  knowledge  we  are  to  glean  from  the 
blundering  lies,  or  the  tiresome  truths  about  thunder 
storms,  that,  strange  to  to' 1 K  kill  oxen,  or  burn 
barns ;  and  cats,  that  bring  two-headed  kittens  ;  and 
sows,  that  eat  their  own  pigs  ?  The  crowing  of  a 
hen  is  supposed  to  forebode  cuckledom ;  and  the 
ticking  of  a  little  bug  in  the  wall  threatens  yellow 
fever.  It  seems  really  as  if  our  newspapers  were 
busy  to  spread  superstition.  Omens,  and  dreams, 
and  prodigies,  are  recorded,  as  if  they  were  worth 
minding.  One  would  think  our  gazettes  were  in- 
tended for  Roman  readers,  who  were  silly  enough  to 
make  account  of  such  tilings.  We  ridicule  the 
papists  for  their  credulity  ;  yet,  if  all  the  trumpery 
of  our  papers  is  believed,  we  have  little  right  to 
laugh  at  any  set  of  people  on  earth  ;  and  if  it  is  not 
believed,  why  is  it  printed? 

Surely  extraordinary  events  have  not  the  best 
title  to  our  studious  attention.  To  study  nature  or 
man,  we  ought  to  know  things  that  are  in  the  ordi- 
nary course,  not  the  unaccountable  things  that  hap- 
pen out  of  it. 

This  country  is  said  to  measure  seven  hundred 
millions  of  acres,  and  is  inhabited  by  almost  six 
millions  of  people.  Who  can  doubt,  then,  that  a 
great  many  crimes  will  be  committed,  and  a  great 
many  strange  things  will  happen  every  seven 
years?  There  will  be  thunder  showers,  that  will 
split  tough  white  oak  trees:  and  hail  storms,  that 
will  cost  some  farmers  the  full  amount  of  twenty 
shillings  to  mend  their  glass  windows  ;  there  will 
be  taverns,  and  boxing  matches,  and  elections,  and 
gouging  and  drinking,  and  love  and  murder,  and 
running  in  debt,  and  running  away,  and  suicide. 
Now,  if  a  man  supposes  eight,  or  ten,  or  twenty 
dozen  of  these  amusing  events  will  happen  in  a  sin- 
gle year,  is  he  not  just  as  wise  as  another  man,  who 
reads  fifty  columns  of  amazing  particulars,  and,  of 
course,  knows  that  they  have  happened? 

This  state  has  almost  one  hundred  thousand 
dwelling  houses;  it  would  be  strange  if  all  of  them 
should  escape  fire  for  twelve  months.  Yet  is  it 
very  profitable  for  a  man  to  become  a  deep  student 
of  all  the  accidents  by  which  they  are  consumed? 
He  should  take  good  care  of  his  chimney  corner,  and 
put.  a  fender  before  the  back-log,  before  he  goes  to 
bed.  Having  done  this,  he  may  let  his  aunt  or 
grandmother  read  by  day,  or  meditate  by  night,  the 
terrible  newspaper  articles  of  fires ;  how  a  maid 
dropped  asleep  reading  a  romance,  and  the  bed 
clothes  took  fire  ;  how  a  boy,  searching  in  a  garret 
for  a  hoard  of  nuts,  kindled  some  flax  ;  and  how  a 
mouse,  warming  his  tail,  caught  it  on  fire,  and  car- 
ried it  into  his  hole  in  the  floor. 

Some  of  the  shocking  articles  in  the  papers  raise 
simple,  and  very  simple,  wonder  ;  some  terror  ;  and 
some  horror  and  disgust.  Now  what  instruction  is 
there  in  these  endless  wonders?  Who  is  the  wiser 
or  happier  for  reading  the  accounts  of  them?  On 
the  contrary,  do  they  not  shock  tender  minds,  and 
addle  shallow  brains?  They  make  a  thousand  old 
maids,  and  eight  or  ten  thousand  booby  boys, 
afraid  to  go  to  bed  alone.  Worse  than  this  hap- 
pens ;  for  some  eccentric  minds  are  turned  to  mis- 
chief by  such  accounts  as  they  receive  of  troops  of 
incendiaries  burning  our  cities:  the  spirit  of  imita- 
tion is  contagious ;  and  boys  are  found  unaccounta- 
bly bent  to  do  as  men  do.  When  the  man  flew 
from  the  6teeple  of  the  North  church  fifty  years 
ago,  every  unlucky  boy  thought  of  nothing"  but 
Hying  from  a  sign-post. 

It  was  once  a  fashion  to  stab  heretics ;  and  Ra- 


vaillac,  who  stabbed  Henry  the  Fourth  of  France, 
the  assassin  of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  of  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham,  with  many  others,  only  followed 
the  fashion.  Is  it  not  in  the  power  of  newspapers 
to  spread  fashions;  and  by  dinning  burnings  and 
murders  in  everybody's  ears,  to  detain  all  rash  and 
mischievous  tempers  on  such  subjects,  long  enough 
to  wear  out  the  first  impression  of  horror,  and  to  pre- 
pare them  to  act  what  they  so  familiarly  contem- 
plate? Yet  there  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  rivalship 
among  printers,  who  shall  have  the  most  wonders, 
and  the  strangest  and  most  horrible  crimes.  This 
taste  will  multiply  prodigies.  The  superstitious 
Romans  used  to  forbid  reports  of  new  prodigies, 
while  they  were  performing  sacrifices  on  such  ac- 
counts. 

Every  horrid  story  in  a  newspaper  produces  a 
shock  ;  but,  after  some  time,  this  shock  lessens.  At 
length,  such  stories  are  so  far  from  giving  pain,  that 
they  rather  raise  curiosity,  and  we  desire  nothing  so 
much  as  the  particulars  of  terrible  tragedies.  The 
wonder  is  as  easy  as  to  stare  ;  and  the  most  vacant 
mind  is  the  most  in  need  of  such  resources  as  cost  no 
trouble  of  scrutiny  or  reflection  ;  it  is  a  sort  of  food 
for  idle  curiosity  that  is  readily  chewed  and  digested. 

On  the  whole,  we  may  insist  that  the  increasing 
fashion  for  printing  wonderful  tales  of  crimes  and 
accidents  is  worse  than  ridiculous,  as  it  corrupts 
both  the  public  taste  and  morals.  It  multiplies 
fables,  prodigious  monsters,  and  crimes,  and  thus 
makes  shocking  things  familiar  ;  while  it  withdraws 
all  popular  attention  from  familiar  truth,  because  it 
is  not  shocking. 

Now,  Messrs.  Printers.  I  pray  the  whole  hon- 
ourable craft  to  banish  as  many  murders,  and  horrid 
accidents,  and  monstrous  births  and  prodigies  from 
their  gazettes,  as  their  readers  will  permit  them  ; 
and,  by  degrees,  to  coax  tliein  back  to  contemplate 
life  and  manners ;  to  consider  common  events  with 
some  common  sense;  and  to  study  nature  where  she 
can  be  known,  rather  than  in  those  of  her  ways 
where  she  really  is,  or  is  represented  to  be,  inexpli- 
cable. 

Strange  events  are  facts,  and  as  such  should  be 
mentioned,  but  with  brevity  and  in  a  cursory  man- 
ner. They  afford  no  ground  for  popular  reasoning 
or  instruction ;  and,  therefore,  the  horrid  details 
that  make  each  particular  hair  stiffen  and  stand  up- 
right in  the  reader's  head  ought  not  to  be  given. 
In  short,  they  must  be  mentioned ;  but  sensible 
printers  and  sensible  readers  will  think  that  way  of 
mentioning  them  the  best  that  impresses  them  least 
on  the  public  attention,  and  that  hurries  them  on 
the  most  swiftly  to  be  forgotten. 

A  8KETCII  OF  THE  CHARACTER  OF  ALEXANDER  nAMILTON. 

The  following  Sketch,  written  immediately  after  the  death 
of  the  ever  to  be  lamented  Hamilton,  was  read  to  a  select 
company  of  friends,  and  at  their  desire  it  first  appeared  in  the 
Repertory,  July,  1804. 

It  is  with  really  great  men  as  with  great  literary 
works,  the  excellence  of  both  is  best  tested  by  the 
extent  and  durableness  of  their  impression.  The 
public  has  not  suddenly,  but  after  an  experience  of 
five-and-twenty  years,  taken  that  impression  of  the 
just  celebrity  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  that  nothing 
but  his  extraordinary  intrinsic  merit  could  have 
made,  and  still  less  could  have  made  so  deep  and 
maintained  so  long.  In  this  case,  it  is  safe  and  cor- 
rect to  judge  by  effects;  we  sometimes  calculate  the 
height  of  a  mountain,  by  measuring  the  length  of  its 
shadow. 

It  is  not  a  party,  for  party  distinctions,  to  the 
honor  of  our  citizens  be  it  said,  arc  confounded  bv 
the  event;  it  is  a  nation  that  weeps  for  its  bereave- 


472 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


merit.  We  weep,  as  the  Romans  did  over  the  ashes 
of  G-crmanicus.  It  is  a  thoughtful,  foreboding  sor- 
row, that  takes  possession  of  the  heart,  and  sinks  it 
with  no  counterfeited  heaviness. 

It  is  here  proper  and  not  invidious  to  remark,  that 
as  the  emulation  excited  by  conducting  great  affairs 
commonly  trains  and  exhibits  great  talents,  it  is  sel- 
dom the  case  that  the  fairest  and  soundest  judgment 
of  a  great  man's  merit  is  to  be  gained,  exclusively, 
from  his  associates  in  counsel  or  in  action.  Persons 
of  conspicuous  merit  themselves  are,  not  unfrequent- 
ly,  bad  judges,  and  still  worse  witnesses  on  this 
point;  often  rivals,  sometimes  enemies;  almost  al- 
ways unjust,  and  still  oftener  envious  or  cold.  The 
opinions  they  give  to  the  public,  as  well  as  those 
they  privately  formed  for  themselves,  are  of  course 
discolored  with  the  hue  of  their  prejudices  and  re- 
sentments. 

But  the  body  of  the  people,  who  cannot  feel  a 
spirit  of  rivnlship  towards  those  whom  they  see  ele- 
vated by  nature  and  education  so  far  above  their 
heads,  are  more  equitable,  and,  supposing  a  compe- 
tent time  and  opportunity  for  information  ou  the 
subject,  more  intelligent  judges.  Even  party  rancor, 
eager  to  maim  the  living,  scorns  to  strip  the  slain. 
The  most  hostile  passions  are  soothed  or  baffled  by 
the  fall  of  their  antagonist.  Then,  if  not  sooner,  the 
very  multitude  will  fairly  decide  on  character,  ac- 
cording to  their  experience  of  its  impression ;  and 
as  long  as  virtue,  not  unfrequently  for  a  time  ob- 
scured, is  ever  respectable  when  distinctly  seen, 
they  cannot  withhold,  and  they  will  not  stint  their 
admiration. 

If,  then,  the  popular  estimation  is  ever  to  be  taken 
for  the  true  one,  the  uncommonly  profound  public 
sorrow  for  the  death  of  Alexander  Hamilton  suf- 
ficiently explains  and  vindicates  itself.  He  had  not 
made  himself  dear  to  the  passions  of  the  multitude 
by  condescending,  in  defiance  of  his  honor  and  con- 
science, to  become  their  instrument ;  he  is  not  la- 
mented, because  a  skilful  flatterer  is  now  mute  for 
ever.  It  was  by  the  practice  of  no  art,  by  wearing 
no  disguise;  it  was  not  by  accident,  or  by  the  levity 
or  profligacy  of  party,  but  in  despite  of  its  malignant 
misrepresentation ;  it  was  by  bold  and  inflexible  ad- 
herence to  truth,  by  loving  his  country  better  than 
himself,  preferring  its  interests  to  its  favor,  and  serv- 
ing it  when  it  was  unwilling  and  unthankful,  in  a 
manner  that  no  other  person  could,  that  he  rose ; 
and  the  true  popularity,  the  homage  that  is  paid  to 
virtue,  followed  him.  It  was  not  in  the  power  of 
party  or  envy  to  pull  him  down;  but  he  rose  with 
the  refulgence  of  a  star,  till  the  very  prejudice  that 
could  not  reach,  was  at  length  almost  read3'  to 
adore  him. 

It  is  indeed  no  imagined  wound  that  inflicts  so 
keen  an  anguish.  Since  the  news  of  his  death,  the 
novel  and  strange  events  of  Europe  have  succeeded 
each  other  unregarded;  the  nation  has  been  en- 
chained to  its  subject,  and  broods  over  its  grief, 
which  is  more  deep  than  eloquent,  which  though 
dumb,  can  make  itself  felt  without  utterance,  and 
which  does  not  merely  pass,  but  like  an  electrical 
shock,  at  the  same  instant  smites  and  astonishes,  as 
it  passes  from  Georgia  to  New  Hampshire. 

There  is  a  kind  of  force  put  upon  our  thoughts  by 
this  disaster,  which  detains  and  rivets  them  to  a 
closer  contemplation  of  those  resplendent  virtues, 
that  are  now  lost,  except  to  memory,  and  there  they 
wdl  dwell  for  ever. 

That  writer  would  deserve  the  fame  of  a  public 
benefactor  who  could  exhibit  the  character  of  Ham- 
ilton, with  the  truth  and  force  that  all  who  inti- 
mately knew  him  conceived  it ;  his  example  would 
then  take  the  same  ascendant  as  his  talents.    The  por- 


trait alone,  however  exquisitely  finished,  could  not 
inspire  genius  where  it  is  not;  but  if  the  world 
should  again  have  possession  of  so  rare  a  gift,  it 
might  awaken  it  where  it  sleeps,  as  by  a  spark  from 
heaven's  own  altar;  for  surely  if  there  is  any  thing 
like  divinity  in  man,  it  is  in  his  admiration  of  vir- 
tue. 

But  who  alive  can  exhibit  this  portrait  ?  If  our 
age,  on  that  supposition  more  fruitful  than  any  other, 
had  produced  two  Hamiltons,  one  of  them  might 
then  have  depicted  the  other.  To  delineate  genius 
one  must  feel  its  power ;  Hamilton,  and  he  alone, 
with  all  its  inspirations,  could  have  transfused  its 
whole  fervid  soul  into  the  picture,  and  swelled  its 
lineaments  into  life.  The  writer's  mind,  expanding 
with  his  own  peculiar  enthusiasm,  and  glowing  with 
kindred  fires,  would  then  have  stretched  to  the  di- 
mensions of  his  subject. 

Such  is  the  infirmity  of  human  nature,  it  is  very 
difficult  for  a  man  who  is  greatly  the  superior  of  his 
associates,  to  preserve  their  friendship  without 
abatement ;  yet,  though  he  could  not  possibly  con- 
ceal his  superiority,  he  was  so  little  inclined  to  dis- 
play it,  he.  was  so  much  at  ease  in  its  possession, 
that  no  jealousy  or  envy  chilled  his  bosom,  when 
his  friends  obtained  praise.  He  was  indeed  so 
entirely  the  friend  of  his  friends,  so  magnanimous, 
so  superior,  or  more  properly  so  insensible  to  all 
exclusive  selfishness  of  spirit,  so  frank,  so  ardent, 
yet  so  little  overbearing,  so  much  trusted,  admired, 
i  beloved,  almost  adored,  that  his  power  over  their 
affections  was  entire,  and  lasted  through  his  life. 
We  do  not  believe  that  he  left  any  worthy  man  his 
foe  who  had  ever  been  his  friend. 

Men  of  the  most  elevated  minds  have  not  always 
the  readiest  discernment  of  character.  Perhaps  he 
was  sometimes  too  sudden  and  too  lavish  in  bestow- 
ing his  confidence  ;  his  manly  spirit,  disdaining  arti- 
fice, suspected  none.  But  while  the  power  of  his 
friends  over  him  seemed  to  have  no  limits,  and 
really  had  none,  in  respect  to  those  things  which 
were  of  a  nature  to  be  yielded,  no  man,  not  the 
Roman  Cato  himself,  was  more  inflexible  on  every 
point  that  touched,  or  only  seemed  to  touch,  inte- 
grity and  honor.  With  him,  it  was  not  enough  to  be 
unsuspected  ;  his  bosom  would  have  glowed,  like  a 
furnace,  at  its  own  whispers  of  reproach.  Mere 
purity  would  have  seemed  to  him  below  praise; 
and  such  were  his  habits,  and  such  his  nature,  that 
the  pecuniary  temptations,  which  many  others  can 
only  with  great  exertion  and  self-denial  resist,  had 
no  attractions  for  him.  He  was  very  far  from  ob- 
stinate ;  yet,  as  his  friends  assailed  his  opinions  with 
less  profound  thought  than  he  had  devoted  to  them, 
they  were  seldom  shaken  by  discussion.  He  de- 
fended them,  however,  with  as  much  mildness  as 
force,  and  evinced,  that  if  he  did  not  yield,  it  was 
not  for  want  of  gentleness  or  modesty. 

The  tears  that  flow  on  this  fond  recital  will  never 
dry  up.  My  heart,  penetrated  with  the  remem- 
brance of  the  man,  grows  liquid  as  I  write,  and  I 
could  pour  it  out  like  water.  I  could  weep  too  for 
my  country,  which,  mournful  as  it  is,  does  not  know 
the  half  of  its  loss.  It  deeply  laments,  when  it 
turns  its  eyes  back,  and  sees  what  Hamilton  was ; 
but  my  soul  stiffens  with  despair  when  I  think  what 
Hamilton  would  have  been. 

His  social  affections  and  his  private  virtues  are 
not,  however,  so  properly  the  object  of  public  atten- 
tion, as  the  conspicuous  and  commanding  qualities 
that  gave  him  his  fame  and  influence  in  the  world. 
It  is  not  as  Apollo,  enchanting  the  shepherds  with 
his  lyre,  that  we  deplore  him  ;  it  is  as  Hercules, 
treacherously  slnin  in  the  midst  of  his  unfinished 
labors,  leaving  the  world  overrun  with  monsters. 


FISHER  AMES. 


473 


His  early  life  we  pass  over;  though  his  heroic 
spirit  in  the  army  has  furnished  a  theme  that  is 
dear  to  patriotism  and  will  be  sacred  to  glory. 

In  all  the  different  stations  iu  which  a  life  of 
active  usefulness  has  placed  him,  we  find  him  not 
more  remarkably  distinguished  by  the  extent,  than 
by  the  variety  and  versatility  of  his  talents.  Iu 
every  place  he  made  it  apparent,  that  no  other  man 
could  have  filled  it  so  well;  and  in  times  of  critical 
importance,  ill  which  alone  he  desired  employment, 
his  services  were  justly  deemed  absolutely  indis- 
pensable. As  secretary  of  the  treasury,  his  was 
the  powerful  spirit  that  presided  over  the  chaos : 

Confusion  beard  his  voice,  and  wild  uproar 
Stood  ruled 

Indeed,  in  organizing  the  federal  government  in 
1TS9,  every  man  of  either  sense  or  candor  will  al- 
low, the  difficulty  seemed  greater  than  the  first-rate 
abilities  could  surmount.  The  event  has  shown  that 
his  abilities  were  greater  than  those  difficulties.  He 
surmounted  them — and  Washington's  administration 
was  the  most  wise  a  id  beneficent,  the  most  prospe- 
rous, and  ought  to  be  the  most  popular,  that  ever 
was  intrusted  with  the  affairs  of  a  nation.  Great  as 
was  Washington's  merit,  much  of  it  in  plan,  much 
in  execution,  will  of  course  devolve  upon  his  minis- 
ter. 

As  a  lawyer,  his  comprehensive  genius  reached 
the  principles  of  his  profession  ;  he  compassed  its  ex- 
tent, he  fathomed  its  profound,  perhaps  even  more 
familiarly  and  easily,  than  the  ordinary  rules  of  its 
practice.  With  most  men  law  is  a  trade  ;  with  him 
it  was  a  science. 

As  a  statesman,  he  was  not  more  distinguished  by 
the  great  extent  of  his  views,  than  by  the  caution 
with  which  he  provided  against  impediments,  and 
the  watchfulness  of  his  care  over  right  and  the  lib- 
erty of  the  subject.  Iu  none  of  the  many  revenue 
bills  which  he  framed,  though  committees  reported 
them,  is  there  to  be  found  a  single  clause  that  savors 
of  despotic  power;  not  one  that  the  sagest  champions 
of  law  and  liberty  would,  on  that  ground,  hesitate  to 
approve  and  adopt. 

It  is  rare  that  a  man,  who  owes  so  much  to  na- 
ture, descends  to  seek  more  from  industry ;  but  he 
seemed  to  depend  on  industry,  as  if  nature  had  done 
nothing  for  him.  His  habits  of  investigation  were 
very  remarkable ;  his  mind  seemed  to  cling  to  his 
subject  till  he  had  exhausted  it.  Hence  the  uncom- 
mon superiority  of  his  reasoning  powers,  a  su- 
periority that  seemed  to  be  augmented  from  every 
source,  and  to  be  fortified  by  every  auxiliary,  learn- 
ing, taste,  wit,  imagination,  and  eloquence.  These 
were  embellished  and  enforced  by  his  temper  and 
manners,  by  his  fame  and  his  virtues.  It  is  difficult, 
in  the  midst  of  such  various  excellence,  to  say  iu 
what  particular  the  effect  of  his  greatness  was  most 
manifest.  No  man  more  promptly  discerned  truth  ; 
no  man  more  clearly  displayed  it ;  it  was  not  merely 
made  visible,  it  seemed  to  come  bright  with  illumi- 
nation from  his  lips.  But  prompt  and  clear  as  he 
was,  fervid  as  Demosthenes,  like  Cicero  full  of  re- 
source, he  was  not  less  remarkable  for  the  copious- 
ness and  completeness  of  his  argument,  that  left  lit- 
tle for  cavil,  and  nothing  for  doubt.  Some  men  take 
their  strongest  argument  as  a  weapon,  and  use  no 
other;  but  he  left  nothing  to  be  inquired  for  more, 
nothing  to  be  answered.  He  not  only  disarmed  his 
adversaries  of  their  pretexts  and  objections,  but  he 
stripped  them  of  all  excuse  for  having  urged  them : 
he  confounded  and  subdued  as  well  as  convinced. 
He  indemnified  them,  however,  by  making  his  dis- 
cussion a  complete  map  of  his  subject,  so  that  his 
opponents  might,  indeed,  feel  ashamed  of  their  mis-. 


takes,  but  they  could  not  repeat  them.  In  fact,  it 
was  no  common  effort  that  could  preserve  a  really 
able  antagonist  from  becoming  his  convert;  for  the 
truth,  which  his  researches  so  distinctly  presented 
to  the  understanding  of  others,  was  rendered  almost 
irresistibly  commanding  and  impressive  by  the  love 
and  reverence  which,  it  was  ever  apparent,  he  pro- 
foundly cherished  for  it  in  his  own.  While  patri- 
otism glowed  in  his  heart,  wisdom  ble:n'ed  in  his 
speech  her  authority  with  her  charms. 

Such,  also,  is  the  character  of  his  writings.  Ju- 
diciously collected,  they  will  be  a  public  trea- 
sure. 

No  man  ever  more  disdained  duplicity,  or  carried 
frankness  further  than  he.  This  gave  to  his  politi- 
cal opponents  some  temporary  advantages,  and  cur- 
rency to  some  popular  prejudices,  which  he  would 
have  lived  down  if  his  death  had  not  prematurely 
dispelled  them.  He  knew  that  factions  have  ever 
iu  the  end  prevailed  iu  free  states;  and,  as  he  saw 
no  security  (and  who  living  can  see  any  adequate?) 
against  the  destruction  of  that  liberty  which  he 
loved,  and  for  which  he  was  over  ready  to  devote 
his  life,  he  spoke  at  all  times  according  to  his  anx- 
ious forebodings ;  and  his  enemies  interpreted  all 
that  he  said  according  to  the  supposed  interest  of 
their  party. 

But  he  ever  extorted  confidence,  even  when  he 
most  provoked  opposition.  It  was  impossible  to 
deny  that  he  was  a  patriot,  and  such  a  patriot  as, 
seeking  neither  popularity  nor  office,  without  arti- 
fice, without  meanness,  the  best  Romans  in  their 
best  days  would  have  admitted  to  citizenship  and  to 
the  consulate.  Virtue  so  rare,  so  pure,  so  bold,  by 
its  very  purity  and  excellence  inspired  suspicion  as 
a  prodigy.  His  enemies  judged  of  him  by  them- 
selves;  so  splendid  and  arduous  were  his  services, 
they  could  not  find  it  in  their  hearts  to  believe  that 
they  were  disinterested. 

Unparalleled  as  they  were,  they  were  nevertheless 
no  otherwise  requited  than  by  the  applause  of  all 
good  men,  and  by  his  own  enjoyment  of  the  spec- 
tacle of  that  national  prosperity  and  honor  which 
was  the  effect  of  them.  After  facing  calumny,  and 
triumphantly  surmounting  an  unrelenting  persecu- 
tion, he  retired  from  office  with  clean,  though  empty 
hands,  as  rich  as  reputation  and  an  unblemished  in- 
tegrity could  make  him. 

Some  have  plausibly,  though  erroneously  infer- 
red, from  the  great  extent  of  his  abilities,  that  his 
ambition  was  inordinate.  This  is  a  mistake.  Such 
men  as  have  a  painful  consciousness  that  their 
stations  happen  to  be  far  more  exalted  than  their 
talents,  are  generally  the  most  ambitious.  Hamil- 
ton, on  the  contrary,  thougli  he  had  many  competi- 
tors, had  no  rivals  ;  for  he  did  not  thirst  for  power, 
nor  would  he,  as  it  was  well  known,  descend  to 
office.  Of  course  he  suffered  no  pain  from  envy 
when  bad  men  rose,  thougli  he  felt  anxiety  for  the 
public.  He  was  perfectly  content  and  at  ease  in 
private  life.  Of  what  was  he  ambitious?  Not  of 
wealth  ;  no  man  held  it  cheaper.  Was  it  of  popu- 
larity ?  That  weed  of  the  dunghill  he  know,  when 
rankest,  was  nearest  to  withering.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  he  desired  glory,  which  to  most  men  is 
too  inaccessible  to  be  an  object  of  desire  ;  but  feel- 
ing his  own  force,  and  that  he  was  tall  enough  to 
reach  to  the  top  of  Pindus  or  of  Helicon,  he  longe  1 
to  deck  his  brow  with  the  wreath  of  immortality. 
A  vulgar  ambition  could  as  little  comprehend  as  sa- 
tisfy his  views ;  he  thirsted  only  for  that  fame, 
which  virtue  would  not  blush  to  confer,  nor  time  to 
convey  to  the  end  of  his  course. 

The  only  ordinary  distinction,  to  which  we  confess 
he  did  aspire,  was  military  ;  and  for  that,  in  the 


474- 


CYCLOPiEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


event  of  a  foreign  war,  he  would  have  been  solici- 
tous. He  undoubtedly  discovered  the  predominance 
of  a  soldier's  feelings  ;  and  all  that  is  honor  in  the 
character  of  a  soldier  was  at  homo  in  his  heart.  His 
early  education  was  in  the  camp;  there  the  first  fer- 
vors of  liis  genius  were  poured  forth,  and  his  earliest 
and  most  cordial  friendships  were  formed;  there  he 
became  enamored  of  glory,  and  was  admitted  to 
her  embrace. 

Those  who  knew  him  best,  and  especially  in  the 
army,  will  believe,  that  if  occasions  had  called  him 
forth,  he  was  qualified  beyond  any  man  of  the  age, 
to  display  the  talents  of  a  great  general. 

It  may  be  very  long  before  our  country  will 
want  such  military  talents ;  it  will  probably  be 
much  longer  before  it  will  again  possess  them. 

Alas!  the  great  man  who  was  at  all  times  so 
'much  the  ornament  of  our  country,  and  so  ex- 
clusively fitted  it  in  its  extremity  to  be  its  cham- 
pion, is  withdrawn  to  a  purer  and  more  tranquil 
region.  We  are  left  to  endless  labors  and  unavail- 
ing regrets. 

Such  honors  Ilion  to  her  hero  paid, 

And  peaceful  slejjt  the  mighty  Hector's  shade. 

The  most  substantial  glory  of  a  country  is  in  its 
virtuous  great  men;  its  prosperity  will  depend  on 
its  docility  to  learn  from  their  example.  That  na- 
tion is  fated  to  ignominy  and  servitude,  for  which 
such  men  have  lived  in  vain.  Power  may  be  seized 
by  a  nation  that  is  yet  barbarous :  and  wealth  may 
be  enjoyed  by  one  that  it  finds  or  renders  sordid; 
the  one  is  the  gift  and  the  sport  of  accident,  and  the 
other  is  the  sport  of  power.  Both  are  mutable,  and 
have  passed  away  without  leaving  behind  them  any 
other  memorial  than  ruins  that  offend  taste,  and 
traditions  that  baffle  conjecture.  But  the  glory  of 
Greece  is  imperishable,  or  will  last  as  long  as  learn- 
ing itself,  which  is  its  monument ;  it  strikes  an  ever- 
lasting root,  and  bears  perennial  blossoms  on  its 
grave.  The  name  of  Hamilton  would  have  honored 
Greece  in  the  age  of  Aristides.  May  heaven,  the 
guardian  of  our  liberty,  grant  that  our  country 
may  be  fruitful  of  Ilamiltons,  and  faithful  to  their 
glory ! 

NOAH  WEBSTER. 

Noah  Webster  was  born  in  West  Hartford,  Ct., 
October  1(3,  1758.  He  was  of  a  good  New  Eng- 
land family,  his  father  being  a  farmer  and  justice 
of  the  peace,  and  descendant  of  John  Webster, 
an  old  governor  of  Connecticut,  while  his  mother 
was  similarly  connected  with  William  Bradford 
the  second  governor  of  Plymouth  colony.  Web- 
ster was  prepared  by  the  clergyman  of  the  town, 
the  Rev.  Nathan  Perkins,  for  Yale,  which  he 
entered  in  177Ir,  and  in  his  junior  year  found  him- 
self in  the  midst  of  the  interruptions  of  the 
Revolution.  His  father  was  serving  in  the  militia 
raised  to  meet  Burgoyne,  and  his  son  joined  him. 
He  was  graduated,  however,  at  the  end  of  his 
four  years,  in  the  same  class  with  Joel  Barlow 
and  Oliver  Wolcott;  when  his  father,  on  his 
return  from  Commencement,  presented  him  with 
an  eight-dollar  hill  of  the  Continental  currency, 
which  was  worth  about  four  dollars  in  specie, 
with  the  information  that  he  must  for  the  future 
take  care  of  himself.  It  was  the  fortune  of  many 
a  noble-minded  youth  of  the  days  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. School-keeping  was,  as  usual,  the  first  re- 
source. Law  was  the  second.  Pursuing  his 
studies  by  himself  in  the  intervals  of  his  school, 
he  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1781.  There  was 
little  opportunity  for  the  practice  of  the  profession 


j   at  the  time,   and  the  next  year  found  Webster 
I  teaching  a  classical  school  at  Goshen,  in  Orange 
I   County,  New  York.     Here  lie  first  entered  upon 
I   the   preparation   of  the  school-books  by  which 
|   he  subsequently  became  so  well  known  to  the 
'   country.     He  was  encouraged  in  his  plan  on  a 
'  visit  to  Philadelphia,  by  Mr.  Madison  and  Pro- 
1  fessor  Samuel  Stanhope  Smith.     He  revised  his 
work  the  next  winter,  and  returning  to  Hartford 
in   1783,  published   there  his   First  Part  of  a 
Grammatical  Institute  of  the  English  Language. 
The  second  and  third  parts  followed;  the  whole 
comprising  the  famous  spelling-book,  an  English 
grammar,  and  a  reader.*     The  spelling-book,  re- 
vised at  different  times  by  its  author,  reached  a 
sale  during  his  lifetime  of  millions,  and  supported 
his  family  for  twenty  years,  while  he  was  en- 
gaged in  preparing  his  American  Dictionary,  by 
its  copyright  income  of  less  than  one  cent  per 
copy.     It  was  the  first  work  of  its  kind  in  the 
country,   and   long   remained   the    only   one   in 
general  use.     With  tape-tied  back,  and  in  thin 
wooden  covers,  it  circulated  among  the  trade  in 
orders  by  the  box. 


sYiyab&> 


*  These  were  the  early  titles : — A  Grammatical  Institute  of 
the  English  Language,  comprising  an  Easy,  Concise,  and  Syste- 
matic Method  of  Education,  designed  for  the  Use  of  English 
Schools  in  America.  In  three  parts.  Part  I.  Containing  a  new 
and  accurate  standard  of  Pronunciation,  By  Noah  Webster, 
A.M.  Usus  est  norma  loquendi.  Cicero,  (sic.)  Hartford: 
Printed  by  Hudson  and  Goodwin  for  the  Author.  [This  copy, 
in  the  Library  at  Harvard,  is  without  a  date,  but  as  the  book 
was  given  Dec.  G,  17S3,  it  is  doubtless  the  first  edition.] 

A  Grammatical  Institute  of  the  English  Language.  Com- 
prising an  Easy,  Concise,  and  Systematic  Method  of  ^Education, 
designed  for  the  use  of  English  Schools  in  America.  In  three 
parts.  Part  II.  Containing  a  plain  and  comprehensive  gram- 
mar, founded  on  the  true  principles  and  idioms  of  the  language. 
By  Noah  Webster,  jun.,  Esq.  The  third  Edition,  revised  and 
amended.     Phila.  Young  and  M'Cnltoch.     17S7. 

An  American  Selection  of  Lessons  in  Beading  and  Speaking, 
calculated  to  improve  the  minds  and  refine  the  taste  of  youth, 
and  also  to  instruct  them  in  the  Geography,  History,  and 
Politics  of  the  United  States,  to  which  is  (.«"  )  prefixed,  Eules 
in  Elocution,  and  Directions  for  expressing  the  principal  pas- 
sions of  the  mind,  being  the  third  part  of  a  Grammatical  In- 
stitute of  the  English  Language.  By  Nonh  Webster,  jun.,  Esq. 
The  third  edition,  greatly  enlarged.  Begin  ivith  the  infant  in 
kvi  cradle  ;  let  the first  word  he-  lisps  be  Watdiington.  Mika- 
beau.    Phila.  Young  and  M'Culloch.    1787, 


NOAH  WEBSTER. 


475 


Noah  "Webster  had  tact  in  discerning  the  wants 
of  the  country  in  his  day,  and  providing  for 
them  in  'this  spelling-book.  The  two  small 
volumes  of  the  three  parts  of  his  Institutes  were 
quite  a  complete  manual  of  juvenile  education  for 
the  times.  He  simplified  knowledge,  and  made  it 
easy  of  ac position,  arranging  the  words  of  his 
spelling-book  in  ready  forms  to  catch  the  eye  and 
lingsv  in  the  memory,  while  he  added  brief  lessons 
in  definitions,  and  geographical  and  other  terms, 
intermingling  those  homely  and  hearty  lessons 
of  fables  and  proverbs,  which  were  not  at  all 
blunted  in  their  way  to  the  conscience  by  wood- 
cuts, such  as  the  infantile  state  of  the  art  in  the 
country  then  afforded,  of  the  most  execrable 
character.  There  have  been  few  moral  lessons 
productive  of  the  same  effect  in  the  country, 
as  the  famous  old  fable  of  the  Boy  that  Stole 
Apples,  and  who  sits  in  the  old  wood-cut  alarm- 
ingly exposed,  astride  of  the  branch  of  a  tree 
almost  naked  of  foliage,  while  the  farmer  in 
small-clothes,  one  arm  akimbo,  the  other  in  a 
most  striking  attitude,  takes  aim  at  the  "  s-auce- 
box."  Many  an  honest  fellow  through  the  world 
has  had  his  sense  of  duty  painfully  strengthened 
by  the  moral  of  that  fable.  Then  there  is  that 
forlorn  Country  Maid  and  her  Milk  Pail,  teach- 
ing the  double  lesson  of  the  vanity  of  human  ex- 
pectations, and  the  folly  of  unnecessary  grief, — 
that  chickens  are  not  to  be  counted  before  they 
are  hatched,  or  milk  to  be  wept  over  after  it  is 
spilt.  That  story,  too,  of  the  Boy  that  went  to 
the  rood  to  look  for  birds'  nests  when  he  should 
luive  gone  to  school,  and  the  Descriptions  of  a 
Good  Biy  and  of  a  Bui  Boy,  not  forgetting  the 
wonderful  table  of  Proverbs,  Councils,  ami  Max- 
ims, all  in  words  of  one  syllable,  ta  cing  the  wis- 
dom of  nations,  and  the  strong  old  Saxon  powers 
of  the  English  language  ;  all  sound  lessons,  calcu- 
lated to  mike  honest  men,  and  ingenious  Benja- 
min Franklins.*  The  third  part  of  the  Institutes, 
the  American  selection,  was  well  made  up  with 
lesson-;  in  reading,  lessons  in  speaking,  dialogues, 
and  poetry.  There  was  the  affecting  story  of  La 
Roche,  rules  of  behavior  from  Chesterfield  and 
of  making  money  from  Franklin,  dialogue  from 
Otway  and  Shakespeare,  the  story  of  Lord  Peter, 
Martin,  and  Jack,  from  the  Tale  of  a  Tub,  and 
American  history  and  patriotism  in  abundance, 
from  the  narratives  of  Greene  and  Ramsay,  the 
orations  of  Warren  and  Hancock,  and  the  poetry 
of  D  wight,  Freneau,  and  Barlow.  A  later  edition 
of  this  last  division  in  the  American  Selection^ 
added  Franklin's  memorable  story  of  The  Whistle, 
Jefferson's  Logan,  General  Bnrgoyne's  relation  of 


*  One  of  the  curiosities  of  the  early  editions  of  the  spelling- 
book  is  the  frequent  introduction,  at  the  foot  of  the  page,  of 
warnings  against  mispronunciations,  which  may  be  suppose'! 
to  have  been  usual  at  tho  time.  Thus  "ask"  is  declared  to  be 
'■not  ax';'1  "card."  "not  Cairo;*'  "  herb,"  "not  yerb  ;"  "wain- 
scot," "  not  winclieott;"  "resin,"  "  not  rozum  ;"  "  cany,"  "  not 
kerry  ;"  "  chimney,"  "  not  ehimbly  ;"  "  kernel,"  "  not  karnal ;" 
"confiscate,"  "not  confiscate."  If  Webster  saved  the  coun- 
try from  these  and  similar  barbarities  ill  a  rude  state  of  speech 
and  writing,  and  with  a  likelihood  of  errors  of  tho  kind  being 
perpetuated  among  a  thin  and  scattered  popnlntio  and  ho 
doubtless  did  a  great  deal  in  the  matter — he  deserves  well  of 
the  nation. 

t  An  American  Selection  of  Lessons  in  Reading  and  Speak- 
ing; calculated  to  improve  the  minds  and  refine  the  taste  of 
youth,  to  which  are  prefixed.  Rules  in  Elocution,  and  Direc- 
tions for  expressing  the  principal  passions  of  the  mind.  By 
Noah  Webster.    Hogau's  fifth  improved  edition.    Phila.  1810, 


the  Funeral  of  General  Frazer,  and  Humphreys's 
Adventures  of  General  Putnam.  These  were  the 
"household  words"  in  school-houses,  over  hill  and 
valley,  and  in  the  homes  of  our  forefathers  in  the 
youth  of  the  nation. 

Webster  next  appeared  as  a  writer  on  public 
affairs,  publishing  letters  with  the  signature  of 
Honorius  in  the  Connecticut  Courant,  in  defence 
of  the  measures  of  Congress  in  the  pay  of  the 
army.  In  the  winter  of  1784  he  published  a 
pamphlet,  Sketches  of  American  Policy ,  in  which 
he  urged  the  advantages  of  a  general  government. 
This,  his  biographer,  Mr.  Goodrich,  remarks  was 
"  the  first  distinct  proposal,  made  through  the 
medium  of  the  press,  for  a  new  constitution 
of  the  United  States."  The  next  year  he  made 
a  journey  to  the  South  to  petition  the  state 
legislatures  for  a  copyright  law;  and  long  after- 
wards, when  the  act  of  Congress  had  made  pro- 
vision for  the  matter,  used  his  influence  at  Wash- 
ington in  1830,  in  securing  the  extension  of  the 
term.  In  1785  Webster  was  at  Baltimore  pre- 
paring a  course  of  lectures  on  the  English  lan- 
guage, which  he  delivered  in  the  chief  cities  the 
following  year,  and  afterwards  published  in  his 
octavo,  entitled  Dissertations  on  the  English 
Language.  In  1787  he  was  principal  of  an 
Episcopal  academy  at  Philadelphia,  and  when  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States  was  formed  by 
the  Convention  in  that  year,  gave  it  his  assistance 
in  a  pamphlet,  an  Examination  of  the  Leading 
Principles  of  the  Federal  Constitution.  In  1787 
Webster  published  the  American  Magazine*  for  a 
year  at  New  York,  a  creditable  though  unsuc- 
cessful pioneer  attempt  in  this  department  of 
literature.  It  was  neat  in  arrangement,  and 
though  "  miscellaneous"  in  its  contents,  started 
some  interesting  antiquarian  and  scientific  mat- 
ters in  the  editor's  letters  to  President  Stiles  on 
Western  Fortifications  and  other  topics.  Its 
Americanism  was  well  sustained  by  poetical  ex- 
tracts from  Dwight,  Barlow,  and  Trumbull. 

In  178'.),  he  published  Dissertations  on  the  Eng- 
lish Language ;  with  notes,  historical  and  critical, 
with  an  E.-say  on  a  reformed  mode  of  spelling.! 
This  work  was  dedicated  to  Franklin.  The  essay 
on  Orthography  shows  the  bold  starting-point  of 
Webster  in  his  efforts  to  create  "  an  American 
tongue."  These  views,  though  he  was  compelled 
ultimately  to  recede  from  them  almost  entirely, 
entered  largely  into  several  of  his  most  important, 
works.     They  were  thus  announced  in  1780  : — 

The  principal  alterations,  necessary  to  render  our 
orthography  sufficiently  regular  and  easy,  are 
these: 

1.  The  omission  of  all  superfluous  or  silent  letters, 
as  a  in  bread.  Thus  bread,  head,  give,  breast,  built, 
meant,  realm,  friend,  would  be  spelt,  bred,  lied,  giv, 
brest,  bilt,  ment,  rclm,  frend.  Would  this  alteration 
produce  any  inconvenience,  any  embarrassment  or 
expense  ?      By  no   means.       On  the   other  hand  it 


*  The  American  Magazine,  containing  a  miscellaneous  collec- 
tion of  original  and  other  valuable  Essays,  in  prose  and  verse; 
and  calculated  both  for  instruction  and  amusement.  "Science 
the  guide  and  Truth  the  eternal  goal."  Barlow.  New  York ; 
Samuel  Loudon.     Dec.  17S7— Nov.  1788.     1  vol.  8vo.  pp.  8S2. 

+  Dissertations  on  the  English  Language:  with  notes,  histo- 
rical and  critical,  to  which  is  added,  by  way  of  Appendix,  an 
Essay  on  a  reformed  mode  of  spelling,  wi;h  Dr.  Franklin's  ar- 
guments on  that  subject.  Planted  at  Boston,  for  the  author. 
By  Isaiah  Thomas  &  Co.    8vo.    17S9. 


476 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


would  lessen  the  trouble  of  writing,  and  much  more, 
of  learning  the  language ;  it  would  reduce  the  true 
pronunciation  to  a  certainty ;  and  while  it  would 
assist  foreigners  and  our  own  children  in  acquiring 
the  language,  it  would  render  the  pronunciation  uni- 
form, in  different  parts  of  the  country,  and  almost 
prevent  the  possibility  of  changes. 

2.  A  substitution  of  a  character  that  has  a  certain 
definite  sound,  for  one  that  is  more  vague  and  inde- 
terminate. Thus  by  putting  ee  instead  of  ca  or  ie, 
the  words  mean,  near,  speak,  grieve,  zeal,  would  be- 
come meen,  neer,  spcek,  greev,  zeel.  This  alteration 
could  not  occasion  a  moment's  trouble  ;  at  the  same 
time  it  would  prevent  a  doubt  respecting  the  pro- 
nunciation; whereas  the  ra  and  it  having  different 
sounds,  may  give  a  learner  much  difficulty.  Thus 
greef  should  be  substituted  for  grief ;  kee  for  key ; 
beleeit  for  believe  ;  laf  for  laugh  ;  dawter  for  daughter; 
plena  for  plough  ;  tuffov  tough  ;  proov  for  prove  ;  blud 
for  blooel;  and  draft  for  draught.  In  this  manner  eh 
in  Greek  derivatives,  should  be  changed  into  k ;  for 
the  English  ch  has  a  soft  sound,  as  hi  cherish;  but  k 
always  a  hard  sound.  Therefore  character,  chorus, 
cholic,  architecture,  should  be  written  karacter,  korus, 
kolic,  arkiiecture  ;  and  were  they  thus  written,  no 
person  could  mistake  their  true  pronunciation. 

Thus  ch  in  French  derivatives  should  be  changed 
into  sh  ;  'machine,  chaise,  chevalier,  should  be  writ- 
ten masheen,  shaze,shevaleer  ;  and  pique,  tour,  obliejue, 
should  be  written  peek,  toor,  vbleek. 

3.  A  trifling  alteration  in  a  character,  or  the  ad- 
dition of  a  point,  would  distinguish  different  sounds, 
without  the  substitution  of  a  new  character.  Thus 
a  very  small  stroke  across  th  would  distinguish  its 
two  sounds.  A  point  over  a  vowel  in  this  manner, 
a,  or  6,  or  i,  might  answer  all  the  purposes  of  differ- 
ent letters.  And  for  the  dipthong  ow,  let  the  two 
letters  be  united  by  a  small  stroke,  or  both  engraven 
on  the  same  piece  of  metal,  with  the  left  hand  line  of  I 
the  w  united  to  the  o. 

These,  with  a  few  other  inconsiderable  alterations, 
would  answer  every  purpose,  and  render  the  ortho- 
graphy sufficiently  correct  and  regular. 

Some  of  the  motives  urged  for  this  reform  are 
curious.  The  simplicity  of  the  language  would 
not  only  be  secured  and  spelling  be  made  easy 
for  children,  and  the  pronunciation  facilitated  to 
foreigners  ;  but  such  a  reform  would  diminish  the 
number  of  letters  about  one  sixteenth  or  eight- 
eenth. This  would  save  a  page  in  eighteen;  and 
a  saving  of  an  eighteenth  in  the  expense  of  books, 
is  an  advantage  that  should  not  be  overlooked. 
The  following  suggestion  is  still  more  remarka- 
ble :— 

But  a  capital  advantage  of  this  reform  in  these 
states  would  be,  that  it  would  make  a  difference  be- 
tween the  English  orthography  and  the  American. 
This  will  startle  those  who  have  not  attended  to  the 
subject ;  but  I  am  confident  that  such  an  event  is  an 
object  of  vast  political  consequence.     For, 

The  alteration,  however  small,  would  encourage 
the  publication  of  books  in  our  own  country.  It 
would  render  it,  in  some  measure,  necessary  that  all 
books  should  be  printed  in  America.  The  English 
would  never  copy  our  orthography  for  their  own 
use  ;  and  consequently  the  same  impressions  of  books 
would  not  answer  for  both  countries.  The  inhabit- 
ants of  the  present  generation  would  read  the  Eng- 
lish impressions ;  but  posterity,  being  taught  a  dif- 
ferent spelling,  would  prefer  the  American  orthogra- 
phy- 

If  this  suggestion  could  have  been  carried  out, 
it  would  have  been  necessary  to  have  employed 


a  large  body  of  translators  in  the  work  of  turning 
Shakespeare,  Bacon,  and  Milton,  into  Ameri- 
canese. 

In  1789,  he  married  the  daughter  of  William 
Greenleaf  of  Boston,  and  took  up  the  pursuit  of 
the  law  at  Stratford,  which  lie  followed  with  suc- 
cess for  several  years,  till  he  was  induced,  on  the 
breaking  out  of  the  French  excitement  and  the 
difficulties  with  Genet,  to  undertake  a  daily  news- 
paper in  New  York  in  support  of  Washington's 
administration.  He  removed  to  New  York  at 
the  close  of  1793,  and  commenced  the  Minerva, 
from  the  standing  matter  of  which  he  published 
a  semi-weekly,  the  Herald,  the  first  time  this  enter- 
prise and  economy  had  been  practised.  Out  of 
these  papers  grew  the  present  Commercial  Adver- 
tiser and  Spectator.  In  further  defence  of  the 
government,  he  publii-hed  a  pamphlet  in  179-1  on 
the  Revolution  in  France;  and  the  following 
year  sustained  Jay's  British  Treat}7  in  a  series  of 
papers,  signed  Curtins,  two  of  which  were  from 
the  pen  of  James  Kent,  afterwards  the  Chancellor. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Webster  published 
his  Prompter,  a  collection  of  common  sayings, 
maxims,  &c,  after  the  manner  of  Dr.  Franklin, 
in  his  little  essays  and  Poor  Richard  aphorisms. 
The  title  was  borrowed  from  the  theatre,  and  its 
object  was  to  remind  the  world  of  familiar  but 
easily  neglected  truths  of  a  practical  character. 
Its  twenty-nine  brief  chapters,  comments  upon 
proverbs  and  fallacies,  have  point  and  good  sense. 

As  evidence  of  his  activity  of  mind,  when  the 
questions  connected  with  the  then  prevalent  yel- 
low fever  agitated  the  country,  he  made  researches 
on  the  great  subject,  and  published  the  result  of 
his  investigations  in  two  volumes,  in  1799,  enti- 
tled a  History  of  Epidemic  and  Pestilential  Pis- 
eases*  When  the  question  of  the  rights  of  neutral 
nations  arose,  with  the  war  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution, he  published  in  1802  a  treatise  on  the 
subject,  and  the  same  year,  Historical  Notices  of 
the  Origin  and  State  of  Hanking  Institutions 
and  Insurance  Offices. 

In  1798,  Webster  took  up  his  residence  in  New 
Haven,  and  soon  retired  altogether  from  the  man- 
agement of  his  New  York  journals.  In  1802,  he 
published  an  essay  on  the  Rights  of  Neutral  Na- 
tions, in  reference  to  the  outrages  on  American 
commerce  by  the  European  powers  during  the 
French  Revolution.  In  1800,  lie  published  a 
Dictionary  of  the  English  Language  in  octavo, 
and  the  next  year  entered  upon  the  preparation 
of  Ins  most  important  work,  An  American  Pic- 
tionary  of  the  English  Language.  For  this  work 
he  entered  upon  a  comprehensive  study  of  the 
changes  of  language  since  the  date  of  the  last 
great  work  of  Dr.  Johnson,  applied  himself  to  the 
careful  stud}'  of  definitions,  and  entered  largely 
upon  the  investigation  of  the  origin  and  growth 
of  languages,  in  comparison  of  the  vocabularies 
of  different  nations.  He  prepared  a  work,  still  in 
manuscript,  A  Syiiopsis  of  Words  in  Twenty 
Languages. 

From  1812  to  1822  Webster  resided  at  Amherst, 
Mass.,  when  he  returned  to  New  Haven. 


*  A  Brief  History  of  Epidemic  and  Pestilential  Disposes; 
with  the  principal  phenomena  of  the  physical  world,  which 
precede  and  accompany  them,  and  observations  deduced  from 
the  facts  stated.  2  vols.  8vo.  Hartford:  Hudson  and  Goodwin, 
1799. 


NOAH  WEBSTER. 


477 


He  further,  in  1824,  made  a  tour  to  France  anil 
England,  where  he  continued  his  researches  at  the 
libraries  of  Paris  and  Cambridge.  In  1828,  when 
he  was  at  the  age  of  seventy,  his  Dictionary  finally 
appeared,  at  New  York,  in  two  volumes  quarto. 
Twenty-five  hundred  were  printed  in  America 
and  three  thousand  in  England,  where  the  publi- 
cation was  superintended  by  E.  H.  Barker,  the 
editor  of  Stephens's  Greek  Thesaurus. 

Some  fears  had  been  entertained  of  Webster's 
well  known  disposition  to  tamper  with  the  esta- 
blished orthography.  An  expression  of  them  is 
recorded  in  the  Jay  correspondence.  A  letter 
which  Webster  wrote  in  1813  to  John  Jay,  who 
had  probably  read  the  Essay  on  the  American 
Tongue,  drew  from  that  prudent  statesman  a  hint 
on  the  character  of  his  labors :  "It  is  not  impro- 
bable that  doubts  prevail  respecting  the  de- 
sign and  tendency  of  the  work  you  have  in  hand. 
The  literary  productions  of  Britain  and  America 
being  interesting  to  each  other,  many  are  of 
opinion,  and  I  concur  in  it,  that  the  English  lan- 
guage and  its  orthography  should  be  the  same  in 
both  countries.  Apprehensions  have  been  enter- 
tained that  your  dictionary  would  tend  to  impair 
that  sameness ;  and  those  apprehensions  may,  to 
a  certain  extent,  have  had  an  unfavorable  influ- 
ence."* To  which  Webster  responded:  "It  is  not 
improbable  that  some  ill-founded  apprehensions 
that  I  might  attempt  changes  of  orthography 
have  had  their  effect  in  preventing  subscriptions; 
but  there  are  several  other  causes.  On  the  sub- 
ject of  orthography  gentlemen  might  have  been 
easy,  as  any  considerable  changes  must  prevent 
the  sale  and  use  of  a  work  of  the  sort,  and  they 
might  rationally  conclude  that  I  would  not  put 
myself  to  an  immense  trouble  and  expense  to 
write  a  book  which  would  not  find  purchasers. 
My  plan  is  different  from  anything  before  at- 
tempted. I  have  examined  and  collated  the  radi- 
cal words  in  twenty  languages,  including  the 
seven  Asiatic  languages,  or  rather  dialects,  of  the 
Assyrian  stock.  This  will  enable  me  to  present 
many  things  in  the  English  language  which  have 
hitherto  been  obscure.  Indeed,  this  research  has 
opened  a  field  entirely  new,  and  it  is  probable  will 
lead  to  many  important  discoveries,  not  only  in 
the  origin  and  affinity  of  languages,  but  in  history 
sacred  and  profane." 

In  1821,  he  writes  again  to  Jay  of  his  "synop- 
sis of  radical  words  in  more  than  twenty  lan- 
guages," which  has  occupied  him  ten  years,  and 
regrets  that  "I  did  not  begin  my  studies  early 
enough.  I  am  now  sixty -three  years  of  age,  and 
after  this  age  a  small  portion  only  of  active  life 
remains.  I  have  thought,  that  after  submitting 
my  MSS.  to  able  judges,  if  they  should  think  the 
work  to  have  merit  enough  to  command  a  sale  in 
England,  I  may  visit  that  country,  and  attempt  to 
sell  the  copy  there  first;  and,  indeed,  revise  the 
work  at  Oxford."  t 

The  work  was  well  received  on  its  appearance, 
and  merited  the  attention  by  the  neAv  words  added 
which  had  come  into  use,  by  the  increased  num- 
ber of  definitions  marking  new  uses  of  the  lan- 
guage, and  by  its  labors  in  the  wide  field  of 


*  Letter,  Bedford,  May  31, 1818.    Life  and  Writings,  ii.  357. 
t  Letter,  Amherst.  Mass.,  November,  1S21.    Jay's  Life,  &c, 
II.  421. 


etymology.  Something,  it  was  felt,  was  due  to 
the  single-handed  perseverance  of  the  Yankee 
schoolmaster,  now  recognised  as  a  successful 
worker  in  the  field  where  Dr.  Johnson  had  gained 
his  most  imposing  laurels.  Had  Webster,  with 
his  perseverance  and  energy,  possessed  a  like  de- 
gree of  sound  judgment,  his  reputation  would 
have  been  unassailed.  As  it  was,  he  was  regarded 
with  suspicion,  and  frequently  openly  opposed: 
for  his  well  known  views  as  a  reformer  of  the 
language  laid  him  particularly  open  to  attack; 
since  speech  being  common  property,  every  one 
was  bound  more  or  less  to  question  his  proceedings. 
Though  the  dictionary  bearing  Webster's  name  is 
now  in  very  general  use,  it  has  secured  this  result 
by  the  number  of  its  words,  and  particularly  the 
extent  of  its  scientific  terms  and  the  accuracy  of 
their  definitions,  in  spite  of  the  peculiar  Webster- 
isms  of  orthography.  IBs  mistake,  as  the  com- 
piler of  a  dictionary,  at  the  outset  was,  in  seeking 
to  amend  the  language,  while  his  duty  was  simply 
to  record  the  use  of  words  by  the.  best  authors. 
In  the  attempt  to  impose  new  conditions,  and  with 
his  American  innovations,  he  placed  himself  be- 
yond the  recognition  of  the  highest  authorities  of 
the  language  in  the  universities  of  England  and 
the  colleges  of  America. 

His  first  dictionary,  published  in  1800,  was  vir- 
tually ignored  by  himself,  and  his  principles  of 
orthography  must  be  gathered  from  his  later  pub- 
lications. In  view  of  the  disturbance  created  in 
the  literary  world  by  his  innovations  since  1828, 
it  would  be  natural  to  suppose  that  these  innova- 
tions were  very  numerous ;  but  such  is  not  the 
fact.  The  changes  were  few  in  number;  but, 
being  applied  to  words  in  common  use,  they 
gained  a  factitious  importance  by  frequent  repeti- 
tion. His  present  system — carried  out  so  incon- 
sistently as  scarcely  to  deserve  the  name,  how- 
ever— may  be  thus  briefly  stated  :  I.  Finding  that 
many  words  of  French  origin  terminating  in  re 
had  been  in  adaption  transposed  to  er,  as  cider, 
chamber,  etc.,  he  decided  that  all  words  so 
adopted  should  be  so  transposed;  and,  accordingly, 
changed  spectre,  theatre,  etc.,  into  specter  and 
theater,  not  reflecting  that  the  changes  previously 
made  had  been  confined  to  words  which  did  not 
require  re-transposition  in  their  derivatives ;  and 
Webster's  inconsistency  here  was,  that  while  he 
wrote  theater  he  also  wrote  theatrical.  II.  He 
expunged  the  second  I  from  traveller,  libeller,  etc., 
because  he  deemed  it  superfluous ;  and  he  added 
a  second  I  to  foretel,  distil,  etc.,  because  the 
second  I  was  wanted  in  the  derivatives,  fore- 
telling, etc.  In  this  latter  change  he  laid  down 
the  principle,  that  the  spelling  of  the  derivative 
must  govern  the  spelling  of  the  primitive;  and 
yet,  although  in  conformity  to  this  rule,  he  also 
changed  defence,  pretence,  and  offence,  into  defense 
pretense,  and  offense,  he  omitted  to  change  such 
words  as  consequence,  inference,  sentence,  etc., 
while  he  retained  the  correct  spelling  of  their  de- 
rivative*, consequential,  sententious,  etc.  III.  He 
changed  ton  to  tun,  and  did  not  change  won  to 
wun  ;  he  changed  mould  and  moult  to  mold  and 
molt,  and  did  not  change  court  to  cort ;  and  he 
changed  practise,  the  verb,  to  practice.  This, 
substantially,  is  Webster's  orthographical  reform.* 

*  Eadicalisra  in  Orthography,  a  series  of  articles  from  the 


478 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


In  1833,  Noah  "Webster  published  his  revised 
edition  of  the  Bible,  with  what  he  considered 
improvements  of  the  language.*  It  was  a  rash 
and  unnecessary  attempt,  and  was  not  successful. 
His  design  is  thus  expressed  by  himself  in  the 
preface:  "In  my  own  view  of  this  subject,  a  ver- 
sion of  the  Scriptures  for  popular  use  should  con- 
sist of  words  expressing  the  sense  which  is  most 
common  in  popular  usage,  so  that  the  first  idea 
suggested  to  the  reader  should  be  the  true  mean- 
ing of  such  words,  according  to  the  original  lan- 
guages. That  many  words  in  the  present  version 
fail  to  do  this  is  certain.  My  principal  aim  is  to 
remedy  this  evil.''  This  principle  is  enlarged 
upon :  "  I  have  been  careful  to  avoid  unnecessary 
innovations,  and  to  retain  the  general  character 
of  the  style.  The  principal  alterations  are  com- 
prised in  three  classes : — 

"  I.  The  substitution  of  words  and  phrases  now 
in  good  use  for  such  as  are  wholly  obsolete,  or 
deemed  below  the  dignity  and  solemnity  of  the 
subject. 

"  II.  The  correction  of  errors  in  grammar. 

"III.  The  insertion  of  euplmmisins  [sic],  words 
and  phrases  which  are  not  very  offensive  to  deli- 
cacy, in  the  place  of  such  as  cannot  with  propriety 
be  uttered  before  a  promiscuous  audience. 

"A  few  errors  in  the  translation  which  are  ad- 
mitted on  all  hands  to  be  obvious  have  been  cor- 
rected.    *        *        * 

"  To  avoid  giving  offence  to  any  denomination  of 
Christians,  I  have  not  knowingly  made  any  altera- 
tion in  the  passages  of  the  present  version  on 
which  the  different  denominations  rely  for  the 
support  of  their  tenets." 

An  enumeration  of  the  "  principal  alterations  " 
is  made  in  an  Introduction.  From  this  it  appears 
that  u ho  is  substituted  for  which  when  it  refers  to 
persons  ;  its  is  substituted  for  Ms  when  it  refers 
to  plants  and  things  without  life;  why  is  substi- 
tuted for  wherefore  when  inquiry  is  made ;  my 
and  thy  are  generally  substituted  for  mine  and 
thine  when  used  as  adjectives  ;  assemble,  collect, 
or  convene  for  what  Webster  is  pleased  to  call 
"  the  tautological  words  "  gather  together  ;  know 
or  Jcneto  for  wist,  wit,  and  wot;  sixty  for  three 
score,  and  eighty  for  four  score.  It  would  be  a 
melancholy  task  to  continue  the  list.  As  such 
attempts,  however,  may  be  made  again,  though 
it  is  to  be  trusted  with  like  ill-success,  it  is  a 
matter  of  duty  to  point  out  the  radical  defect  of 
mind  which  led  to  these  rash  suggestions.  They 
argue  an  essentially  common,  prosaic  intellect, 
deficient  in  taste,  feeling,  imagination ;  wanting 
in  a  knowledge  of  the  subtle  philosophical  links 
of  association  which  have  long  attached  the  Eng- 
lish-speaking world  by  a  power  which  equally 
holds  heart  and  mind  to  the  standard  version  of 
the  Holy  Scriptures.  "When  "Webster  substitutes 
sixty  for  three  score  he  says,  "  it  appears  to  him 
most  eligible  to  retain  but  one  mode  of  specifying 
numbers,"  and  adds  his  favorite  maxim,  that 
"  uniformity  is  preferable  to  diversity  " — a  most 

pen  of  Edward  S.  Gould,  Literary  World,  iv.  200,  270,  355,  457. 
Senator  Bcekmau's  Minority  Report  in  N,  Y.  Legislature,  July 
7, 1S51,  ib,  i.\.  67. 

*  The  Holy  Bible,  containing  the  Old  and  New  Testaments 
in  the  Common  Version.  With  amendments  of  the  language 
by  Noah  Webster,  LL.D.  New  Haven:  published  by  fiurrie 
&  Peck.  Sold  by  Hezekiah  Howe  &  Co.  and  A.  H.  Maltby, 
New  Haven,  and  by  N.  &  J.  White,  New  York,  1S38. 


absurd  statement  in  a  world  beneficently  provided 
with  diversity  on  all  sides.  When  he  substitutes 
0  that  for  would  God,  he  is  at  the  pains  to  destroy 
the  force  of  expression,  as  in  the  undying  sound 
of  the  lament  of  David,  "  O,  my  son  Absalom, 
my  son,  my  son  Absalom  !  would  God  I  had  died 
for  thee,  O,  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son!  "  which 
he  profanely  alters  to  "  O  that  I  had  died  for 
thee,"  stating,  as  a  reason  for  the  change,  that 
"the  insertion  of  the  phrases  in  the  version  has 
given  countenance  to  the  practice  of  introducing 
them  into  discourses  and  public  speeches  with  a 
levity  that  is  incompatil  le  with  a  due  veneration 
for  the  name  of  God."  For  the  same  reason 
there  would  be  no  rebgion  at  all,  since  infidels 
have  caricatured  all  that  is  sacred.  The  same 
remarks  apply  to  the  unhappy  substitution  of  By 
no  means,  for  God  forbid.  In  the  Sermon  on  (he 
Mount,  Noah  Webster  alters  "Therefore  take  no 
thought,  saying,  what  shall  we  eat,"  into  "  There- 
fore be  not  anxious,"  seeking  to  justify  his  med- 
dlesome change  by  the  plea  that  he  is  giving  more 
force  to  the  expression.  Such  a  remark  as  this 
might  be  expected  to  proceed  from  a  schoolbo}' 
or  a  foreigner  who  had  yet  his  acquaintance  to 
make  with  the  language,  rather  than  from  a  man 
who  had  professedly  passed  his  life  in  its  stud}-. 
Other  alterations  of  archaisms,  sr.ch  as  putting 
male  child  for  man  child  ;  Jahehood  for  leasing  ; 
boiled  for  sodden  ;  creeping  animal  for  creeping 
thing  (a  creeping  thing,  he  tells  us,  being  "more 
properly  a  creeping-plant  than  a  reptile"); 
advanced  for  stricken  in  age,  and  the  like,  on  the 
ground  of  accommodating  the  language  to  the 
use  of  the  day,  show  a  similar  unconsciousness  of 
the  moral  relations  of  the  subject,  and  the  advan- 
tage of  the  Bible  in  providing  a  store-house  of 
words  and  securing  the  permanency  of  the  lan- 
guage. In  the  few  cases  in  which  the  words  of 
the  translation  have  grown  obsolete,  it  is  rather 
an  advantage  than  a  disadvantage  that  there  are 
special  terms  set  apart  from  common  uses  as  es- 
pecially biblical.  The  imagination  is  afl'ected  by 
them ;  the  sense  of  sanctity  and  awe  is  enhanced 
by  them.  The  poverty  of  mind  which  begets 
such  attempts  leads  so  soon  to  indecorum  and 
what  must  be  fain  considered  irreverence,  that  it 
would  be  perhaps  unwise  here  to  pursue  the  sub- 
ject further.  A  great  literary  and  moral  interest 
is  .involved  in  it. 

In  1840,  a  new  edition  of  the  Dictionary  ap- 
peared, with  several  thousand  new  words  added 
and  improvements  in  the  scientific  definitions,  and 
the  introduction  of  phrases  from  foreign  lan- 
guages. 

Early  in  1843,  the  last  year  of  his  life,  he  gave 
his  attention  to  a  revision  of  the  appendix  of  his 
Dictionary,  adding  several  hundred  words.  He 
had  given  thirty-six  years  to  the  work. 

In  1843  he  published,  at  New  York,  A  Collec- 
tion of  Papers  on  Political,  Literary,  and  Moral 
Subjects.  Its  chief  contents  are  a  republication 
of  his  tracts  on  the  French  Revolution,  the  Plight 
of  Search,  the  British  Treaty,  the  Copyright 
Question,  and  a  number  of  papers  on  topics  of 
politics  and  education. 

This  was  at  the  close  of  a  long  life  spent  with 
unwearied  activity  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge. 
With  his  faculties  unimpaired,  in  the  cheerful 
retrospect  of  a  life  of  happy  employment,  and 


NOAH  WORCESTER. 


479 


with  the  consolations  of  religion,  he  expired,  after 
a  brief  illness,  at  New  Haven,  May  28,  1843,  in 
his  eighty-fifth  year."' 

Of  Webster's  plain  habits  of  living,  anil  of  his 
time  given  to  study,  there  is  a  quaint  account  in 
a  letter  from  his  pen,  dated  November  21,  1836, 
addressed  to  Dr.  Thomas  Miner,  in  answer  to  an 
inquiry  as  to  his  mode  of  life,  in  which  he  says: — 

I  have  never  been  a  hard  student,  unless  a  few 
years  may  be  excepted  ;  but  I  have  been  a  steady, 
persevering  student.  I  have  rarely  used  lamp  or 
eandle  light,  except  once,  when  reading  law,  and 
then  I  paid  dear  for  my  imprudence,  for  I  injured 
my  eyes.  My  practice  lias  usually  been  to  rise 
about  half  an  hour  before  the  sun,  and  make  use  of 
all  the  light  of  that  luminary.  Bat  I  have  never  or 
rarely  been  in  a  hurry.  When  I  first  undertook  the 
business  of  supporting  General  Washington's  ad- 
ministration, I  labored  too  hard  in  writing  or  trans- 
lating from  the  French  papers  for  my  paper,  or  hi 
composing  pamphlets,  In  two  instances  I  was  so 
exhausted  that  I  expected  to  die,  for  I  could  not  per- 
ceive any  pulsation  ill  the  radial  artery ;  but  I  re- 
covered. While  engaged  in  composing  my  Diction- 
ary, I  w:is  often  so  much  excited  by  the  discoveries 
1  made,  that  my  pulse,  whose  ordinary  action  is 
scarcely  60  beats  to  the  minute,  was  accelerated  to 
80  or  85. 

My  exercise  has  not  been  violent  nor  regular. 
While  I  was  in  Amherst  I  cultivated  a  little  land, 
and  used  to  work  at  making  hay,  and  formerly  I 
worked  in  my  garden,  which  I  cannot  now  do. 
Until  within  a  few  years,  I  used  to  make  my  fires  in 
the  morning,  but  I  never  or  rarely  walked  before 
breakfast.  My  exercise  is  now  limited  to  walking 
about  the  city  to  purchase  supplies  for  my  family. 
For  a  part  of  my  life,  the  last  forty  years,  I  have 
had  a  horse  of  my  own,  but  I  never  rode  merely  for 
health;  and  a  part  of  the  time,  more  than  half,  I 
have  not  been  able  to  keep  a  horse.  My  eyes  have, 
from  a  child,  been  subject  to  a  slight  inflammation, 
but  the  sight  has  been  good.  I  began  to  use  spec- 
tacles when  fifty  years  of  age,  or  a  little  more,  and 
that  was  the  time  when  I  began  to  study  and  pre- 
pare materials  for  my  Dictionary.  I  had  had  the 
subject  in  contemplation  some  years  before,  and  had 
made  memorandums  on  the  margin  of  Johnson's 
Dictionary,  but  I  did  not  6et  myself  to  the  work  till 
I  wore  spectacles. 

When  I  finished  my  copy  I  was  sitting  at  my 
table  in  Cambridge,  England,  January,  1825.  When 
I  arrived  at  the  last  word,  I  was  seized  with  a  tremor 
that  made  it  difficult  to  proceed.  I,  however,  sum- 
moned up  strength  to  finish  the  work,  and  then 
walking  about  the  room  I  soon  recovered,  f 

NOAH  WORCESTER 

Was  born  at  Hollis,  K  H,  November  25,  1758. 
He  was  of  an  old  ecclesiastical  family  in  New 
England.  His  father,  of  the  same  name,  was  an 
influential  magistrate  of  New  Hampshire.  His 
brother  Leonard  was  bred  a  printer,  and  for  a 
time  edited  the  Massachusetts  Spy  at  Worcester. 
Noah,  who  in  later  life  was  called  "  The  Apos- 
tle of  Peace,"  was  in  youth  a  fifer  at  Bunker 
Hill,  and  was  also  in  the  battle  of  Bennington. 
At  eighteen  he  was  teaching  in  the  village  school 
of  Plymouth,  N.  H,  and  pursued  that  calling  for 
nine  successive  winter-.  To  accomplish  himself 
in  penmanship,  in  the  scarcity  of  paper  during 


*  National  Portrait  Gallery,  ii. 
t  New  Englander,  i.  568. 


Ed.  1S54 


the  war,  he  wrote  over  a  quantity  of  white  birch 
bark.  In  1778,  according  to  the  primitive  usage 
of  an  agricultural  and  thinly  peopled  region,  and 
the  old  Puritan  religious  ideas  of  the  family,  he 
purchased  of  his  father  the  remainder  of  his 
minority,*  and  left  for  Plymouth.  In  1782  he 
removed  to  Thornton,  where  he  was  a  preacher 
from  1780  to  1810.  Ho  had  commenced  his 
career  as  a  writer  with  a  controversial  letter  to 
the  Rev.  John  Murray,  on  his  sermon  on  the 
"  Origin  of  Evil."  In  1810  he  published  his  Uni- 
tarian e;say,  which  he  entitled  Bible  News  of  the 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,  in  a  series  of  let- 
ters, in  four  parts.  This  work  brought  upon  him 
much  opposition,  to  mitigate  which  he  wrote  his 
letters  to  Trinitarians  in  favor  of  tolerance  and 
personal  kindness  among  those  who  differed  in 
religious  opinions.  He  wrote  at  this  time  for  the 
journals:  for  the  Theological  Magazine,  in  New 
York,  a  series  of  papers,  The  Variety  ;  in  a  peri- 
odical at  Concord,  and  in  the  newspapers. 

In  1813  he  removed  to  Brighton,  near  Boston; 
his  friends,  Dr  Charming,  Dr.  Lowell,  Dr.  Tuck- 
erman,  and  the  Rev.  S.  C.  Thacher,  having  made 
provision  for  him  as  editor  of  the  Christian  Dis- 
ciple, which  grew  afterwards  into  the  present 
Christian  Examiner.  It  was  a  monthly  periodi- 
cal, "for  the  promotion  of  spiritual  and  moral 
improvement."  It  was  conducted  by  him  to  the 
close  of  1818.  Be  here  uttered  his  ideas  on  the 
Peace  Question,  which  ho  had  publicly  stated  in 
the  war  of  1812,  in  a  sermon  on  the  pacific  con- 
duct of  Abraham  and  Lot,  in  avoiding  hostilities 
between  their  herdsmen,  delivered  on  the  day 
appointed  by  Madison  for  a  national  fast.  In 
1814:  he  published  his  tract,  A  Solemn  Review  of 
the  Custom  of  War.  The  Massachusetts  Peace 
Society  was  founded  in  the  following  year.  In 
pursuance  of  his  views  he  began  the  publication 
of  The  Friend,  of  Peace  in  1819,  and  continued 
it,  in  quarterly  numbers,  for  ten  years.  It  was 
mostly  written  by  himself.  In  1821)  he  resumed 
his  theological  publications  with  a  small  volume, 


The  Atoning  Sacrifice,  a  display  of  Love  not  of 
Wrath;  and,  in  1831,  a  small  book  on  The 
Causes  and  Evils  of  Contentions  among  Christians. 
In  1833  he  published  a  volume,  Last  Thoughts  on 


*  Memoirs  by  the  Rev.  Henry  Ware,  p.  9. 


4S0 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Important  Subjects;  in  three  parts.  1.  Man's 
Liability  to  Sin  ;  2.  Supplemental  Illustrations; 
3.  Maiis  Capacity  to  Obey.  He  was  now  at  the 
extreme  period  of  life,  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  hap- 
py, tranquil  old  age.  Channing,  who  has  cele- 
brated his  career  in  his  noble  eulogy  entitled  the 
Philanthropist,  speaks  of  the  serenity  of  his  life, 
in  the  midst  of  his  reformatory  opinions  and  con- 
troversial writings,  and  of  the  "sufficiency  of  his 
mind  to  its  own  happiness."*  His  personal  ap- 
pearance was  remarkable,  of  a  large  frame  and 
benign  expression.  He  died  at  Brighton,  Massa- 
chusetts, October  81,  1837,  aged  79. 

His  chief  reputation  rests  on  his  Peace  Efforts, 
and  his  position  in  the  transition  stage  of  Puri- 
tanism to  Unitarianism. 

JOHN   ARMSTRONG, 

TnE  author  of  the  "  Newburgh  Letters"  and 
the  historian  of  the  second  war  with  England, 
was  a  native  of  Pennsylvania,  born  at  Carlisle, 
Nov.  25,  1758.  His  father  was  an  officer  of 
distinction  in  the  war  with  France  in  1755.  On 
the  breaking  out  of  the  Revolution  young  Arm- 
strong, then  a  student  at  the  college  of  New 
Jersey,  joined  the  camp  as  a  volunteer  at  the  age 
of  eighteen.  He  was  appointed  aide-de-camp  to 
General  Mercer,  who  was  borne  in  his  arms, 
fatally  wounded,  from  the  field  at  the  battle  of 
Princeton.  He  was  next  invited  to  become  aide 
to  General  Gates,  and  served  with  him  through 
the  campaign  which  closed  at  Saratoga.  In 
1780,  he  was  appointed  Adjutant  General  of 
the  Southern  army,  but  retired  from  this  service 
in  consequence  of  illness  before  the  battle  of 
Camden,  resuming  his  position  with  General 
Gates,  as  aide,  with  the  rank  of  Major. 

When  the  war  was  ended  he  had  an  opportu- 
nity to  give  proof  of  his  ability  with  the  pen  in 
his  authorship'  of  the  celebrated  Nacburyli  Let- 
ters, dated  from  the  camp  at  that  place.  The 
design  of  these  addresses  was  to  arouse  the  army 
to  a  vigorous  assertion  of  their  claims,  which  in 
the  imperfect  organization  of  the  general  govern- 
ment it  was  necessary  should  be  loudly  urged  to 
obtain  a  hearing.  There  were  two  of  these 
"  addresses,"  one  dated  in  the  camp  at  Newburgh, 
the  10th  March,  1783,  inviting  a  meeting  of 
officers  for  the  consideration  of  measures  to 
redress  the  army  grievances,  in  the  neglect  of 
pay  by  Congress,  which  employed  this  bold 
language : — 

"  If  this  then  be  your  treatment,  while  the  swords 
you  wear  are  necessary  for  the  defence  of  America, 
what  have  you  to  expect  from  peace,  when  your 
voice  shall  sink,  and  your  strength  dissipate  by 
division ;  when  those  very  swords,  the  instruments 
and  companions  of  your  glory,  shall  be  taken  from 
your  sides,  and  no  remaining  mark  of  military  dis- 
tinction left  but  your  wants,  infirmities,  and  scars? 
Can  you  then  consent,  to  be  the  only  sufferers  by 
this  revolution,  and  retiring  from  the  field,  grow  old 
in  poverty,  wretchedness,  and  contempt?  Can  you 
consent  to  wade  through  the  vile  mire  of  dependency, 
and  owe  the  miserable  remnant  of  that  life  to 
charity,  which  has  been  hitherto  spent  in  honor? 
If  you  can,  go,  and  carry  with  you  the  jest  of 
Tories  and  the  scorn   of  Whigs ;  the  ridicule,  and 


*  Channing's  Works,  iv.  8ST. 


what  is  worse,  the  pity  of  the  world  Go  starve 
and  be  forgotten.  But  if  your  spirits  should  revolt 
at  this ;  if  you  have  sense  enough  to  discover  and 
spirit  sufficient  to  oppose  tyranny,  under  whatever 
garb  it  may  assume,  whether  it  be  the  plain  coat  of 
republicanism  or  the  splendid  robe  of  royalty;  if 
you  have  yet  learned  to  discriminate  between  a 
people  and  a  cause,  between  men  and  principles; 
awake,  attend  to  your  situation,  and  redress  3'our- 
selvesl  If  the  present  moment  be  lost,  every  future 
effort  is  in  vain ;  and  your  threats  will  then  be  as 
empty  as  your  entreaties  now. 

I  would  advise  you,  therefore,  to  come  to  some 
final  opinion  upon  what  you  can  bear,  and  what 
you  will  suffer.  If  your  determination  be  in  any 
proportion  to  your  wrongs,  carry  your  appeal  from 
the  justice  to  the  fears  of  government.  Change 
the  milk-and-water  style  of  your  last  memorial. 
Assume  a  bolder  tone,  decent,  but  lively,  spirited, 
and  determined;  and  suspect  the  man  wdio  would 
advise  to  more  moderation  and  longer  forbearance. 
Let  two  or  three  men,  who  can  feel  as  well  as  write, 
be  appointed  to  draw  up  your  last  remonstrance, 
for  I  would  no  longer  give  it  the  suing,  soft,  unsuc- 
cessful epithet  of  memorial.  Let  it  represent  in 
language  that  will  neither  dishonor  you  by  its 
rudeness,  nor  betray  you  by  its  fears,  what  has 
been  promised  by  Congress,  and  what  has  been 
performed  ;  how  long  and  how  patiently  you  have 
suffered ;  how  little  you  have  asked,  and  how  much 
of  that  little  has  been  denied.  Tell  them,  that 
though  you  were  the  first,  and  would  wish  to  be 
last,  to  encounter  danger,  though  despair  itself  can 
never  drive  you  into  dishonor,  it  may  drive  you 
from  the  field ;  that  the  wound,  often  irritated  and 
never  healed,  may  at  length  become  incurable  ;  and 
that  the  slightest  mark  of  indignity  from  Congress 
now  must  operate  like  the  grave,  and  part  you  for 
ever;  that,  in  any  political  event,  the  arm}'  has  its 
alternative.  If  peace,  that  nothing  shall  separate 
you  from  your  arms  but  deatli ;  if  war,  that  court- 
ing the  auspices,  and  inviting  the  direction  of  your 
illustrious  leader,  you  will  retire  to  some  unsettled 
country,  smile  in  your  turn,  "  and  mock  when  their 
fear  cometh  on."  But  let  it  represent,  also,  that 
should  they  comply  with  the  request  of  your  late 
memorial,  it  would  make  you  more  happy  and  them 
more  respectable  ;  that,  while  war  should  continue, 
you  would  follow  their  standard  into  the  field;  and 
when  it  came  to  an  end,  you  would  withdraw  into 
the  shade  of  private  life,  and  give  the  world  another 
subject  of  wonder  and  applause  ;  an  army  victorious 
over  its  enemies,  victorious  over  itself. 

Washington,  who  was  in  camp,  met  this  inflam- 
matory proceeding  by  his  general  orders  forbid- 
ding the  meeting,  and  calling  an  assembly  of 
officers  to  hear  the  report  of  the  committee  sent 
to  Congress,  when  a  second  address  appeared 
turning  to  account  this  apparent  sanction  of  the 
gathering.  Washington  overruled  the  threatened 
embarrassment  by  himself  attending  the  meeting, 
securing  the  quiet  of  Gates  by  placing  him  in  the 
chair,  and  rallying  his  faithful  brother  officers  to 
his  support.* 

AVashington  read  an  address  to  the  officers  at 
the  meeting,  in  which  the  whole  matter  was 
treated   with   dignitv   and   feeling,    and    in   the 


*  Hildreth's  TJ.  S..  First  Scries,  iii.  431.  Cllrtls's  ITistory  of 
the  Constitution,  i.  1GS.  where  the  styie  of  the  Newburgh 
Addresses  is  highly  spoken  of: — "They  nre  written  with  great 
point  and  vigor  of  expression,  and  great  purity  of  English. 
For  the  purpose  for  which  they  were  designed, — a  direct 
appeal  to  feeling, — they  show  the  hand  of  a  master." 


GEORGE  R.  1IINOT. 


4S1 


course  of  which,  while  the  arguments  and  pro- 
posals of  "  the  anonymous  addresser"  were  an- 
swered with  respect,  it  was  intimated  that  he 
was  "  an  insidious  foe — some  emissary,  perhaps, 
from  New  York,  sowing  the  seeds  of  discord  and 
separation  hetween  the  civil  and  military  powers 
of  the  continent." 

At  the  time  of  making  this  address,  Washing- 
ton was  not  acquainted  with  the  anonymous 
author.  He  afterwards,  in  writing  to  General 
Armstrong,  Feb.  23,  1797,  expressed  his  confi- 
dence in  the  good  motives  which  had  dictated 
the  letters,  as  "just,  honorable,  and  friendly  to 
the  country,  though  the  means  suggested  were 
certainly  liable  to  much  misunderstanding  and 
abuse."* 

After  the  war  Armstrong  held  the  post  of 
Secretary  of  Pennsylvania,  under  Dickenson  and 
Franklin.  In  1787,  he  was  elected  member  of 
Congress.  In  1780,  upon  his  marriage  with  a 
sister  of  Chancellor  Livingston,  he  took  up  his 
residence  in  Dutchess  County  in  the  State  of 
New  York,  where  he  occupied  himself  with  farm- 
ing. In  1800,  he  was  elected  senator  of  the 
United  States,  and  in  1804,  was  appointed  by 
Jefferson  minister  to  France,  an  arduous  position, 
which  he  filled  till  1810,  during  which  time  he 
discharged  the  duties  of  a  separate  mission  to 
Spain. 

When  the  war  of  1812  was  declared,  he  was 
appointed  brigadier-general  in  the  United  States 
army,  and  commanded  the  district  including  the 
city  and  harbor  of  New  York.  In  1813,  he  was 
called  by  Madison  to  the  Secretaryship  of  War. 
The  difficulties  which  he  encountered  in  the 
management  of  attempts  against  Canada,  and  the 
destruction  of  Washington,  led  to  his  resignation 
in  1814.  He  suffered  at  the  time  the  odium 
resulting  from  these  disasters,  which  threw  into 
the  shade  his  undoubtedly  honorable  and  faithful 
services. 

In  his  retirement  at  Red  Hook,  where  he 
passed  the  subsequent  years  of  his  life,  he  wrote 
treatises  on  Gardening  and  Agriculture,  a  review 
of  Wilkinson's  Memoirs,  several  biographical 
notices,  and  N~otir.cs  of  the  War  of  1812,  the 
first  volume  of  which  was  published  in  1836,  and 
the  second  in  1840.  In  this  work  he  reviews  the 
conduct  of  the  war  with  a  forcible  and  discrimi- 
nating pen,  sharpened  by  the  official  experiences 
of  his  own  career  a-i  secretary.  It  possesses  the 
interest  of  an  original  critical  disquisition  on  a 
most  important  period  of  our  history,  and  its 
points  will  continue  to  furnish  the  text  for  pro- 
longed comment. 

Gen.  Armstrong  died  at  his  country  residence 
on  the  Hudson,  April  1,  1843,  in  his  eighty-fifth 
year.f 

GEOEGE  E.  MINOT. 
George  Richards,  the  son  of  Stephen  Minot,  a 
merchant  of  Boston,  was  born  in  that  city  Decem- 
ber 22,  1758.  His  father's  means  having  been 
impaired  by  unsuccessful  business  speculation,  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  lie  secured  a  liberal  edu- 
cation.    He  was  prepared  for  college  by  the  oele- 


*  SparkB's  Washington,  viil.  566. 

t  Encyclopaedia  Americana,  vol.  xiv.    Lossing's  Field  Book, 
u.  106. 

vor..  i.— 31 


brated  Master  Lovell ;  completed  his  course  with 
the  highest  honors  at  Harvard,  in  1778  :  and  on 
taking  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts,  delivered  the 
valedictory  oration  in  Latin,  which  was  much  ad- 
mired for  its  eloquence  and  purity  of  language. 

He  studied  law  with  Fisher  Ames  in  the  office  of 
William  Tudor.  Soon  after  commencing  practice 
he  was  made,  in  1781,  Clerk  of  the  House  of  Re- 
presentatives, under  the  recently  formed  constitu- 
tion ;  in  1782  he  was  appointed  judge  of  probate  for 
the  county  of  Suffolk  ;  and  in  1800,  of  the  Munici- 
pal Court  in  Boston.  In  1783,  he  married  Mary 
Speakman,  of  Marlboro'.  In  1788,  he  published 
the  History  of  the  Rebellion  in  Massachusetts  in 
1786  ;  a  work  which  attracted  great  attention 
from  its  interest,  its  dispassionate  tone,  and  the 
elegance  and  purity  of  its  style;  and  in  17U8,  the 
first  volume  of  a,  History  of  the  Province  of 
Massachusetts  Bay,  from  1748  to  1765,  in  conti- 
nuation of  that  of  Hutchinson.  The  second  vo- 
lume was  printed  from  his  manuscripts  shortly 
after  his  death,  which  occurred  after  a  short  ill- 
ness on  the  second  of  January,  1802.  He  was 
also  the  author  of  an  oration  on  the  Boston  Mas- 
sacre ;  of  a  highly  finished  and  impassioned  dis- 
course on  the  death  of  Washington ;  and  an 
address  before  the  Massachusetts  Charitable  So- 
ciety. He  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts Historical  Society,  and  edited  three  of 
the  early  volumesof  their  collections.  His  history 
is  a  well  written,  laborious,  and  impartial  work. 
Its  author  was  noted,  in  addition  to  his  writings, 
for  his  fine  taste,  elegant  personal  appearance,  the 
amiability  and  uprightness  of  his  character,  and 
the  hospitality  of  his  mansion.* 

TREATMENT  OF  THE  ACADIAN8,  1755. 

The  French  force  in  Nova-Scotia  being  thus  sub- 
dued, it  only  remained  to  determine  the  measures 
which  ought  tobetakea  with  respect  to  the  inhabit- 
ants, who  were  about  seven  thousand  in  number, 
and  whose  character  and  situation  were  so  peculiar, 
as  to  distinguish  them  from  almost  every  other  com- 
munity, that  has  suffered  under  the  scourge  of  war. 

The  allegations  against  them  as  a  people,  and 
which  were  undoubtedly  just  against  many  of  thera 
as  individuals,  were  these  :  That  being  permit- 
ted to  hold  their  lands,  after  the  treaty  of  Utrecht, 
by  which  the  Province  was  ceded  to  Great-Britain, 
upou  condition  of  their  taking  the  oath  of  allegiance, 
they  refused  to  comply,  excepting  with  this  qualifi- 
cation, that  they  should  not  be  called  upon  to  bear 
arms  in  the  defence  of  the  Province ;  which  qualifi- 
cation, though  acceded  to  by  Gen.  Phillips,  the 
British  commander,  was  disapproved  of  by  the 
king :  That  from  this  circumstance  they  affected  the 
character  of  neutrals,  yet  furnished  the  French  and 
Indians  with  intelligence,  quarters,  provisions  and 
assistance  in  annoying  the  government  of  the  Pro- 
vince, and  three  hundred  of  them  were  actually 
found  in  arms  at  the  taking  of  fort  Beau-sejour: 
That  notwithstanding  an  offer  was  made,  to  such  of 
them  as  had  not  been  openly  in  arms,  to  be  allowed 
to  continue  in  possession  of  their  land,  if  they  would 
take  tlie  oath  of  allegiance  without  any  qualification, 
they  unanimously  refused  it.< 

The  character  of  this  people  was  mild,  frugal,  in- 


*  Loring's  Hundred  Boston  Orators,  p.  14C, . 


4S3 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


dustrious  and  pious;  and  a  scrupulous  sense  of  the 
indissoluble  nature  of  their  ancient  obligation  to 
their  king,  was  a  great  cause  of  their  misfortunes. 
To  this  we  may  add  an  unalterable  attachment  to 
their  religion,  a  distrust  of  the  right  of  the  English 
to  the  territory  which  they  inhabited,  and  the  in- 
demnity promised  them  at  the  surrender  of  fort 
Beau-scjour.  Notwithstanding  which,  there  could 
be  no  apology  for  such  of  them  as,  after  they  had 
obtained  the  advantages  of  neutrality,  violated  the 
conditions  on  which  they  were  granted,  and  without 
which,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  there  was  no 
just  foundation  to  expect  they  would  be  continued. 

Such  being  the  circumstances  of  the  French  Neu- 
trals, as  they  were  called,  the  Lieutenant  Governor 
•of  Nova-Scotia  and  his  Council,  aided  by  the  admi- 
rals Boscawen  and  Mostyn,  assembled  to  consider  of 
the  necessary  measures  to  be  adopted  towards  them. 
If  the  whole  were  to  suffer  for  the  conduct  of  a  part, 
the  natural  punishment  would  have  been  to  have 
forced  them  from  their  country,  and  left  them  to  go 
wherever  they  pleased ;  but  from  the  situation  of 
the  Province  of  Canada,  it  was  obvious  to  see  that 
this  would  have  been  to  recruit  it  witli  soldiers,  who 
would  immediately  have  returned  in  arms  upon  the 
British  frontiers.  It  was  therefore  determined  to 
remove  and  disperse  this  whole  people  amo:  g  the 
British  Colonies,  where  they  could  not  unite  in  any 
offensive  measures,  and  where  they  might  be  natu- 
ralized to  the  government'and  country. 

The  execution  of  this  unusual  and  general  sentence 
was  allotted  chiefly  to  the  JSew  England  forces,  the 
commander  of  which,  from  the  humanity  and  firm- 
ness of  his  character,  was  the  best  qualified  to  carry 
it  into  effect  It  was  without  doubt,  as  he  himself 
declared,  disagreeable  to  his  natural  make  and  tern-  | 
per ;  and  his  principles  of  implicit  obedience  as  a 
soldier  were  put  to  a  severe  test  by  this  ungrateful 
kind  of  duty,  which  required  an  ungenerous  cun- 
ning, and  subtle  kind  of  severity,  calculated  to  ren- 
der the  Acadians  subservient  to  the  English  interests 
to  the  latest  hour.  They  were  kept  entirely  igno- 
rant of  their  destiny  until  the  moment  of  their 
captivity,  and  were  overawed  or  allured  to  labour 
at  the  gathering  in  of  their  harvest,  which  was  se- 
cretly allotted  to  the  use  of  their  conquerors.  The 
orders  from  Lieutenant  Governor  Lawrence  to  Capt. 
Murray,  who  was  first  on  the  station,  witli  a  plagia- 
rism of  the  language  without  the  spirit  of  scripture, 
directed  that  if  tliese  people  behaved  amiss,  they 
should  be  punished  at  his  discretion  ;  and  if  any  at- 
tempts were  made  to  destroy  or  molest  the  troops, 
he  should  take  an  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a 
tooth,  and  in  short,  life  for  life,  from  the  nearest 
neighbour  where  the  mischief  should  be  per- 
formed. 

The  convenient  moment  having  arrived,  the  inha- 
bitants were  called  into  the  different  ports  to  hear 
the  king's  orders,  as  they  were  termed.  At  Grand 
Pre,  where  Col.  Winslow  had  the  immediate  com- 
mand, four  hundred  and  eighteen  of  their  best  men 
assembled.  These  being  shut  into  the  church,  (for 
that  too  had  become  an  arsenal)  he  placed  himself 
with  his  officers  in  the  centre,  and  addressed  them 
thus : — 

Gentlemex, 

I  have  received  from  his  Excellency  Governor 
Lawrence,  the  King's  commission,  which  I  have  in 
my  hand;  and  by  his  orders  you  are  convened  toge- 
ther, to  manifest  to  you  his  Majesty's  final  resolution 
to  the  French  inhabitants  of  this  his  Province  of 
Nova-Scotia;  who  for  almost  half  a  century  have  had 
more  indulgence  granted  them,  than  any  of  his  sub- 
jects in  any  part  of  his  dominions.  What  use  you 
have  made  of  it,  you  yourselves  best  know. 


The  part  of  duty  I  am  now  upon,  though  necessa- 
ry, is  very  disagreeable  to  my  natural  make  and 
temper,  as  I  know  it  must  be  grievous  to  you  who 
are  of  the  same  species. 

But  it  is  not  my  business  to  animadvert,  but  to  obey 
such  orders  as  I  receive,  and  therefore,  without  hesi- 
tation, shall  deliver  you  his  Majesty's  orders  and  in- 
structions, namely, 

"That  your  lands  and  tenements,  cattle  of  all 
kinds,  and  live  stock  of  ail  sorts,  are  forfeited  to  the 
crown,  with  all  other  your  effects,  saving  your  money 
and  household  goods,  and  you  yourselves  to  be  re- 
moved from  this  his  Province." 

Thus  it  is  peremptorily  his  Majesty's  orders,  that 
the  whole  French  inhabitants  of  tliese  districts  be 
removed,  and  I  am,  through  his  Majesty's  goodness, 
directed  to  allow  you  liberty  to  carry  off  your  mo- 
ney and  household  goods,  as  many  as  you  can  with- 
out discommoding  the  vessels  you  go  in.  I  shall  do 
every  thing  in  my  power,  that  all  those  goods  be  se- 
cured to  you,  and  that  you  are  not  molested  in  car- 
rying them  off:  also  that  whole  families  shall  go  in 
the  same  vessel ;  and  make  this  remove,  which  I  am 
sensible  must  give  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  as 
easy  as  his  Majesty's  service  will  admit,  and  hope, 
that  in  whatever  part  of  the  world  you  may  fall, 
you  may  be  faithful  subjects,  a  peaceable  and  happy 
people. 

I  must  also  inform  you,  that  it  is  his  Majesty's 
pleasure  that  you. remain  in  security,  under  the  in- 
spection and  direction  of  the  troops  that  I  have  the 
honour  to  command. 

And  he  then  declared  them  the  King's  prisoners. 

The  whole  number  of  persons  collected  at  Grand 
Pre,  finally  amounted  to  483  men  and  337  women, 
heads  of  families,  and  their  sous  and  daughters  to 
527  of  the  former,  and  576  of  the  latter,  making  in 
the  whole  1923  sonis.  Their  stock  was  upwards  of 
5,000  horned  cattle,  493  horses,  and  12,887  sheep 
and  swine. 

As  some  of  these  wretched  inhabitants  escaped  to 
the  woods,  all  possible  measures  were  adopted  to 
force  them  back  to  captivity.  The  country  was  laid 
waste  to  prevent  their  subsistence.  In  the  district 
of  Minas  alone,  there  were  destroyed  255  houses, 
27(i  barns,  155  out-houses,  11  mills  and  1  church  ; 
and  the  friends  of  those  who  refused  to  come  in, 
were  threatened  as  the  victims  of  their  obstinacy. 
In  short,  so  operative  were  the  terrors  that  surround- 
ed them,  that  of  twenty-four  young  men  who  de- 
serted from  a  transport,  twenty-two  were  glad  to  re- 
turn of  themselves,  the  others  being  shot  by  senti- 
nels; and  one  of  their  friends  who  was  supposed  to 
have  been  accessary  to  their  escape,  having  been 
carried  on  shore,  to  behold  the  destruction  of  his 
house  and  effects,  which  were  burned  in  his  pre- 
sence, as  a  punishment  for  his  temerity,  and  perfidi- 
ous aid  to  his  comrades.  Being  embarked  by  force 
of  the  musquetry,  they  were  dispersed,  according  to 
the  original  plan,  among  the  several  British  Colo- 
nies. One  thousand  arrived  in  Massachusetts  Bay 
and  became  a  public  expense,  owing  in  a  great  de- 
gree to  an  unchangeable  antipathy  to  their  situation, 
which  prompted  them  to  reject  the  usual  beneficiary 
but  humiliating  establishment  of  paupers  for  their 
children. 

The  campaign  ended  with  no  small  disgust  on  the 
part  of  the  New  England  commander  and  his  troops, 
on  account  of  distinctions  in  service  made  between 
the  regulars  and  them,  to  their  prejudice ;  and  en- 
listments being  made  out  of  his  corps  to  fill  up  the 
standing  regiments,  which  prevented  his  fulfilling 
his  promise  to  bring  his  men  back  to  their  towns  at 
the  expiration  of  a  year,  a  promise  much  relied  upon 
and  necessary  to  be  performed  for  future  exertions. 


SARAH  WENTWORTH  MORTOX— WILLIAM  DUAXE. 


4S3 


BAEAH  WENTWOllTII  MORTON. 
Saeah  Wentworth  Apthoupe  married,  in  177S, 
Perez  Morton.*    She  was  a  constant  contributor 

of  short  poems  to  the  Massachusetts  Magazine, 
and  obtained  a  vaunted  reputation  in  those  days 
under  the  signature  of  Philenia,  part  of  which 
was  no  doubt  dne  to  the  vigorous  laudatory  exer- 
tions of  her  friend  and  poetical  correspondent, 
Robert  Treat  Paine,  Jr.,  by  whom  she  was  styled 
the  American  Sappho.  She  was  also  the  author 
of  Ouabi,  or  the  Virtues  of  Nature,  an  Indian 
Tale  in  four  cantos,  published  in  17'JO,  and  of  an 
octavo  volume  which  appeared  in  1823,  entitled 
My  Mind  and  its  Thoughts,  made  up  of  pro- 
verb-like reflections  in  prose,  arranged  with  great 
formality,  and  a  number  of  poems.  Her  chief 
production,  Ouabi,  is  a  pastoral,  the  characters  of 
which  are  Ouabi,  the  chief  of  an  Indian  tribe, 
Azalia  an  Indian  maiden,  and  Celario  a  young 
Englishman.  Celario,  who  has  joined  the  red 
men,  is  perplexed  by  a  divided  duty  between  his 
affections  for  Azalia  and  his  respect  for  the  noble 
Ouabi,  to  whom  she  is  betrothed.  Fidelity  pre- 
vails over  passion,  when  Ouabi,  having  been  taken 
prisoner  by  a  hostile  band,  is  rescued  while  sing- 
ing his  death-song  by  Celario,  resigns  his  mistress 
to  his  deliverer,  and  is  soon  after  slain  in  battle. 
The  pamphlet  of  fifty-two  pages  closes  with  a 
few  "  Lines  addressed  to  the  inimitable  author  of 
the  Poems  under  the  signature  of  Delia  Orusca" 
productions  of  which  Mrs.  Morton  was  an  ad- 
mirer and  imitator. 

BONG   FOR  THE   PUUHC  CELEBRATION   OF  THE    NATIONAL  PEACE. 

Not  for  the  blood-polluted  car 

Wake  the  triumphant  so:ig  of  fame, 

But  for  the  Chief  who  spares  the  war, 
Toueh'd  by  a  suffering  people's  claim. 

Hail  Columbia!   Columbia  blest,  and  free, 

The  Star  of  Empire  leads  to  thee.f 

Let  the  rich  laurel's  baneful  green 
Bright  on  the  warrior's  front  appear, 

But  olive  in  his  path  be  seen, 

Whose  gemus  gives  the  prosperous  year. 

Hail  Columbia !   Columbia  blest  and  free, 

The  Star  of  Empire  breaks  on  thee. 

Diffused  around  the  sacred  skies, 
The  electric  ray  of  hope  extends, 

On  every  wing  of  commerce  flies, 

And  to  the  earth's  green  lap  descends. 

Hail  Columbia!   Columbia  blest  and  free, 

The  Star  of  Empire  beams  on  thee. 

Empire,  that  travels  wide  and  far, 
Sheds  her  last  glories  on  the  west — 

Born  'mid  the  morning  realms  of  war, 
She  loves  the  peaceful  evening  best. 


*  Perez  Morton  was  born  at  Plymouth.  November  13.  1751. 
He  was  a  graduate  <>f  Harvard  in  "1771,  was  a  member  of  the 
Committee  of  Safety  in  1775,  and  an  active-  public  man  during 
the  war.  On  the  eighth  of  April,  17711.  he  delivered  a  funeral 
oration  over  the  remains  of  General  Warren,  which  Were  identi- 
fied as  the  British  were  engaged  in  burying  the  dead  after  the 
battle,  by  the  barber  who  had  been  accustomed  to  dress  his 
hair,  and  on  their  exhumation,  on  the  evacuation  of  the  British 
troops  ten  months  after,  by  a  false  tooth.  The  oration  was  an 
animated,  although  somewhat  too  ornate  production.  At  its 
clo-e.  he  commenced  the  practice  of  the  law.  He  was  Speaker 
of  the  State  House" of  Representatives  from  1806  to  1811,  and 
Attorney-General  from  1810  to  1882.  He  died  at  Dorchester, 
October  14,  1S37. 

t  It  will  probably  be  perceived,  that  the  chorus  of  the  above 
song  is  in  allusion  to  Bishop  Berkeley's  prophecy  :— •■  West- 
ward the  coarse  of  empire,"  &c. — Author's  Note. 


Hail  Columbia!  Columbia  blest  and  free, 
The  Star  of  Empire  rests  on  thee ! 

Then  let  the  pledge  of  Freedom  pass, 
While  every  patriot  bosom  glows, 

And  o'er  the  elevated  glass 

The  amber  of  the  vintage  flows. 

Hail  Columbia !   Columbia  blest  and  free, 

The  Star  of  Empire  falls  with  thee. 

WILLIAM  DUANE. 

William  Duane  was  born  in  1760,  near  Lako 
Chaiuplain,  Xew  York,  where  his  parents,  natives 
of  Ireland,  had  shortly  before  settled.  When 
he  was  eleven  years  old  his  mother  returned 
to  her  native  country,  taking  William,  her  only 
child,  with  her.  The  father  had  died  several  years 
before.  Possessed  of  property,  she  brought  up 
her  son  as  a  person  of  leisure.  At  the  age  of 
nineteen,  by  a  marriage  with  a  Presbyterian  he 
offended  his  parent,  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  was  at 
once  dismissed  from  her  home,  nor  was  any  re- 
conciliation ever  after  effected.  Forced  to  pro- 
vide for  the  maintenance  of  his  family,  he  learnt 
the  art  of  printing,  and  was  engaged  in  that  trade 
until  the  year  1784,  when  he  went  to  India  to 
seek  his  fortune.  He  was  successful,  and  in  a 
few  years  established  a  newspaper  entitled  The 
World.  In  a  dispute  which  arose  between  the 
government  and  some  troops  in  their  employ,  the 
paper  sided  with  the  latter.  Soon  after  this  tho 
editor  was  invited  by  Sir  John  Shaw,  the  gover- 
nor,' to  breakfast.  On  his  way  to  accept  the  in- 
vitation, he  was  seized  by  sepoys,  placed  on  board 
a  vessel,  and  carried  to  England.  His  valuable 
property  was  confiscated.  He  endeavored  to  ob- 
tain redress  from  Parliament  and  the  East  India 
Company,  but  without  success.  Again  forced  to 
provide  for  ali  velihood,  he  became  a  parliamentary 
reporter,  and  afterwards  editor  of  the  General 
Advertiser,  a  newspaper  which  subsequently  be- 
came the  London  Times.  He  sided  in  politics 
with  the  party  of  Home  Tooke  and  others.  In 
1795  he  came  with  his  family  to  Philadelphia, 
where  he  had  passed  a  i'^w  years  when  a  boy. 
Here  he  prepared  a  portion  of  a  work  on  the 
French  Revolution,  and  became  connected  with 
the  Aurora  newspaper,  recently  established  by 
Benjamin  Franklin  Bache,  and  after  Bache's 
death  of  yellow  fever  in  1798,  became  editor. 
Under  his  vigorous  management  the  journal  was 
known  throughout  the  country  as  the  loading 
organ  of  the  democratic  party.  Jefferson  at- 
tributed his  election  to  the  presidency  to  its  ex- 
ertions. In  1701)  the  editor  was  tried  with  others 
for  seditious  riot.  They  were  charged  with 
placing  at  the  doors  of  a  Roman  Catholic  church 
printed  notices  requesting  the  congregation  to 
meet  in  the  church-yard  and  sign  a  petition 
against  the  Alien  Law.  The  notices  were  torn 
down,  replaced  and  defended,  and  a  disturbance 
thus  created,  during  which  Reynolds,  one  of  the 
parties  accused,  drew  a  pistol  against  one  of  the 
congregation,  which  was  forced  from  his  hand. 
The  parties  were  acquitted. 

On  the  removal  of  the  seat  of  government  to 
Washington,  the  Aurora  became  a  les-s  influential 
journal,  and  was  gradually  superseded  by  rival 
publications  at  the  new  city.  Duane  continued 
in  the  editorship  until  1822,  when  he  sold  out 
and  went  to  South  America,  as  the  representative; 


484 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


of  the  creditors  of  the  republics  of  that  continent. 
He  had  sided  with  the  struggles  for  independence 
of  these  communities,  and  received  a  vote  of 
thanks  from  the  Congress  of  Columbia  for  his  ex- 
ertions, and  it  was  on  this  account  supposed  that 
he  would  he  able  to  obtain  a  settlement  of  the 
claims  in  question.  He  was  unable  to  collect  any 
funds,  but  made  good  use  of  the  experiences  of 
his  journey,  by  publishing  a  pleasant  volume  of 
travels,  A  Visit  to  Columbia  in  1822-23  :  Phila. 
1826.  After  his  return  he  was  appointed  Protho- 
notary  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Pennsylvania  for 
the  eastern  district,  and  retained  the  office  until 
his  death  in  1835. 

In  addition  to  his  newspaper  writings  and  his 
hook  of  travel  <,  he  was  the  author  of  A  Military 
Dictionary,  1810,  -And  A  Hand-book  for  Riflemen, 
1813.  These  works  on  tactics  were  for  some 
time  recognised  as  the  chief  authorities  on  the 
subject,  one  in  which  their  author  was  practically 
as  well  as  theoretically  conversant,  having  com- 
manded for  some  time  the  Philadelphia  Legion,  a 
volunteer  corps  distinguished  for  superior  disci- 
pline, and  during  the  war  in  1812—14  filled  the 
office  of  Adjutant-General  of  the  army  for  the 
district  in  winch  he  was  resident.* 

JACOB  CAMPBELL 

Was  a  lawyer  of  Rhode  Island,  who  cultivated 
poetry  and  literature  in  the  intervals  of  his 
business  pursuits.  He  belonged  to  a  family  who, 
with  others  from  Scotland,  settled  at  Voluntown, 
in  Connecticut,  early  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
His  father,  Archibald,  came  to  East  Greenwich, 
Rhode  Island,  where  Jacob  was  born  in  1760. 
He  was  a  graduate  of  the  Rhode  Island  College 
of  1783,  for  a  time  was  preceptor  of  a  classical 
school,  and  next  studied  law  with  General  James 
M.  Varnum.  On  the  establishment  of  peace  in 
1783,  Campbell  delivered  a  public  address  at  East 
Greenwich,  at  the  announcement  of  that  event. 
He  celebrated  the  same  theme  in  some  verses, 
which  are  published  in  a  volume  from  his  pen  of 
Poetical  Essays. 

Updike,  in  his  Memoirs  of  the  Rhode  Island 
Bar,  speaks  of  Campbell  as  "  proud-spirited  and 
occasionally  dejected ; — of  a  mind  sensitive  and 
nervous,  he  was  borne  down  with  fancied  suspi- 
cions of  intended  injury  and  neglect.''t  He  died 
in  Ids  twenty-eighth  year,  March  5,  1788. 

LIBERTY. 

Sweet  Liberty !  descend  thou  Heaven-born  fair, 
And  make  Columbia  thy  distinguish' d  care; 
On  her  brave  sons  thy  genial  influence  shed, 
"Who  fired  by  thee  have  nobly  fought  and  bled — 
Have  traversed  wilds  to  distant  climes  afar. 
And  felt  the  horrors  of  oppressive  war. 
Who  first  have  taught  Britannia's  troops  to  yield, 
And  snatched  their  standards  from  the  crimsoned 

field. 
Bright  Goddess  leave  thy  native  skies  once  more, 
And  fix  thy  dwellii  g  on  this  western  shore ; 
A  calm  asylum  here's  prepared  for  thee, 
Secured  from  tyrants,  undisturbed  and  free; — 


*  State  Trials  of  the  L'nited  States  during  the  Administra- 
tions of  Washington  and  Adams,  with  references,  historical  and 
professional,  and  preliminary  notes  on  the  politics  of  the  times. 
By  Francis  Wharton.     Phila.  1S49. 

t  Memoirs  of  the  Khode  Island  Bar,  bvWilkins  Updike,  p. 
134. 


By  thine  assistance  we've  expell'd  thy  foes, 
Whose  grasping  power  annoyed  thy  sweet  repose. 

Lo,  see  her  quit  the  blissful  realms  above, 
Mark  on  her  face  the  cheering  smile  of  love ; 
See  as  she  bends  her  winged  course  this  way 
A  beauteous  sight  her  snowy  robes  display ; 
In  her  right  hand  a  sceptred  wand  she  rears, 
And  in  her  left  a  cone-like  mitre  bears. 
Now  let  us  shout  through  this  exulting  band, 
And  hail  her  welcome  to  our  joyful  land. 
Let  the  glad  tidings  through  our  coasts  resound, 
From  rocks  and  mountains  let  the  echo  bound, 
Let  hills  and  vallies  loud  responses  raise, 
Let  woods  and  forests  ring  in  loftier  praise, — 
Fair  Freedom  we  with  joy  confess  thy  sway, 
Thy  milder  laws  with  pleasure  we  obey. 

To  this  she  listened  with  attentive  ear, 
Then  spake  in  accents  soft  as  vernal  air : — 
"  I've  discord  seen  thy  country  long  embroil, 
Thy  virtuous  struggles  and  laborious  toil ; 
Thy  valor  now  I  amply  will  repay 
With  brighter  sunshine  and  serener  day — 
The  richest  blessings  which  you  here  can  know, 
I  now  on  thee  and  thine  unborn  bestow. 
In  future  days  thy  sons  shall  read  thy  fame, 
Applaud  thy  conduct  and  extol  thy  name, 
Throughout  the  world,  in  every  foreign  dime, 
Thy  deeds  shall  live  down  to  remotest  time — 
'Till  stars  dissolve,  and  sun  and  moon  expire, 
'Till  systems  hurst  and  nature  sink  in  fire, 
My  empire  here  'till  then  shall  fix'd  remain, 
Till  then  America  shall  own  my  reign." 

Commerce  again  now  rules  the  swelling  deep, 
Her  num'rous  fleets  the  surging  billows  sweep  ; 
Those  stately  oaks  which  lately  graced  tiie  plain, 
In  lofty  ships  now  skim  the  liquid  main. 
On  ev'ry  sea,  near  every  kingdom  coast, 
And  bring  from  thence  what  they  peculiar  boast. 
Along  the  strand  where  flowing  tides  arise, 
See  towering  cities  fix  the  astonished  eyes. 
Religion  here  in  milder  forms  array'd, 
There  Victress  Science  haunts  the  laurel  shade — 
Here  culture  o'er  the  fertile  earth  prevails, 
There  joy  umivali'd  every  heart  regales. 
While  this  blest  region  free  from  dire  alarms, 
Invites  the  stranger  to  her  peaceful  arms. 
With  willing  hand,  she  opes  her  plenteous  store, 
Relieves  his  wants,  and  kts  him  want  no  more, — 
Grants  him  a  refuge  from  the  despot's  chain, 
Affords  him  life,  and  bids  him  five  again. 

MASON  L.  WEEMS. 
Weems,  the  biographer  of  many  heroes,  in  whose 
hands  the  trumpet  of  ferae  never  sounded  an  un- 
certain blast,  remains  (such,  alas !  are  the  dis- 
tributions of  the  world)  without  a  biographer. 
His  memory  rests  in  a  mythic  report  of  the  sur- 
vivors who  sometimes  met  him  on  his  various 
journeys,  and  who  have  generally  some  stories  to 
relate  of  his  amiable  vagaries.  Fame  thus  has 
her  system  of  compensations  in  keeping  alive  the 
history  of  her  subjects;  and  where  there  is  no 
printed  record  tradition  more  than  supplies  its 
place.  Of  Weems,  but  for  the  impression  of  him- 
self stamped  on  every  page  of  his  manifold  pro- 
ductions, and  these  somewhat  vague  and  uncer- 
tain reports,  we  should  know  but  little. 

How  lov'd,  how  valu'd  once  avails  him  not, 
To  whom  related  or  by  whom  begot. 

We  learn  that  he  was  Rector  of  Mount  Ver- 
non parish,  before  the  Revolution,  when  the  old 


MASON  L.  WEEMS. 


485 


church  at  Pohick  had  for  its  attendant  George 
Washington.  Mr.  Lossing  tells  us*  "  that  a  large 
and  increasing  family  compelled  him  to  abandon 
preaching  for  a  livelihood,  and  lie  became  a  book 
agent  for  Mathew  Carey."  Duly  replenished 
with  a  stock  of  Bibles,  or  Marshall's  Life  of  Wash- 
ington, or  his  own  popular  productions,  he  tra- 
velled through  the  South,  with  a  few  sermons  in 
his  knapsack,  equally  ready  for  a  stump,  a  fair,  or 
a  pulpit. 

It  would  be  difficult  at  this  day  to  procure  an 
exact  chronological  catalogue  of  the  books  which 
he  himself  wrote:  though  the  more  important 
ones  are  still  in  vogue.  Of  these  his  Life  of 
Washington  was  published  immediately  after  the 
death  of  its  illustrious  subject.t  The  dedication 
to  Mrs.  Martha  Washington,  like  the  tribute  of 
Humphreys  and  others,  was  a  birth-day  comme- 
moration, being  dated  February  22,  1800.  In  the 
second  edition  before  us,  it  appears  in  an  octavo 
pamphlet  firm  of  eighty-two  pages.  This  is  quite 
a  different  production  from  the  book  as  it  was 
afterwards  rewritten,  and  as  it  is  in  circulation  at 
the  present  day.  The  topic  was  one  which  con- 
stantly grew  in  love  and  wonder  with  Weems,  and 
what  was  at  first  a  somewhat  hurried  sketch  of 
Washington's  public  career,  with  a  lively  pulpit 
eulogy  of  his  virtues,  became  but  the  nucleus  for 
the  marvellous  congregation  of  anecdotes  which 
the  encouragement  of  the  public  led  the  author 
to  accumulate,  as  he  ransacked  memory,  traversed 
the  ground  of  his  hero's  exploits,  and  talked  with 
those  who  had  been  familiar  with  his  life  ;  while 
in  this  good  cause,  if  recollection  and  testimony 
failed,  a  draft  would  certainly  be  honored  by  the 


*  Pictorial  Field  Book  of  the  Revolution,  ii.  42". 
t  A  History  of  the  Life  and  'Death,  Virtues  and  Exploits  of 
General  George  Washington,  faithfully  taken  from  authentic 
documents,  and,  now  in  a  second  edition  improved,  respect- 
fully offered  to  the  perusal  of  his  countrymen;  as  also,  all 
others  who  wish  to  see  human  nature  in  its  most  finished  form. 
Price,  25  cents. 

A  life^  how  glorious,  to  his  country  led  ! 

Belov'd  while  living,  as  rever'd  now  dead. 

May  his  example,  virtuous  deeds  inspire  1 

Let  future  ages  read  it,  and  admire  ! 
By  the  Rev.  M.  L.  Weems,  of  lodge  No.  50.— Dumfries,  Phila- 
delphia: reprinted  by  John  Bioren,  No.  S3  Chestnut  street, 
fur  the  author.    {Entered  according  to  late.) 


public,  if  drawn  in  snch  a  name  on  invention. 
We  believe  that  Weems  would  have  accounted  it 
a  venial  pious  fraud  to  tell  any  good  story  to  the 
credit  of  Washington,  which  came  into  his  head 
from  any  quarter  or  originated  there  in  any  way. 
Weems  went  to  work  in  stout  heart  and  faith, 
a  Livy  of  the  common  people.  He  first  gave  the 
fact  and  then  the  moral,  anil  neither  of  them  was 
dull.  His  piety  was  zealous  as  his  patriotism. 
The  wind  of  his  enthusiasm  may  have  been 
greater  than  the  ballast  of  his  argument,  but  the 
ship  was  somehow  gallantly  driven  along  without 
foundering.  It  is  not  literature,  it  may  be  granted, 
and  no  one  will  pretend  that  it  is  history ;  but 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  Weems  in  it,  and  unli- 
mited eulogy  of  George  Washington.  No  voice 
could  be  too  loud,  no  powers  of  expression  too 
vigorous,  to  sing  the  praises  of  the  man  whose 
virtues,  in  one  of  his  quieter  passages,  he  thus 
sums  up : — ■ 

It  is  hardly  exaggeration  to  say  that  Washington 
was  pious  as  Xuma ;  just  us  Aristides  ;  temperate  as 
Epictetus;  patriotic  as  Regulus;  in  giving  public 
trusts,  impartial  as  Severus ;  in  victory,  modest  as 
Seipio;  prudent  as  Fabius ;  rapid  as  Mareellus ;  un- 
daunted as  Hannibal ;  us  Cineiunatus  disinterested  ; 
to  liberty  firm  as  Cato  ;  and  respectful  of  the  laws 
as  Socrates.  Or,  to  speak  in  plainer  terms — he  was 
religious  without  superstition  ;  just  witliout  rigour  ; 
charitable  without  profusion;  hospitable  without 
making  others  pa}'  for  it ;  generous  but  with  his  own 
money  ;  rich  without  covetousness ;  frugal  without 
meanness;  humane  without  weakness ;  brave  with- 
out rashness;  successful  without  vanity  ;  victorious 
without  pride;  a  lover  of  his  country,  but  no  hater 
of  French  or  English ;  a  staunch  friend  of  govern- 
ment, but  respectful  of  those  who  pointed  out  its  de- 
fects with  decency;  true  to  his  word  witliout  eva- 
sion or  perfidy ;  firm  in  adversity ;  moderate  in  pros- 
perity ;  glorious  and  honoured  in  life ;  peaceful  and 
happy  in  death. 

This  early  life  of  Washington,  which  is  dedi- 
cated to  his  widow,  is  thus  curiously  summed  up 
with  her  epitaph,  on  the  principle  of  the  Vicar 
of  Wakefield,  who  hung  a  similar  mortuary  in- 
scription over  his  mantelpiece,  productive  of 
melancholy  in  the  breast  of  Mrs.  Primrose. 

Here  lie  interred,  all  that  could  die 

of 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON 

and 

MARTHA,  his  wife. 

They  were  lovely  in  Life,  and  in  Death 

They  were  not  divided, 

Heirs  of  Immortality!  Rejoice — For  their  Virtues, 

Their  Honours,  may  be  }'0urs. 

"  Honour  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise, 

Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honour  lies." 

After  Mrs.  Washington's  death,  when  the  ser- 
mon could  no  longer  profit  her,  this  epitaph  was 
omitted  by  Weems  in  his  later  editions.  One  of 
these,  the  eleventh,  in  1811,  is  the  full  developed 
production,  which  made  the  reputation  of  Weems, 
and  added  to  the  fortunes  of  the  publisher, 
Mathew  Carey.  It  is  entitled,  The  Life  of  George 
Washington;  with  curious  anecdotes,  equally, 
honourable  to  himself,  and  exemplary  to  his 
young  countrymen.  The  title-page  treats  us 
further  to  a  bit  of  verse  in  honor  of  Washington, 


486 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN"  LITERATURE. 


and  a  bit  of  prose  in  honor  of  Weems,  tho  latter 
signed,  II.  Lee,  Major-General,  Army  U.  S. 

A  life  how  useful  to  his  country  led! 
How  loved !  while  living! — how  revered,  now  dead  ! 
Lisp!  lisp!  his  name,  ye  children  yet  unborn! 
And  with  like  deeds  your  own  great  names  adorn. 

Lee  announces  that  "the  author  lias  treated 
this  great  subject  with  admirable  success  in  a 
new  way.  He  turns  all  the  actions  of  Washing- 
ton to  the  encouragement  of  virtue,  by  a  careful 
application  of  numerous  exemplifications  drawn 
from  the  conduct  of  the  founder  of  our  republic 
from  his  earliest  life." 

Judge  Brackenridge  also  gave fan  appreciative 
certificate  of  the  merits  of  the  Washington. 
"  With  regard  to  biographical  merit,  the  delinea- 
tion is  such  as  to  give  a  view  of  character  not 
on  a  parade  day ;  but  as  independent  of  command 
or  station.  This  is  a  painting  which  interests; 
it  is  that  which  makes  a  likeness  ;  for  a  mere  out- 
line wanting  the  expression,  gives  no  physiog- 
nomy. I  shall  be  glad  to  see  more,  in  this  way, 
of  some  of  the  other  heroes  of  the  Revolutionary 
period.  General  Greene  particularly,  whom  I 
have  always  placed  next  to  Wa?hington  in  the 
council  and  the  field." 

Benjamin  Franklin  was  almost  as  good  a  sub- 
ject as  Washington,  since  Weems  had  a  great  deal 
of  Poor  Richard  always  on  his  tongue,  in  support 
of  simplicity  and  frugality,  though  he  never  made 
his  fortune  by  his  parsimony.  There  were,  more- 
over, anecdotes  in  abundance,  and  moralities  at 
every  turn ;  consequently,  the  life  of  Franklin 
came  from  his  hands  glowing  with  unction,  and 
sparkling  all  over  with  eccentric  passages.  It 
still  holds  its  ground  as  a  most  entertaining 
popular  volume.* 

An  account  of  Penn  is  in  the  same  vein.  The 
Life  of  William  Penn,  the  settler  of  Pennsylva- 
nia, the  founder  of  Philadelphia,  and  one  of  the 
first  laughers  in  the  Colonies,  now  United  States, 
in  1682,  containing  also  his  celebrated  Treaty 
with  the  Indians,  his  purchase  of  their  country  ; 
valuable  anecdotes  of  Admiral  Penn,  also  of  King 
Charfes  II.,  James  II,  King  William  and  Queen 
Anne,  in  whose  reigns  William  Penn  Iked ; 
curious  circumstances  that  led  him  to  become  a 
Quaker,  with  a  view  of  the  admirable  traits  in 
the  character  of  the  p>eople  called  Friends  or 
Quakers,  who  have  done  so  much  to  meliorate  the 
condition  of  suffering  humanity.  Like  a  skilful 
shopkeeper,  Weems  put  a  good  portion  of  Ids 
wares  in  the  street  window. 

A  fourth  completes  the  series: — Tlie  Life  of 
General  Francis  Marion,  a  celebrated  partisan 
officer  in  the  Revolutionary  War,  against  the 
British  and  Tories  in  South  Carolina  and  Geor- 
gia, by  Brig.-Gen.  P.  Horry,  of  Marion's  Brigade : 
and  M.  L.  Weems.     The  travesty  of  Pope  in  the 


*  The  Life  of  Benjamin  Franklin  ;  with  many  choice  anec- 
dotes and  admirable  sayings  of  this  g:eat  man,  never  before 
published  by  any  ot'his  biographers.  By  M.  L. Weems,  author 
of  the  Life  of  Wellington. 

Sage  Franklin  next  arose  in  cheerful  mien, 
And  smii  d.  unnifded,  o'er  the  solemn  scene  ; 
High  on  his  locks  of  age,  a  wreath  was  brae'd, 
Palm  of  all  arts  that  e'er  a  mortal  grae'd; 
Beneath  him  lay  the  sceptre  kings  had  borne, 
And  crowns  and  laurels  from  their  temples  torn, 
rhlla. :  Uriah  Hunt.    1S35. 


motto  seems  a  little  faithless  to  the  transcendent 
merits  of  Washington. 

On  Vernon's  chief,  why  lavish  #11  our  lays, 
Come,  honest  Muse,  and  sing  great  Marion's  praise. 

Though  bearing  Horry's  name  on  the  title-page, 
this  was  throughout  the  production  of  Weems, 
to  whom  Horry,  a  companion  partisan  officer  with 
Marion,  had  furnished  the  materials.  Horry,  a 
straightforward  man  of  sober  judgment,  was  dis- 
mayed at  the  antics  his  facts  assumed  in  the 
theatrical  stylo  of  Weems.  He  expostulated  with 
him  in  a  correspondence  which  has  been  recently 
published.*  The  lively  parson  expresses  himself 
astonished  at  the  possibility  of  offence,  after  he 
had  stretched  evefypoint  for  the  honor  of  Marion 
and  his  lieutenant.  "  Though  I  have  heard,"  says 
he,  "I  can  hardly  believe  it.  What!  is  it  pos- 
sible that  you  can  be  displeased  with  a  book 
which  places  both  your>elf  and  your  beloved 
Marion  in  so  conspicuous  and  exalted  a  light  ? 
A  book  that  contains  every  fact  that  you  your- 
self gave  me — a  book  that  everywhere  meets 
with  unbounded  applause — of  which  I  have  orders 
for  ninety  copies  in  one  single  county  in  Georgia 
— which  has,  in  fact,  changed  the  county  of  Wil- 
kinson into  that  of  Marion.  A  book  which,  in 
short,  sells  better  even  than  the  life  of  Wa-hington. 
Now,  that  you  shcudd  be  displeased  with  such  a 
book,  is  to  me  very  astonishing."  Weems  under- 
stood very  well  his  system  of  writing.  He  did 
not  attempt  history,  and  blunder  into  poetry  and 
romance.  He  expres.-ly  avows  his  intentions  to 
Horry — "I  told  you  I  must  write  it  in  my  own 
way,  and  knowing  the  pa-sion  of  the  times  for 
novels,  I  have  endeavoured  to  throw  your  ideas 
and  facts  about  General  Marion  into  the  garb  and 
dress  of  a  military  romance."  Yet  withal  the 
romance,  though  negligent  in  some  points,  i>  truer 
to  history  than  many  a  dull  unappreciative  record. 

Besides  these,  biographies  at  length,  Weems's 
original  stock  in  trade  was  well  supplied  with  the 
light  wares  of  tract  and  pamphlet.  Patriotism,  " 
love,  and  morality  were  the  burden  of  these  effu- 
sions. One  of  them  was  honored  with  a  letter 
from  George  Washington  himself,  which  Wemis 
procured  to  be  engraved  and  published  with  the 
pamphlet.  It  was  entitled  The  Philanthropist : 
or,  Political  Peace  Maker  between  all  honest  men 
of  both  pjarties,  with  the  recommendation  prefixed 
by  George  Washington  in  his  own  handwriting. 
Washington's  letter  was  written  in  the  summer 
before  his  death,  August,  17t)'J.t  He  considers  it  an 
amiable  attempt,  but  has  some  doubt  of  its  success 
in  arresting  the  violence  of  party.  One  of  these 
moral  writings  of  an  early  date  is  an  octavo 
pamphlet  of  fifty-fix  pages,  dedicated  "to  his  ex- 
cellency, Joseph  Bloomfield,  Esq.,  Governor  of 
the  State  of  New  Jersey,"  by  his  "  affectionate 
countryman  and  masonic  brother."  It  appears  to 
have  been,  in  part  at  least,  delivered  as  an  oration 


*  By  Mr.  Simms,  from  "  the  collection  of  a  private  gentle- 
man" in  a  thoroughly  genial  presentation  of  "weems  the  bio- 
grapher and  historian,"  included  in  bis  "  Views  and  Kevicws 
of  American  Literature,  History,  and  Fiction." 

t  This  title  is  from  the  tenth  edition  published  in  Philadel- 
phia in  1SU9.  We  presume  the  following,  which  we  find  in  a 
catalogue,  to  be  the  title  of  an  earlier  edition  of  the  same  tract- 
Weenu?  Ph'd-.intliroinxi ;  or,  a  good  twrnty-five  ctutswort/t  of 
political  love  powder,  for  hoatti  Adavudies  and  Jejf'erso- 
niatis. 


MASON  L.  WEEMS. 


4S1 


before  a  masonic  brotherhood,  of  which  fraternity 
Weems  was  a  devoted  member,  the  designation 
"  of  Lodge  No.  50 — Dumfries,"  being  a  frequent 
appendage  to  his  name  on  his  title-pages.  This 
pamphlet  contains  an  affectionate,  simple  address  ' 
from  the  text,  "little  children  love  one  another," 
followed  by  eight  chapters  on  the  several  Excel- 
lencies of  a  Republic,  for  reason,  safety,  wealth, 
for  fair  play  (in  equal  laws  and  taxes),  for  peace, 
morals,  patriotism,  and  population.  The  style  of  . 
this  production  is  quiet  for  Weems,  who  gained 
confidence  with  his  increasing  audience.  Its  last 
chapter  is  a  fearful  arraignment  of  the  murders 
of  tyrants  in  their  various  systems  of  wars  and 
depredation. 

Another  tract,  Hymen's  Recruiting  Sergeant ; 
or,  the  netr  Matrimonial  Tat-too  for  Old  Bache- 
lors, is  still  circulated  in  popular  form.  There 
was  also  a  series  of  vigorous  narratives  and  de-  j 
nuneiations,  levelled  at  the  wild  crimes  of  the  un-  \ 
settled  regions  of  the  South.  He  took  the  titles 
of  these  from  Reynolds's  similar  improvements  of  j 
the  iniquities  of  the  old  world:  God's  Revenge 
against  Murder;  oi\  the  Drownhl  Wife,  a  tra- 
gedy. God's  Revenge  against  Adultery  ;  or,  the 
Life  of  Rebecca  Cotton.  One  of  these  tales  of 
terror,  An  Account  of  the  Murder  of  Polly  Find- 
ley,  by  her  husband  Edward  Findhij,  contained 
an  inscription,  •'Another  Murder  in  old  Edge- 
field," which  that  "  dark  corner"  of  South  Caro- 
lina was  disposed  to  resent.  Mr.  Simms  tells  the 
story  of  the  peril  to  which  Weems  exposed  him- 
self, and  of  his  happy  delivery  from  it.  "  lie 
had  occasion  once  to  traverse  the  tabooed  region, 
which  he  did  with  considerable  haste.  The  roads 
were  wretched,  and  his  wagon,  carrying  an  ample 
collection  of  his  pamphlets  and  histories,  was 
heavily  laden.  It  sank  into  a  quagmire,  from 
which' his  own  unas>isted  strength  utterly  failed 
to  extricate  it.  He  was  many  miles  from  human 
habitation,  the  road  was  an  obscure  one,  and  the 
day  was  lading.  Even  a  philosopher  might  have 
felt  dubious  of  the  situation.  But  Weems  was  a 
philosopher  of  a  peculiar  order.  He  had  his  re- 
medy. Unhitching  his  horse  he  suffered  him  to 
feed  at  leisure  in  the  wood,  while  he  himself, 
taking  his  violin  from  the  case,  took  his  seat  on  a 
log  by  the  road-side,  and  .coolly  proceeded  to  ex- 
tort from  wood  and  catgut  sucli  strains  as,  in 
that  day  and  region,  would  have  mocked  the  be>t 
fantasia's  of  Ole  Bull.  They  were  not  le>s  pow- 
erful in  their  effect.  They  drew  to  him  an  audi- 
ence. Two  wandering  backwoodsmen  suddenly 
emerged  from  the  covert,  thoroughly  charmed  to 
the  spot  by  the  old  man's  music.  They  lifted  his 
wheels  out  of  the  mire,  and  he  rewarded  them  in 
music.  They  asked  him  many  questions,  all  of 
which  he  answered  with  his  how.  They  were 
satisfied  with  his  respon-es,  and  lie  was  tints  en- 
abled to  escape  in  safety  from  the  dangerous  pre- 
cincts. "I  took  precious  care,"  said  he,  "to  say 
nothing  of  my  name.  When  they  pressed  the 
question,  my  fiddle  drowned  their  words  and  my 
own  too." 

There  is  another  good  dramatic  anecdote  of 
W  ems's  fiddle.  He  was  once  requested  to  assist 
with  the  instrument  at  a  negro  merry-making  on 
one  of  his  southern  tours.  A  difficulty,  as  the 
story  goes,  presented  itself  in  his  clerical  charac- 
ter, and  the  impropriety  of  a  clergyman  playing 


the  fiddle  under  such  circumstances.  He  con- 
sented, however,  willingly  enough,  if  he  could 
fiddle  without  being  seen.  He  was  accordingly 
placed  behind  a  screen,  which,  as  the  jollity  of  the 
evening  went  on,  was  thrown  over,  and  the  par- 
son discovered  to  the  company. 

Of  Weems's  earlier  parish  life  we  have  a  pleas- 
ing notice  in  the  travels  of  John  Davis,  who  was 
in  the  United  States  from  1708  to  1802,  and  in 
the  latter  portion  of  this  time  frequented  Weems's 
church  at  Pohick  while  he  was  living  in  the 
vicinity.     "  Hither,"  he  says,  "I  rode  on  Sundays 


Pohick  Churcb. 

and  joined  the  congregation  of  Parson  Weems, 
a  minister  of  the  Episcopal  persuasion,  who  was 
cheerful  in  his  mien  that  he  might  win  men  to 
religion."  We  have  also  this  picture  of  the  place 
and  the  man :  "  A  Virginian  church-yard  on  a 
Sunday  resembles  rather  a  race-ground  than  a 
sepulchral-ground ;  the  ladies  come  to  it  in  car- 
riages, and  the  men,  after  dismounting  from  their 
horses,  make  them  fast  to  the  trees.  But  the 
steeples  to  the  Virginian  churches  were  designed, 
not  for  utility  but  ornament;  for  the  bell  is  al- 
ways suspended  to  a  tree  a  few  yards  from  the 
church.  Itis  also  observable,  that  the  gate  to  the 
church-yard  is  ever  carefully  locked  by  the  sexton, 
who  retires  last;  so  that  had  Hervey  and  Gray 
been  born  in  America,  the  preacher  of  peace 
could  not  have  indulged  in  his  Meditations  among 
the  Tombs ;  nor  the  poet  produced  the  elegy  that 
has  secured  him  immortality.  Wonder  andigno- 
rance  are  ever  reciprocal.  I  was  confounded  on 
first  entering  the  church-yard  at  Pohick  to  hear 
steed  threaten  steed  with  high  and  boastful  neigh. 
Nor  was  I  less  stunned  with  the  rattling  of  car- 
riage wheels,  the  cracking  of  whips,  and  the  vo- 
ciferations of  the  gentlemen  10  the  negroes,  who 
accompanied  them.  But  the  discourse  of  Parson 
Weems  calmed  every  perturbation  for  he  preached 
the  great  doctrines  of  salvation,  as  one  who  had 
experienced  their  power.  It  was  easy  to  discover 
that  he  felt  what  he  said;  and  indeed  so  uniform 
was  his  piety,  that  he  might  have  applied  to  him- 
self the  words  of  the  prophet,  'My  mouth  shall 
be  telling  of  the  righteousness  and  salvation  of 
Christ  all  the  day  long;  for  I  know  no  end 
thereof.'  "  Davis  tells  us  that  in  his  youth,  Weems 


488 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


"  accompanied  some  young  Americans  to  Lon- 
don, where  he  prepared  himself  by  diligent  study 
for  the  profession  of  the  church." 

We  have  not  met  with  a  record  of  Weems's  birth 
or  of  his  birth-place.  His  death  took  place  at 
Beaufort,  South  Carolina,  Hay  23,  1825. 

EARLY  ANECDOTES  OF  WASHINGTON. 

To  assist  his  son  to  overcome  that  selfish  spirit, 
which  too  often  leads  children  to  fret  and  fight  about 
trifles,  was  a  notable  care  of  Ml',  Washington.  For 
tills  purpose,  of  all  the  presents,  such  as  cakes,  fruit, 
(fee.,  he  received,  he  was  always  desired  to  give  a 
liberal  part  to  his  playmates.  To  enable  him  to  do 
this  with  more  alacrity,  his  father  would  remind  him 
of  the  love  winch  he  would  hereby  gain,  and  the 
frequent  presents  which  would  in  return  be  made  to 
him;  and  also  would  tell  of  that  great  and  good 
God,  who  delights  above  all  things  to  see  children 
love  one  another,  and  will  assuredly  reward  them  for 
acting  so  amiable  a  part. 

Some  idea  of  Mr.  Washington's  plan  of  education 
in  this  respect  may  be  collected  from  the  following 
anecdote,  related  to  me  twenty  years  ago  by  an  aged 
lady,  who  was  a  distant  relative,  and  when  a  girl 
spent  much  of  her  time  in  the  family : 

"  On  a  fine  morning,"  said  she,  "  in  the  fall  of  1T37, 
Mr.  "Washington,  having  little  George  by  the  hand, 
came  to  the  door  and  asked  my  cousin  AVashington 
and  myself  to  walk  with  him  to  the  orchard,  promising 
he  would  show  us  a  fine  sight.  On  arriving  at  the 
orchard,  we  were  presented  with  a  fine  sight  indeed. 
The  whole  earth,  as  far  as  we  could  see,  was  strewed 
with  fruit:  and  yet  the  trees  were  bending  under 
the  weight  of  apples,  which  hung  in  clusters  like 
grapes,  and  vainly  strove  to  hide  their  blushh  g 
cheeks  behind  the  green  leaves.  Now,  George,  said 
his  father,  Look  here,  my  son !  Don't  you  remem- 
ber when  this  good  cousin  of  yours  brought  you 
that  fine  large  apple  last  spring,  how  hardly  I  could 
prevail  on  you  to  divide  it  with  your  brothers  and 
sisters;  though  I  promised  you  that  if  you  would 
but  do  it,  God  Almighty  would  give  you  plenty  of 
apples  this  fall.  Poor  George  could  not  say  a  word; 
but  hanging  down  his  head,  looked  quite  confused, 
while  with  his  little  naked  toes  he  scratched  in  the 
soft  ground.  Now  look  up,  my  son,  continued  his 
father:  Look  up,  George !  and  see  there  how  richly 
the  blessed  God  has  made  good  my  promise  to  you. 
Wherever  you  turn  your  eyes,  you  see  the  trees 
loaded  with  fine  fruit;  many  of  them  indeed  break- 
ing down,  while  the  ground  is  covered  with  mellow 
apples,  more  than  you  could  ever  eat,  my  son,  in  all 
your  lifetime. 

"  George  looked  in  silence  on  the  wide  wilderness 
of  fruit;  he  marked  the  busy  humming-bees,  and 
heard  the  gay  notes  of  birds,  then  lifting  his  eyes, 
filled  with  shining  moisture,  to  his  father,  he  softly 
said,  '  Well,  Pa,  only  forgive  me  this  lime  ;  and  see 
if  I  ever  be  so  stingy  any  more.'  " 

Some,  when  they  look  up  to  the  oak,  whose  giant 
arms  throw  a  darkening  shade  over  distant  acres,  or 
whose  single  trunk  lays  the  keel  of  a  man  of  war, 
cannot  bear  to  hear  of  the  time  when  this  mighty 
plant  was  but  an  acorn,  which  a  pig  could  have  de- 
molished :  but  others,  who  know  their  value,  like  to 
learn  the  Boil  and  situation  which  best  produces 
such  noble  trees.  Thus,  parents  that  are  wise  will 
listen  well  pleased,  while  I  relate  how  moved  the 
steps  of  the  youthful  Washington,  whose  single 
worth  far  outwreighs  all  the  oaks  of  Bashan,  andthe 
red  spicy  cedars  of  Lebanon.  Yes,  they  will  listen 
delighted  while  I  tell  of  their  Washington  in  the 
days  of  his  youth,  when  his  little  feet  were  swift 


towards  the  nests  of  birds ;  or  when,  wearied  in  the 
chase  of  the  butterfly,  he  laid  him  down  on  his 
grassy  couch  and  slept,  while  ministering  spirits 
with  their  roseate  wings,  fanned  his  glowing  cheeks, 
and  kissed  his  lips  of  innocence  with  that  fervent 
love  which  makes  the  Heaven  I 

Never  did  the  wise  Ulysses  take  more  pains  with 
his  beloved  Telemachus,  than  did  Mr.  Washington 
with  George,  to  inspire  him  with  an  early  love  of 
truth.  "Truth,  Geoige,"  (said  he)  "  is  the  loveliest 
quality  of  youth.  I  would  ride  fifty  miles,  my  son, 
to  see  the  little  boy  wdiose  heart  is  so  honest,  and  his 
lips  so  pure,  that  we  may  depend  on  every  word  he 
says.  O  how  lovely  does  such  a  child  appear  in  the 
eyes  of  everybod}-!  His  parents  doat  on  him  ;  his 
relations  glory  in  him  ;  they  are  constantly  praising 
him  to  their  children,  whom  they  beg  to  imitate  him. 
i  They  are  often  sending  for  him,  to  visit  them;  and 
I  receive  him,  when  he  comes,  with  as  much  joy  as 
if  he  were  a  little  angel,  come  to  set  pretty  examples 
to  their  children. 

"But, Oh!  how  different,  George,  is  the  case  with 
the  boy  who  is  so  given  to  lying  that  nobody  can 
believe  a  word  he  says!  He  is  looked  at  with  aver- 
sion wherever  he  goes,  and  parents  dread  to  see  him 
come  among  their  children.  Oh,  Geoige,  my  sou! 
rather  than  see  you  come  to  this  pass,  dear  as  you 
are  to  my  heart,  gladly  would  I  assist  to  nail  j'ou 
up  in  your  little  coffin,  and  follow  you  to  your  grave. 
Hard,  indeed,  would  it  be  to  me  to  give  up  my  son, 
whose  little  feet  aie  always  so  ready  to  run  about 
with  me,  and  whose  fondly  looking  eyes  and  sweet 
prattle  make  so  large  a  part  of  my  happiness  ;  but 
still  I  would  give  him  up,  rather  than  see  him  a 
common  liar. 

"  Pa,"  (said  George,  very  seriously)  "  do  I  ever  tell 
lies  V 

"No,  George,  I  thank-  God  you  do  not,  my  son; 
and  I  rejoice  in  the  hope  you  never  will.  At  least, 
you  shall  never,  from  mo,  have  cause  to  be  guilty  of 
so  shameful  a  tiling.  Many  parents,  indeed,  even 
compel  their  children  to  this  vile  practice,  by  bar- 
barously beating  them  for  every  little  fault;  hence, 
on  the  next  offence,  the  little  terrified  creature  slips 
out  a  lie !  just  to  escape  the  rod.  But  as  to  yourself, 
George,  you  know  I  have  always  told  you,  and  now 
tell  you  again,  that,  whenever  by  accident  you  do 
anything  wrong,  which  must  often  be  the  case,  as 
you  are  but  a  poor  little  boy  yet,  without  experience 
or  knowledge,  never  tell  a  falsehood  to  conceal  it; 
but  come  bravely  up,  my  son,  like  a  little  man,  and 
tell  me  of  it:  and  instead  of  beating  you,  George, 
I  will  but  the  more  honor  and  love  you  for  it,  my 
dear." 

This,  you'll  say,  was  sowing  good  seed !  Yes,  it 
was:  and  the  crop,  thank  God,  was,  as  I  believe  it 
ever  will  be,  where  a  man  acts  the  true  parent,  that 
is,  the  Guardian  Angel,  by  his  child. 

The  following  anecdote  is  a  case  in  point.  It  is 
too  valuable  to  be  lost,  and  tpo  true  to  be  doubted ; 
for  it  was  communicated  to  me  by  the  same  excel- 
lent lady  to  whom  1  am  indebted  for  the  last. 

"When  George,"  said  she,  "was  about  six  years 
old,  he  was  made  the  wealthy  master  of  a  hatchet! 
of  which,  like  most  little  boys,  he  was  immoderately 
fond,  and  was  constantly  going  about  chopping 
everything  that  came  in  his  way.  One  day,  in  the 
garden,  where  he  often  amused  himself  hacking  his 
mother's  pea  sticks,  he  unluckily  tried  the  edge  of 
his  hatchet  on  the  body  of  a  beautiful  young  English 
cherry-tree,  which  he  barked  so  terribly  that  I  don't 
believe  the  tree  ever  got  the  better  of  it.  The  next 
morning  the  old  gentleman  finding  out  what  had 
befallen  his  tree,  which,  by  the  by,  was  a  great 
j   favorite,  came  iuto  the  house,  and  with  much  warmth 


MASON  L.  WEEMS. 


489 


asked  for  the  mischievous  author,  declaring  at  the 
same  time  that  he  would  not  have  taken  five  gui- 
neas for  his  tree.  Nobody  could  toll  him  anything 
about  it.  Presently  George  and  his  hatchet  made 
their  appearance.  George,  said  his  father,  do  you 
know  who  killed  that  beautiful  little  cherry  tree  yon- 
der in  the  garden?  This  was  a  tough  question;  and 
George  staggered  under  it  for  a  moment;  but  quick- 
ly recovered  himself,  and  looking  at  his  father  with 
the  sweet  face  of  youth  brightened  with  the  inex- 
pressible charm  of  all-conquering  truth,  he  bravely 
cried  out,  '/  cant  tell  a  lie.  Pa;  you  know  I  can't 
tell  a  lie.  I  did  cut  it  with  my  hatchet.'  Run  to  my 
arms,  you  dearest  boy,  cried  ins  father  in  transports, 
run  to  my  arms.  Glad  am  I,  George,  that  you  killed 
my  tree;  for  you  have  paid tne  for  it  a  thousandfold. 
Such  an  act  of  heroism  in  my  soti  is  more  worth  than 
a  thousand  trees,  though  blossomed  with  silver,  and 
their  fruits  of  purest  gold'' 

It  was  in  this  way,  by  interesting  at  once  both  his 
heart  and  head,  that  Mr.  Washington  conducted 
George  with  great  ease  and  pleasure  along  the 
happy  paths  of  virtue.  But  well  knowing  that  his 
beloved  charge,  soon  to  be  a  man,  would  be  left 
exposed  to  numberless  temptations,  botli  from  himself 
and  from  others,  his  heart  throbbed  with  the  ten- 
derest  anxiety  to  make  him  acquainted  with  that 
great  being,  whom  to  know  and  love  is  to  possess 
the  surest  defence  against  vice,  and  the  best  of  all 
motives  to  virtue  and  happiness.  To  startle  George 
into  a  lively  sense  of  his  Maker,  he  fell  upon  the 
following  very  curious  but  impressive  expedient: 

One  day  he  went  into  the  garden,  and  prepared  a 
little  bed  of  finely  pulverized  earth,  on  which  he 
wrote  George's  name  at  lull,  in  large  letters.  Then 
strewing  in  plenty  of  cabbage  seed,  he  covered  them 
up,  and  smoothed  all  down  nicely  witli  the  roller. 
This  bed  he  purposely  prepared  close  alongside  of  a 
gooseberry  walk,  which  happening  at  this  time  to  be 
well  hung  with  ripe  fruit,  he  knew  would  be  honor- 
ed with  George's  visits  pretty  regularly  every  d:iy. 
Not  many  mornings  had  passed  away  before  in  came 
George,  with  eyes  wild  rolling,  and  his  little  cheeks 
ready  to  burst  with  great  news. 
"0,  Pa!  come  here!  come  here!" 
"  What's  the  matter,  my  son,  what's  the  matter?" 
"  0  come  here,  I  tell  you,  Pa,  come  here !  and  I'll 
show  you  such  a  sight  as  you  never  saw  in  all  your 
lifetime." 

The  old  gentleman  suspecting  what  George  would 
be  at,  gave  him  his  hand,  which  he  seized  with  great 
eager  .ess.  and  tugging  him  along  through  the  gar- 
den, led  him  point  blank  to  the  bed  whereon  was 
inscribed,  in  large  letters,  and  in  all  the  freshuess  of 
newly  sprung  plants,  the  full  name  of 
GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 
"  There,  Pa !"  said  George,  quite  in  an  ecstacy  of 
astonishment,  "  did  you  ever  see  such  a  sight  in  all 
your  lifetime?" 

"  Why,  it  seems  like  a  curious  affair,  sure  enough, 
George !" 

"But,  Pa,  who  did  make  it  there?  who  did  make 
it  there  ?" 

"  It  grew  there  by  chance,  I  suppose,  my  son." 
"  By  chance,  Pa !      0  no!  no!  it  never  did  grow 
there  by  chance,  Pa ;  indeed  that  it  never  did  I" 
"  High  !   why  not,  my  sou  ?" 

"  Why,  Pa,  did  you  ever  see  anybody's  name  in  a 
plant  bed  before?" 

"  Well,  but  George,  such  a  thing  might  happen, 
though  you  never  saw  it  before." 

"  Yes,  Pa,  but  I  did  never  see  the  little  plants 
grow  up  so  as  to  make  one  single  letter  of  my  name 
before.  Now  how  could  they  grow  up  so  as  to  make 
all  the  letters  of  my  name?   Aud  then  standing  one 


after  another,  to  spell  my  name  so  exactly  I  And  all 
so  neat  and  even,  too,  at  top  and  bottom  !  0  Pa,  you 
must  not  say  chance  did  all  this.  Indeed  somebody 
did  it;  and  I  dare  say  now,  Pa,  you  did  it  just  to 
scare  me,  because  I  am  your  little  boy." 

His  father  smiled,  and  said,  "  Well,  George,  you 
have  guessed  right.  I  indeed  did  it ;  but  not  to  scare 
you,  my  sou ;  but  to  learn  you  a  great  thing  which 
I  wish  you  to  understand.  1  want,  my  son.  to  intro- 
duce you  to  your  true  Father." 

"  High,  Pa,  an't  you  my  true  father,  that  has  loved 
me,  and  been  so  good  to  me  always  ?" 

"  Yes,  George,  I  am  your  father,  as  the  world  calls 
it;  and  I  love  you  very  dearly  too.  But  yet  witli 
all  my  love  for  you,  George,  I  am  but  a  poor  good- 
for-nothing  sort  of  a  father  in  comparison  of  one 
you  have." 

"Aye!  I  know,  well  enough,  whom  you  mean, 
Pa.     You  mean  God  Almighty,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,  my  son,  I  mean  him  indeed.  He  is  your 
true  Father,  George." 

"  But,  Pa,  where  is  God  Almighty  ?  I  did  never 
see  him  yet." 

"  True,  my  son  ;  but  though  you  never  saw  him, 
yet  lie  is  always  witli  you.  You  did  not  see  me 
when  ten  days  ago  I  made  this  little  plant  bed,  where 
you  see  your  name  in  such  beautiful  green  letters  ; 
but  though  you  did  not  see  me  here,  yet  you  know  I 
was  here!" 

"  Yes,  Pa,  that  I  do.     I  know  you  were  here." 

"  Well,  then,  aud  as  my  sou  could  nut  believe  that 
chance  had  made  and  put  together  so  exactly  the 
letters  of  his  name,  (though  only  sixteen)  then  how 
can  he  believe  t\\nt  chance  could  have  made  and  put 
together  all  those  millions  and  millions  of  things 
that  are  now  so  exactly  fitted  to  his  good  !  That  ray 
son  may  look  at  everything  around  him,  see  !  what 
fine  eyes  he  has  got!  aud  a  little  pug  nose  to  smell 
the  sweet  flowers!  and  pretty  ears  to  hear  sweet 
soundsl  and  a  lovely  mouth  for  his  bread  and  but- 
ter! and  0,  the  little  ivory  teeth  to  cut  it  for  him! 
and  the  dear  little  tongue  to  prattle  with  his  father! 
and  precious  little  hands  and  fingers  to  hold  his 
playthings!  and  beautiful  little  feet  for  him  to  run 
about  upon!  ami  when  my  little  rogue  of  a  son  is 
tired  with  running  about,  then  the  still  night  comes 
for  him  to  lie  down,  and  his  mother  sings,  and  the 
little  crickets  chirp  him  to  sleep !  and  as  soon  as  he 
has  slept  enough,  and  jumps  up  fresh  and  strong  as  a 
little  buck,  there  the  sweet  golden  light  is  ready  for 
him  !  When  he  looks  down  into  the  water,  there 
he  sees  the  beautiful  silver  fishes  for  him!  and  up 
in  the  trees  there  are  the  apples,  and  peaches,  and 
thousands  of  sweet  fruits  for  him!  aud  all,  all 
around  him,  wherever  ray  dear  boy  looks,  he  sees 
everything1  just  to  his  wants  and  wishes;  the 
bubbling  springs  with  cool  sweet  water  for  him  to 
drink  !  and  the  wood  to  make  him  sparkling  tires 
when  he  is  cold!  ami  beautiful  horses  for  him  to 
ride!  and  strong  oxen  to  work  for  him  !  and  the 
good  cows  to  give  him  milk!  and  bees  to  make  sweet 
honey  for  his  sweeter  mouth!  and  the  little  lambs, 
with- snowy  wool,  for  beautiful  clothes  for  him! 
Now,  these  and  all  the  ten  thousand  other  good  things 
more  than  my  son  can  ever  think  of,  and  all  so 
exactly  fitted  to  his  use  and  delight — Now  how 
could  chance  ever  have  done  all  this  for  my  little 
son  ?     Oil,  George  !— " 

He  would  have  gone  on,  but  George,  who  had 
hung  upon  his  father's  words  with  looks  and  eyes  of 
all-devouring  attention,  here  broke  out — 

"  Oh.  Pa,  that's  enough  !  that's  enough  !  It  ean't 
be  chance,  indeed,  it  can't  be  chance,  that  made  and 
gave  me  all  these  things." 

"  What  was  it  then,  do  you  think,  my  son?" 


490 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


"  Indeed,  Pa,  I  don't  know  unless  it  was  God  Al- 
mighty .'" 

"  Yes,  George,  he  it  was,  my  son,  and  nobody 
else." 

"  Well,  but  Pa,"  continued  George,  "  does  God 
Almighty  give  me  everything  ?  Don't  you  give  me 
some  t/tdngs,  Pa?" 

"  I  give  you  something  indeed !  Oh,  how  .can  I 
give  you  anything,  George?  I  who  have  nothing  on 
earth  that  1  can  call  my  own,  no,  not  even  the 
breath  I  draw  I" 

"  High,  Pa !  Isn't  that  great  big  house  your 
house,  and  this  garden,  and  the  horses  yonder,  and 
oxen,  and  sheep,  and  trees,  and  everything,  isn't  all 
yours,  Pa  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  my  son  !  No  !  Why  you  make  me 
shrink  into  nothing,  George,  when  you  talk  of  all 
these  belonging  to  me,  who  can't  even  make  a  grain 
of  sand  !  Oh,  how  could  I,  my  son,  have  given  life 
to  those  great  oxen  and  horses,  when  I  can't  give 
life  even  to  a  fly  ?  Ko,  for  if  the  poorest  fly  were 
killed,  it  is  not  your  father,  George,  nor  all  the  men 
in  the  world  that  could  ever  make  him  alive  again!" 

At  this  George  fell  into  a  profound  silence,  while 
his  pensive  looks  showed  that  his  youthful  soul  was 
laboring  with  some  idea  never  felt  before.  Perhaps 
it  was  at  this  moment  that  the  good  spirit  of,God 
ingrafted  on  his  heart  that  germ  of  piety,  which 
filled  his  after  life  with  so  many  of  the  precious 
fruits  of  morality, 

KEIMEll'S   ATTEMPT  AT    A    NEW    RELIGION — FROM  THE  LIFE  OF 
FRANKLIN. 

Ben  was  naturally  comic  in  a  high  degree,  and 
this  pleasant  vein,  greatly  improved  by  his  present 
golden  prospects,  betrayed  him  into  ninny  a  frolic 
with  Keinier,  to  whom  he  had  prudently  attached 
himself  as  a  journeyman,  until  the  Annis  should  sail. 
The  reader  will  excuse  Ben  for  these  frolics  when  lie 
comes  to  learn  what  were  their  aims  ;  as  also  what 
an  insufferable  old  creature  this  Kcimer  was.  .Silly 
as  a  noony,  yet  vain  as  a  jay,  and  garrulous  as  a  tie, 
he  could  never  rest  but  when  in  a  stiff  argument, 
ami  acting  the  orator,  at  which  he  looked  on  Cicero 
himself  as  but  a  boy  to  him.  Here  was  a  fine  target 
for  Ben's  Socratic  artillery,  which  he  frequently 
played  off  on  the  old  Pomposo  with  great  effect. 
By  questions  artfully  put,  he  would  obtain  of  him 
certain  points,  which  Keimer  readily  granted,  as 
seeing  in  them  no  sort  of  connexion  with  the  matter 
in  debate.  But  yet  these  points,  when  granted,  like 
distant  nets  slyly  hauling  round  a  porpoise  or  stur- 
geon, would,  by  degrees,  so  completely  circumvent 
the  silly  fish,  that  with  all  his  flouncing  and  fury  he 
could  never  extricate  himself,  but  rather  got  more 
deeply  entangled.  Of^en  caught  in  this  way,  he 
became  at  last  so  afraid  of  Ben's  questions,  that  he 
■would  turn  as  mad  when  one  of  them  was  "poked 
at  him,"  as  a  bull  at  sight  of  a  scarlet  cloak ;  and 
would  not  answer  the  simplest  question  without 
first  asking,  "well,  and  what  would  you  make  of 
that  ?"  He  came  at  length  to  form  so  exalted  an 
opinion  of  Ben's  talents  for  refutation,  that  lie 
seriously  proposed  to  him  one  day  that  they  should 
turn  out  together  and  preach  up  a  Kew  Religion  ! 
Keimer  was  to  preach  and  make  the  converts,  and 
Ben  to  answer  and  put  to  silence  the  gainsayers. 
He  said  a  world  of  money  might  be  made  by  it. 

On  hearing  the  outlines  of  this  new  religion,  Ben 
found  great  fault  with  it.  This  he  did  only  that  he 
might  have  another  frolic  with  Keimer;  but  his 
frolics  were  praiseworthy,  for  they  all  "  leaned  to 
virtue's  side."  Thetruth  is,  he  saw  that  Keimer 
was  prodigiously  a  hypocrite.  At  every  whipstitch 
he  could  play  the  knave,  and  then  for  a  pretence 


would  read  his  Bible.  But  it  was  not  the  moral 
part  of  the  Bible,  the  sweet  precepts  and  parables 
of  the  Gospel  that  he  read.  iSo,  verily.  Food  so 
angelic  was  not  at  all  to  the  tooth  of  his  childish 
fancy,  which  delighted  in  nothing  but  the  novel  and 
curious.  Like  too  many  of  the  saints  now-a-days, 
he  would  rather  read  about  the  witch  of  Endor, 
than  the  good  Samaritan,  and  hear  a  sermon  on  the 
brazen  candlesticks  than  on  the  love  of  God.  And 
then,  O  dear!  who  was  Melchizedeck  ?  Or  where 
was  the  land  of  iSod  ?  Or,  was  it  in  the  shape  of  a 
serpent  or  a  monkey  that  the  devil  tempted  Eve  ? 
As  he  was  one  day  poring  over  the  pentateuch  as 
busy  after  some  nice  game  of  this  sort  as  a  terrier 
on  the  track  of  a  weazel,  he  came  to  that  famous 
text  where  iloses  says,  "  thou  shalt  not  mar  the  cor- 
ners of  thy  beard,"  Aye  !  this  was  the  divinity  for 
Keimer.  It  struck  him  like  a  new  light  from  the 
clouds:  then  rolling  his  eyes  as  from  an  apparition, 
he  exclaimed,  "  miserable  man  that  I  am  !  and  was 
I  indeed  forbidden  to  mar  even  the  corners  of  my 
beard,  and  have  I  been  all  this  time  shaving  myself 
as  smooth  as  an  eunuch !  Fire  and  brimstone,  how 
have  you  been  boiling  up  for  me,  and  I  knew  it  not! 
Hell,  deepest  hell  is  my  portion,  that's  a  clear  case, 
unless  I  reform.  And  reform  I  will  if  I  live.  Yes, 
my  poor  naked  chin,  if  ever  I  but  get  another  crop 
upon  thee  and  I  suffer  it  to  be  touched  by  the  un- 
godly steel,  then  let  my  right  hand  forget  her  cun- 
ning." 

From  that  day  he  became  as  shy  of  a  razor  as 
ever  Samson  was.  His  long  black  whiskers 
"whistled  in  the  wind."  And  then  to  see  how  he 
would  stand  up  before  his  glass  and  stroke  them 
down,  it  would  have  reminded  you  of  some  ancient 
Druid,  adjusting  the  sacred  Mistletoe. 

Ben  could  not  bear  that  sight.  Such  shameless 
neglect  of  angel  morality,  and  yet  such  fidgetting 
about  a  goatish  beard !  "  Heavens,  sir,"  said  he  to 
Keimer,  one  day  in  the  midst  of  a  hot  argument, 

"  Who  can  think,  with  common  sense, 
A  smooth  shaved  face  gives  God  offence? 
Or  that  a  whisker  hath  a  charm, 
Eternal  justice  to  disarm  r" 

He  even  proposed  to  him  to  get  shaved.  Keimer 
swore  outright  that  he  would  never  lose  his  beard. 
A  stiff  altercation  ensued.  But  Keimer  getting 
angry,  Ben  agreed  at  last  to  give  up  the  beard.  He 
said  that,"  as  the  beard  at  best  was  but  an  external, 
a  mere  excrescence,  he  would  not  insist  on  that  as 
so  very  essential.  But  certainly,  sir,"  continued  lie, 
"  there  is  one  thing  that  is." 

Keimer  wanted  to  know  what  that  was. 

"Why,  sir,"  added  Ben,  "this  turning  out  and 
preaching  up  a  New  Religion,  is,  without,  doubt,  a 
very  serious  affair,  and  ought  not  to  be  undertaken 
too  hastily.  jVluch  time,  sir,  in  my  opinion  at  least, 
should  be  spent  in  making  preparation,  in  which 
fasting  should  certainly  have  a  large  share." 

Keinier,  who  was  a  great  glutton,  said  lie  could 
never  fast. 

Ben  then  insisted  that  if  they  were  not  to  fast 
altogether,  they  ought,  at  any  rate,  to  abstain  from 
animal  food,  and  live  as  the  saints  of  old  did,  on 
vegetables'  unci  water. 

Keimer  shook  his  head,  and  said  that  if  he  were 
to  live  on  vegetables  and  water,  he  should  soon  die. 

Ben  assured  him  that  it.  was  entirely  a  mistake. 
He  had  tried  it  often,  he  said,  and  could  testify  from 
his  own  experience  that  he  was  never  more  healthy 
and  cheerful  than  when  he  lived  on  vegetables  alone. 
"Die  from  feeding  on  vegetables,  indeed!  Why, 
sir,  it  contradicts  reason  ;  and  contradicts  ail  history, 
ancient  and  profane.  There  was  Daniel,  and  his 
three  young  friends,  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abed- 


MASON  L.  WEEMS. 


491 


nego,  who  fed  on  a  vegetable  diet,  of  choice;  did 
they  languish  and  die  of  it!  Or  rather  did  they 
not  display  a  rouge  of  health  and  fire  of  genius,  far 
beyond  those  silly  youths  who  crammed  on  all  the 
luxuries  of  the  royal  table?  And  that  amiable 
Italian  nobleman,  Lewis  Cornaro,  "who  says  of 
bread,  that  it  was  such  a  dainty  to  his  palate,  that 
he  was  almost  afraid,  at  times,  it  was  too  good  for 
him  to  eat;  did  he  languish  and  die  of  this  simple 
fare  ?  On  the  contrary,  did  he  not  outlive  three 
generations  of  gratified  epicures,  and  after  all,  go 
off  in  his  second  century,  like  a  bird  of  Paradise, 
singing  the  praises  of  Temperance  and  Virtue?  And 
pray,  six*,"  continued  Ben,  "  where's  the  wonder  of 
all  this  ?  Must  not  the  blood  that  is  formed  of  vege- 
tables be  the  purest  in  nature?  And  then,  as  the 
spirits  depend  on  the  blood,  must  not  the  spirits  se- 
creted from  such  blood  be  the  purest  too?  And 
when  this  is  the  case  with  the  blood  and  spirits, 
which  are  the  very  life  of  the  man,  must  not  that 
man  enjoy  the  best  chance  for  such  healthy  secre- 
tions and  circulations  as  are  most  conducive  to  long 
and  happy  life  ?'' 

Whi!e  Ben  argued  at  this  rate,  Keimer  regarded 
him  with  a  look  which  seemed  to  say,  "  Very  true, 
sir;  all  this  is  very  true,  but  still  I  cannot  go  it." 

Ben,  still  unwilling  to  give  up  his  point,  thought 
he  wo  dd  make  one  more  push  at  him.  "  What  a 
pity  it  is,"  said  he  with  a  sigh,  "  that  the  blessings 
of  s  i  sublime  a  religion  should  be  all  lost  to  the 
'worl  1,  merely  for  lack  of  a  little  fortitude  on  the 
part  of  its  propagators." 

This  was  touching  him  on  the  right  string  ;  for 
Keimer  was  a  man  of  such  vanity,  that  a  little  Hat- 
toy  would  put  him  up  to  anything.  So  after  a  few 
hems  and  ha's,  he  said,  he  believed  he  would,  at  any 
rate,  make  a  trial  of  this  new  regimen. 

Havi  ig  thus  carried  his  point,  Ben  immediately 
engaged  a  poor  old  woman  of  the  neighborhood  to 
become  their  cook;  and  gave  her  off-hand,  written 
receipts  for  three  and  forty  dishes;  not  one  of 
which  contained  a  single  atom  of  fish,  flesh,  or  fowl. 
For  their  first  day's  breakfast  on  the  nam  regimen, 
the  nld  woman  treated  them  with  a  tureen  of  oat- 
meal gruel.  Keimer  was  particularly  fond  of  his 
breakfast,  at  which  a  nice  beef-steak  with  onion 
sauce  was  a  standing  dish.  It  was  as  good  as  a 
farce  to  Ben,  to  see  with  wdiat  an  eye  Keimer  re- 
garded the  tureen,  when,  entering  the  room,  in  place 
of  his  steak,  hot,  smoking,  and  savory,  he  beheld 
this  pale,  meagre-looking  slop. 

"  What  have  you  got  there?"  said  he,  with  a 
visage  gram,  and  scowling  eye. 

"A  disli  of  hasty  pudding,"  replied  Ben,  with  the 
smile  of  an  innocent  youth  who  had  a  keen  appe- 
tite, with  something  good  to  satisfy  it;  "a  dish  of 
nice  hasty  pudding,  sir,  made  of  oats." 

"  Of  oats  ?"  retorted  Keimer,  with  a  voice  raised 
to  a  scream. 

"  Yes,  sir,  oats,"  rejoined  Ben  ;  "  oats,  that  pre- 
cious grain  which  gives  such  elegance  and  fire  to 
our  noblest  of  quadrupeds,  the  horse." 

Keimer  growled  out,  that  he  was  no  horse  to  eat 
oats. 

"  No  matter  for  that,"  replied  Ben,  "  'tis  equally 
good  for  men." 

Keimer  denied  that  any  human  being  ever  eat 
oats. 

"  Aye  I"  said  Ben,  "  and  pray  what's  become  of 
the  Scotch?  Don't  they  live  on  oats?  And  yet, 
where  will  you  find  a  people  so  '  bonny,  blythe,  and 
gay?'  a  nation  of 'such  wits  and  warriors-?" 

As  there  was  no  answering  this,  Keimer  sat  down 
to  the  tureen,  and  swallowed  a  few  spoonfuls,  but 
not  without  making  as  many  wry  faces  as  if  it  had 


been  so  much  jalap ;  while  Ben,  all  smile  and  chat, 
breakfasted  most  deliciously. 

At  dinner,  by  Ben's  order,  the  old  woman  paraded 
a  trencher  piled  up  with  potatoes.  Keimer  s  grum- 
bling fit  came  on  him  again.  "He  saw  clear 
enough,"  he  said,  "  that  he  was  to  be  poisoned." 

'■  Poll  I  cheer  up,  man,"  replied  Ben;  "tins  is 
your  right  preacher's  bread." 

"  Bread  the  d — 1!"  replied  Keimer,  snarling. 
"  Yes,  bread,  sir,"  continued  Ben,  pleasantly;  "the 
bread  of  life,  sir  ;  for  where  do  you  find  such  health 
and  spirits,  such  bloom  and  beauty,  as  among  the 
honest-hearted  Irish,  and  yet  for  their  breakfast, 
dinner,  and  supper,  the  potato  is  their  tetotum ;  the 
first,  second,  and  third  course." 

In  this  way,  Ben  and  his  old  woman  went  on  with 
Keimer ;  daily  ringing  the  changes  on  oatmeal  gruel, 
roasted  potatoes,  boile  1  rice,  a.,d  so  on,  through  the 
whole  family  of  roots  and  grains  in  all  their  various 
genders,  moods,  and  tenses. 

Sometimes,  like  a  restive  mule,  Keimer  would 
kick   up  and  show  strong  symptoms  of  flying  the 

j    way.     But  then  Ben  would  prick  him  up  again  with 

,  a  touch  of  his  ruling  passion,  vanity.  "  O.dy  think, 
Mr.  Keimer,"  he  would  say,  "  oidy  think  what  has 
been  done  by  the  founders  of  new  religions :  how 
they  have  enlightened  the  ignorant,  polished  the 
rude,  civilized  the  savage,  and  made  heroes  of  those 
who  were  little  better  than  brutes.  Think,  sir,  what 
Moses  did  among  the  stiff-necked  Jews  ;  what  Maho- 
met did  among  the  wild  Arabs  ;  ami  what  you  may 
do  among  these  gentle  drab-coated  Peunsylvauians." 
This,  like  a  spur  in  the  Hank  of  a  jaded  horse,  gave 
Keimer  a  new  start,  anil  pushed  him  on  afresh  to 
his  gruel  breakfasts  and  potato  dinners.  Ben  strove 
hard  to  keep  him  up  to  this  gait.  Often  at  table, 
and  especially  when  he  saw  that  Keimer  was  in 
good  humour  and  fed  kindly,  he  would  give  a  loose 
to  fane}',  and  paint  the  advantages  of  their  new  regi- 

;  men  in  the  most  glowing  colors.  "Aye,  sir,"  he 
would  say,  letting  drop  at  the  same  time  his  spoon, 
as  in  an  ecstacy  of  his  subject,  while  his  pudding  on 
the  platter  cooled,  "  aye,  sir,  now  we  are  beginning 
to  live  like  men  going  a  preaching  indeed.  Let 
your  epicures  gormandize  their  fowl,  fish,  and  flesh, 
with  draughts  of  intoxicating  liquors.  Such  gross, 
inflammatory  food  may  suit  the  brutal  votaries  of 
Mars  ami  Venus.  But  our  views,  sir,  are  different 
altogether ;  we  are  going  to  teach  wisdom  and 
benevolence  to  mankind.  This  is  a  heavenly  work, 
sir,  and  our  minds  ought  to  lie  heavenly.  .Now,  as 
the  mind  depends  greatly  on  the  body,  and  the  body 
on  the  food,  we  should  certainly  select  that  which  is 
of  the  most  pure  and  refining  quality.  And  this, 
sir,  is  exactly  the  food  to  our  purpose.  This  mild 
potato,  or  this  gentle  pudding,  is  the  thing  to  insure 

'  the  light  stomach,  the  cool  liver,  the  clear  head,  and 
above  all,  those  celestial  passions  which  become  a 
preacher  that  would  moralize  the  world.  And  these 
celestial  passions,  sir,  let  me  add,  though  I  don't 
pretend  to  be  a  prophet,  these  celestial  passions,  sir, 
were  yon  but  to  stick  to  this  diet,  would  soon  shine 
out  in  your  countenance  with  such  apostolic  majesty 
and  grace,  as  would  strike  all  beholders  with  reve- 
rence, and  enable  you  to  carry  the  world  before  you." 
Such  was  the  style  of  Ben's  rhetoric  with  old 
Keimer.  But  it  could  not  all  do.  For  though  these 
harangues  would  sometimes  make  him  fancy  himself 
as  big  as  Zoroaster  or  Confucius,  and  talk  as  if  he 
should  soon  have  the  whole  country  running  after 
him,  and  worshipping  him   for  the  Grkat  Lama  of 

|  the  west;  yet  this  divinity  fit  was  too  niueli  against 
the  grain  to  last  long.  Unfortunately  for  poor 
Keimer,  the  kitchen  lay  between  him  and  his  bishop- 
ric: and  both  nature  and  habit  had  so  wedded  him 


492 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITEEATUEE. 


to  that  swinish  idol,  that  nothing  could  divorce  him. 
So  after  having  been  led  by  Ben  a  "  very  d — /  of  a 
life,"  as  he  called  it,  "for  three  months''  his  flesh- 
pot  appetites  prevailed,  and  he  swore,  "  by  his  whis- 
kers, he  would  suffer  it  no  longer''  Accordingly  he 
ordered  a  nice  roast  pig  for  dinner,  and  desired  Ben 
to  invite  a  young  friend  to  dine  with  them.  Ben 
did  so:  but  neither  himself  nor  his  young  friend 
were  anything  the  better  for  the  pig.  For  before 
they  cuuld  arrive,  the  pig  being  done,  and  his  appe- 
tite beyond  all  restraint,  Keimer  had  fallen  on  it  and 
devoured  the  whole.  And  there  he  sat  panting  and 
torpid  as  an  Anaconda  who  had  just  swallowed  a 
young  buffalo.  But  still  his  looks  gave  sign  that 
the  "  Ministers  of  Grace  "  had  not  entirely  deserted 
him,  for  at  sight  of  Ben  and  his  young  friend,  he 
blushed  up  to  the  eyelids,  and  in  a  glow  of  scarlet, 
which  showed  that  he  paid  dear  for  his  whistle 
(glutton}"),  he  apologized  for  disappointing  them  of 
their  dinner.  "  Indeed,  the  smell  of  the  pig,"  he 
said,  "  was  so  sweet,  and  the  nicely  browned  skin  so 
inviting,  especially  to  him  who  had  been  long  starv- 
ed, that  for  the  soul  of  him  he  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  taste  it — and  then,  O  I  if  Lucifer  him- 
self had  been  at  the  door,  lie  must  have  gone  on,  let 
what  would  have  been  the  consequences."  He  said, 
too,  "  that  for  his  part  he  was  glad  it  was  a  pig  and 
not  a  hog,  for  that  he  verily  believed  he  should  have 
bursted  himself."  Then  leaning  back  in  his  chair 
and  pressing  his  swollen  abdomen  with  his  paws,  he 
exclaimed,  with  an  awkward  laugh,  "  Well,  I  don't 
believe  I  was  ever  cut  out  for  a  bishop!"  Here 
ended  the  faree:  for  Keimer  never  after  this  uttered 
another  word  about  his  Sew  Religion. 

Ben  used,  laughing,  to  say  that  he  drew  Keimer 
into  this  scrape  that  he  might  enjoy  the  satisfaction 
of  starving  him  out  of  his'gluttouy.  And  he  did  it 
also  that  he  might  save  the  more  for  books  and  can- 
dles: their  vegetable  regimen  costing  him,  in  all, 
rather  less  than  three  cents  a  day  !  To  those  who 
can  spend  twenty  times  this  sum  on  tobacco  and 
whiskey  alone,  three  cents  per  day  must  appear  a 
scurvy  allowance,  and  of  course  poor  Ben  must  be 
sadly  pitied.  But  such  philosophers  should  remem- 
ber that  all  depends  on  our  loves,  whose  property  it 
is  to  make  bitter  things  sweet,  and  heavy  things  light. 

For  example:  to  lie  out  in  the  darksome  swamp 
with  no  other  canopy  but  the  sky,  and  no  bed  but 
the  cold  ground,  and  his  oidy  music  the  midnight 
owl  or  screaming  alligator,  seems  terrible  to  servile 
minds;  but  it  was  joy  to  Marion,  whose  "whole 
soul,"  as  General  Lee  well  observes,  "  was  devoted  to 
liberty  and  country." 

So,  to  shut  himself  up  in  a  dirty  printing-office, 
with  no  dinner  but  a  bit  of  bread,  no  supper  but  an 
apple,  must  appear  to  every  epicure  as  it  did  to 
Keimer,  "  a  mere  d — I  of  a  life  ;"  but  it  was  joy  to 
Ben,  whose  whole  soul  was  on  his  books,  as  the 
Bacred  lamps  that  were  to  guide  him  to  usefulness 
and  glory. 

Happy  he  who  early  strikes  into  the  path  of  wis- 
dom, and  bravely  walks  therein  till  habit  sprinkles 
it  with  roses.  He  shall  be  led  as  a  lamb  among  the 
green  pastures  along  the  water  courses  of  pleasure, 
nor  shall  he  ever  experience  the  pang  of  those 

Who  pee  the  right,  and  approve  it  too ; 
Condemn  the  wrong — aDd  yet  the  wrong  pursue. 

JED1DIAH  MOESE. 

The  author  of  the  first  geography  of  the  United 
States,  Jedidiah  Morse,  was  a  descendant  of  an 


old  New  England  family,  and  was  born  at  "Wood-: 
stock,  Conn.,  in  1761.  He  became  a  graduate  of 
Yale  in  1783,  and  was  installed  minister  of  the 
church  at  Charlestown,  Mass.,  April  30,  1789, 
where  he  remained  until  1821.  The  remainder 
of  his  life  was  passed  at  New  Haven,  where  he 
died,  June  9,  1826.  He  published  a  number  of 
sermons,  delivered  on  thanksgivings,  fasts,  and 
other  special  occasions ;  a  work  on  the  election 
of  a  Hollis  professor  of  divinity,  in  1805 ;  a  brief 
abridgment  of  the  History  ojNew  England  ;  a 
General  Gazetteer  ;  and  his  Geography,  the  first 
edition  of  which  appeared  in  1789.  "Four 
years,"  he  states,  "  were  employed  in  this  work, 
during  which  period  he  visited  the  several  states 
of  the  Union,  maintained  an  extensive  corre-pon- 
dence  with  men  of  science,  and  submitted  his 
manuscripts  to  the  inspection  of  gentlemen  in  the 
states  which  they  particularly  described  for  their 
correction."  The  portion  devoted  to  the  United 
States  occupies  480  out  of  the  530  closely  printed 
octavo  pages,  and  contains  a  full  description  not 
only  of  the  natural  features  of  the  country,  but 
of  its  history,  and  is  especially  valuable  for  its 
minute  account  of  the  chief  towns  and  cities,  and 
its  gossiping  observation  upon  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  people  of  the  different  states.  He 
also  published  in  1822  a  Report  of  a  Tour  among 
the  Indians  in  the  Summer  0/"182O,  made  in  pur- 
suance of  a  commission  from  government. 

ALBERT  GALLATIN. 

Albert  Gallatin  was  horn  at  Geneva,  Switzer- 
land, January  29,  1761.  His  parents  died  in  his 
infancy;  but  by  the  care  of  a  distant  lady  relative 
of  his  mother,  he  received  an  excellent  education. 
After  graduating  in  1799  from  the  university  of 
his  native  city,  he  emigrated  to  America,  and 
landed  at  Boston,  July  14,  1780.  Meeting  here 
with  some  friends  of  his  family  who  designed 
settling  in  Maine,  he  accompanied  them  to  their 
destination,  near  the  fort  at  Machias.  On  ar- 
riving there,  he  found  the  commander,  Captain 
John  Allen,  engaged  in  raising  a  company  of  vo- 
lunteers to  march  to  the  defence  of  Passama- 
quoddy.  He  not  only  joined  and  accompanied 
the  expedition,  but  loaned  the  commanding 
officer  six  hundred  dollars,  nearly  all  the  money 
he  had,  taking  an  order  on  the  government  in 
payment.  On  his  return  to  Boston,  he  found 
the  treasury  destitute  of  funds,  and,  nnable  to 
wait  for  the  chances  of  its  replenishment,  was 
forced  to  sell  his  claim  for  one  third  of  its  value. 
In  1782  he  was  appointed  teacher  of  French 
in  Harvard  College,  and  in  the  following  year 
removed  to  Virginia.  Here  he  was  brought  into 
prominent  notice  by  the  ability  with  which  he 
argued  the  claims  of  some  foreign  capitalists  who 
had  made  large  advances  to  the  state  of  Virginia. 
We  next  find  him  purchasing,  with  the  patrimony 
which  he  had  drawn  from  Europe,  an  extensive 
tract  in  the  west  of  the  state.  It  was  probably 
while  engaged  in  examining  these  lands,  that  the 
interview  occurred  with  General  Washington, 
which  is  related  in  Mr.  John  R.  Bartlett's  address 
before  the  N  Y.  Historical  Society*  on  the  de- 
cease of  Mr.  Gallatin. 

•  Lit,  World,  v.  510. 


ALBERT  GALLATIN. 


493 


"Mr  Gallatin  said  lie  first  met  General  Washington 
at  the  office  of  a  Land  Agent,  near  the  Keuawha 
river,  in  North  Western  Virginia,  where  he  (Mr.  G.) 
had  been  engaged  in  surveying.  The  office  consist- 
ed of  a  log  house,  14  feet  square,  in  which  was  but 
one  rooni.  In  one  corner  of  this  was  a  bed  for  the 
use  of  the  agent.  General  Washington,  who  owned 
large  tracts  of  land  in  this  region,  was  then  visiting 
them  in  company  with  his  nephew,  and  at  the  same 
time  examining  the  country  with  a  view  of  opening 
a  road  across  the  Alleghames.  Many  of  the  settlers 
and  hunters  familiar  witli  the  country,  had  been  in- 
vited to  meet  the  General  at  this  place,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  him  such  information  as  would  enable 
him  to  select  the  most  eligible  pass  for  the  con- 
templated road.  Mr.  Gallatin  felt  a  desire  to  meet 
this  great  man,  and  determined  to  await  his  arri- 
val. 

"On  his  arrival,  General  Washington  took  his  seat 
at  a  pine  table  in  the  log  cabin,  or  rather  land 
agent's  office,  surrounded  by  the  men  who  had 
come  to  meet  him.  They  all  stood  up,  as  there  was 
no  room  for  seats.  Some  of  the  more  fortunate, 
however,  secured  quarters  on  the  bed.  They  then 
underwent  an  examination  by  the.  General,  who 
wrote  down  all  the  particulars  stated  by  them.  He 
was  very  inquisitive,  questioning  one  after  the 
other,  and  noting  down  all  they  said.  Mr.  Gallatin 
stood  among  the  others  in  the  crowd,  though  quite 
near  the  table,  and  listened  attentively  to  the 
numerous  queries  put  by  the  General,  and  very 
soon  discovered  from  the  various  relations  which 
was  the  only  practicable  pass  through  which  the 
road  could  be  made.  He  felt  uneasy  at  the  in- 
decision of  the  General,  when  the  point  was  so  evi- 
dent to  him,  and  without  reflecting  on  the  impro- 
priety of  it,  suddenly  interrupted  him,  saying,  '  Oh, 
it  is  plain  enough,  such  a  plaee(a  spot  just  mentioned 
by  one  of  the  settlers)  is  the  most  practicable.'  The 
good  people  stared  at  the  young  surveyor  (for  they 
only  knew  him  as  such)  with  surprise,  wondering  at 
his  boldness  in  thrusting  his  opinion  unasked  upon 
the  General. 

"  The  interruption  put  a  sudden  stop  to  General 
Washington's  inquiries.  He  laid  down  his  pen, 
raised  his  eyes  from  his  paper,  and  cast  a  stern  look 
at  Mr.  Gallatin,  evidently  offended  at  the  intrusion 
of  Ills  opinion,  but  said  not  a  word.  Resuming  his 
former  attitude,  he  continued  his  interrogations  for 
a  few  minutes  longer,  when,  suddenly  stopping,  he 
threw  down  his  pen,  turned  to  Mr.  Gallatin,  and 
said,  '  You  are  right,  sir.' 

"  '  It  was  so  on  all  occasions  with  General  Wash- 
ington,' remarked  Mr.  Gallatin  to  me.  '  He  was 
slow  in  forming  an  opinion,  and  never  decided  until 
he  knew  he  was  right." 

" To  continue  the  narrative:  the  General  stayed 
here  all  night,  occupying  the  bed  alluded  to,  while 
his  nephew,  the  land  ageut,  and  Mr.  Gallatin  rolled 
themselves  in  blankets  and  buffalo  skins,  and  lay 
upon  the  bare  floor.  After  the  examination  men- 
tioned, and  when  the  party  went  out,  General 
Washington  inquired  who  the  young  man  was  who 
hail  interrupted  him,  made  his  acquaintance,  and 
learned  all  the  particulars  of  his  history.  They 
occasionally  met  afterwards,  and  the  General  urged 
Mr.  Gallatin  to  become  his  land  agent ;  but  as  Mr. 
Gallatin  was  then,  or  intended  soon  to  become,  the 
owner  of  a  large  tract  of  land,  he  was  compelled  to 
decline  the  favorable  offer  made  him  by  General 
Washington." 

Gallatin  was  prevented  from  settling  on  his 
lands  in  consequence  of  the  hostilities  of  the 
Indians,  and  in  1786  purchased  a  farm  on  the 


Monongahela,  in  Pennsylvania,  on  the  borders  of 
Virginia. 

In  1789  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  con- 
vention assembled  to  amend  the  constitution  of 
the  state,  and  in  the  following  year  a  member  of 
the  House  of  Representatives  of  the  same  com- 
monwealth, lie  soon  became  the  leading  mem- 
ber of  that  body,  by  whom  he  was  chosen  in 
1793  United  States  Senator. 

He  took  his  seat,  but  retained  it  only  two 
months,  it  being  then  decided,  after  elaborate 
argument,  by  a  strict  party  vote  of  fourteen  to 
twelve,  that  he  was  ineligible  to  the  office.  The 
point  in  dispute  related  to  the  period  from  which 
his  citizenship  was  to  be  dated. 

In  1794  Mr.  Gallatin  married  a  daughter  of 
Commodore  Nicholson,  and  returning  to  his  resi- 
dence in  Pennsylvania,  was  soon  again  engaged 
in  public  affairs  in  consequence  of  the  insurrec- 
tion against  the  excise  duty  then  levied  by  Con- 
gress. He  attended  a  public  meeting  of  citizens 
of  the  western  counties,  called  to  take  in  consi- 
deration the  unsettled  state  of  the  country  arising 
from  this  difficulty,  and  by  his  influence  suc- 
ceeded in  preventing  the  passage  of  resolutions 
of  a  violent  and  treasonable  nature,  and  pro- 
curing the  appointment  of  delegates  to  treat  with 
those  appointed  for  the  purpose  by  the  federal 
and  state  governments. 

On  the  fourteenth  of  October,  in  the  same  year, 
he  was  elected  member  of  Congress  for  the  district 
adjacent  to  that  in  which  he  resided,  lie  was 
put  up,  without  his  knowledge,  as  an  independent 
candidate,  in  opposition  to  the  nominees  of  the 
two  regular  parties,  on  the  express  ground  of  his 
recent  service  in  the  cause  of  order. 

Gallatin  entered  Congress  Dec,  1795,  and  was 
thrice  re-elected  by  the  same  district,  but  was 
prevented  from  serving  his  fourth  term  by  his 
appointment  as  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  by  Mr. 
Jefferson.  He  at  once  became  the  leader  of  the 
republican  party.  His  services  to  the  country  in 
its  financial  relations  have  been  universally  ac- 
knowledged. He  opposed  the  increase  of  the 
national  debt,  and  prepared  the  way  for  its 
gradual  extinction.  He  was  a  warm  advocate  of 
internal  improvements,  and  particularly  of  the 
National  Road  and  of  the  Coa*t  Survey.  He 
also  systematized  the  mode  of  disposal  of  the  pub- 
lic lands.  In  1813  he  retired  from  the  Cabinet  to 
take  part  with  Adams  and  Clay  in  the  negotia- 
tions for  peace  with  Great  Britain. 

From  1810  to  1823  he  resided  in  Paris,  as  the 
minister  of  the  United  States.  In  1826  he  was 
appointed  to  similar  office  at  the  court  of  Great 
Britain.  His  intercourse  with  both  governments 
was  signalized  by  treaties  and  other  measures  of 
great  benefit  to  the  United  States. 

In  1827  lie  returned  to  his  adopted  country, 
and  resided  for  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  the 
city  of  New  York.  Here  he  soon  after  his  return 
prepared  the  argument  in  behalf  of  the  United 
States,  to  he  laid  before  the  King  of  the  Nether- 
lands as  umpire  on  the  Maine  boundary  question. 
An  elaborate  essay  on  the  same  subject  appeared 
from  his  pen  in  1840.  In  1831  Gallatin  pub- 
lished Considerations  on  the  Currency  and  Bank- 
ing System  of  the  United  States,  in  which  he 
reviewed  the  laws  of  paper  money  and  the  Bank- 
ing system  of  the  United  States,  with  its  metallic 


494 


CYCLOP.EDU  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


basis  anil  the  suppression  of  small  notes,  as  'well 
as  the  Constitutional  powers  of  Congress,  advo- 
cating the  advantages  of  a  regulated  Bank  of  the 
United  States.  In  1838  he  rendered  an  im- 
portant service  to  the  community  by  using  his 
influence  in  a  convention  of  bank  presidents,  in 
favor  of  a  resumption  of  specie  payments  by 
those  institutions  after  the  financial  crisis  of  1836. 
The  remainder  of  his  life  was  principally  occupied 
by  researches  connected  with  the  natural  features, 
production1!,  and  aboriginal  literature  of  the  coun- 
try. His  memory  was  remarkable,  and  the  stores 
of  knowledge  which  his  long  life  of  close  applica- 
tion and  observation  had  accumulated,  were  freely 
bestowed  on  all  to  whom  they  could  be  of  service. 


He  was  elected  President  of  the  New  York 
Historical  Society  in  1S43,  and  notwithstanding 
his  great  age,  continued  indefatigable  in  its  duties 
until  his  death.  The  year  previously  he  was 
mainly  instrumental  in  founding  and  became  the 
first  President  of  the  Ethnological  Society,  which 
has  published  in  its  collections  his  work  on  the 
Semi-Civilized  Nations  of  Mexico,  Yucatan,  and 
Central  America.  This  work,  which  reviews  the 
languages,  numeration,  calendar  and  astronomy, 
history,  and  chronology  of  these  countries,  con- 
tains also  the  author's  modestly  termed  Conjec- 
tures on  the  Origin  of  Semi-Civilization  in  Ameri- 
ca, ill  which  lie  refers  the  physical  type  to  Asia, 
and  finds  in  the  philological  variations  proof  of  a 
distant  antiquity.  The  use  of  the  calendar  and 
of  agriculture  is  philosophically  ascribed  to  an 
indigenous  cultivation.  The  notes  on  Mexico 
may  be  regarded  as  a  sequel  to  the  author's 
Synapsis  of  the  Indian  Tribes  within  the  United 
States,  East  of  the  Roehy  Mountains,  and  in  the 
British  and  Russian,  Possessions  in  North  Ameri- 
ca, published  in  the  second  volume  of  Transac- 
tions of  the  American  Antiquarian  Society,  in 
which  a  resume  is  given  of  extensive  researches 
in  family  classification  and  language,  of  which  he 
notes  "the  similarity  of  structure  and  grammati- 
cal forms.     The  result   appears   to   confirm   the 


opinions  already  entertained  on  the  subject  by 
Mr.  L>uPonceau,  Mr.  Pickering,  and  others ;  and  to 
prove  that  all  the  languages,  not  only  of  our  own 
Indians,  but  of  the  native  inhabitants  of  America 
from  the  Arctic  Ocean  to  Cape  Horn,  have,  as 
far  as  they  have  been  investigated,  a  distinct 
character  common  to  all.  and  apparently  differing 
from  any  of  those  of  the  other  continent  with 
which  we  are  most  familiar."  His  first  essay  on 
this  subject  was  undertaken  in  1823  at  the  re- 
quest of  Alexander  Von  Humboldt,  and  by  him 
communicated  to  the  geographer  Balbi,  who 
noticed  it  with  praise  in  the  introduction  to  his 
"Atlas  Ethnographique."  Gallatin  pursued  the 
topic,  obtaining  vocabularies  in  1825  and  '0  from 
Southern  Indians  visiting  "Washington,  making 
inquiries  in  various  quarters  and  assisted  by 
DuPonceau.  In  his  latter  years  the  zest  and 
enthusiasm,  the  pains-taking  accuracy  of  detail 
combined  with  the  clear  philosophical  deduction 
with  which  he  occupied  himself  in  these  historic 
and  antiquarian  themes,  will  long  live  in  the 
minds  of  those  who  witnessed  this  picture  of  a 
learned  and  amiable  old  age  worthy  to  lie  esti- 
mated by  the  eulogium  of  Cicero.  The  infusion 
of  a  foreign  accent  which  his  speech  retained,  did 
not  lessen  the  charm  of  this  earnestness  and  sim- 
plicity as  they  were  witnessed  and  always  highly 
honored  in  the  monthly  meetings,  during  his 
Presidency,  of  the  Historical  Society. 

Geography  and  its  kindred  ethnological  topics 
seem  to  have  always  excited  Gallatin's  interest. 
On  his  arrival  in  Boston,  a  youth  of  nineteen, 
Mr.  Bartlett  relates  in  his  personal  reminiscences, 
one  of  his  first  acts  was  to  ascend  the  roof  of  his 
domicile.  Here  he  descried  the  hills  of  Milton, 
and  the  next  day  proceeded  on  foot  with  a  tra- 
velling friend  to  their  summits.  The  horizon  was 
bounded  by  still  higher  eminences  to  the  west, 
and  to  these,  in  the  vicinity  of  "Worcester,  he 
journeyed  still  on  foot,  in  quest  of  an  extended 
view. 

In  18-16,  when  the  agitation  of  the  north-west- 
ern boundary  difficulties  with  England  seemed  to 
threaten  hostilities,  Gallatin  published  a  pamphlet 
on  The  Oregon.  Question,  in  which  he  reviewed 
the  matter  with  impartiality,  and  urged  the  pro- 
priety of  a  moderate  course  which  would  avoid 
"  the  scandalous  spectacle,  perhaps  not  unwelcome 
to  some  of  the  beholders,  of  an  unnatural  and  an 
unnecessary  war."  The  argument  was  further 
sustained  by  a  practical  appendix  of  War  Expen- 
ses, in  which  the  veteran  financier  and  political 
economist  drew  from  his  old  stores  of  government 
experience  with  effect.  He  had  occasion  to  re- 
turn to  this  topic  two  years  later,  when  he 
summed  up  in  a  pamphlet  the  War  Expenses  of 
the  contest  'with  Mexico,  and  further  enforced  his 
pacific  benevolent  view  in  a  tract  in  which  he 
surveyed  the  main  conditions  of  the  question, 
which  he  entitled  Pence  with  Mexico.  This 
pamphlet  was  mostly  written  out,  at  Mr.  Gal- 
latin's dictation,  by  his  friend  J.  E.  Bartlett. 
More  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou-and  copies 
of  it  were  distributed.  It  had  its  effect  in  direct- 
ing public  opinion  and  leading  to  an  adjustment 
of  the  conflict.  The  funds  for  printing  this  work 
were  raised  by  subscription.  A  few  friends  met 
at  his  house  nightly  to  devise  means  for  printing 
and  distributing  it. 


RICHARD  ALSOP. 


495 


Mr.  Gallatin  died  at  Astoria,  in  the  vicinity  of 
New  York,  August  1 2, 184-9.  No  extended  account 
of  his  life  has  yet  appeared.  In  the  preparation  of 
the  present  sketch,  we  have  heen  indebted  to  a 
biographical  article  in  the  Democratic  Review  for 
June,  1843,  from  the  pen  of  William  Beach  Law- 
rence. 

In  person  Mr.  Gallatin  was  of  medium  height, 
and  in  his  latter  years  much  bent  by  age.  His 
features  were  strongly  marked,  and  his  eye  re- 
tained to  the  last  a  piercing  brilliancy. 

EICHAED  ALSOP. 
This  accomplished  scholar  and  refined  poetical 
writer  and  wit  was  horn  at  Middletown,  Con- 
necticut, January  23,  1701.  His  father,  a  mer- 
chant, died  when  the  son  was  but  five  years  old, 
leaving  him  the  eldest  of  eight  children.  He 
entered  Yale  College,  but  did  not  graduate 
there  ;  indeed  his  education  seems  to  have  been 
of  that  kind  among  the  continental  languages  of 
Europe,  which  colleges  then  supplied  inucb  less 
than  now,  when  these  interests  are  still  neglected. 
In  after  life  he  was  familiarly  acquainted  witli 
the  Greek,  Latin,  French,  Spanish,  Italian,  from 
all  which  he  made  translations.  A  portion  of  his 
Conquest  of  Scandinavia  appears  in  the  collection 
of  "  American  Poems"  published  at  Litchfield  in 
1793,  among  the  few  new  contributions  to  that 
volume,  five  of  which  were  written  by  him.  A 
translation  from  the  poem  of  Silins  Italicus  was 
among  his  earliest  production".  There  are 
among  his  unpublished  MSS.  translations  from 
the  Italian  of  Monti,  the  French  of  Florian,  and 
the  old  Greek  poem  on  the  Trojan  War  of  Quin- 
tus  Calaber. 

At  Hartford,  in  August,  17(11.  among  the  wits 
of  that  town,  Alsop,  in  conjunction  with  his 
friend  Theodore  Dwight,  brother  of  Timothy, 
wrote  the  first  number  of  the  series  of  papers, 
"  The  Echo."  It  was  published  in  the  American 
Mercury.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  lines 
written  by  Drs.  Mason  F.  Cogswell  and  Elihu  H. 
Smith,  and  a  part  of. one  or  two  numbers  by  Dr. 
Lemuel  Hopkins,  the  entire  work  was  the  pro- 
duction of  Messrs.  Alsop  and  Dwight.* 

The  Echo  has  its  title  from  the  cast  of  these 
productions,  which  are  parodies  or  exaggerations 
of  newspaper  narratives,  popular  addresses,  go- 
vernors' speeches  and  proclamations  of  the  time, 
which  offered  numerous  specimens,  with  abun- 
dant provocation  for  the  witty  treatment  which 
they  received  at  the  hands  of  the  Hartford 
wits. 

The  Echo  caught  the  noise,  fury,  and  rhodo- 
montade  of  orators  and  the  press,  and  resounded 
them  in  louder  measure.  If  a  penny-a-liner  grew 
more  maudlin  and  drunken  in  his  style  than 
usual ;  if  an  office-holder  played  Ids  "  fantastic 
tricks,"  a  politician  vapored,  or  a  scientific  pre- 
tender bored  the  public  with  his  ignorance,  or  a 
French  democratic  procession  moved  at  the  heels 
of  Genet,  it  was  sure  to  be  heard  of  from  the 
banks  of  the  Connecticut.  Metaphors,  with  poli- 
tics, then  ran  high.     As  the  Conservative  party 

*  An  exact  account  of  this  production  is  given  in  the  Rev. 
Charles  W.  Everest's  Poets  of  Connecticut,  p.  94;  an  always 
interesting  work,  of  sound  judgment  and  careful  preparation. 
Trumbull,  it  appears,  did  not  write  any  part  of  the  Echo,  as 
often  stated. 


of  the  country,  the  Federalists  had  an  advantage, 
at  least  in  the  assumption  of  authority  in  the  mat- 
ter, for  the  force  and  talent  employed  being 
equal,  the  entrenched  party  will  always  laugh 
the  loudest.  What  began  in  the  Echo  with  the 
mirthful  travesty  of  a  newspaper  article,  soon 
rose  to  the  bitter  sarcasm  of  political  controversy. 
The  democracy  of  the  day  supplied  the  motive. 
In  some  of  the  eccentricities  of  John  Hancock 
there  was  enough  ready  material  for  amusement, 
while  the  downright  western  humor  of  Bracken- 
ridge  offered  more  resistance  to  the  treatment. 
The  naivete  of  the  former  invited  ridicule,  while 
the  intentional  drollery  of  the  other  already  occu- 
pied the  ground  of  satire.  It  is  easy  to  ridicule  a 
fool,  unconscious  of  his  simplicity,  but  a  rival 
satirist  is  more  difficult  game.  The  New  Eng- 
land echo,  however,  with  its  strongly  reverberat- 
ing powers,  receiving  voices  from  all  parts  of  the 
country,  was  well  worth  listening  to.  It  had, 
too,  a  guarantee  for  a  certain  decorum  in  the  ne- 
cessities of  verse.  If  it  fell  into  railing,  the 
poetical  Echo  was  at  least  bound  to  choice  words 
and  harmonious  numbers — though  indifferent 
enough  at  times  to  such  refinements — while  occa- 
sionally the  victims  were  under  obligation  to  the 
wits  for  embalming  their  nonsense. 

In  the  twentieth  and  last  number  of  the  Echo, 
published  in  the  volume,  there  is  a  travesty  of 
Jefferson's  Presidential  Inaugural  of  1805,  which 
illustrates  the  jaundiced  view  of  politicians  for 
those  days.  There  is  nothing  in  the  address 
which  challenges  satire ;  but  as  this  "  Echo"  is 
one  of  the  most  polished  of  these  effusions,  the 
reader  may  be  curious  to  see  what  was  made  of 
the  subject,  and  we  have  placed  a  portion  of  the 
article  among  our  extracts.  The  Jeffersonian 
Gossip  on  the  Indians  is  an  amusing  caricature. 
The  gentler  pleasantry  of  the  volume,  it  may  be 
presumed  from  the  disposition  shown  in  his  other 
writings,  may  be  assigned  to  Alsop;  the  sharper 
sarcasm  to  the  severer  pen  of  Theodore  Dwight. 
The  book  was  helped  along  by  a  number  of 
comic   designs   by  Tisdale,    an  artist  who  was 


£. 


496 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


also  a  clever  illustrator  of  Trumbull's  M'Fin- 
gal* 

To  the  Echo  is  appended,  in  the  same  volume, 
A  Poet ico-Polit ieal  Olio,  consisting  of  Extracts 
from  Democracy,  an  Epic  Poem  ;  Green  House, 
and  other  New  Year's  Verses,  which  were  politi- 
cal satires  of  the  same  school. 

In  1800  Alsop  published  A  Poem  to  the  Me- 
mory of  Washington ,t  of  which  a  few  couplets 
will  show  the  temper : — 

Though  shone  thy  life  a  model  bright  of  praise, 

Not  less  the  example  bright  thy  death  portrays ; 

******* 

In  that  dread  moment  awfully  serene, 

Ko  trace  of  sufferii  g  mark'd  thy  placid  mien  ; 

No  groan,  no  murmuring  plaint  escaped  thy  tongue ; 

No  longing  shadows  o'er  thy  brow  were  hung : 

But  calm  in  Christian  hope,  undamp'd  with  fear, 

Thou  sawest  the  high  reward  of  virtue  near. 

On  that  bright  meed,  in  surest  trust  reposed, 

Ab  thy  firm  hand  thine  eyes  expiring  closed  ; 

Pleased,  to  the  will  of  Heaven  resign'd  thy  breath, 

Andsmil'd,  as  nature's  struggles  closed  in  death. 

In  1806,  the  Enchanted  lake  of  the  Fairy 
Morgana  appeared  from  his  pen,  in  New  York ; 
a  translation  somewhat  in  the  style  of  Mr.  "Way 
in  his  versions  of  the  Fabliaux,  from  the  second 
book  of  the  Orlando  Inamorato  of  Francesco 
Berni.  The  prose  narrative  in  the  notes,  which 
brings  up  the  story,  is  written  with  ease  and  ele- 
gance. The  portion  of  the  poem  chosen  for 
translation  is  well  adapted  for  separate  narra- 
tion ;  and  the  evident  care  and  pleasure  with 
which  the  chivalric  adventures  and  imaginative 
marvels  are  brought  out,  give  piquancy  to  the 
statement,  that  the  author  left  an  unpublished 
poem,  77(6  Charms  of  Fancy,  to  the  composition 
of  which  Ins  studies  and  genius  naturally  incited 
him.  This  production,  which  is  preserved  among 
the  MSS.  of  the  family,  was  written  by  Mr. 
Alsop  at  an  early  age.  It  is  in  five  books,  in 
good  heroic  measure,  supported  by  ample  notes 
and  illustrations  from  the  writer's  favorite  stores 
of  reading  among  travellers  and  natural  histo- 
rians. 

Its  plan  is  a  survey  of  the  materials  for  the 
exercise  of  fancy  in  the  remote  objects  of  history 
or  geography,  the  wonders  and  luxuries  of  Egypt, 
China,  and  the  East,  and  the  newly  navigated 
regions  of  Polynesia.  We  may  detect  the  influ- 
ence of  Darwin,  who  was  then  the  fashionable 
poet  of  the  day,  in  his  lines.  In  the  opening  of 
one  of  the  cantos  ho  pays  the  usual  compliments 
of  the  day  to  his  brother  bards  in  America.  The 
list  was  then  a  short  one. 


*  Tisdale  was  a  designer,  engraver,  and  miniature  painter. 
He  was  a  native  of  New  England.  Dunlap  knew  lain  as  a  mi- 
niature painter  in  New  York,  in  18C6.  He  removed  to  Hart- 
ford and  engaged  in  business  with  "The  Graphic  Company," 
engraving  notes  for  tiie  banks.  He  wrote  a  political  satire, 
which  he  illustrated,  entitled  '•  The  Gerrymander/' — Dunlap's 
Arts  of  Design.,  ii.  45. 

t  A  Poem  :  sacred  to  the  Memory  of  George  Washington, 
late  President  of  the  United  States,  and  Commander-in-chief 
of  the  Armies  of  the  United  States.  Adapted  to  the  22d 
Feb.,  1SII0.    By  P.ichard  Alsop. 


"  Borne  to  distant  lands  thy  deeds  sublime 


Shall  brighten,  as  they  mark  the  page  of  time; 
And  ages  yet  unborn,  with  glad  acclaim, 
Pronounce  a  Washington's  illustrious  name." 

CnARMs  of  Fancy. 
Hartford :  Printed  by  Hudson  and  Goodwin.    1800. 


E'en  here,  where  late  unknown  to  Culture's  hand, 
Thy  glooms,  Columbia !  spread  the  savage  land, 
O'er  whose  wild  walks,  whose  unfrequented  Bhade, 
The  Indian  sole,  rude  Son  of  Nature,  stray'd ; 
Now  cultur'd  plains  extend,  and  cities  smile, 
And  polished  manners  grace  the  favour'd  soil: 
Begrim'd  with  blood  where  erst  the  savage  fell, 
Shrieked  the  wild  war-whoop  with  infernal  yell, 
The  Muses  sing ;  lo !  Trumbull  wakes  the  lyre, 
With  all  the  fervor  of  poetic  fire. 
Superior  poet  I  in  whose  classic  strain, 
In  bright  accordance  wit  and  fancy  reign; 
Whose  powers  of  genius,  in  their  ample  range, 
Comprise  each  subject  and  each  tuneful  change, 
Each  charm  of  melody  to  Phoebus  dear, 
The  grave,  the  gay,  the  tender,  and  severe. 
Majestic  I)wight,  sublime  in  epic  strain, 
Paints  the  fierce  horrors  of  the  crimson'd  plain; 
And  in  Virgilian  Barlow's  tuneful  lines, 
With  added  splendor  great  Columbus  shines. 

George  Washington  is,  of  course,  not  forgotten — 

And  now,  so  long  divergent  from  her  way, 
'Mid  fairy  realms  and  primal  worlds  to  stray, 
Allured,  the  Muse  resumes  her  pristine  theme, 
And  hangs  delighted  o'er  Ohio's  stream. 
'Mid  these  fair  scenes,  array'd  in  summer's  bloom, 
Where  wilds  of  fragrance  breathe  a  glad  perfume 
And  bright  with  every  flower  of  richest  hues, 
One  vast  parterre  each  beauteous  prairie  shows; 
Too  oft  in  fatal  strife  the  bloody  plain 
Has  blushed,  Columbia!  with  thy  heroes  slain, 
While  o'er  their  mangled  forms  the  savage  smil'd, 
And  songs  of  triumph  shook  the  echoing  wild. 
Here,  patriot  chief!  commene'd  thy  first  essay, 
The  morning  promise  of  thy  glorious  day! 
What  time  the  foe  their  fatal  ambush  spread, 
And  Britain  yielded  while  her  general  bled: 
Here  first  that  martial  genius  shone  display'd, 
Destin'd  in  future  time  thy  country's  aid, 
When  stern  injustice  bade  her  gloomy  band 
In  blood  and  ruin  whelm  the  hapless  land, 
Oppression  in  his  car  exulting  sate, 
And  Freedom  trembled  for  Columbia's  fate. 
In  thee  thy  country  owns,  with  grateful  pride, 
Her  shield  in  war,  in  peace  her  surest  guide. 
Long,  generous  patriot  1  may  that  country  share 
Thy  prudent  counsels  and  thy  guardian  care ; 
Long  happy  in  thy  rule,  in  peace  maintain 
Those  various  blessings  which  she  bled  to  gain. 
While  borne  to  distant  lands,  thy  deeds  sublime 
Shall  brighten  as  they  mark  the  page  of  time, 
And  ages  yet  unborn,  with  glad  acclaim. 
Pronounce  a  Washington's  illustrious  name. 

At  the  close  of  the  poem  he  indulges  in  that 
retrospect  of  fallen  greatness  celebrated  by  so 
many  poets,  and  which  Ivirke  White  and  Macau- 
lay  have  anticipated  as  the  fate  of  London  ;  but 
when  Bostonia  and  Philadelphia,  a  half  century 
ago,  were  the  theme,  the  poet's  imagination  had 
a  double  task  to  perform  in  creating  the  grandeur 
to  be  destroyed : — 

Thus,  o'er  these  climes  as  bends  my  airy  way, 
Where  Power,  grim  despot,  sjireads  his  iron  sway, 
Where  Desolation  rears  his  baleful  crest, 
'Mid  scenes  in  vain  by  lavish  nature  blest; 
'Mid  luxury's  riot  waste,  where  Famine  reigns 
And  mouldering  cities  gloom  the  lonely  plains; 
While  o'er  their  glories  past  pale  Memory  sighs, 
What  dreary  prospects  in  idea  rise! 
Is  this  of  realms  the  fate,  the  mournful  end 
To  which  must  all  inevitably  tend ! 
Must  each  in  turn  lament  the  same  sad  doom, 
By  heaven  prescribed  for  nations  yet  to  come, 


RICHARD  ALSOP. 


497 


And  as  their  fame  has  shone,  their  empire  spread, 
Misfortune  o'er  them  roll  her  deepening  shade  1 
Ere  long,  perhaps,  by  barbarous  rule  opprest, 
Shall  Europe's  realms  this  fatal  truth  atte3t; 
Ere  long,  shall  haply  o'er  her  beauteous  land 
Stern  Desolation  wave  his  sterile  wand ; 
Her  fairest  plains  to  desert  wastes  be  turn'd, 
Her  arts  neglected,  her  refinements  spurn'd, 
While  moss-grown  walls  and  heaps  of  ruins  rude 
Shall  mark  the  place  where  onee  her  cities  stood: 
Where  gay  Lutetia's  splendid  scenes  are  spread, 
Shall  the  rank  thistle  wave  its  lonely  head; 
And  London's  domes,  in  wild  destruction  hurl'd, 
Convey  a  future  moral  to  the  world. 
Yon  cities,  too,  in  infant  pride  that  rise, 
And  shine,  Columbia!  'mid  thy  favor'd  skies, 
Some  future  day  may  see  in  dust  o'erthrown, 
With  bramble  shadow'd,  and  with  brake  o'ergrown; 
Some  future  day,  the  traveller  haply  come 
To  view  their  ruins  from  his  distant  home, 
From  western  shores  with  brilliant  cities  grac'd, 
The  seats  of  science,  elegance,  and  taste, 
Where  now  Alaska  lifts  her  forests  rude, 
Or  Nootka  rolls  its  solitary  flood ; 
While  o'er  the  spot,  contemplative,  he  strays 
Where  Philadelphia  caught  the  admiring  gaze ; 
'Slid  ambient  waves  Y.ork's  proud  emporium  shone, 
Or  fair  Bostonia  grac'd  her  eastern  throne: 
No  peopled  domes,  no  spires  ascending  high, 
No  scenes  of  culture  please  his  pensive  eye, 
No  human  voice  he  hears — the  desert  plain 
Knows  but  the  whipperwill's  funereal  strain, 
The  hern's  hoarse  clang,  or  sea-gull's  lonely  cry, 
Joiu'd  with  the  moan  of  winds  that  sadly  sigh 
O'er  many  a  shatter'd  pile  and  broken  stone 
Of  sculptur'd  form  in  mournful  unison: 
Save,  haply  startled  at  the  human  tread, 
From  some  gray  tomb  by  withering  fern  o'erspread, 
Slow  rears  the  rattle-snake  his  glistening  crest, 
And  fills  with  deathful  sounds  the  dreary  waste. 

In  1808,  Alsop  published  a  translation  of  the 
Geographical,  Natural,  and  Civil  History  of 
Chili,  by  the  Abbe  Molina,  a  native  Chilian, 
driven  from  his  country  on  the  expulsion  of  the 
Jesuits,  who  took  refuge  with  a  portion  of  his 
manuscripts  in  Italy,  where  his  work  appeared  in 
1787  and  1791.  He  is  methodical  and  full  of  in- 
teresting detail,  likely  to  fall  in  with  the  studies 
of  Alsop,  who  executed  his  task  with  literary 
neatness,  and  was  at  the  pains  to  add  an  abstract 
of  Ercilla's  epic,  the  Araucana,  based  on  the 
Spanish  wars  and  the  fortunes  of  the  natives, — 
made  up  from  the  notes  and  specimens  published 
by  Hayley  and  the  Rev.  II.  Boyd.* 

Alsop  was  not  a  resident  of  New  York,  though 
he  spent  much  of  his  time  there  visiting  his  friend 
Riley,  the  bookseller.  He  died  suddenly  of  an 
affection  of  the  heart,  August  20,  1815,  at  his 
home  at  Flatbush,  Long  Island,  where  a  monu- 
ment in  the  village  churchyard  has  been  erected 
to  his  memory. 

Alsop  was  fond  of  field  sports  and  of  natural 
history.  His  Long  Island  residence  gave  him  op- 
portunity for  the  former,  while  his  love  of  the 
science  was  shown  in  his  cordial  support  of  the 


*  Tho  Geographical,  Natural,  and  Civil  Ilistory  of  Chili,  by 
Abbi  Don  J.  Ignatius  Molina.  Illustrated  by  a  half-sheet  map 
of  the  country,  wilh  notes  from  the  Spanish  and  French  ver- 
sions, and  an  appendix,  containing  copious  extracts  from  the 
Araucana  of  Don  Alonzo  de  Erciila.  Translated  from  the 
original  Italian,  by  an  American  Gentleman.  2  vols.  Svo. 
Middletown  (Conn.) :  printed  for  J.  Eiley,  1S0S. 
VOL.   I. — 32 


ornithologist  Wilson  at  Middletown,  and  his  care 
in  preparing  a  collection  of  birds,  which  is  still 
preserved  in  the  family,  the  neatness  and  dura- 
bility of  which  prove  him  to  have  been  an  ac- 
complished taxidermist.  In  New  York  he  was 
often  to  be  seen  at  the  book-store  of  Caritat  in 
the  old  City  Hotel,  and  formed  one,  in  those  days 
of  more  marked  social  distinction  than  the  pre- 
sent, of  a  society  of  which  Kent,  Dunlap,  Wm. 
Johnson,  Brockden  Brown,  Mitchill,  and  the  an- 
tagonist of  the  Federal  politics  of  the  Echo, 
Philip  Freneau,  were  members.* 

The  youngest  brother  of  Richard,  John  Alsop, 
was  a  writer  of  verses,  which  lie.  kept  in  manu- 
script. The  specimens  published  in  Everest's 
Poets  of  Connecticut  are  creditable  to  his  taste  and 
cultivation.  He  was  born  at  Middletown,  Feb.  5, 
1776.  He  was  a  pupil  of  Dr.  Dwight,  and  at- 
tended the  law-school  of  Judge  Reeve  at  Litch- 
field, practised  law  at  New  London,  and  was 
afterwards  a  bookseller  at  Hartford  and  at  New 
York.  He  passed  the  latter  part  of  his  life  in 
retirement  at  Middletown,  where  he  died,  Nov.  1, 
1841.     The  following  is  from  his  pen: — 


Soft  slumbers  now,  with  downy  fingers,  close 
Th'  o'erwearied  eye  of  labour  and  of  care; 

Now  nothing  wakes  to  break  night's  deep  repose, 
But  I  who  vainly  strive  to  hush  despair. 

Slowly  I  wander  through  the  sacred  grounds, 
The  cold  and  lowly  mansions  of  the  dead ; 

Beneath  my  steps  the  hollow  earth  resounds, 
And  moaning  spectres  near  me,  beckoning,  tread. 

Awful,  unearthly  feelings  sway  the  soul, 

As  midnight  throws  her  blackest  horrors  round  ; 

I  hear  afar  the  airy  death-bell  toll, 

And  faint,  low  waitings  rising  from  the  ground. 

Here  in  this  spot  obscure  she  sleeps,  I  cry, 
She,  in  whom  all  a  woman's  virtues  shone;  ' 

Unhonored  here  her  mouldering  relics  lie, 

Marked   by   the    moss-grown,   rudely-sculptured 

stone. 

0  thou !  who  fondly  o'er  my  cradle  hung, 
My  little,  tottering  footsteps  led  with  care, 

My  infant  woes  to  sleep  so  often  sung, 

And  watched  o'er  all  my  devious  life  with  prayer! 

Though  grief,  too  late,  now  prompts  the  bitter  tear, 
That  my  wild  follies  caused  thee  many  a  pang, 

Yet  may  thy  guardian  spirit,  from  its  sphere, 
Still  o'er  my  paths  with  holy  influence  hang ! 

What  though  too  oft,  when  friends  in  death  repose. 
Their  memories  vanish  from  the  inconstant  mind. 

As  o'er  the  wreck  the  whelming  billows  close, 
And,  ceaseless  shifting,  leave  no  trace  behind — 

Yet  e'er  for  me  shall  memory's  tablets  bear, 
Impressions  deep  that  time  can  ne'er  erase ; 

The  few  slight  stains  of  error  disappear, 
And  all  thy  virtues  brighter  there  I  trace. 

O'er  her  low  grave,  by  all  but  me  forgot, 
Of  her  oblivious  fate  I  thus  complained; 

Deplored  her  hapless  death,  my  friendless  lot, 
And  madly  Heaven  and  its  decrees  arraigned. 

With  grief  o'erpowered  my  languid  frame  reclined, 
In  the  drear  gloom,  a  parent's  ashes  near; 


*  We  are  indebted  for  theso  personal  reminiscences  of  Alsop 
to  Dr.  Francis,  who  knew  well  the  whole  circle  in  which  Alsop 
moved. 


498 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


A  spirit  moves  upon  the  rustling  wind, 

And  these  low-breathed,  these  soothing  sounds  I 
hear. 

Enough  for  me,  that,  numbered  with  the  dead, 
At  close  of  summer's  day,  when  dews  descend, 

The  simple  stone  that  tells  where  I  am  laid, 
May  wake  remembrance  in  some  passing  friend. 

And  though  no  more  than  this  inglorious  stone, 

Of  all  life's  anxious  vanities  remain, 
Peace!  dull  oblivion  hides  not  me  alone, 

But  over  bards  and  kings  extends  his  reign. 

Why  sorrowest  thou  ?     For  me  why  this  despair? 

Could  grief  recall  the  tenant  of  the  tomb, 
Wouldst  thou  my  mortal  burden  I  should  bear, 

And  quit  for  earth  the  blest  ethereal  dome  ? 
She  ceased — and  now,  each  fevered  passion  hushed, 

No  more  my  falling  tears  bedew  her  sod ; 
But  with  new  hopes,  with  sacred  feelings  flushed, 

The  soul  holds  pure  communion  with  its  God. 
Now  from  the  world  remote,  its  woes,  its  ill, 

A  holy  tranquil  sorrow  swaj's  the  breast, 
Bids  this  poor  heart's  wild  throbbing  pulse  be  still, 

And  gives  the  calm  of  heaven's  eternal  rest. 

A  NEWSPAPER  TI1UNDER  STORM.* 

Boston,  July  14th,  1791. 

On  Tuesday  last,  about  4  o'clock  p.m.,  came  on  a  smart  shower 
of  rain  attended  with  lightning  and  thunder,  no  ways  remark- 
able. The  clouds  soon  dissipated,  and  the  appearance  of  the 
azure  vault  left  trivial  hopes  of  further  needful  supplies  from 
the  uncorked  bottle*  of  heaven.  Iu  a  few  moments  the  horizon 
was  again  overshadowed,  and  an  almost  impenetrable  gloom 
mantled  the  face  of  the  skies.  The  wind  frequently  shifting 
from  one  poiutto  another,  wafted  the  clouds  in  various  direc- 
tions, until  at  last  they  united  in  one  common  centre,  and 
shrouded  the  visible  globe  in  thick  darkness.  The  attendant 
lightning,  with  the  accompanying  thunder,  brought  forth  from 
the  treasures  that  embattled  elements  to  awful  conflict,  were 
extremely  vivid,  and  amazing  loud.  Those  buildings  that 
were  defended  by  electric  rods,  appeared  to  be  wrapped  in 
sheets  of  livid  flame,  and  a  flood  of  the  pure  fire  rolled  its 
burning  torrents  down  them  with  alarming  violence.  The 
majestic  roar  of  disploding  thunders,  now  bursting  with  a  sud- 
den crash,  and  now  wasting  the  rumbling  j.ciio  of  their 
sounds  in  other  lands,  added  indescribable  grandeurto  the  sub- 
lime scene.  The  windows  of  the  upper  regions  appeared  as 
thrown  wide  open,  and  the  trembling  cataract  poured  impetu- 
ous down.  More  salutary  showers,  and  more  needed,  have 
not  been  experienced  this  summer.  Several  previous  weeks 
had  exhibited  a  melancholy  sight :  the  verdure  of  fields  was 
nearly  destroyed;  and  the  patient  husbandman  almost  experi- 
enced despair.  Two  beautiful  rainbows,  the  one  existing  in  its 
native  glories,  and  the  other  a  splendid  reflection  of  primitive 
colours,  closed  the  magnificent  picture,  and  presented  to  the 
contemplative  mind,  the  angel  of  mercy,  cloathcd  with  the 
brilliance  of  this  irradiated  arch,  and  dispensing  felicity  to  as- 
sembled worlds. 

It  is  not  unnatural  to  expect  that  the  thunder  storm  would 
be  attended  with  some  damage.  We  hear  a  barn  belonging  to 
Mr.  Wythe  of  Cambridge,  caught  fire  from  the  lightning, 
which  entirely  consumed  the  same,  together  with  several  tons 
of  hay,  &c. 

nAETFORD,   AUGUST  8,   1791. 

"  Those  mighty  tales  which  great  events  rehearse-, 
To  famewe  consecrate  in  deathless  versa  /" 

On  Tuesday  last  great  Sol,  with  piercing  eye, 
Pursued  his  journey  thro'  the  vaulted  sky, 
And  in  his  ear  effulgent  roll'd  his  way 
Four  hours  beyond  the  burning  zone  of  day  ; 
When  lo !  a  cloud,  o'ershadowing  all  the  plain, 
From  countless  pores  perspir'd  a  liquid  rain, 
While  from  its  cracks  the  lightnings  made  a  peep, 
And  chit-chat  thunders  roek'd  our  fears  asleep. 
But  soon  the  vapoury  fog  dispers'd  in  air, 
And  left  the  azure  blue-eyed  concave  bare : 
Even  the  last  drop  of  hope,  which  dripping  skies 
Gave  for  a  moment  to  our  straining  eyes, 
Like  Boston  Hum,  from  heaven's  junk  bottles  broke, 
Lost  all  the  corks,  and  vanish'd  into  smoke. 


*  The  Echo.    No.  I. 


But  swift  from  worlds  unknown,  a  fresh  supply 
Of  vapour  dimm'd  the  great  horizon's  eye  ; 
The  crazy  clouds,  by  shifting  zephyrs  driven, 
Wafted  their  courses  through  the  high-arched  heaven, 
Till  pil'd  aloft  in  one  stupendous  heap, 
The  seen  and  unseen  worlds  grew  dark,  and  nature 

'gan  to  weep. 
Attendant  lightnings  stream'd  their  tails  afar, 
And  social  thunders  wak'd  ethereal  war, 
From  dark  deep  pockets  brought  their  treasur'd  store, 
Embattled  elements  increased  the  roar, — 
Red  crinkling  fires  expended  all  their  force, 
And    tumbling   rumblings   steer'd   their    headlong 

course. 
Those  guarded  frames  by  thunder  poles*  seeur'd, 
Tho'  wrapp'd  in  sheets  of  flame,  those  sheets  endur'd, 
O'er  their  b  oad  roofs  the  fiery  torrents  roll'd, 
And  every  shingle  seem'd  of  burning  gold. 
Majestic  thu  deis,  with  disploding  roar, 
And  sudden  crashing,  boune'd  along  the  shore, 
Till,  lost  in  o  her  hinds,  the  whispering  sound 
Fled  from  our  ears  and  fainted  on  the  ground. 
Rain's  house-)-  on  high  its  window  sashes  op'd, 
And  out  the  cataract  impetuous  hopp'd, 
While  the  grand  scene  by  far  more  grand  appear'd 
With    lightnings   never   seen   and   thunders   never 
heard. 
More  salutary  showers  have  not  been  known, 
To  wash  dame  Nature's  dirty  homespun  gown — 
For  several  weeks  the  good  old  Joan's  been  seen, 
With  filth  bespatter'd  like  a  lazy  quean. 
The  husbandman  fast  travelling  to  despair, 
Laid  down  his  hoe  and  took  his  rocking  chair, 
i    While  his  fat  wife  the  well  and  cistern  dried, 
,   Her  mop  grown  useless  hung  it  up  and  cry'd. 
Two  rain-bows  fair  that  Iris  brought  along, 
'    Pick'd  from  the  choicest  of  her  color'd  throng; 
The  first-born  deck'd  in  pristine  hues  of  light, 
1    In  all  its  native  glories  glowing  bright, 
i   The  next  adorn'd  with  less  refulgent  rays, 
!   But  borrowing  lustre  from  its  brother's  blaze ; 
!   Shone  a  bright  reflex  of  those  colours  gay 
That  deck'd  with  light  creation's  prinral  day, 
When  infant  Nature  lisp'd  her  earliest  notes, 
And  younher  Adam  crept  in  petticoats: 
And  to  the  people  to  reflection  given, 
!    "  The  sons  of  Boston,  the  elect  of  heaven." 
Presented  Mci  cy's  Angel  smiling  fair, 
Irradiate  splendors  frizzled  in  his  hair, 
Uncorking  demijohns,^  and  pouring  down, 
I   Heaven's  liquid  blessings  on  the  gaping  town. 
K.B.  At  Cambridge  town,  the  self-same  day, 
A  barn  was  burnt  wcll-fill'd  with  hay. 
Some  say  the  lightning  turned  it  red, 
Some  say  the  thunder  struck  it  dead, 
Some  say  it  made  the  cattle  stare, 
And  some  it  kill'd  an  aged  mare ; 
But  we  expect  the  truth  to  learn, 
From  Mr.  Wythe,  who  own'd  the  barn.§ 


*  Vulgarly  lightning  rods. 

+  The  old  gentleman  from  whose  cellar  the  junk  bottles  and 
demi-johns  were  taken. 

X  Otherwise  called  demi-jars ;  but  the  above  is  preferred  as 
the  most  elegant,  being  a  species  of  the  prosopopeia. 

§  These  pretentious  narratives  of  the  newspapers  were 
satirized  in  18l  1  by  Warren  Dutton,  a  Yale  College  Poet,  in 
his  Present  State  of  Literature.  This  description  of  a  launch, 
suggested  by  a  New  York  paper,  has  a  prettily  managad 
simile: —  , 

In  conscious  pride,  the  daughter  of  the  wood, 
Half  pleas'd.  tho'  fearful,  near  old  ocean  stood; 
The  ocean's  heir  her  beauteous  features  ey'd, 
And  much  he  wished  to  take  her  for  his  bride. 
With  coy  reserve,  and  amorous  delay, 
She  stops  and  looks,  then  glides  along  her  way; 
At  length  resolv'd,  she  nods,  with  peerless  grace, 
And  rushes,  blooming,  to  his  fond  embrace. 
Dcnnie'B  Portfolio,  Jan.  17, 1801. 


RICHARD  ALSOP. 


499 


GOVERNOR  HANCOCK'S  MESSAGE   ON  STAGE  PLAYS.* 

From  the  Columbian  Cenlinel  of  Nov.  10,  1792. 
Concord,  November  S. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  Senate,  and 

"  Gentlemen  of  the,  Home  of  Representatives, 

"  I  should  for  my  own,  as  well  as  for  your  convenience,  have 
been  glad  to  have  met  you  at  the  ancient  seat  of  our  Govem- 
meit;  bat  as  it  has  pleased  the  Most  High,  to  visit  that,  as 
■well  as  many  other  of  our  towns,  with  a  troublesome  and  con- 
tagious disease,  I  have,  with  the  advice  of  the  Council,  thought 
it  most  for  your  safety  and  comfort  to  convene  you  at  this 
place. 

"Gentlemen, 

"  I  am  urged,  by  sense  of  duty,  to  communicate  to  you  my 
mind  upon  a  transaction,  which  I  cannot  but  consider  an  an 
open  insult  upon  the  Laws  and  Government  of  the  common- 
wealth. 

"In  the  year  one  thousand  seven  huudred  and  fifty,  the 
legislature  ol  this  then  province  of  Massacfa  isetts  Bay,  passed 
an  act.  entitled,  '  An  Act  to  prevent  Stage  IJiays,  and  other 
Theatrical  Entcrtai  intents.' 

"  The  preamb.e  uf  the  Act  is  in  these  words,  '  For  prevent- 
ing  and  avoiding  manygreat  mischiefs,  which  arise  from  public 
Stage  Plays,  Interludes,  and  other  Theatrical  Entertainments; 
which  not  only  occasion  great  and  unnecessary  expenses,  and 
discourage  industry  and  frugality  :  but  likewise  tend  generally 
to  increase  immorality,  impiety,  and  a  contempt  of  religion.1 

41  The  act  is  now  a  law  of  the  commonwealth;  the  principles 
upon  which  it  is  predicated,  have  been  recognised  by,  and  de- 
rived support  from  the  consideration  of  several  legislatures; 
and  surely  it  ought  to  claim  the  respect  and  obedience  of  all 
persons  who  live  or  happen  to  be  within  the  Commonwealth. 
Vet  a  number  of  aliens  and  foreigners  have  lately  entered  the 
Btate,  and  in  the  metropolis  of  the  government,  under  adver- 
tisements insulting  to  the  habits  and  education  of  the  citizens, 
have  been  pleased  to  invite  them  to,  and  to  exhibit  before  such 
as  attended,  Stage  Play*,  Ini  rind is,  and  Thatrieal  Enter- 
tain  m  aits,  under  the  style  and  appellation  of 'Moral  Lectures. 
This  fact  is  so  notorious,  that  it  i>  in  vain  to  attempt  a  conceal- 
ment of  its  coming  to  our  knowledge. 

'•  Whether  the  Judicial  Departments,  whose  business  it  is, 
have  attended  to  this  subject  or  not,  1  am  unable,  to  determine  ; 
but  this  I  am  convinced  of.  that  no  measures  have  been  taken 
to  puni-h  a  most  open  breach  of  the  laws,  and  a  most  contemp- 
tuous insult  upon  tile  powers  of  the  government. 

11  You,  Gentlemen,  are  the  guardians  of  the  Commonwealth's 
dignity  and  honour;  and  our  fellow-citizens  rely  upon  your 
vigilance  and  wisdom,  for  the  support  of  the  sovereignty  and 
importance  of  the  Government.  I  therefore  refer  this  matter 
to  your  determinations;  and  cannot  but  hope  that  your  resolu- 
tions and  measures  will  give  efficacy  to  the  laws,  and  bo  the 
means  of  .bringing  to  condign  punihrnent  those  who  dare  to 
treat  them  with  contempt  or  open  opposition.11 

Gentles,  of  either  kind,  both  small  and  great, 
Props  of  our  laws,  aud  pillars  of  oar  state; 
Tito'  words  would  fail,  aud  language*  self  prove  weak, 
My  joy,  in  seeing  yon  once  more,  to  speak; 
While  in  this  fleshly  bottle  closely  pent, 
So  strong  expression  struggles  for  a  vent, 
Ere  I  can  draw  the  cork,  1  fear,  alas ! 
'Twill  burst  the  frail  contexture  of  my  glass. 
Yet,  had  this  joy  been  even  more  complete 
Could  I  have  met  you  at  our  ancient  Seat, 
Near  Faneuil  Hall,  to  me  for  ever  dear, 
Where  first  I  enter'd  on  my  great  career; 
Whose  walls,  so  soft,  my  presence  bade  rejoice, 
Which  oft  in  transport  echoed  to  my  voice, 
When  rose  'gainst  Britain,  its  tremendous  roar, 
And  shook  her  distant  isle,  from  shore  to  shore ; 
So  when  stern  Jove,  to  vengeful  anger  driven, 
Rolls  the  black  tempest  o'er  the  expanse  of  heaven, 
Loud  peals  of  thunder  on  the  storm  arise, 
And  the  red  lightning  quivers  o'er  the  skies; 
From  central  depths  disturb'd  the  Ocean  raves, 
And  high  to  heaven  upheaves  his  briny  waves; 
From  its  deep  base  the  cloud-veil'd  mountain  shakes  ; 
The  firm  rock  trembles,  and  the  valley  quakes  ; 
All  nature,  shuddering,  owns  the  dreadful  nod, 
And  shrinks  before  the  terrors  of  the  God. 
There  Freedom,  then  a  chick,  unfledg'd  and  bare, 
/kindly  brooded  with  a  mother's  care; 
Taught  her  to  creep,  to  hop,  to  run,  to' fly, 


*  The  Echo.    No.  IX. 


And  gave  her  wings  to  lift  herself  on  high, 
'Till  perfect  grown,  she  came,  at  length,  to  soar 
-To  heights  uuthotight  of,  but  by  me,  before. 
In  that  loved  spot,  0  could  you  but  have  met ! 
"  But  fate  denies,  and  man  must  yield  to  fate ;" 
Since  the  Small-pox,  Death's  Vicar  here  on  earth, 
Who,  stern,  respects  nor  dignities,  nor  worth, 
O'er  that  sad  place,  now  sunk  in  dire  dismay, 
Waves  his  pale  banners,  and  extends  his  sway, 
Wide  pours  contagious  poison  from  his  breath, 
Deforms  the  face,  and  shuts  the  eyes  in  death, 
And  still  uncheek'd,  his  grisly  triumph  leads, 
Nor  votes  regards,  nor  resolutions  heeds  ; 
Those  votes,  by  which,  that  man  of  patriot  soul 
Who  o'er  Town-Meetings  held  unmatch'd  controul, 
Far-fam'd  Sam  Adams  thought  to  fright  away, 
This  curst  disease,  for  ever,  and  for  aye: 
Therefore  it  is,  by  heaven's  peculiar  grace, 
That  I've  tin 'light  fit  to  call  you  to  this  place. 

But  Gentlemen  !  a  thing  unmention'd  yet, 
Enough  to  throw  you  in  a  dog-day  sweat ; 
A  thing,  perchance,  which  you,  as  well  as  /, 
Have  seen,  some  time,  with  many  an  aching  eye; 
Since,  above  measure  bold,  it  scorns  disguise ; 
And  proudly  stares  us  in  the  face  and  eyes; 
A  thing,  most  vile,  most  dreadful  in  its  kind, 
Hangs,  like  a  mill-stone,  heavy  on  my  mind; 
By  conscience  urged,  in  duty's  cause  made  bold, 
To  you  this  wicked  thing  I  shall  unfold, 
Since  plain  enough  to  me  is  its  intent, 
An  open  insult  on  my  government 

Long  since,  while  Britain  with  maternal  hand, 
Cheer'd  the  lov'd  offspring  of  Columbia's  land; 
Ere  prond  oppression  bade  that  offspring  brave 
Assert  their  rights,  and  scorn  the  name  of  slave, 
Ere  o'er  the  world  had  flown  my  mob-rais'd  fame, 
And  George  and  Britain  trembled  ntrny  name; 
This  State,  then  Province,  pass'd  with  wise  intent, 
An  Act,  Stage-Plays,  aud  such  things  to  prevent: 
You'll  find  it,  sirs,  among  the  Laws  sky  blue, 
Made  near  that  time  on  brooms  when  Witches  flew, 
That  blessed  time  when  Law  kept  wide  awake, 
Proscribed  the  faithless,  and  made  Quakers  quake; 
And  thus,  in  terms  sublime  /state  the  fact, 
Runs  the  Preamble  of  this  precious  Act. 

Both  for  preventing,  and  avoiding,  all 
Those  various  evils  which  would  sure  befall 
Our  sober  people,  and  their  sober  ways, 
From  Interludes,  and  vile  Theatric  Plays  ; 
To  wit,  all  fiddling,  fighting,  gaming,  raking, 
Swearing  profane,  high  broils,  and  sabbath  breaking ; 

This  Act,  so  full  of  wisdom  and  so  good, 
Has  now  become  a  Law  well  understood ; 
Since  it  has  often  been  confirm'd,  you  see, 
By  many  a  Legislature  great  as  we. 
Yet,  notwithstanding  this,  some  chaps  uncivil, 
Grand  emissaries  of  our  foe  the  Devil, 
Aliens,  and  Foreigners,  and  Actors  funny, 
Who  less  esteem  our  morals  than  our  money; 
Even  in  our  holy  Capital  of  late, 
Have  dared  insult  the  majesty  of  state, 
Ami  to  exhibit  publicly,  propose, 
Stage-Plays,  and  Interludes,  and  Heathen  Shows; 
Which,  in  the  garb  of  Moral  Lectures  drest, 
Uf  our  good,  sober  manners  make  ajest. 
Vet  so  obnoxious  to  the  people's  notions, 
So  strange,  so  foreign  to  their  constitutions, 
That  well  /am  convinced  they  never  go, 
From  motives  of  amusement,  to  the  Show ; 
But,  like  good,  honest  folks,  with  mere  intent, 
To  keep  these  Actors  under  some  restraint. 
Judge,  Gentlemen  !  my  feelings,  when  at  first, 
This  information  on  my  ear-drum  burst: 
Not.  more  was  Israel's  hapless  King  appall'd, 
When  Endor's  witch  the  ghost  of  Samuel  call'd, 


500 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


And,  slowly  rising  from  the  shades  of  night, 
The  frowning  spectre  met  his  startled  sight. 
Not  more  bold  Elderkin  with  terror  shook, 
Not  more  dismay  was  pictured  in  his  look, 
When  Windham's  Sons,  at  midnight's  awful  hour 
Heard  from  afar,  the  hoarse  discordant  roar, 
Of  Bull-Frog  sorrow  groaning  on  the  wind, 
Denouncing  death  and  ruin  to  mankind; 
While  one  supposed  the  tawny  Myriads  near, 
And  heard  their  War-whoops  thunder  in  his  ear: 
Another  thought  Old  Nick  was  sure  a  coming, 
Since  none  but  Belial's  bands  could  make  such  drum- 
ming; 
Vet  each,  prepar'd,  his  proper  weapon  took, 
While  one  his  bible  hugg'd,  and  one   his  musket 

shook.* 
Wild  consternation  on  my  visage  hung, 
Congeal'd  my  blood,  and  every  nerve  unstrung ; 
O'er  my  whole  frame  a  palsying  horror  flew, 
And  sense,  retiring,  bade  a  long  adieu. 
So  Cain,  the  fratricide,  when  deep  disgrace 
Fix'd  its  black  brand  upon  his  guilty  face, 
Fled  from  the  crime  of  brother  Abel's  blood, 
And  took  lone  lodgings  in  the  Land  of  Nod. 

Whether  the  magistrates  all  this  have  known 
I  do  not  know ;  but  this  I  know,  that  none 
Have  taken  care,  whatever  their  intent, 
These  fellows'  pranks,  and  postures,  to  prevent ; 
Ne'er  have   laid   hold  of   thein  witli  law's  strong 

hand, 
And  fairly  brought  the  scoundrels  to  a  stand, 
Nor  to  the  whipping-post  the  rogues  have  tied, 
Where  oft  cash-pay  is  chang'd  to  pay  in  hide. 
With  joy  extreme,  0  gentlemen  !  in  you 
The  firm  upholders  of  the  laws  I  view, 
On  you  devolves  the  task  (I  grant  it  great), 
To  keep  unstain'd  the  chasteness  of  our  State: 
Since  that  good  lady  is  beset  so  sore 
By  rakes  and  libertines  full  many  a  score, 
That  much  1  fear  me,  do  whate'er  you  can, 
She'll  be  debauch'd  by  that  unrighteous  clan. 
But  this  at  least  I  hope,  that,  if  unable 
To  keep  with  all  your  might,  her  virtue  stable, 
You  will  not  fail  to  show  this  wicked  sect, 
You  know  to  punish,  though  you  can't  protect ; 
And  whate'er  punishment  you  shall  devise, 
As  to  your  noble  judgments  seemeth  wise; 
Whether  you  burn,  drown,  knock  them  on  the  head, 
Or  hang  them  by  the  neck,  'till  dead,  dead,  dead — 
Or  with  a  neighbour  State,  so  very  tender, 
Loth  to  extend  the  neck  of  an  offender, 
Prefer  the  hanging  business  to  commute 
For  private  prayers  and  some  small  goods\  to  boot — 
I  hope  a  great  example  it  will  stand, 
And  in  terroreni  guard  our  pious  land. 


*  For  a  particular  account  of  this  remarkable  occurrence,  ex- 
tracted from  Peters's  History  of  Connecticut,  see  ante,  p.  192. 
It  has  been  also  he  subject  of  two  pleasant  ballads,  which  will 
bo  found  in  M'Carty's  Collection  and  Barber's  Historical  Col- 
lections of  Connecticut.    The  former  commences — 

When  these  free  states  were  colonies 

Unto  the  mother  nation  ; 
And,  i  i  Connecticut,  the  good 

Old  Blue  Laws  were  in  fashion. 

A  circumstance  which  there  oecurr'd, 

(And  much  the  mind  surprises 
Upon  reflection.)  tiiere  gave  rise 

To  many  strange  surmises. 

In  the  second  it  is  turned  at  the  expense  of  the  lawyers,  who 
were  suddenly  brought  to  repentai  ce  by  ;he  fright. 

+  For  an  explanation  of  the  above,  vide  the  Archives  of  Con- 
necticut, wherein  it  may  be  found  that  on  a  certain  occasion 
of  commutative  justice,  the  sheriif  was  directed  to  furnish  the 
criminal  with  the  consolation  of  his  prayers. 


JEFFEESON'S  INAUGURAL. — INDIAN  AMELIORATIONS.     1805.* 

Among  the  deeds  economy  has  wrought,' 
High  rank  the  num'rous  tracts  of  hind  we've  bought: 
Our  country's  limits  constantly  extend 
O'er  boundless  wilds  and  rivers  without  end, 
Nations  are  bargain'd  for  by  sleight  of  hand, 
We  soon  shall  purchase  old  Van  Diemen's  land, 
Beyond  Cape  Horn  our  speculations  roll, 
"  And  all  be  our's  around  the  Southern  pole." 
What  though  no  boundary  to  our  views  are  set, 
And  every  bargain  swells  the  public  debt, 
Unlike  all  other  modes  of  gaining  pelf, 
Before  we're  sued  this  debt  will  pay  itself. 
And  though  our  title  deeds,  by  strange  mischance, 
Instead  of  Spain  are  sign'd  and  seal'd  by  France, 
The  limits  too,  not  definitely  fix'd, 
Lie  somewhere  this  and  t'other  world  betwixt, 
For  fear  some  quarrel  should  hereafter  rise 
We've  given  our  obligations  for  the  price. 
I  grant  some  minds,  of  weak  aud  fearful  mould, 
Instead  of  buying  think  we'd  better  sold, 
Lest  first  or  last,  by  some  unseen  mishap, 
So  greatly  streteh'd,  our  union  cord  should  snap— 
'Tis  true,  indeed,  a  leather  string  will  break 
If  streteh'd  too  far ;  but  much  do  I  mistake 
If  ever  mortal  broke  a  string  of  leather 
By  tying  first  a  dozen  strings  together. 
And  can  it  be  that  as  we  larger  grow 
At  the  same  moment  we  grow  smaller  too  ? 
This  does  not  quadrate  with  dame  nature's  course ; 
She  gives  to  pigmies  weakness,  giants  force; 
The  mighty  Mammoth  stronger  is  by  half 
Than  the  slim  stag,  the  bullock  than  the  calf. 
Thus  should  this  great  Republic  once  expaud 
From  shore  to  shore  and  cover  every  land, 
In  like  proportion  would  our  strength  abide, 
And  we  could  manage  all  the  world  beside. 

And  when  our  children  leave  our  fost'ring  arms, 
And  roam  the  western  wilderness  for  farms, 
On  banks  remote  to  see  them  peaceful  toil, 
Lords  of  the  stream,  and  masters  of  the  soil, 
Is  better  far  than  on  the  self-same  place 
To  meet  with  squattersf  of  a  different  race, 
With  whom,  perhaps,  possess'd  of  better  right, 
We  cannot  get  along  unless  we  fight. 

Oft  have  the  dark-skinn'd  natives  of  the  wild 
Our  tenderest  thoughts  engag'd,  our  love  beguil'd ; 
At  their  sad  story  oft  we've  felt  our  breast 
With  soft  compassion's  throbbing  pangs  opprest, 
That  story  sad,  by  fiction's  hand  adorn'd, 
Where  hapless  Logan  for  his  offspring  mourn'd4 
What  time,  by  cruel  Cresap's  murd'rous  knife, 
Poor  Squaw  and  Poppoose  both  were  reft  of  life. 
Long  since  we've  prov'd  from  philosophic  ken, 
The  squaws  are  women  and  their  sanaps  men  ; 
Though,  far  unlike  our  European  race, 
No  bristly  beards  their  polish'd  chins  disgrace, 
O'er  their  smooth  frames  no  hairs  unseemly  spread, 
Nor  aught  displays  that  covering  but  the  head, 
Yet  nature  prompts  them  with  the  same  desires, 
And  with  like  feelings  aud  like  passions  fires. 

When,  fresh  from  Sov'reign  Nature's  plastic  hand, 
Shone  in  the  bloom  of  youth  this  blissful  land, 
Good,  simple,  harmless,  nor  with  blood  defil'd, 
Liv'd  the  poor  Indian  'mid  the  desert  wild. 
Close  by  some  crystal  stream  his  wigwam  stood, 
The  skins  of  deer  his  dress,  their  flesh  his  food  ; 
Few  were  his  wants,  and  his  desires  but  few, 


*  The  Echo.    No.  XX. 

T  Persons  who  settle  on  vacant  lands  in  the  wilderness,  with- 
out title,  and  who  are  with  much  difficulty  removed. 

X  For  this  story,  sec  Notes  on  Virginia,  aud  for  its  authenti- 
city, the  letters  of  Luther  Martin,  Esq. 


RICHARD  ALSOP. 


501 


No  bliss  beyond  his  pipe  and  squaw  he  knew, 
Small  as  his  wants  his  homely  household  gear 
Inspired,  from  nightly  theft,  no  cause  of  fear, 
With  various  hues  his  deer-skin  mantle  dyed, 
By  night  his  covering,  and  by  day  hio  pride, 
A  pot  of  stone,  his  succotash*  to  boil, 
A  huge  samp-mortar,  wrought  with  patient  toil, 
These  were  his  riches,  these  his  simple  store, 
And  having  these  he  sought  for  nothing  more  : — 
Thus  liv'd  he  blest,  what  time  from  Cambria's  strand, 
Advent'rous  Madoe  sought  this  unknown  laud. 
With  swords  and  bibles  arm'd  the  Welsh  appear, f 
Their  faith  to  'stablish  and  their  empire  rear ; 
Struck  with  surprise  the  simple  savage  sees 
The  pictur'd  dragon  waving  in  the  breeze, 
Hears  with  delight  the  harp's  wild  music  play, 
As  sweet  the  strings  respond  to  Gryffidd's  lay  ; 
But  when  th'  advancing  squadrons  forward  move, 
Their  arms  bright  gleaming  'mid  the  dusky  grove, 
Joy  yields  to  fear,  as  now,  approaching  nigh, 
Their  dress  and  uncouth  features  meet  his  eye; — 
And  when  their  barb'rous  Celtic  sounds  he  hears, 
That  grate  discordant  on  his  tender  ears, 
Fill'd  with  wild  tenor  from  the  scene  he  scuds, 
And  seeks  retreat  amidst  impervious  woods, 
While,  in  pursuit,  behind  th'  affrighted  man 
"  The  o'erflowing  stream  of  population  ran." 
His  wigwam  swept  away,  his  patch  of  corn, 
Before  the  fury  of  the  torrent  borne; 
Drove  him  from  wood  to  wood,  from  place  to  place, 
And  now  for  hunting  leaves  him  little  space. 

Then  since,  beneath  this  widely-spreading  tide, 
Sunk  are  the  grounds  that  Indian  wants  supplied, 
Few  are  their  deer,  their  buffaloes  are  dead, 
Or  o'er  the  lakes  with  mighty  Mammoth  fled ; 
Humanity  has  whisper'd  in  our  ear, 
Whose  dictates  ever  have  we  held  most  dear, 
To  teach  them  how  to  spin,  to  sew,  to  knit, 
And  for  their  stockings  manufacture  feet, 
Since  by  their  "  energies'  exertions"  sole 
Can  they  e'er  figure  on  Existence  roll. 
We  therefore  liberally  to  them  have  sent 
Such  household  matters  as  for  use  are  meant, 
Pots,  kettles,  trenchers,  dripping-pans,  whate'er 
Their  kitchens  lack,  their  victuals  to  prepare, 
And  with  them  skilful  men  to  teach  them  how 
To  still  their  whisky,  their  tobacco  grow ; — 
While,  to  secure  them  from  domestic  harm, 
We've  lifted  o'er  them,  with  our  thundering  arm, 
The  law's  broad  E;/is,  under  which  as  still 
And  safe  they  lie  "  as  thieves  within  a  mill." 
But  vain  th'  attempt  to  this  Imperial  Day, 
To  light  their  dusky  souls  with  reason's  ray, 
To  make  them  quit  their  guns  and  scalping  knives, 
And  stay  at  home  contented  with  their  wives ; 
Most  powerful  obstacles  this  scheme  prevent, 
Thwart  my  fine  plans,  and  frustrate  my  intent: — 
Firstly  their  bodies'  habits  different  are, 
And  different  med'eine  claim,  and  different  care, 
No  neutral  mixture  will  fur  them  suffice 
Of  gentle  acids  and  mild  alkalies  ; 
But  powerful  Blood-root,  Oil  of  Rattlesnake, 
Jerusalem  Oak,  and  Gum  of  Haemetac. 
Nor  simple  blood-lettings  their  pains  assuage, 


*  The  Indian  name  for  the  mixture  of  Indian  corn,  or  maize, 
with  beans. 

t  One  of  these  very  Bibles  is  said  to  have  been  discovered, 
not  many  years  since,  in  the  possession  of  the  Welsh  Indians, 
who  have  excited  so  much  curiosity,  and  who  preserved  with 
a  sanctimonious  reverence  this  relict  of  their  ancestors,  al- 
though they  were  unable  to  read  it,  and  ignorant  of  its  use. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  gentleman  appointed  by  the  Presi- 
dent to  explore  the  western  part  of  this  Continent  may,  in  his 
researches,  be  so  fortunate  as  to  fall  in  with  this  tribe,  and  ob- 
tain from  them  this  curious  and  invaluable  deposit. 


Warm  their  cold  chills,  and  quell  their  fever's  rage, 
Meaus  far  more  potent  their  tough  frames  require, 
And  the  free  use  of  lancets  and  of  fire. 
Besides  as  ne'er  the  Indian's  chin  appears 
Mark'd  with  a  beard,  howe'er  mature  his  years, 
Of  course  no  barber's  hand,  with  razor  keen, 
No  barber's  pole  amidst  the  tribes  are  seen. — 
Great  marts  of  knowledge,  form'd  the  world  to  bless. 
i   The  seats  of  scandal,  polities  and  dress ! 
1   From  barbers'  shops  what  benefits  we  trace  ? 
j    How  great  their  'vantage  to  the  human  race? 

That  source  of  civil  culture  unpossess'd, 
]    What  wonder  reason  slowly  fills  the  breast  ? 
|   Thou  knight  renown'd !   possess'd  of  equal  skill 
The  comb  to  flourish,  or  to  ply  the  quill. 
Whose  bright  effusions,  wondring,  oft  I  see, 
And  own  myself  in  message  beat  by  thee, 
0  would'st  thou,  Hucuins,*  to  the  Indians  go, 
And  on  their  chins  give  mighty  beards  to  grow, 
Soon  should  thy  shop  o'er  all  their  wigwams  rise, 
And  painted  pole  attract  their  curious  eyes, 
While  the  glad  tribes  would  thither  thick  repair, 
And  claim  in  turn  the  honours  of  thy  chair. 
Methinks  amid  the  newly-bearded  band, 
With  brush  and  lather  arm'd,  I  see  thee  stand, 
And  as  each  visage  gleams  with  foamy  white, 
And  wields  thy  dexter  hand  the  razor  bright, 
Thy  eloquence  pervades,  refines  the  whole ; 
And  pours  the  beams  of  reason  o'er  their  soul, 
While  white-wigg'd  savages,  with  loud  acclaim, 
Thee  as  the  People's  Friend,   and   President  shall 
name. 
Thrice   happy   time ;    when,   freed  from  Error's 
night, 
Reason's  broad  beam  shall  shed  her  mid-day  light, 
O'er  realms  regenerate  ope  unbouuded  day, 
And  bless  the  Indians  with  its  brightest  ray, 
Drive  the  thick  mist  from  their  bewildered  eyes, 
Give  them  their  former  habits  to  despise, 
While  they  partakers  of  our  equal  right, 
In  civic  feasts  and  whiskey  shall  delight. 
But  much  we  doubt  that  ne'er  within  our  reign, 
Will  Indian  manners  such  refinement  gain ; 
For  ah!  among  them  live  some  crafty  dogs, 
Change-haters,  anti-philosophic  rogues, 
Chaps  who,  though  something,  are  of  nothing  made, 
Mere  forms  of  air  and  phantoms  of  the  shade ; 
Who  say  'tis  better  in  the  ancient  way 
Safe  to  go  on,  than  in  new  paths  to  stray, 
Where  bogs  and  precipices  lurk  beneath, 
And  ignes  fotui  point  the  way  to  death, 
That  civic  feasts  with  Indians  suit  but  ill, 
And  rum  and  whiskey  are  contriv'd  to  kill, 
That  wdiat  the  whites  the  light  of  reason  call 
Is  but  another  name  for  cheating  all, 


*  Earbe.r  Huggins,  at  the  beginning  of  the  century,  afforded 
much  amusement  in  New  York  by  the  parodies  and  fanciful 
flights  of  his  professional  advertisements,  in  the  Evening  Post, 
Morning  Chronicle,  and  other  papers,  which  were  generally 
written  with  considerable  cleverness.  They  were  collected 
into  an  entertaining  volume  in  1808,  with  the  following  title  : 
"  Hugginiana  or  Huggins'  Fantasy,  being  a  collection  of  the 
most  esteemed  modern  literary  productions,  exposing  the  art 
of  making  a  noise  in  the  world,  without  beating  a  drum'or 
crying  oysters;  and  showing  how,  like  wliittington  of  old, 
who  rose  from  nothing  to  be  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  a  mere 
Barber  may  become  an  Emperor,  if  he  has  but  spirit  enough 
to  assume,  and  talents  enough  to  support  the  title.  By  John 
Richard  Desborus  Huggios,  Empcreur  du  Friseurs,  Boi  du 
Barbieres,  &c,  &c.  Trifles,  light  as  air. — Siiaksi>eare.  New 
York :  Printed  by  H.  C.  Soulhwiek.  No.  2  Wall  street,  Most 
Excellent  Printer  to  his  most  Barber-ous  majesty.1'  Huggins 
was  the  butt  of  the  town,  and  doubtless  turned  his  notoriety 
to  profitable  account.  His  business  advertisements,  mixed  up 
with  the  politics  and  small  humors  of  the  day,  supplied  a 
vehicle  for  the  wits  to  pass  their  squibs  to  the  public.  Paro- 
dies of  the  imperial  proclamations  of  Buonaparte  by  the 
Emperor  of  Barbers  were  among  the  best  of  them. 


502 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


And  that  by  equal  right  is  meant,  'tis  plain, 
The  right  by  force  or  fraud  whate'er  they  list  to  gain. 
Thus  like  the  Feds,  to  reason  they  pretend, 
Suspect  our  motives,  and  decry  our  end. 

Where  action  too  with  counteraction  jars, 
And  wild  misrule  'gainst  order  fiercely  wars, 
Anti-philosophers  with  scorn  reject 
Th'  ealighfuing  doctrines  of  our  favour' d  Bed, ; 
Bigots  of  mouldy  creeds,  that  long  ago 
The  Goddess  Reason  taught  were  idle  show, 
Their  superstitious  whims  and  habits  hold, 
Reject  the  new  and  cleave  unto  the  old : 
In  vain  reform  in  Gallic  mantle  drest, 
Unbinds  her  zone,  and  wooes  them  to  her  breast, 
And  innovation's  meretricious  smile 
Attempts  their  rigid  firmness  to  beguile. 
Strange  that  such  prejudice  in  chains  should  bi:.d 
In  our  enlighten'd  days  the  human  kind  ! 
Fools  must  they  be,  by  dulness  sure  possess'd, 
In  their  old  way  contented  to  be  blest, 
"When  novelty,  with  all-alluring  charms 
Of  untried  systems,  lures  them  to  her  arms. 

SUSANNA  EOWSON, 

The  author  of  the  popular  little  romance  of  Char- 
lotte Temple,  of  many  books  of  greater  labor  and 
of  less  fame,  and  of  the  lyric  of  America,  C  'ommeree, 
and  Freedom,  was  born  about  the  year  1762. 
Her  father  was  "William  Haswell,  a  British  naval 
officer,  who  in  1709  was  wrecked  in  company  with 
his  daughter  on  Lovell's  Island,  on  the  New  Eng- 
land coast,  after  which  they  settled  at  Nantasket, 
where  the  father,  a  widower,  married  again,  and 
whence  he  was  compelled  to  depart,  as  a  British  sub- 
ject, on  the  breaking  out  of  the  Revolutionary  war. 

His  daughter  appears  to  have  followed  him  to 
London,  where  in  1786  she  married  William 
Kowson,  leader  of  the  band  attached  to  the 
Royal  Guards  in  London*  Her  first  work  was 
published  the  same  year,  a  novel,  entitled  Victo- 
ria ;  followed  by  Mary,  or  the  Taut  of  Honor,  the 
matter  of  which  was  partly  put  into  her  hands 
by  the  bookseller ;  A  Trip  to  Parnassus,  a  Cri- 
tique on  Authors  and  Performers,  Fille  de  Chcun- 
bre,  the  Inquisitor,  or  Invisible  Rambler,  Mcnto- 
ria,  and  Charlotte  Temple.  Of  the  latter  twenty- 
five  thousand  copies  were  sold  in  a  few  years.  It 
is  a  tale  of  seduction,  the  story  of  a  young  girl 
brought  over  to  America  by  a  British  officer  and 
deserted,  and  being  written  in  a  melodramatic 
style  lias  drawn  tears  from  the  public  freely  as 
any  similar  production  on  the  stage.  It  is.  still  a 
popular  classic  at  the  cheap  book-stalls  and  with 
travelling  chapmen.  The  Inquisitor  is  avowedly 
modelled  on  Sterne,  and  the  honest  heart  of  the 
writer  has  doubtless  a  superior  sensibility,  though 
the  sharp  wit  and  knowledge  of  the  world  of  the 
original  are  not  feminine  qualities,  and  are  not  to 
be  looked  for  from  a  female  pen. 

In  1793  Mrs.  Rowson  came  with  her  husband 
to  America,  under  an  engagement  with  Wignell, 
the  manager  of  the  Philadelphia  theatre.  She  had 
appeared  in  England  in  the  provincial  theatres, 
and  was  successful  in  light  comedy  and  musical 
pieces.  While  engaged  on  the  stage  in  America  she 
wrote  The  Trials  of  the  Heart,  a  novel ;  Slates  in 
Algiers,  an  opera;   The  Volunteers,  a  farce  found- 

*  Buckingham,  in  his  Personal  Memoirs,  speaks  of  "  the 
sublime  and  spirit-stirring  tones  of  tiiis  gentleman's  trumpet, 
when  lie  played  for  the  Boston  Handel  and  Haydn  Society,  the 
accompaniment  to  the  air  in  the  Messiah,  'The  trumpet  shall 
bound  and  the  dead  shall  be  raised.1 " 


ed  on  the  whiskey  insurrection  in  Pennsylvania ; 
and  another  farce,  The  Female  Patriot.  While 
at  Baltimore  in  1795,  she  wrote  a  poetical  ad- 
dress to  the  armies  of  the  United  States,  which 
she  entitled  The  Standard  of  Liberty,  and  which 
was  recited  on  the  stage  by  Mrs.  Whitloek  before 
the  military  companies  of  the  city.  The  bird  of 
Jove,  after  attending  the  fortunes  of  ./Eneas  and 
the  Latins,  is  made  to  descend  on  the  shores  of 
Columbia,  where  the  eagle  becomes  the  standard 
of  virtue  and  freedom.  The  next  year  she  ap- 
peared with  her  husband  at  the  Federal  Street 
Theatre,  in  Boston,  for  a  single  season,  during 
which  she  wrote  a  comedy,  Americans  in  Eng- 
land, which  was  asted  for  her  benefit  and  fare- 
well of  the  stage.  She  then  opened  a  school  at 
Modford,  afterwards  at  Newton,  and  subsequently 
at  Boston.  Her  industrious  pen  meanwhile  was 
not  idle.  In  1798  she  published,  in  Boston,  Reu- 
ben and  Rachel,  or  Tales  of  Old  Tin.es,  the  scene 
of  which  was  laid  in  Maine.  In  1804  her  Mis- 
cellaneous Poems  appeared,  by  subscription,  as 
usual.  She  appears  on  the  title-page  "Precep- 
tress of  the  Ladies'  Academy,  Newton,  Mass." 
The  chief  contents  of  the  volume  are  The  Birth 
of  Genius,  an  Irregular  Poem.;  Birth-day  Ode 
to  John  Adams,  1799  ;  Eulogy  to  the  Memory  of 
Washington  ;  Maria,  not  a  Fiction,  a  ballad  of 
the  Charlotte  Temple  material ;  occasional  ver  es, 
and  some  translations  from  Virgil  and  Horace. 
They  are  for  the  most  part  echoes  of  English 
verse,  occasionally  imperfect,  but  mainly  expres- 
sive of  the  generous  woman's  heart.  A  lew  bois- 
terous songs,  of  a  mannish  order,  may  be  set 
down  to  her  theatrical  life,  ai.d  may  he  c.  nsidcred 
as  a  healthy  support  of  her  sentimental  writing. 
The  Choice,  though  one'of  the  numerous  imita- 
tions of  Pomfret,  may  be  taken  as  suggestive  of 
the  character  of  the  writer.  Her  poem  on  the 
Rights  of  Woman  shows  her  to  have  had  but 
moderate  ideas  on  that  subject  compared  with 
some  urged  at  the  present  day.  A  single  verse, 
the  first  of  a  little  poem  entitled  Ajjection,  is 
proof  sufficient  of  her  gentle  nature,  and  the  feli- 
citous expression  which  she  sometimes  achieved. 

Mrs.  Rowson  also  compiled  several  educational 
works,  a  Dictionary,  two  Systems  of  Geography, 
and  Historical  Exercises.  She  was  al>o  a  contri- 
butor to  the  Boston  Weekly  Magazine.  Her  last 
distinct  publication  appears  to  have  been  in  1822, 
the  two  volumes  entitled,  Biblical  Dialogues 
between  a  Father  and  his  Family :  con.prising 
Sacred  History  from  the  Ci  eat  ion  to  the  Heath 
of  our  Saviour  Christ,  the  Lhes  of  the  Apos- 
tles, the  Reformation,  &c.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Al- 
worth,  in  this  book,  living  on  the  Connecticut, 
communicate  in  a  series  of  conversations  with 
their  five  children  a  variety  of  sacred  information, 
derived  from  the  works  of  Stackhouse,  Poole, 
Prideaux,  Calvert,  and  others.  In  the  preface 
Mrs.  Rowson  professes  herself  attached  to  the 
tenets  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  and 
states  that  she  "  has  been  engaged  for  the  last 
twenty-five  years  in  the  instruction  of  young  per- 
sons of  her  own  sex."  The  style  of  the  work  is 
smooth  and  fluent. 

Mrs.  Rowson  died  in  Boston,  March  2,  182L* 


*  Ad  Obituary  article  in  the  Boston  Gazette,  repiinted  in 
the  Appendix  to  Aluoies  Historical  Collections  lor  1S24 


SUSANNA  ROWSON. 


503 


AFFECTION. 

Touch'd  by  the  magie  hand  of  those  we  love, 

A  trifle  will  of  consequence  appeal' ; 
A  fiow'r,  a  blade  of  grass,  a  pin,  a  glove, 

A  scrap  of  paper  will  become  most  dear. 

And  is  that  being  happy,  whose  cold  heart 
Feels  not,  nor  comprehends  this  source  of  joy? 

To  whom  a  trifle  can  110  bliss  impart, 

Who  throw  them  careless  by,  deface,  destroy  i 

Yes,  they  are  happy;  if  the  insensate  rocks 
Which  the  rude  ocean  beats,  or  softly  laves, 

Rejoice  that  they  are  mov'd  not  by  the  shocks, 
Which  hurl  full  many  to  untimely  graves. 

Yes,  they  are  happy ;  if  the  polish'd  gem, 
On  which  the  sun  in  varied  colours  plays, 

Rejoices  that  its  lustre  comes  from  him, 
And  glows  delighted  to  reflect  his  rays. 

Not  else. — Though  hearts  so  exquisitely  form'd, 
Feel  misery  a  thousand  differe.it  ways  ; 

Yet  when  by  love  or  friendship's  power  warm'd, 
One  look,  whole  days  of  misery  repays. 

One  look,  one  word,  one  kind  endearing  smile, 
Can  from  the  mind  each  painful  image  blot: 

The  voice  we  love  to  hear  can  pain  beguile, 
List'uing  the  world  beside  is  all  foi'got. 

Tho'  sharp  the  pang  which  friendship  slighted  gives, 
Tho'  to  the  eye  a  tear  may  force  its  way ; 

The  cause  remov'd  when  hope  again  revives, 

Light  beats  the  heart,  and  cheerful  smiles  the  day. 

True,  when  we're  fore'd  to  part  from  those  we  love, 
"lis  like  the  pang  when  soul  and  body's  riven  ; 

But  when  we  meet,  the  spirit  soars  above, 
And  tastes  the  exquisite  delights  of  heaven. 

Mine  be  the  feeling  he:irt:  for  who  would  fear 
To  pass  the  dreary  vale  of  death's  abode, 

If  certain,  at  the  end,  they  should  be  near 
And  feel  the  smile  of  a  benignant  God  ? 


stay  ; 
Say,  where  are  the  wings,  with  which  poets  adorn 
thee? 
Sure  'twas  some  happy  being,  who  ne'er  was  away 
From  the  friend  he  most  lov'd,  and  who  wish'd  to 
have  shorn  thee, 
First  drew  thee  with  pinions  ;  for  had  he  e'er  known 

A  long  separation,  so  slow  dost  thou  move, 
He'd  have  pictured  thee  lame,  and  with  fetters  bound 
down  ; 
So  tedious  is  absence  to  friendship  and  love. 

I  am  sure  thou'rt  a  cheat,  for  I  often  have  woo'd 
thee 
To  tarry,  when  blest  with  the  friend  of  my  heart: 
But  you   vanish'd  with  speed,  tho'  I  eager  pursued 
thee, 
Entreating  thee  not  in  such  haste  to  depart. 
Then,  wretch,  thou  wert  deaf,  nor  wouldst  hear  my 
petition. 
But  borrow'd  the  wings  of  a  sparrow  or  dove ; 
And  now,  when  I  wish  thee  to  take  thy  dismission 
Till  those    hours  shall  return,   thou   refusest  to 
move. 


The  primrose  gay,  the  snowdrop  pale, 
The  lily  blooming  in  the  vale, 
Too  fragile,  or  too  fair  to  last, 
Wither  beneath  th'  untimely  blast, 

Or  rudely  falling  shower ; 


No  more  a  sweet  perfume  they  shed, 
Their  fragrance  lost,  their  beauty  fled, 

They  can  revive  no  more. 
So  hapless  woman's  wounded  name, 
If  Malice  seize  the  trump  of  fame ; 
Or  Envy  should  her  poison  shed 
Upon  the  unprotected  head 

Of  some  forsaken  maid ; 
Tho'  pity  may  her  fate  deplore, 
Her  virtues  sink  to  rise  no  more, 

From  dark  oblivion's  shade. 

THE  CHOICE. 

I  ask  no  more  than  just  to  be 

From  vice  and  folly  wholly  free ; 

To  have  a  competent  estate, 

Neither  too  small,  nor  yet  too  great; 

Something  of  rent  and  taxes  clear, 

About  five  hundred  pounds  a  year. 

My  house,  though  small,  should  be  complete, 

Furnished,  not  elega.it,  but  neat; 

One  little  room  should  sacred  be 

To  study,  solitude,  and  me. 

The  windows,  jessamine  should  shade, 

Nor  should  a  sound  the  ears  invade, 

Except  the  warblings  from  a  grove, 

Or  plaintive  murm'ri;  gs  of  the  dove. 

Here  would  I  often  pass  the  day, 

Turn  o'er  the  page,  or  tune  the  lay, 

And  court  the  aid  and  sacred  (ire 

Of  the  Parnassian  tuneful  choir. 

While  calmly  thus  my  time  I'd  spend, 

Grant  me,  kind  Heaven,  a  faithful  friend. 

In  each  emotion  of  my  heart, 

Of  grief  orjoy,  to  bear  a  part ; 

Possess'd  of  learning,  and  good  sense, 

Free  from  pedantic  insolence. 

Pleas'd  with  retirement  let  him  be, 

Yet  cheerful,  midst  society  ; 

Know  how  to  trifle  with  a  grace, 

Yet  grave  in  proper  time  and  place. 

Let  frugal  plenty  deck  my  board, 
So  that  its  surplus  may  afford 
Assistance  to  the  neighb'ring  poor, 
And  send  them  thankful  from  the  door. 
A  few  associates  I'd  select, 
Worthy  esteem  and  high  respect ; 
And  social  mirth  I  would  invite, 
With  sportive  dance  on  tiptoe  light; 
Nor  should  sweet  music's  voice  be  mute, 
The  vocal  strain,  or  plaintive  lute; 
But  all,  and  each,  in  turn  agree, 
T'  afford  life  sweet  variety ; 
To  keep  serene  the  cheerful  breast, 
And  give  to  solitude  a  zest. 

And  often  be  it  our  employ, 

For  there  is  not  a  purer  joy, 

To  wipe  the  la  guid  grief-swoln  eye, 

To  sooth  the  pensive  mourner's  sigh, 

To  calm  their  fears,  allay  their  grief, 

And  give,  if  possible,  relief. 

But  if  this  fate,  directing  Heaven 
Thinks  too  indulgent  to  be  given, 
Let  health  and  innocence  be  mine, 
And  I  will  strive  not  to  repine; 
Will  thankful  take  each  blessing  lent, 
Be  humble,  patient,  and  content. 

THE  INDEPENDENT  FAH1SIER. 

When  the  bonny  grey  morning  just  peeps  from  the 
skies, 
And  the  lark  mounting,  tunes  her  sweet  lay ; 


504 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


With  a  mind  unincumbered  by  care  I  arise, 
My  spirits,  light,  airy,  and  gay. 

I  take  up  my  gun ;  honest  Tray,  my  good  friend, 
Wags  his  tail  and  jumps  sportively  round ; 

To  the  woods  then  together  our  footsteps  we  bend, 
Tis  there  health  and  pleasure  are  found. 

I  snuff  the  fresh  air ;  bid  defiance  to  care, 

As  happy  as  mortal  can  be  ; 
From  the  toils  of  the  great,  ambition  and  state, 

Tis  my  pride  and  my  boast  to  be  free. 

At  noon,  I  delighted  range  o'er  the  rich  soil, 

And  nature's  rough  children  regale: 
With  a  cup  of  good  h.ome-brew'd   I  sweeten  their 
toil," 

And  laugh  at  the  joke  or  the  tale. 

And  whether  the  ripe  waving  corn  I  behold, 
Or  the  innocent  flock  meet  my  sight ; 

Or  the  orchard,  whose  fruit  is  just  turning  to  gold, 
Still,  still  health  and  pleasure  unite. 

I  snuff  the  fresh  air ;  bid  defiance  to  care, 

As  happy  as  mortal  can  be  ; 
From  the  toils  of  the  great,  ambition  and  state, 

'Tis  my  pride  and  my  boast  to  be  free. 

At  night  to  my  lowly  roof  d  cot  I  return, 
When  oh,  what  new  sources  of  bliss ; 

My  children  rush  out,  while  their  little  hearts  burn, 
Each  striving  to  gain  the  first  kiss. 

My  Dolly  appeal's  with  a  smile  on  her  face, 

Good  humour  presides  at  our  board ; 
What  more  than  health,  plenty,  good  humour,  and 
peace, 

Can  the  wealth  of  the  Indies  afford  ? 

I  sink  into  rest,  with  content  in  my  breast, 

As  happy  as  mortal  can  be ; 
From  the  toils  of  the  great,  ambition  and  state, 

Tis  my  pride  and  my  boast  to  be  free. 

AMERICA,   C0M3TEECE,  AND  FBEEDOM. 

How  blest  a  life  a  sailor  leads, 

From  clime  to  clime  still  ranging ; 
For  as  the  calm  the  storm  succeeds, 

The  scene  delights  by  changing. 
When  tempests  howl  along  the  main, 

Some  object  will  remind  us, 
And  cheer  with  hopes  to  meet  again 
Those  friends  we've  left  behind  us. 
Then  under  snug  sail,  we  laugh  at  the  gale, 

And  tho'  landsmen  look  pale,  never  heed 'em; 
But  toss  off  a  glass,  to  a  favourite  lass, 
To  America,  Commerce,  and  Freedom. 

And  when  arrived  in  sight  of  land, 

Or  safe  in  port  rejoicing, 
Our  ship  we  moor,  our  sails  we  hand 

Whilst  out  the  boat  is  hoisting. 
With  eager  haste  the  shore  we  reach, 

Our  friends,  delighted,  greet  us ; 
And,  tripping  lightly  o'er  the  beaeh, 
The  pretty  lasses  meet  us. 
When  the  full  flowing  bowl  has  enliven'd  the  soul, 

To  foot  it  we  merrily  lead  'em, 
And  each  bonny  lass  will  drink  off  a  glass, 
To  America,  Commerce,  and  Freedom, 

Our  cargo  sold,  the  chink  we  share, 

And  gladly  we  receive  it; 
And  if  we  meet  a  brother  Tar, 

Who  wants,  we  freely  give  it. 
No  free  born  sailor  3'et  had  store, 

But  cheerfully  would  lend  it ; 


And  when  'tis  gone,  to  sea  for  more, 
We  earn  it,  but  to  spend  it. 
Then  drink  round,  my  boys,  'tis  the  first  of  our  joys, 

To  relieve  the  distress'd,  clothe  and  feed  'em  > 
"Tis  a  task  which  we  share,  with  the  brave  and  the 
fair, 
In  this  land  of  Commerce  and  Freedom. 

TABITHA  TENNEY. 
Mrs.  Tabitha  Tenxey,  the  author  of  the  popular 
Adventures  of  Doreadna  Sheldon,  was  born  at 
Exeter,  if.  H.,  in  1762.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  Samuel  Gihnan,  whose  paternal  ancestors  con- 
stituted a  great  part  of  the  community  of  that 
place.  Her  father  died  in  her  infancy,  and  she 
was  left  to  the  sole  care  of  her  pious  and  sensible 
mother,  who  was  a  descendant  of  the  Puritan 
stock  of  Robinson,  which  also  composed  a  large 
portion  of  the  early  population  of  the  town  of 
Exeter.  As  female  education  at  that  time  was 
very  circumscribed,  she  had  but  few  early  ad- 
vantages excepting  those  which  she  received  from 
her  mother's  excellent  example  of  industry  and 
economy,  and  the  few  well  chosen  books  which 
she  selected  for  her  daughter's  improvement. 

Books  and  literary  companionship  were  her 
greatest  delight.  She  acqulfcgd  a  facility  and  cor- 
rectness of  language  which  gave  her  noticeable 
freedom  and  elegance  in  conversation. 

In  1788  she  was  married  to  the  Hon.  Samuel 
Tenney,  then  a  resident  in  Exeter,  and  formerly 
a  Surgeon  in  the  American  army  during  the  Re- 
volutionary war.  He  was  elected  a  member  of 
Congress  in  1800.  She  accompanied  her  hus- 
band to  Washington  several  winters,  and  her  let- 
ters from  that  place  are  specimens  of  her  talent 
at  graphic  description,  as  well  as  illustrative  of 
the  fashion  and  manners  of  the  times. 

Her  first  publication  was  a  selection  from  the 
poets  and  other  cla-sical  writers,  for  the  use  of 
young  ladies,  entitled  the  New  Pleasing  Instruc- 
tor. Some  time  after  this  she  produced  her  ro-  . 
mance  of  Female  Quixotism*  This  is,  as  its  title 
implies,  one  of  the  numerous  literary  progeny  of 
Cervantes'  immortal  satire.  It  resembles  in  one 
respect  more  closely  its  original  than  most  of  its 
family,  turning  like  Don  Quixote  on  the  evils  of 
reading  romances.  In  place,  however,  of  the  lean- 
vizored  Don,  we  have  a  blooming,  delicate  young 
lady ;  and  to  continue  the  contrast,  in  exchange 
for  the  ponderous  folios,  in  which  even  the  light 
literature  of  those  ages  of  learning  was  entr imbed, 
have  the  small  volume  novels  of  the  Rosa-Matilda 
school  of  the  past  century,  the  vapid  sentimental 
stuff  which  is  now  driven  even  from  the  book- 
stalls. Dorcas  Sheldon  is  the  only  daughter  of  a 
wealthy  father,  and  soon  after  her  birth  loses  her 
mother.  Left  by  a  fond  father  to  follow  her  own 
wishes  she  takes  to  reading  novels,  and  so  satu- 
rates her  mind  with  their  wishy-washy  contents, 
that  she  determines  herself  to  be  a  heroine.    Her 


*  Female  Quixotism  :  Exhibited  in  the  Romantic  Opinions 
and  Extravagant  Adventures  of  Dorcasina  Sheldon. 
Felix  quern  faciunt  aliena  pericula  cautum. 
In  plain  English — 

Learn  to  he  wise  by  others'  harm, 
And  you  shall  do  full  well. 
In  2  vols.    Boston  :  J.  P.  Peaslee.  1S29.    The  early  editions  of 
popular  novels  become  exceedingly  scarce.     We  have  met 
with  no  earlier  copy  than  tnia. 


TABITHA  TENNEY. 


505 


first  step  is  to  become  qualified  for  a  romantic 
career  by  metamorphosing  her  plain  baptismal 
Dorcas  into  Dorcasina;  her  next  to  refuse  a 
suitor,  a  solid  man  of  property,  of  suitable  age 
and  approved  by  her  father,  whose  wooing  is  of 
too  straightforward  and  business-like  a  character 
to  suit  her  Lydia  Languish  requirements ;  and  her 
next,  to  repair  daily  to  a  romantically-disposed 
arbor  to  read  and  meditate.  She  has  a  confi- 
dante, not  the  white-muslined  nonentity  who 
would  be  naturally  looked  for  beside  a  Tilburina, 
but  a  sturdy,  sensible,  country-bred  waiting-maid, 
Betty,  a  female  Sancho  Panza. 

Time  wears  on  with  Miss  Dorcasina.  .Her  re- 
tired residence  and  equally  secluded  mode  of  life 
are  unfavorable  to  her  aspirations  for  adventures, 
and  she  reaches  her  thirty-fourth  year  without  a 
second  offer. 

At  this  period  an  adventurer,  passing  a  night 
at  the  village  inn,  hears  of  the  heiress  and  deter- 
mines to  carry  her  off.  He  dresses  the  next 
afternoon  in  his  best,  and  repairs  to  the  bower 
frequented  by  Dorcasina.  An  interview  is  thus 
obtained,  the  lady  swallows  the  bait,  the  scamp 
forges  letters  of  introduction,  and  is  on  the  point 
of  accomplishing  his  purpose  when  he  is  obliged 
to  decamp.  Dorcasina  will  believe  nothing  to 
his  discredit,  and  is  for  some  time  inconsolable. 

Her  next  suitor  is  a  waggish  student,  a  young- 
ster as  full  of  practical  jokes  as  his  prototype  of 
Boccaccio  or  Chaucer,  or  contemporary  of  Yale 
College.  He  somewhat  ungallantly  selects  Dor- 
casina as  his  victim.  He  thickens  his  plot  by 
appearing,  after  having  made  a  powerful  first 
impression  in  proprii  perso?i&,  as  an  injured 
female,  making  a  violent  assault  on  Dorcasina  and 
Betty  :— 

The  next  day,  as  evening  approached,  Dorcasina 
desired  Betty  to  attend  her  to  the  grove.  Betty, 
being  011  many  accounts  unwilling  to  go,  on  her 
knees  entreated  her  mistress  to  give  up  the  project. 
But,  finding  her  resolutely  bent  on  fulfilling  her  en- 
gagement, the  faithful  creature,  in  spite  of  her  aver- 
sion to  the  adventure,  and  of  her  apprehensions  of 
gliosis  and  goblins,  could  not  bear  the  idea  that  her 
mistress  should  go  to  the  wood,  at  that  hour  unac- 
companied. She  therefore  followed  her  footsteps, 
in  silent  trepidation. 

Being  arrived  at  the  arbor  they  seated  themselves 
on  the  turf.  They  had  not  sat  long,  when,  instead 
of  the  expected  lover,  a  female  entered,  and  placing 
herself  by  the  side  of  Dorcasina,  accosted  her  in 
the  following  manner:  "  You  will,  perhaps,  be  sur- 
prised, when  I  inform  you  that  I  know  you  did  not 
come  here  with  the  expectation  of  meeting  a  woman. 
Philander  was  the  person  whom  you  expected  to 
see ;  but  know,  abhorred  rival,  that  I  have  effectu- 
ally prevented  his  meeting  you  this  night,  and  am 
now  come  to  enjoy  your  disappointment.  I  would 
have  you  to  know,  you  witch  !  you  sorceress!  that 
you  have  robbed  me  of  the  heart  of  my  lover ;  and 
I  am  determined  to  be  revenged." 

Dorcasina,  as  might  naturally  be  expected,  was 
astonished  at  this  address,  and  remained  for  some 
moments  in  a  profound  silence.  At  length,  she  at- 
tempted to  justify  herself,  by  saying  that  she  was 
Eorry  to  be  the  cause  of  pain  to  any  one ;  that,  from 
her  own  experience,  she  knew  too  well  the  power 
of  love,  not  to  commiserate  any  person  who  nourish- 
ed a  hopeless  passion ;  that  she  had  never  yet  seen 
Philander,  to  her  knowledge;  that  this  interview 
was  none  of  her  seeking;  and  that  she  had  consent- 


ed to  it,  at  his  earnest  e^frentv,  on  the  express  con- 
dition that  it  should  never  be  repealed.  bhe  eon- 
eluded  by  declaring  that,  as  she  now  found  he  had 
been  false  to  another,  she  would  immediately  retire, 
and  hold  no  further  intercourse  with  him. 

This  mildness  served,  in  appearance,  but  to  irri- 
tate the  supposed  female.  "  I  know  your  arts  too 
well,"  cried  she,  raising  her  voice,  "  to  believe  a 
syllable  of  what  you  say.  It  is  all  mere  pretence, 
and  you  will  consent  to  meet  him  again  the  very  first 
opportunity.  But  you  shall  not  go  on  thus  practis- 
ing your  devilish  arts  with  impunity.  Your  basilisk 
glance  shall  not  thus  rob  every  man  of  his  heart, 
and  every  woman  of  her  lover  or  husband.  Those 
bewitching  eyes,  that  cause  mischief  wherever  they 
are  seen,  I  will  tear  them  from  their  orbits."  Tims 
saying,  she  laid  violent  hands  on  the  terrified  Dor- 
casina ;  tore  off  her  hat;  pulled  her  hair  ;  and  was 
proceeding  to  tear  off  her  handkerchief,  when  Betty, 
seeing  her  mistress  so  roughly  handled,  started  up 
in  her  defence,  and  attacking  the  stranger  with  great 
fury,  compelled  her  to  quit  Dorcasina  in  order  to 
defend  herself.  Dorcasina,  thus  liberated,  darted 
out  of  the  grove  and  fled  towards  the  house  with  all 
speed,  leaving  Betty  to  sustain  the  combat  alone. 
Finding  herself  deserted,  and  her  antagonist  much 
her  superior  in  strength,  Betty  endeavored  likewise 
to  make  her  escape;  but  her  attempt  was  unsuc- 
cessful. She  was  held,  cuffed,  pulled  by  the  hair, 
twirled  round  and  round  like  a  top,  shaken  and 
pushed  up  against  the  trees,  without  mercy  ;  the 
person  who  thus  roughly  handled  her,  exclaiming, 
all  the  time,  "  You  ugly  old  witch,  I'll  teach  you  to 
carry  letters,  and  contrive  meetings  between  your 
mistress  and  my  lover;  you  pander,  you  go-be- 
tween !"  Poor  Betty  begged  for  mercy  in  the  most 
moving  terms,  protesting  that  she  had  said  every- 
thing to  dissuade  her  mistress  from  this  meeting ; 
but  the  enraged  virago  would  not  suffer  her  to  go 
till  she  had  stripped  off  her  upper  garments  (her 
gown  being  a  short  one  and  of  no  great  value),  torn 
them  to  rags,  and  scattered  them  about  the  arbor. 
She  then  Buffered  her  to  depart,  telling  her,  at  the 
same  time,  that  if  ever  she  caught  her  engaged  in 
the  same  business  again,  she  would  not  only  divest 
her  of  her  clothes,  but  strip  off  her  old  wrinkled 
hide. 

In  further  prosecution  of  bis  deviltry,  he  per- 
suades a  conceited  barber  that  Dorcasina  has 
fallen  in  love  with  him  at  church.  The  gull 
readily  agrees  to  repair  to  the  usual  trysting- 
place,  where  we  introduce  him  to  the  reader : — ■ 

Monday  being  come,  the  barber,  arrayed  in  his 
Sunday  clothes,  with  his  hair  as  white  as  powder 
could  make  it,  set  out,  at  four  o'clock,  for  the  arbor, 
which  had  been  pointed  out  to  him  by  Philander ; 
who,  previous  to  this  time,  judging  that  Puff  would 
arrive  at  an  early  hour,  had  taken  possession  of  a 
thick  tree,  to  enjoy,  unobserved,  the  coming  scene. 
The  barber  found  the  hour  of  waiting  very  tedious. 
He  sung,  he  whistled,  and  listened  attentively  to 
every  passing  noise ;  when,  at  length,  his  ears  were 
saluted  by  the  sound  of  female  voices,  which  were 
no  other  than  those  of  Dorcasina  and  her  attendant. 
"  Betty,"  said  the  former,  "  you  may  seat  yourself 
with  your  knitting  work,  without  the  arbor,  and  at 
a  small  distance  from  it;  for  it  would  not  be  treat- 
ing the  young  man  with  delicacy,  to  admit  a  third 
person  to  witness  his  passion."  Betty  did  as  she 
was  desired ;  and  the  little  barber  no  sooner  dis- 
covered Dorcasina  approaching  the  arbor,  than, 
stepping  forward  and  taking  her  hand,  he  addressed 
her  with  the  utmost  familiarity :  "  Gad,  my  dear, 
I  began  to  be  very  impatient,  and  was  afraid  you 


506 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


had  changed  your  mind ;  but  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
you  at  last !     Pray,  my  dear,  be  seated." 

This  familiar  address,  so  dirierent  from  what 
Dorcasina  had  been  led  to  expect,  and  from  what 
she  had  been  accustomed  to  from  O'Connor,  so  to- 
tally disconcerted  her,  that  she  was  unable  to  an- 
swer a  single  word.  She,  however,  did  mechanically 
as  she  was  desired,  and  seated  herself  upon  the  turf 
in  silence.  The  barber  placed  himself  by  her,  and 
still  holding  the  hand  which  she  had  not  attempted 
to  withdraw,  pitied  her  for  what  he  thought  her 
country  timidity,  and  kindly  endeavored  to  encou- 
rage her.  "  I  suppose,  my  dear,  you  feel  a  little 
bashful  or  so !  but  don't  be  afraid  to  confess  your 
love.  Be  assured  you  will  meet  with  a  suitable  re- 
turn; and  that  I  shall  be  ever  grateful  and  kind  for 
bei,  g  thus  distinguished."  Dorcasina,  still  more 
confounded  by  this  strange  speech,  and  wholly  un- 
able to  comprehend  its  meaning,  continued  silent. 
The  barber,  after  waiting  some  moments  in  vain  for 
a  reply,  again  began:  "  Why,  gad,  my  dear!  if  you 
don't  intend  to  speak,  you  might  as  well  have  staid 
at  home.  Pray,  now,  afford  me  a  little  of  your  sweet 
conversation,  if  it  is  but  just  to  say  how  much  you 
love  me." 

Here  Dorcasina  conld  contain  herself  no  longer. 
"  I  had  thought,  sir,"  said  she,  hesitating,  "  I  had 
expected  from  your  professions,  a  quite  different  re- 
ception from  this."  "  Did  you,  indeed?  Gad,  my 
dear,  you  are  in  the  right."  Upon  this  he  threw  his 
arms  round  her  neck,  and  almost  stifled  her  with 
kisses.  The  astonished  Dorcasina  endeavored  to  dis- 
engage herself,  but  in  vain;  for  the  enraptured  bar- 
ber continued  his  caresses,  only  at  intervals  exclaim- 
ing, "  Gad,  my  dear,  how  happy  we  shall  be  when 
we  are  married.  I  shall  love  you  infinitely,  I  am 
sure."  Dorcasina,  at  length.,  findii  g  breath,  in  a 
loud  and  angry  tone,  exclaimed,  "  let  me  go  this 
moment;  unhand  me,  sir.  I  will  not  endure  to  be 
thus  treated." 

Betty,  who  had  hitherto  sat  quietly  knitting  upon 
a  stump,  hearii  g  the  angry  voice  of  her  mistress, 
darted  towards  the  arbor,  and  instantly  recognized 
little  Puff,  who  had  been  once  or  twice  at  the  house 
(though  unseen  by  Dorcasina)  to  dress  Mr.  Sheldon, 
and  whom  she  had  observed  to  be  a  pretty,  spruce 
young  fellow.  Her  indignation  bei.  g  raised  at  the 
treatment  of  her  mistress,  she  sprung  upon  him  be- 
fore he  was  aware  of  it,  and  gave  him,  with  her 
large  heavy  hand,  a  rousing  box  on  the  ear;  ex- 
claiming, at  the  same  time,  iu  a  tone  of  great  con- 
tempt, "The  little  barber!  as  I  hope  to  live, 
ma'am." 

This  unexpected  blow  had  the  desired  effect.  Puff, 
surprised  in  his  turn,  instantly  released  the  mistiess, 
and  turning  about  to  the  maid,  desired  to  know 
what  the  d — 1  she  meant.  Betty  did  not  deign  to 
answer  him,  but  "stood  collected  in  her  might." 
Recollecting  with  indignation  the  treatment  she  had 
so  lately  received  in  this  very  spot,  of  which  she 
now  supposed  him  to  be  the  instigator,  and  incensed 
at  his  unpardonable  insolence  to  her  mistress,  she 
now  rejoiced  in  an  opportunity  of  takii  g  an  ample 
revenge,  in  kind,  for  all  the  affronts  they  had  both 
received.  Rudely  grasping  him,  therefore,  under 
one  arm  (for  though  naturally  mild,  she  was  a  vira- 
go when  exasperated),  "  You  pitiful  little  scoundrel," 
she  ciied,  "  what  is  it  you  mean  by  thus  insulting 
Miss  Sheldon  ?  You  pretend  for  to  inspire  to  love 
her,  aDd  decoy  her  here,  on  purpose  to  be  impudent 
to  her;  besides  setting  some  impudent  vailet  in  wo- 
men's clothes  to  insult  me,  t'other  night."  Thus  say- 
ing, she  boxed  his  ears  with  great  fury,  till  the  ter- 
rified barber  bawled  to  her  to  desist ;  which  she  did 
not  do  till  she  was  heartily  tired. 


Meanwhile,  the  wicked  scholar,  perched  on  the 
tree  (determined  if  matters  should  come  to  extremi- 
ty to  descend  and  take  the  part  of  Puff ),  enjoyed 
the  scene  with  the  highest  relish  ;  being  obliged  to 
stuff  the  corner  of  his  gown  into  Ids  mouth,  to  pre- 
vent laughing  aloud  and  spoiling  the  sport. 

Other  equally  extravagant  adventures  follow, 
but  all  stop  far  short  of  matrimony.  Meanwhile 
Dorcasina,  by  the  death  of  her  father,  comes  into 
po-session  of  her  thousand  pounds  per  annum. 
Having  exhausted  her  stock  of  sentimental  fic- 
tion, she,  in  default  of  anything  else,  reads  Rode- 
rick Random.  Finding  that  hero  to  have,  while 
a  serving  man,  fallen  in  love  with  his  mistress, 
she  forthwith  resolves  that  her  hired  man,  John 
Brown,  is  in  a  like  predicament,  and  being,  of 
course,  like  Roderick,  a  gentleman  born,  is  worthy 
of  a  like  reward.  John  displays  no  love  for  the 
mistress,  but  is  sensible  of  the  agreeal  leness  of 
the  transition  from  master  to  man,  and  the  banns 
are  published.  Dorcasina  is  saved  by  main  force, 
a  romantic  abduction  and  imprisonment  being 
planned  and  executed  by  her  friends,  one  of  whom, 
a  lively  young  lady,  vainly  endeavors  to  supplant 
John  by  courting  the  susceptible  lady  in  the  dis- 
guise of  a  dashing  young  officer.  John  Brown  is 
meanwhile  bought  off  and  sent  off. 

Dorcasina  at  last  finds  that  men  were  deceivers 
ever,  that  married  people,  even  married  lovers, 
have  cares  and  troubles  from  which  celibacy  is 
exempt,  and  settles  down  at  last  to  an  old  age  of 
common  sense. 

Mrs.  Tenney  affords  a  good  example  of  the 
literary  character,  her  discipline  of  mind  being 
associated  with  prudence  in  her  affairs.  She  was 
■uniform  and  methodical  in  her 'habits,  and  so  fru- 
gal of  her  time  as  to  execute  much  plain  and 
ornamental  work  with  her  needle.  Among  her 
practical  good  services  to  the  place  of  her  resi- 
dence, was  the  establishment  of  an  old  colored 
servant  of  her  family  in  a  house  which  hi  cime  a 
popular  place  of  entertainment  as  a  rural  retreat, 
with  its  "  cakes  and  ale,"  and  was  known  as 
"Dinah's  Cottage."* 

Mrs.  Tenney  died  at  Exeter,  after  a  short  ill- 
ness, in  1887. 

JOSEPH  BAETLETT 
Was  born  at  Plymouth,  Mass.,  about  the  year  1763, 
of  afamily  of  good  Puritan  standing.  He  became 
a  graduate  of  Harvard  in  1782,  and  with  the  repu- 
tation of  a  wit  went  to  Salem  to  study  law,  which 
he  soon  abandoned  for  a  voyage  to  England. 
There  is  a  popular  anecdote  of  his  appearance  in 
tlie  metropolis,  which  is  thus  related  by  Kuapp, 
who,  in  his  American  Biography,  has  presented  an 
elaborate  sketch  of  the  man.  "  One  night  when 
Bartlett  was  in  the  theatre  in  London,  a  play  was 
going  on,  in  which  his  countrymen  were  ridiculed 
(I  believe  it  is  one  of  Gen.  Burgoyne's  plays) ;  a 
number  of  rebels  had  been  taken,  and  brought 
into  the  British  camp ;  on  the  inquiry  being  made 
about  their  occupations,  I  believe  the  play  says 
professions,  before  they  became  soldiers,  the  an- 
swer was,  although  many  of  them  were  ofiicers, 
that  they  were  of  different  callings ;  some  were 


*  We  are  indebted  for  these  interesting  personal  notices  to  a 
lady,  a  relative  of  Mrs,  Tenney. 


J0SEP1I  BAETLETT. 


507 


barbers,  some  tailors,  some  tinkers,  <&e.  At  this 
moment  Bartlett  rose  from  his  seat  in  the  pit,  and 
cried,  "Hurra!  Great  Britain  beaten  by  barbers, 
tailors,  and  tinkers!"  The  effect  was  wonderful. 
John  Bull  took  it  all  in  good  part,  and  many  of 
the  bloods  of  the  day  introduced  themselves  to 
him  ;  and  he  made  the  best  of  the  occasion. 

Bartlett  pursued  the  career  of  an  adventurer  in 
London  ;  gambled,  gained,  spent,  and  got  into 
prison,  from  which  he  extricated  himself  by  writ- 
ing a  play  which  gave  him  funds  for  his  release. 
He  then  went  on  the  stage  himself,  and  at  Edin- 
burgh acted  under  the  assumed  name  of  Maitland. 
One  of  his  parts  was  Belcour  in  the  West  Indian. 
From  an  actor  he  became  a  merchant,  and  secur- 
ed a  large  credit  of  goods  for  America,  with  which 
he  was  shipwrecked  upon  his  return  on  Cape  Cod. 
Knapp  tells  us,  that  on  the  voyage  he  frequently 
paraded  his  infidel  opinions  and  his  contempt  of 
death ;  but  that  when  the  vessel  struck,  he  dis- 
played the  most  cowardly  anxiety  for  his  safety, 
saying  "that  it  was  not  that  he  feared  to  die,  but 
that  he  should  dislike  to  be  f.mnd  dead  on  such  a 
dreary  place  as  the  back  of  Cape  Cod."  At  Bos- 
ton lie  formed  a  mercantile  connexion,  which  soon 
failed,  when  he  turned  again  to  the  law.  The 
movement  for  the  suppression  of  Shay's  rebel- 
lion gave  him  a  brief  opportunity  to  figure  in 
the  military  line  as  captain  of  the  Republican  Vo- 
lunteers ;  but  his  active  services  were  not  required. 
He  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  opened  an  office 
at  Woburn  near  Boston,  where  he  affected  oddity 
to  attract  attention,  painting  his  house  black,  and 
calling  it  "  the  coffin."  He  next  removed  to  Cam- 
bridge, where  he  bore  a  prominent  part  in  the  pub- 
lie  altercations  of  the  town,  and  busied  himself  in 
the  affairs  of  the  college.  In  17U9,  he  delivered 
a  poem  on  Physiognomy  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kap- 
pa Society  of  Harvard,  in  which,  under  an  appear- 
ance of  general  satire,  he  is  said  to  have  taken 
off  traits  of  individuals  of  note  at  the  time.  The 
poem  is  clever,  and  is  not  marked  by  any  appa- 
rent personal  scandal.  Here  are  a  few  passages 
from  it. 

God  shows  the  force  of  bis  creative  powers, 
From  reasoning  man,  to  ev'ry  tree  and  flower ; 
The  hand  of  nature  paints,  on  every  part 
Of  every  face,  the  feelings  of  the  heart ; 
Birds.  Fishes,  Serpents,  Insects,  all  proclaim 
Their  diff'reut  uses,  qualities,  a. id  name. 

The  Royal  Lion,  haughty  beast  of  prey, 
Who  pi-owls  by  night,  and  shuns  the  light  of  day, 
Undaunted  treads  the  trackless  desert  o'er, 
And  rules  supreme  on  Afrie's  bitrni  g  shore; 
His  voice  of  thunder,  and  his  savage  eyes, 
Joined  with  his  strength,  and  majesty  of  size, 
Declare  his  courage,  confidence,  and  pride, 
And  mark  hiui  sovereign  of  the  forest  wide. 

See  the  fierce  Tiger's  haggard,  ghastly  eyes, 
That  show  the  baseness  which  in  ambush  lies; 
His  savage  nature,  easily  we  trace 
In  ev'ry  line,  that's  marked  upon  his  face; 
When  o'er  his  prey,  exulting  in  his  wiles, 
You  see  a  devil,  when  he  laughs  or  smiles. 


The  grateful  Bog,  who  licks  his  master's  hand, 
Consults  his  looks,  obedient  to  command; 
Sees  every  thought,  and  every  wish  arise, 
In  every  movement  of  his  master's  eyes. 


Look  through  the  world,  and  every  clime  explore, 

From  Africa  sands,  to  Nova  Zambia's  shore ; 

View  every  bird,  in  every  leafy  grove  ; 

Hear  every  note,  in  every  so..g  of  love ; 

Observe  their  plumes,  their  wings,  their  beaks,  their 

eyes, 
From  Humming-bird,  to  Ostrich's  lofty  size; 
And  say  if  nature  does  not  truly  teach 
In  every  bird  the  qualities  of  each. 

Next  the  author  takes  up  fishes,  and  follows 
with  serpents : — 

Who  views  the  Serpent,  crawling  on  the  earth, 
Observes  the  mischiefs  it  has  given  birth, 
Fraud,  craft,  and  cunning  darting  from  his  eyes, 
Sees  plagues  unnumbered  from  his  form  arise; 
His  spots,  meandering,  warn  us  of  deceit, 
A  id  every  folding,  shows  him  made  to  cheat. 
His  eyes  and  shapeless  head  make  us  believe 
The  ancient  story  of  old  Mot..er  Eye. 
Had  but  Lavater's  science  tiiea  beea  known, 
We  had  been  happy,  Paradise  our  own  ; 
Eve   would    have    seen    the    craft,    which    lurk'd 

within  ; 
Perceiv'd  the  Devil,  in  the  Serpent's  skin, 
Observ'd  each  wile,  in  every  look  complete, 
Nor  eat  herself,  nor  given  man  to  eat. 
Then  this  our  earth  Millennium  had  been, 
Free  from  all  death,  from  misery  a.id  sin, 
Man  then  had  liv'd  unconscious  of  the  tomb, 
Enjoying  nature  in  eternal  bloom. 

Forgive,  my  friends,  if  I  presume  to  scan, 
And  show  the  Puys.ognomy  of  Man, 
Explore  each  wiudi  g  of  the  inmost  soul, 
Expose  his  vices  and  unveil  the  whole. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

The  author  never  speaks  of  individuals,  but  of 
classes,  wherein  he  alludes  to  their  foioles,  for 
example: — 

Behold  the  man  who  scents  the  drawing-room, 
"With  all  the  fragrance  of  a  rich  perfume, 
In  speaking  lisps,  in  walking  seems  to  dance, 
And  shines  in  all  the  frippery  of  France. 
His  forehead  short,  his  eyebrows  wild,  and  thin 
Denotes  the  For,  the  want  of  sense  within ; 

81  *  X-  *  *  * 

Poor  senseless  being,  let  the  idiot  pass; 
In  dress  a  Foe,  in  intellect  an  Ass. 

Of  the  critics : — 

Make  way,  my  friends,  and  give  the  Critic  place, 
With  me  observe  the  features  of  his  face ; 
His  front,  his  lips,  his  eyes,  declare  aloud, 
That  he's  a  man  oppressive,  harsh,  and  proud, 
Point  to  a  man  unsociable,  severe, 
Who  damns  all  genius  with  a  haughty  sneer; 
Who  walks  the  street  with  stiff,  important  air, 
And  judges  merit  by  the  rules  of  Blair; 
A  comma  wanted,  puts  him  in  a  rage; 
A  well-tnrn'd  period,  condemns  the  page. 
Hani  is  the  task  of  this  unhappy  Wigut, 
To  read,  to  hear,  examine  all  we  write. 
To  turn  o'er  volumes  with  convulsive  haste, 
And  dash  out  pages,  to  reform  our  taste. 

We  leave  the  Critic,  with  his  envious  mind, 
To  show  a  face,  the  noblest  of  its  kind  ; 
Majestic  forehead,  and  an  arched  nose, 
Boldness  and  vigor  of  the  mind  disclose. 
A  piercing  eye,  commanding,  wild,  severe, 
Shows  us  a  man  incapable  of  fear; 


508 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


We  know  the  man,  'tis  Freedom' $  favorite  son, 
Columbia's  boast,  our  saviour  Washington. 

By  and  by  he  takes  up  woman : — 

From  men  we  turn,  to  view  the  Female  sex, 
Made  to  delight,  to  fain,  to  please,  to  vex  ; 
Form'd  by  our  God,  to  strew  our  path  with  flowers, 
To  sooth  our  cares,  to  glad  our  passing  hours, 

****** 

First  on  the  list,  observe  that  woman's  form, 
Who  looks  a  very  monster  in  a  storm. 
Her  skinny  lips,  her  pointed  nose  behold, 
And  s;iy  if  nature's  marked  her  for  a  scold? 
Observe  her  chin,  her  every  feature  trace, 
And  see  the  fury,  trembling  in  her  face  ; 
By  nature  made  to  mar  the  joys  of  life, 
And  damn  that  man  who  has  her  for  a  wife. 
****** 

The  mild  blue  eye,  the  round  and  dimpled  chin, 
Bespeaks  a  mind  incapable  of  sin, 
The  laughing  cheeks,  the  lips  of  coral  dye, 
Declare  the  Curios  which  in  ambush  lie ; 
The  nose  and  forehead,  happily  combine, 
To  show  exertions  of  a  power  divine, 
To  show  an  angel  in  a  woman's  face, 
On  which  is  stamped  both  dignity  and  grace, 
When  fortune  frowns,  and  adverse  scenes  arise, 
Despair  and  horror  stand  before  our  eyes, 
Our  minds  are  wrapt  in  all  the  gloom  of  night, 
The  world  appears  a  desert  in  our  6ight, 
Our  friends  desert  us  like  a  summer's  fly, 
And  leave  us  wretched,  languishing  to  die ; 
An  angel  female,  soothes  our  souls  to  rest, 
And  calms  tiie  passions  raging  in  the  breast, 
Dispels  all  care,  and  ev'ry  pain  beguiles, 
Subdues  all  fear,  and  clothes  the  face  with  smiles : 
Females  like  her,  would  make  all  nature  bloom, 
And  smooth  the  passage  to  the  dreary  tomb. 

To  this  poem  are  appended,  in  the  edition  of 
1823,  at  Boston,  dedicated  to  John  Quincy 
Adams,  a  number  of  Aphorisms  on  lien,  Man- 
ners, Principles,  and  Things,  which  his  various 
opportunities  in  the  world  had  given  him  ample 
opportunity  to  collect.  Here  are  a  few  of  them, 
some  of  which,  if  we  are  to  receive  Knapp's  view 
of  his  life,  might  have  been  profitable  in  his  own 
career. 


Whenever  you  find  a  man  endeavoring  to  lessen 
and  destroy  the  reputation  of  another,  be  certain  his 
own  character  is  desperate. 

There  never  was  a  calumniator  who  was  brave, 
honest,  or  just. 

I  never  found  a  slanderer,  who  dared  to  meet  face 
to  face  the  person  whom  he  abused  and  vilified 
when  absent. 

LAW. 

The  man  who,  for  any  trifling  injury,  applies  to  a 
lawyer  for  redress,  will  soon  be  obliged  to  apply  to 
the  town  for  support. 

BOASTING. 

Whenever  you  hear  a  man  boasting  of  his  cou- 
rage, be  convinced  lie  will  be  a  coward  in  time  of 
danger. 

A  man  who  boasts  of  his  honesty,  or  a  woman  of 
her  chastity,  are  both  to  be  suspected. 


Women  possess  less  charity  towards  the  foibles  of 
their  own  sex  than  the  men. 


A  woman,  destitute  of  morals,  will  be  more  atro- 
cious than  a  man :  Devils  were  made  from  Angels. 

Let  woman  be  conscious  of  her  beauty,  and  she 
will  usually  be  inattentive  to  her  mind. 

Women  possess  stronger  passions  than  men,  less 
reason  to  govern  them. 

FEIENDSHIP. 

Friendship  is  in  every  person's  mouth — little  under- 
stood, and  less  practised. 

A  man  frequently  loses  the  affection  of  his  friend, 
when  he  loses  his  property. 

Love  is  the  attachment  of  bodies — friendship  the 
union  of  souls. 

Confidence  is  the  cement  of  friendship. 

PARTY  6PIEIT. 

A  party  spirit  in  a  small  village,  is  the  poison  and 
curse  of  all  social  intercourse. 

Every  social  feeling,  every  generous  emotion, 
every  noble  sentiment,  is  usually  sacrificed  on  the 
altar  of  Party  Spirit. 

In  1823,  Bartlett  delivered  a  voluntary  Fourth 
of  July  oration  in  Boston,  after  which  he  recited 
a  poem,  entitled  the  New  Vicar  of  Bray. 

Leaving  Cambridge,  Bartlett  practised  law  and 
politics  in  Maine.  He  had  before  been  in  the 
Massachusetts  House  of  Representatives,  and  was 
now  elected  to  the  Maine  legislature.  He  was  at 
this  time  a  candidate  for  Congress,  and  nearly 
secured  his  election  by  his  personal  exertions  as  a 
speaker,  and  his  political  newspaper  writings. 
He  also  practised  law  in  Portsmouth,  Mass.,  and 
finally  settled  down  in  Boston,  a  burden  to  his 
few  friends  in  the  last  years  of  an  improvident 
life.  He  died  Oct.  27,  1827,  at  the  age  of  sixty- 
six.  Loring,  in  his  Boston  Orators,  gives  the  fol- 
lowing Epitaph,  which  Bartlett  wrote  on  himself, 
and  which  he  recited  on  his  death-bed : — 

'Tis  done!  the  fatal  stroke  is  given, 

And  Bartlett's  fled  to  hell  or  heaven ; 

His  friends  approve  it,  and  his  foes  applaud, — 

Yet  he  will  have  the  verdict  of  his  God. 

Another  stanza,  which  he  is  said  to  have  re- 
cited while  attending  the  funeral  of  John  Hale, 
an  estimable  citizen  of  Portsmouth,  exhibits,  per- 
haps, feeling  and  compunction : — 

God  takes  the  good, 

Too  good  by  far  to  stay 
And  leaves  the  bad, 

Too  bad  to  take  away.* 

JAMES  KENT. 

James  Kent  was  born  in  the  town  of  Fredericks, 
Putnam  co.,  New  York,  July  31,  1763.  His 
father  was  a  lawyer  by  profession,  and  occa- 
sionally practised;  but  his  main  attention  was 
devoted  to  his  farm,  a  pleasantly  situated  estate 
on  the  banks  of  the  Croton  river.  The  beautiful 
scenes  of  this  locality  made  a  deep  impression  on 
the  mind  of  the  son;  and  years  after,  when  the 
stream,  like  the  boy  who  dwelt  beside  it,  had 
become  famous,  it  was  his  delight  to  stand  at  the 
window  of  his  library  and  watch  its  waters  leap- 
ing forth  in  the  Union  Park  fountain  before  him. 
James  Kent  entered  the  Freshman  Class  of 
Yale  College  in  1777.     His  studies  were  inter- 


*  Loring's  Hundred  Boston  Orators,  p.  406. 


JAMES  KENT. 


500 


rupted  in  his  Sophomore  year  by  the  occupation 
of  the  town  by  the  British,  in  consequence  of 
which  the  college  was  temporarily  closed.  It 
was  during;  this  recess  that  he  first  met  with 
Bleed-stone's  Commentaries,  and  so  delighted  was 
he  with  that  great  work,  that  he  at  once  resolved 
to  master  its  contents  by  close  study.  This  inci- 
dent determined  his  choice  of  a  profession. 

Obtaining  his  degree  in  1781,  he  at  once  com- 
menced the  study  of  the  law  in  the  office  of  tho 
distinguished  Egbert  Benson,  at  Poughkeepsie. 
He  was  admitted  attorney  in  January,  1785,  and 
commenced  practice  in  his  native  village  of  Fre- 
dericks, but  finding  there  too  limited  a  field  for 
his  exertions,  he  returned  to  Poughkeepsie,  where 
he  opened  an  office  in  partnership  with  Gilbert 
Livingston.  Here,  in  April,  1785,  he  married 
Miss  Elizabeth  Bayley. 

A  conviction  of  the  limited  extent  of  his  classi- 
cal acquirements  (the  course  at  Yale  College,  in 
his  day,  extending  only  to  the  study  of  the  New 
Testament  in  Greek,  and  of  portions  of  Virgil, 
Horace,  and  Cicero  in  Latin)  led  to  a  plan  of 
study  which  he  immediately  put  into  execution. 
By  rising  very  early  he  was  enabled  to  devote 
two  hours  to  Greek  and  two  to  Latin  before 
breakfast.  The  business  hours  of  the  day  were 
occupied  by  his  profession.  Two  hours  after 
dinner  were  given  to  the  French  language,  and 
the  evening,  when  not  engaged  socially,  to  the 
study  of  the  English  classics,  in  verse  as  well  as 
prose.  Ho  continued  this  division  of  the  day 
until  lie  became  a  Judge  of  the  Supreme  Court. 

In  1790  and  1792  he  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  State  Assembly.  He  became  a  loader  of  the 
federal  minority  in  this  body,  and  distinguished 
himself  by  the  ability  with  which,  in  1793,  ho 
conducted  the  examination  of  witnesses  relative 
to  the  destruction  of  the  votes  cast  in  Otsego 
county,  in  the  election  for  Governor  of  the  State, 
an  act  which  had  raised  the  candidate  of  tho 
minority  to  the  office.  His  course  was  warmly 
approved  by  John  Jay,  and  remembered  to  his 
advantage,  when  the  latter  became  Governor  of 
the  State. 

In  April,  1793,  he  was  nominated  for  Congress 
in  Dutchess  county,  but  his  party  being  in  the 
minority,  lost  his  election.  He  removed  during 
the  same  month  to  the  city  of  New  York.  Here, 
as  at  his  previous  residence,  his  professional 
receipts  were  very  small,  and  as  neither  himself 
nor  his  wife  possessed  private  resources,  they 
were  much  straitened  in  their  circumstances. 
In  December,  he  was  appointed  Professor  of 
Law  at  Columbia  College,  and  after  diligent  pre- 
paration entered  upon  its  duties  in  the  follow- 
ing November.  His  introductory  lecture  was 
published  by  the  trustees,  and  in  1795  he  issued 
a  small  volume  containing  three  others  prelimi- 
nary to  his  course  on  the  common  law,  devoted 
to  a  review  of  the  various  forms  of  government 
which  have  existed  at  various  periods,  a  history 
of  the  union  of  the  United  States  from  their  first 
conjoined  action  to  the  adoption  of  the  Federal 
Constitution,  and  an  examination  of  the  law  of 
nations  as  applied  to  the  circumstances  of  peace, 
war,  and  neutrality.  He  delivered  in  the  same 
year  an  address  before  the  State  Society  for  the 
promotion  of  agriculture,  art,  and  manufactures, 
winch  is   printed   in  the  first  volume  of  their 


Transactions,  ne  was  also  appointed  by  Governor 
Jay  one  of  the  two  Masters  in  Chancery  of  the 
city,  much  to  the  improvement  of  his  financial 
resources. 


In  1798,  he  resigned  his  professorship,  tho 
attendance  of  students  and  provision  for  support 
being  too  slight  to  warrant  farther  effort  in  its 
behalf.  He  was  appointed  the  same  year  a  Jus- 
tice of  the  Supreme  Court  by  Governor  Jay,  and 
accepted  the  office,  although  the  salary  was  much 
less  than  what  he  at  this  time  received,  as  he  held 
the  office  of  recorder,  by  appointment,  in  1797, 
as  well  as  Master  in  Chancery.  He  here,  in  his 
second  term,  introduced  the  practice  of  rendering 
written  decisions,  a  course  followed  by  his  asso- 
ciates, and  which  in  a  short  time  raised  tho 
Bench  to  a  far  higher  dignity  than  it  had  pre- 
viously attained.  In  180-1,  he  became  Chief-Jus- 
tice, an  office  which  he  held  until  his  appoint- 
ment in  1814  as  Chancellor.  During  his  tenure 
of  this  office  he  effected,  saj's  Judge  Duer,  "a 
change  in  the  system  and  administration  of 
equity  law,  so  extensive  and  entire,  that  with  a 
single  exception  (that  of  Lord  Nottingham)  it  has 
no  parallel  in  the  history  of  the  law."  He  re- 
tained this  office  until  1823,  when  having  attained 
the  age  of  sixty,  he  became  incapacitated  by  the 
law  of  the  State  for  judicial  duty. 

The  same  year,  on  occasion  of  a  vacancy  in 
the  bench  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States,  Kent  was  talked  of  by  his  friends  for 
the  appointment,  and  the  matter  was  warmly 
seconded  by  Wirt,  then  Attorney-General,  who 
addressed  a  letter  on  the  subject  to  President 
Monroe,  in  which  he  met  the  difficulty  of  Kent's 
political  relations  by  urging  the  value  of  his 
character  to  the  nation.  "  Kent  holds  so  lofty  a 
stand,"  he  wrote,  "everywhere,  for  almost  match- 
less intellect  and  learning,  as  well  as  for  spotless 
purity  and  high-minded  honor  and  patriotism, 
that  I  firmly  believe  tho  nation  at  large  would 
approve  and  applaud  the  appointment."     Of  his 


510 


'CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


personal  character,  "Wirt  held  this  appreciation. 
"His  conversation  and  manners  are  indicative 
only  of  a  simplicity  almost  infantile,  and  of  the 
mot  perfect  kindness  and  suavity  of  disposition ; 
and  such,  I  have  understood,  has  always  been  his 
character.  Judging  by  what  I  have  seen  of  him, 
and  by  all  that  I  have  ever  heard,  he  is  as  benig- 
nant and  patriotic  as  he  is  admitted  on  all  hands 
to  be  great  and  enlightened."  The  appointment 
was  proposed,  while  Mr.  Smith  Thompson,  to 
whom  the  post  had  been  offered,  hesitated  in  its 
acceptance.  His  entrance  upon  the  office  closed 
the  matter.* 

With  a  view  to  the  establishment  of  a  law 
school,  Kent  removed  from  Albany,  where  he  re- 
sided during  his  judicial  career,  to  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  a  second  time  accepted  the  professorship 
of  law  in  Cc  ilumbia  College.  He  delivered  a  course 
of  lectures  in  182 A,  which  he  repeated  the  next 
year,  when  the  increase  of  his  practice  as  coun- 
sel, his  intention  of  preparing  his  lectures  for 
publication,  and  as  before  the  inadequate  pecu- 
niary support  of  the  professorship,  rendered  his 
further  discharge  of  its  duties  merely  nominal. 

In  1826  he  published  the  first  volume  of  his 
Commentaries.t  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of 
his  friends,  he  himself  having  little  expectation 
of  a  favorable  reception  by  the  public.  He  ori- 
ginally contemplated  but  two  volumes,  but  these 
expanded  as  he  proceeded  into  four,  the  last  of 
which  appeared  in  1830.  They  at  once  took  the 
high  place  they  have  since  held  in  legal  litera- 
ture, and  as  the  universally  received  text-books 
of  the  science  throughout  the  country,  as  by 
the  plan  of  stating  first  the  common  law  on  each 
topic,  and  afterwards  the  changes  introduced  by 
decisions  or  statute  in  each  State,  it  is  adapted  to 
the  use  of  every  portion  of  the  Union.  The 
copyright  of  this  work  was  held  by  the  author 
exclusively  in  his  'own  hands,  the  copies  printed 
stoied  in  his  own  residence,  and  disposed  of  as 
order  xl  by  the  booksellers. 

Humor  is  hardly  to  be  looked  for  in  a  volume 
of  Commentaries  on  the  law,  but  Kent,  after 
having  conducted  the  student  through  the  in- 
tricate theme  in  his  text,  coolly  informs  him  in 
a  note  that  the  rule  in  Shelley's  case  is  entirely 
superseded. 

The  juridical  scholar,  on  whom  his  great  master, 
Coke,  has  bestowed  some  portion  of  the  "  gladsome 
light  of  jurisprudence,"  will  scarcely  be  able  to 
withhold  an  involuntary  sigh,  as  he  casts  a  retro- 
spective glance  over  the  piles  of  learning,  devoted 
to  destruction  by  an  edict  as  sweeping  and  unrelent- 
ing as  the  torch  of  Omar.  He  must  bid  adieu  for 
ever  to  the  renowned  discussions  in  Shelley's  case, 
which  were  so  vehement  and  so  protracted  as  to 
arouse  the  sceptre  of  the  haughty  Elizabeth.  He 
may  equally  take  leave  of  the  multiplied  specimens 
of  [profound  logic,  skilful  criticism,  and  refined  dis- 
tinctions, which  pervade  the  varied  cases  in  law  and 
equity,  from  those  of  Shelley  and  Archer,  down  to 
the  direct  collision  between  the  courts  of  law  and 
equity,  in  the  time  of  Lord  Hardwicke.  He  will 
have  no  more  concern  with  the  powerful  and  ani- 
mated discussions  in  Perrin  v.  Blake,  which  awak- 
ened all  that  was  noble  and  illustrious  in  talent  and 
endowment,  through  every  precinct  of  Westminster 


*  Kennedy's  Memoirs  of  Wirt.  ii.  153. 155. 

T  Commentaries  on  American  Law,  by  James  Kent 


hall.  He  will  have  occasion  no  longer,  in  pursuit 
of  the  learning  of  that  case,  to  tread  the  clear  and 
blight  paths  illuminated  by  Sir  William  Blaekstone's 
illustrations,  or  to  study  and  admire  the  spirited  and 
ingenious  dissertation  of  Hargrave,  the  comprehen- 
sive and  profound  disquisition  of  Fearne,  the  acute 
and  analytical  essay  of  Preston,  the  neat  and  orderly 
abridgment  of  Cruise,  and  the  severe  and  piercing 
criticisms  of  Reeve.  What  I  have,  therefore,  writ- 
tea  on  this  subject,  may  be  considered,  so  far  as  my 
native  state  is  concerned,  as  an  humble  monument 
to  tue  memory  of  departed  learning. 

The  reports  of  his  opinions  as  Chief-Justice  and 
Chancellor  bear  testimony  with  his  Commentaries 
to  his  clearness  of  style  and  ability  aj  a  writer. 
As  an  evidence  of  their  excellence,  it  may  be 
stated  that  one  quoted  in  an  argument  by  Web- 
ster is  cited  in  an  article  on  that  great  orator  in 
the  North  American  Review  as  from  his  pen. 

In  1828,  Kent  delivered  an  Anniversary  Dis- 
course  be/ore  the  New  York  Historical  Society ;  in 
1831,  an  address  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  at 
Yale  College;  and  in  1836  one  before  the  Law 
Association  of  New  York,  in  which  he  has  given 
spirited  reminiscences  of  the  leading  members  of 
the  bar  at  the  commencement  of  bis  career. 

In  18A0  he  prepared,  at  the  request  of  the  Mer- 
cantile Library  Association,  a  Course  of  Rending 
for  the  guidance  of  its  members,  composed  exclu- 
sively of  merchants'  clerks  of  this  city.  It  con- 
tains an  unusual  preponderance  of  hooks  of  travel, 
a  class  of  writings  in  which  the  compiler  took 
interest.  His  friends  were  amused  by  the  ample 
field  of  geographical  study  thus  marked  out  for 
youthful  readers  engaged  in  unscholnstic  pursuits, 
but  the  preference  was  one  not  ill  adapted  to  the 
purpose  of  aiding  to  interest,  and  at  the  same 
time  instruct,  while  its  bearing  on  the  mercantile 
career  is  obvious. 

The  incentive  these  perpetually  novel  and  ad- 
ventt  c.u  narratives  afforded  to  the  exercise  of 
the  iniiifcination,  with  the  engrossing  but  not 
exhausting  employment  to  the  mind  of  minute 
geographical  study,  supplied  an  inexhaustible  fund 
of  the  purest  gratification  to  a  sympathetic  and 
intellectual  old  age. 

Chancellor  Kent  continued  the  practice  of  his 
profession  as  chamber  counsel,  until  within  a 
short  period  of  his  death,  which  occurred  on  the 
12th  Dec,  1847.  The  temperate  and  constant 
use  of  his  faculties  through  life  preserved  their 
energy  to  a  remarkable  extent  in  Ins  old  age. 
His  amiability  and  purity  of  character  were  as 
remarkable  as  his  judicial  acquirements. 

His  son,  William  Kent,  is  engaged  upon  a  bio- 
graphy, which  will  hardly  fail,  by  increasing  our 
knowledge,  to  inciease  still  more  our  respect  for 
its  eminent  subject.  The  materials  for  our  own 
article  have  been  mainly  derived  from  the  excellent 
discourse  delivered  at  the  request  of  the  Judiciary 
and  bar  of  the  city  and  state,  by  the  Hon.  John 
Duer,  in  1848. 

TIIE  NEW  YORK  CONVENTION  FOE  TnF  .ADOPTION  OF  THE  FEDE- 
RAL CONSTITUTION — FROM  AN  ADDRESS  BEFOEE  THE  LAW 
ASSOCIATION. 

I  allude  to  the  convention  which  assembled  at 
Poughkeepsie  in  the  summer  of  1788,  to  deliberate 
and  decide  on  the  adoption  of  the  federal  constitu- 
tion. The  intense  interest  with  which  the  meeting 
of  the  convention  was  anticipated  and  regarded,  can 


JAMES  KENT. 


511 


hardly  be  conceived  at  this  day,  and  much  less  ade- 
quately described.  I  then  resided  in  that  village, 
and  was  enabled  and  induced  to  attend  the  conven- 
tion as  a  spectator,  daily  aud  steadily  during  the 
entire  six  weeks  of  its  session,  and  I  was  of  course  an 
eye  and  ear  witness  to  everything  of  a  public  nature 
that  was  said  or  done.  The  convention  was  com- 
posed of  sixty-five  members,  and  not  one  of  them 
remains  a  survivor  at  this  day.  'that  bright  and 
golden  age  of  the  republic  may  now  be  numbered 
"  with  the  years  beyond  the  flood,"  and  I  am  left  in 
comparative  solitude  to  recall  and  enjoy  the  enchant- 
ing vision. 

The  convention  combined  the  talents,  experience, 
and  weight  of  character,  of  some  of  the  most  distin- 
guished men  in  the  state.  Most  of  them  had  been 
tutore  1  in  the  discussions,  services,  a:id  perils  of  the 
revolution.  The  principal  speakers  in  favor  of  the 
adoption  of  the  constitution  were,  Mr.  Jay  (then 
(Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs),  Chancellor  Living- 
ston, Mr.  Duane  (the  i  mayor  of  this  city),  Mr.  Hari- 
son,  and  Colonel  Hamilton.  On  the  other  side,  and 
against  the  adoption  without  previous  amendments, 
were  George  Clinton  (then  Governor  of  the  state), 
Mr.  Lansing  (afterwards  Chancellor),  Mr.  Jones 
(afterwards  Recorder  of  this  city),  John  Williams 
of  Washington  county,  and  Gilbert  Livingston  and 
Melancton  Smith,  delegates  from  Dutchess.  There 
was  no  difficulty  in  deciding  at  once  on  which  si  le 
of  the  house  the  superiority  in  debate  existed.  Yet 
in  the  ordinary  range  of  the  discussions,  it  was 
found  that  the  dignity,  candor,  and  strength  of  Jay, 
the  polished  address  and  elegant  erudition  of  Chan- 
cellor Livingston,  and  the  sagacity  and  exhaustless 
researches  of  Hamilton,  were  met  with  equal  pre- 
tensions by  their  opponents,  supported  bv  the  sim- 
plicity and  u  lprete  iding  good  sense  of  Clinton,  the 
sound  judgment  of  Jones,  the  plausible  deductions 
of  Lansing,  and  the  metaphysical  mind  and  embar- 
rassing subtleties  of  Smith.  But  Colonel  Hamilton 
maintained  the  ascendancy  on  every  question ;  and 
being  the  only  member  present  who  had  signed  the 
constitution,  he  felt  and  sustained  most  intrepidly 
the  weight  of  the  responsibility  which  belonged  to 
him  as  the  leader  on  the  federal  side  of  the  ques- 
tion. All  seemed,  as  by  common  consent,  to  con- 
cede to  him  the  burden  and  the  honors  of  the  de- 
bate. Mr.  Smith  was  also  the  most  prominent  and 
responsible  speaker  on  the  part  of  the  anti-federal 
majority.  There  was  no  person  on  that  side  to  be 
compared  to  him  in  acute  and  logical  discussion. 
He  was  Hamilton's  most  persevering  and  formidable 
antagonist.  But  even  Smith  was  routed  in  every 
contest,  and  as  Mr.  Hamilton  had  been  a  most  active 
member  of  the  national  convention,  and  the  princi- 
pal author  of  the  Federalist,  his  mind  had  grown 
familiar  with  the  principles  and  history  of  federal 
governments,  and  with  every  topic  of  debate.  He 
was  prompt,  ardent,  energetic,  and  overflowing, 
with  an  exhaustless  store  of  argument  and  illustra- 
tion. 

The  three  principal  topics  of  debate,  in  which 
Mr.  Hamilton  was  most  distinguished  and  most  mas- 
terly, were  (1),  on  the  importance  of  the  union,  the 
defects  of  the  confederation,  and  the  just  principles 
of  representation.  (2.)  On  the  requisite  tenure  and 
stability  of  the  senate.  (3.)  Un  the  power  of  taxa- 
tion and  the  residuary  rights  of  the  states.  On 
each  of  those  subjects  he  bestowed  several  speeches, 
some  of  which  were  employed  in  refutation  and 
reply. 

He  generally  spoke  with  great  earnestness  and 
energy,  and  with  considerable,  and  Bometimes  ve- 
hement gesture.  His  language  was  clear,  nervous, 
aud  classical     He  went  to  the  foundation  and  rea- 


son of  every  doctrine  which  he  examined,  and  he 
brought  to  the  debate  a  mind  richly  adorned  with 
all  the  learning  that  was  applicable.  He  never 
omitted  to  meet  fairly  the  discussion,  and  he  was 
sure  to  discover  the  strength  and  weakness,  the  in- 
gredients of  truth  and  error,  in  every  proposition  he 
had  to  contend  with.  His  candor  was  magnani- 
mous, and  rose  to  a  level  with  his  talents.  His 
temper  was  spirited,  but  courteous,  amiable,  and 
generous  ;  and  he  frequently  made  pathetic  and 
powerful  appeals  to  the  good  sense  and  patriotism 
of  the  assembly,  and  painted  vividly  the  difficulties 
and  dangers  of  the  crisis,  in  order  to  prepare  their 
minds  for  a  favorable  reception  of  the  constitution, 
The  style  aud  manner  of  Smith's  speeches  was  plain, 
dry,  and  syllogistic ;  and  it  behooved  his  adversary 
to  understand  well  the  ground  on  which  he  stood, 
and  the  principles  he  advanced,  or  he  might  find  it 
somewhat  embarrassing  to  extricate  himself  from  a 
Eubtle  web  of  specious  reasoning,  unless  indeed  it 
was  met  by  Hamilton's  skill  and  strength,  which 
nothing  could  resist.  Smith  was  a  speaker  of  re- 
markable simplicity,  and  his  disposition  was  gentle 
and  liberal.  though  I  had  strong  political  preju- 
dices against  Governor  Clinton,  as  the  leader  of  the 
party  opposed  to  the  constitution,  yet  during. the 
course  of  the  session,  I  became  forcibly  struck  with 
the  dignity  with  which  he  presided,  and  with  his 
unassumii  g  and  modest  pretensions  as  a  speaker. 
It  was  impossible  not  to  have  respect  for  such  a 
character,  or  for  a  young  man  not  to  be  somewhat 
overawed  in  his  presence,  when  it  became  appaient 
from  all  his  conduct,  that  he  possessed  great  deci- 
sion of  character,  aud  a  stern  inflexibility  of  pur- 
pose. 

The  arguments  urged  by  Col.  Hamilton  in  the 
debates,  were  substantially  the  same  which  he  had 
before  employed  in  the  Federalist.  They  could  not 
have  been  different,  for  he  had  already  urged  all  the 
leading  considerations  which  led  to  the  plan,  and 
had  guided  the  judgment  and  skill  of  the  artists. 

In  his  openij  g  speech,  Mr.  Hamilton  preliminarily 
observed,  that  it  was  of  the  utmost  importance  that 
the  convention  should  be  strongly  impressed  with  a 
conviction  of  the  necessity  of  the  union  of  the  states. 
If  they  could  be  entirely  satisfied  of  that  great  truth, 
their  minds  would  then  be  prepared  to  admit  the 
necessity  of  a  government  of  similar  organization 
and  powers  with  the  scheme  of  the  one  before  them, 
to  uphold  and  preserve  that  union.  It  was  like  the 
case  of  the  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul, 
aud  doubts  on  that  subject  were  one  great  cause,  he 
said,  of  modern  infidelity,  for  if  men  could  be 
thoroughly  convinced  that  they  had  within  them 
immaterial  and  immortal  spirits,  their  minds  would 
be  prepared  for  the  ready  reception  of  Christian 
truth.  After  pointing  out  the  radical  defects  of  the 
articles  of  confederation,  and  vindicating  the  popu- 
lar basis  of  the  proposed  system,  he  declared  his 
most  serious  conviction,  that  the  latter  was  a  wise 
and  genuine  specimen  of  a  representative  republic  ; 
and  he  hoped  and  trusted  that  we  should  find  in  it 
an  effectual  cure  for  our  actual  distresses,  and  that  it 
would  prove  an  eminent  blessing  to  us  and  our  pos- 
terity. He  concluded  his  first  great  speech  with  the 
patriot's  prayer:  "  Oh  !  save  my  country,  heaven  \" 
in  allusion  to  the  brave  Cobham,  who  felt  "  his  ruling 
passion  strong  in  death." 

His  two  speeches  on  the  organization,  powers, 
and  stability  of  the  senate,  were  regarded  at  the 
time,  by  the  best  judges,  as  the  noblest  specimens 
which  the  debates  in  that,  or  in  any  other  assembly, 
ever  afforded  of  the  talents  and  wisdom  of  the  states- 
man. They  were  delivered  with  a  strong  desire  to 
put  down  a  most  mischievous  aud  pernicious  propo- 


512 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


Bition  to  amend  the  constitution,  and  -which  was, 
that  "no  person  should  be  eligible  as  a  senator  for 
more  than  six  years  in  any  term  of  twelve  years, 
and  that  they  should  at  all  times  -within  the  period 
of  six  years  be  subject  to  recall  by  the  state  legislat- 
ures, and  to  the  substitution  of  others."  Mr  Hamil- 
ton, on  that  occasion,  took  broad  views  of  the  nature 
of  man, — his  passions,  pursuits,  interests,  prejudices, 
duties ;  and  he  drew  his  deductions  from  the  design 
and  necessity  of  government,  the  settled  principles 
of  policy,  and  the  history  and  melancholy  infirmities 
of  all  free,  and  especially  of  all  federal  governments, 
ancient  and  modern.  Instability,  a  fluctuating 
policy,  and  corrupt  and  vindictive  factions,  were 
prominent  features  and  practical  consequences 
in  the  history  of  most  republican  sj'stems,  and  their 
necessary  tendency  was  to  weaken  the  sanctity  of 
contracts,  lessen  the  security  of  property,  destroy  a 
proud  and  just  sense  of  national  honour,  and  finally  to 
forfeit  the  respect  and  confidence  of  the  rest  of  man- 
kind. He  contended,  therefore,  that  in  all  just 
policy,  we  ought  not  to  hesitate  to  infuse  a  principle 
of  stability  into  the  structure  of  our  national  go- 
vernment, by  the  creation  of  a  senate,  to  be  com- 
paratively small  in  the  number  of  its  members,  and 
to  have  them  chosen  for  considerable  periods  of 
time,  so  as  to  inspire  them  with  a  feeling  of  inde- 
pendence, and  a  lively  sense  of  character,  in  the  due 
discharge  of  their  trust.  Upon  no  other  plan,  could 
the  Senate,  either  in  its  legislative  or  executive 
character,  be  able  to  perform  its  functions  as  the 
balance-wheel  of  the  machine.  In  no  other  way 
would  that  body  be  able  to  become  the  requisite 
check  to  the  mischiefs  of  misguided  zeal  and  fac- 
tious policy  in  the  more  popular  branch,  or  to  the 
abuses  and  misrule  of  the  president,  in  the  exercise 
of  the  treaty  and  the  appointing  powers. 

During  the  sitting  of  the  convention,  information 
was  received  that  rN'ew  Hampshire  had  adopted  the 
constitution,  and  she  made  the  ninth  state  that  had 
ratified  it.  That  great  event  wrought  at  once  a 
momentous  change  in  the  condition  of  the  United 
States ;  inasmuch  as  the  confederation  became  there- 
by ipso  facto  dissolved,  and  the  new  constitution 
had  become,  or  would  be  when  organized,  the  exist- 
ing national  government  of  the  nine  states  which 
hud  ratified  the  same.  But  that  fact,  solemn  and 
weighty  as  it  was,  did  not  seem  to  disturb  the  tran- 
quillity, or  shake  the  purpose,  of  a  majority  of  the 
convention.  Mr.  Smith  and  Mr.  Lansing  both 
declared  that  the  event  had  no  influence  on  their 
deliberations.  The  convention  continued  its  sharp 
debates  for  three  weeks  longer,  and  apparently 
regardless  of  that  information,  until  all  hopes  of  an 
auspicious  issue  to  the  business  seemed  to  be  lost. 
It  was  in  the  midst  of  that  gloomy  period,  and  just 
before  the  clouds  began  to  disperse,  and  serene  skies 
to  appear  and  gladden  the  moral  atmosphere  of  the 
place,  that  Mr.  Hamilton  made  one  of  his  most 
pathetic  and  impassioned  addresses.  He  urged  every 
motive  and  consideration  that  ought  to  sway  the 
human  mind  in  such  a  crisis,  fie  touched  with 
exquisite  skill  every  cord  of  sympathy  that  could  be 
made  to  vibrate  in  the  human  breast.  Our  country, 
our  honor,  our  liberties,  our  firesides,  our  posterity, 
were  placed  in  vivid  colors  before  us.  He  alluded 
to  the  distresses  and  national  degradation  which 
dictated  the  call  for  a  general  convention,  and  he 
portrayed  in  matchless  style  the  characters  in  that 
illustrious  assembly,  composed  of  the  wisest  and 
brightest  of  our  American  statesmen.  To  discrimi- 
nate largely  might  be  invidious ;  but  it  could  not 
be  so,  he  said,  to  select  Franldin,  revered  by  the 
wise  men  of  Europe,  and  Washington,  crowned  with 
laurels,  and  refulgent  with  glory. 


Intelligence  was  shortly  afterwards  received,  that 
Virginia  had  also  adopted  the  constitution.  Mr. 
Hamilton  read  with  much  sensibility  a  letter  to  that 
effect,  communicated  by  express  from  Mr.  Madison. 
It  produced  at  once  a  visible  change  in  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  house,  and  led  it  to  think  of  adopting  the 
constitution  upon  certain  terms.  A  resolution  to 
that  effect  was  before  the  house,  when  Mr.  Smith 
moved  that  the  constitution  be  ratified  upon  condi- 
tion, that  certain  powers  contained  in  the  instru- 
ment should  not  be  exercised  until  a  general  con- 
vention of  the  states  had  been  called  to  propose 
amendments.  This  proposition  was  discussed  for 
several  days,  and  under  the  impression  in  one  part 
of  the  house,  that  the  adoption  of  the  constitution 
with  that  qualification  annexed,  would  readily  be 
received  by  the  existing  Congress.  Mr.  Hamilton 
was  strenuous  and  peremptory  in  his  opinion,  that 
such  a  conditional  ratification  would  not  and  could 
not  possibly  be  accepted.  He  assured  the  house 
that  all  expectations  from  such  a  source  would 
prove  delusive.  This  opinion  gained  ground,  and 
the  members  generally  and  gradually  assumed  a 
more  conciliatory  tone;  and  all  vehemence  in  debate 
seemed  to  cease  as  by  common  consent.  Convic- 
tions once  beginning  to  operate,  were  borne  along 
with  increasing  force  against  the  stream  of  preju- 
dice. "  We  did  not  come  here,"  said  Mr.  Jay,  "  to 
carry  points,  or  gain  party  triumphs.  We  ought 
not  to  expect  it,  or  wish  it.  We  were  without  a 
national  government,  and  on  the  eve  of  an  untried 
era.  Everything  demanded  moderation  and  con- 
cession. The  laurels  of  mere  party  victory,  might 
be  bedewed  with  the  tears,  or  stained  with  the 
blood  of  our  fellow-citizens."  Mr.  Hamilton  dis- 
claimed all  intention  of  wounding  the  feelings  of 
any  individual,  though  he  had  expressed  himself  in 
the  course  of  the  debates  in  strong  language,  dic- 
tated by  strong  emotions,  for  on  no  subject  had  his 
mind  been  agitated  with  more  painful  concern. 
The  spirit  of  the  house  became  liberal  and  cheer- 
ing ;  and  at  last  Mr  Jones  moved  to  substitute  the 
■words  in  fall  confidence,  in  lieu  of  the  words,  vpon 
condition,  in  the  form  of  the  ratification.  He  was 
supported  by  Mr.  Smith,  who  had  so  eminently  dis- 
tinguished himself,  and  by  Mr.  Piatt,  then  first  judge 
of  the  county  of  Dutchess,  who  made  a  few  plain 
observations  in  a  direct  and  downright  maimer,  of 
his  sense  of  duty,  and  of  his  determination  to  follow 
it,  Twelve  members  came  over  from  the  anti- 
federal  side  of  the  house,  and  they  were  sufficient 
to  constitute  the  majority  which  unconditionally 
ratified  the  constitution.  I  have  always  considered 
the  members  who  made  this  memorable  and 
unbought  sacrifice  of  error,  prejudice,  and  party 
discipline,  on  the  altar  of  patriotism  and  their  coun- 
'•  try's  welfare,  as  entitled  to  the  highest  commenda- 
j  tion.  It  was  quite  an  heroic  effort,  to  quit  such  a 
j  leader  as  Governor  Clinton,  though  it  was  to  follow 
their  own  convictions.  It  was  understood  that 
■  several  other  members  were  inclined  to  follow  the 
same  course,  but  they  could  not  be  brought  to 
:  desert  the  governor,  who  remained  inflexible.  Had 
1  he  consented  to  vote  for  the  constitution,  the  rati- 
.  fication  of  it  would  probably  have  been  unanimous. 
i  As  it  was,  the  spirit  of  conciliation  which  closed  the 
labors  of  that  illustrious  assembly,  was  deemed  most 
auspicious,  and  as  affording  a  new  and  instructive 
example  of  wisdom  and  moderation  to  mankind. 

ABIEL  HOLMES. 

Abiel  Holmes,  the  author  of  the  American  An- 
nals, one  of  the  pioneer  works  of  American  His- 
tory,  was  born  in  Woodstock,  Conn.,  a   town 


ST.  JOHN  HONEYWOOD. 


513 


formerly  under  the  jurisdiction  of  Massachusetts, 
December  24,  1763.  His  father,  Dr.  David 
Holmes,  had  served  as  captain  with  the  provincial 
forces  in  the  old  French  war  in  Canada.  Ahiel 
graduated  at  Yalo  in  1783,  and  soon  after  accepted 
the  appointment  of  Tutor  in  the  college,  having 
first  preached  a  short  time  to  a  society  in  Mid- 
way, Georgia.  In  1788.  he  was  settled  over  the 
congregation  in  Midway,  where  he  had  formerly 
preached,  and  maintained  a  happy  relation  with 
them  until  1791,  when  the  state  of  his  health 
compelled  him  to  remove  to  the  north.  In  1790, 
he  married  Mary,  daughter  of  Dr.  Ezra  Stiles,  the 
president  of  Yale  College.  She  died  in  1795, 
leaving  no  children. 

In  1792,  Mr.  Holmes  was  installed  as  pastor  of 
the  Fir-it  Congregational  Church  in  Cambridge, 
Mass.,  and  occupied  this  position  until  1832,  a 
long  period  of  forty  years,  when  the  increase  of 
new  theological  opinions  caused  a  division  of  the 
society.  He  retained  his  connexion  with  the 
"orthodox"  portion  of  the  parish,  a  colleague 
having  been  settled  with  him,  to  whom  lie  soon 
resigned  his  share  of  the  duties,  and  passed  the 
remainder  of  his  life  peacefully  and  happily  in 
Cambridge.  His  religious  and  ecclesiastical  faith 
was  that  of  the  Puritans.  His  position  at  Cam- 
bridge was,  therefore,  peculiarly  difficult  and  deli- 
cate, surrounded  as  he  was  with  communities 
of  different  faith,  and  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  an  institution  at  that  time  almost  exclusively 
under  Unitarian  influence.  But  he  was  charitable 
by  nature,  and  disposed  to  live  peaceably  with 
those  whose  faith  differed  from  his  own.  For  a 
long  course  of  years  he  was  in  the  habit  of  ex- 
changing pulpits  with  the  Unitarian  clergy  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  never  ceased  to  be  on  the  most 
friendly  terms  of  intercourse  with  many  among 
them. 

In  the  year  1800  lie  married  Sarah,  daughter 
of  the  Hon.  Oliver  Wendell,  of  Boston.* 

In  his  literary  career  Dr.  Holmes,  in  1798, 
wrote  the  life  of  his  father-in-law,  President 
Stiles,  a  work  of  genuine  worth  and  character. 
In  1805  he'  published  his  American  Annals,  a 
work  in  two  volumes  octavo,  containing  the  out- 
lines of  American  History  from  1492  to  the  pe- 
riod of  its  publication,  a  work  of  careful  collection 
and  research;  and  in  1829  he  published  a  second 
edition  of  the  work,  enlarged  with  a  continuation 
of  the  record.  The  American  Annals  employed 
him  some  ten  years  in  composition,  and  much 
labor  was  expended  on  its  revision.  This  was  a 
labor  of  love.  To  verify  a  doubtful  legend ;  to 
disprove  a  questionable  tradition  by  new  testimo- 
ny ;  to  get  at  the  absolute  fact  and  let  this  tell  its 
own  story :  such  labor  as  this  was  his  highest 
literary  pleasure.  Like  a  famous  observer  in 
science  ho  might  have  adopted  the  saying  of 
Rousseau  as  his  motto,  "  I  know  that  truth  is  in 
things,  and  not  in  my  mind  that  judges  of  them, 
and  that  the  loss  of  myself  I  mingle  with  them 
the  nearer  I  shall  come  to  the  truth."  He  ob- 
served the  remark,  however,  very  differently  from 
the  famous  egotist  who  originated  it. 

*  The  children  of  this  second  marriage  were,  1.  Mary  Jack- 
son, married  to  Usher  Pavsons,  M.D.;  '2.  Ann  Susan,  married 
to  the  Hon.  Charles  Wontworlb  t'pham  ;  8.  Sarah  Lathrop, 
who  died  in  childhood;  4.  Oliver  Wendell,  the  poet  and  phx-- 
sician  ;  0.  John  Holmes  of  Cambridge. 
VOL.   I. — 33 


In  1817  Dr.  Holmes  delivered  a  course  of 
Lectures  on  Ecclesiastical  History  in  Harvard 
College. 

Ho  published  in  the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Collections  a  Memoir  of  the  French  Protestants  ; 
and  a  History  of  the  Town  of  Cambridge. 

Besides  the  works  thus  enumerated  he  pub- 
lished various  sermons.  Occasionally,  like  many 
of  his  clerical  contemporaries,  he  indulged  in 
verse,  not,  however,  in  any  more  serious  efforts 
than  a  slight  translation  or  an  occasional  hymn. 

His  fondness  for  history  and  antiquarian  re- 
search was  no  doubt  favored  and  fostered  by  his 
early  relations  with  his  revered  father-in-law, 
President  Stiles.  But  the  author  of  "  The  His- 
tory of  the  Judges  "  joined  to  his  learning  a  love 
of  theory  leading  him  at  times  towards  credulity, 
which  his  son-in-law  did  not  inherit.  The  master 
was  fond  of  wide  speculations ;  the  pupil  was  con- 
tent with  the  humble  task  of  collecting,  sifting, 
verifying,  and  classifying  the  facts  of  history.  To 
the  same  master  is  to  be  traced  the  love  of  the 
Hebrew  language,  which  he  always  retained. 
He  often  referred  to  his  first  lessons  received  from 
the  lips  of  the  President  himself.  He  had  Greek 
and  Latin  enough  for  the  reading  of  sacred  and 
classical  books,  and  so  much  of  French  and  Spa- 
nish as  was  necessary  for  the  consultation  of 
historical  authority.  He  had  too  a  scholar's  taste 
in  books.  Without  being  a  book  collector  in  the 
strict  sense,  he  had  a  fondness  for  good  editions, 
and  there  were  few  happier  moments  than  when 
he  brought  home  an  Elzevir,  or  a  Stephanus,  or 
a  Frobenius,  and  introduced  the  venerable  new 
comer  to  his  somewhat  crowded  shelves. 

In  his  personal  character  lie  was  of  a  kindly 
and  genial  disposition,  and  the  somewhat  severe 
forms  of  belief  in  which  he  was  bred,  and  to 
which  he  was  faithful  through  life,  never  chilled 
his  social  nature. 

In  the  general  love  and  confidence  of  his 
parish  and  supported  by  the  Christianity  which 
he  had  served,  he  died  at  Cambridge,  June  4, 
1837* 

ST.  JOHN  HON"EYWOOD. 

St.  Jonx  Hon'eywood  was  born  in  1764,  the  son 
of  an  English  physician  who  had  settled  in  Lei- 
cester, Mass.  In  176G  the  father,  then  a  surgeon 
in  the  American  army,  lost  his  life  at  Ticonderoga, 
leaving  his  son  an  orphan  and  destitute.  He  was 
educated  at  the  expense  of  a  few  friends  at  the 
school  of  Mr.  Tisdale,  in  Lebanon,  Conn.,  and 
continued  his  studies  at  Yale  College,  where  he 
became  domesticated  in  the  house  of  th'e  Presi- 
dent, the  Eev.  Dr.  Stiles,  who  always  maintained 
a  high  regard  for  his  pupil.  He  took  his  degree 
in  1782,  and  passed  the  two  following  years  as  a 
teacher  in  an  academy  at  Schenectady,  New  York. 
He  then  removed  to  Albany  and  studied  law  in 
the  office  of  Peter  W.  Yates.  After  having  been 
admitted  to  the  bar,  he  removed  to  Salem,  Wash- 
ington Co.,  where  he  practised  his  profession 
during  the  remainder  of  his  lite.  He  was  one  of 
the  Presidential  electors  by  whom  John  Adams 
was   chosen  the   successor  of  Washington.     He 


*  Mass.  Hist.  Collections,  vol.  vii.    We  are  indebted  for  the 

Eorsonal  reminiscences  to  a  communication  from  the  pen  of 
»r.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 


514 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


married  in  1788  a  daughter  of  Col.  Mosely  of 
Westfield,  Mass.,  and  died  Sept.  1,  1798. 


4?72££r/2t?sWZ& 


The  volume  of  his  poems  -would  have  appeared 
in  the  author's  lifetime,  but  death  interrupted 
his  plan  of  publication,  and  the  work  fell  for 
biographical  notice  and  editorship  into  the  hands 
of  his  successor,  who  married  his  widow,  a  mat- 
ter-of-fact man,  who  records  this  circumstance 
with  coolness,  and  offers  as  an  apology  for  the  pau- 
city of  the  facts  his  limited  knowledge  of  the  au- 
thor; with  whom  his  acquaintance  seems  to  have 
been  mainly  of  a  posthumous  character.  Of  the 
literary  habits  of  Honeywood  he  records  the  com- 
position of  one  of  his  short  poems  on  fifty  separate 
pieces  of  paper — which,  he  trusts,  with  some  uncer- 
tainty, have  been  correctly  joined  together. 

The  little  volume  which  contains  these  poems 
was  published  in  New  York  by  T.  &  J-  Swords 
in  1801,  and  was  dedicated  to  Josiah  Ogden  Hoff- 
man, then  Attornej'-General  of  the  State.  Unim- 
portant as  a  collection  of  poetry,  it  is  a  curious 
picture  of  the  closing  years  of  the  last  century 
when  Washington  declined  a  re-election  to  the 
Presidency  (the  subject  for  several  pages  of  heroic 
verse),  when  Shea  rebelled  in  Massachusetts  (cele- 
brated in  an  ironical  song),  when  Europe  was 
seething  with  the  coming  Revolution  (a  lively 
news-monger's  ballad),  and  Citizen  Adet  went 
home  to  France  full  of  the  prestige  of  the  new 
republic  of  the  west,  duly  impressed  upon  his 
mind  by  a  poetical  address  from  St.  John  Honey- 
wood.  Then  for  purely  domestic  matters  the 
negroes  were  celebrating  Pinxta,  the  ladies  were 
lyiug  in  in  great  state,  or  writing  letters  not  in  the 
best  of  English  —  at  least  our  poet  inculcates 
Entick  in  terms  which  would  be  superfluous  at 
the  present  day,  when  learning  and  good  sense 
are  such  common  things. 

Since  daily  occasion  compels  us  to  write, 
Read  these  lines,  my  dear  Clara,  and  learn  to  indite, 
Here  is  then  the  great  secret,  to  this  you'll  attend, 
Write  in  just  the  same  manner  you'd  speak  to  your 

friend ; 
Avoid  all  hard  words  and  bombastical  strain, 
If  jour  style  be   but   chaste,  it  can  scarce  be  too 

plain, 
Many  persons  who've  got  a  slight  tincture  of  know- 
ledge, 
Young  boarding-school  misses,   and   students   from 

college, 
By  high  sounding  nonsense  endeavor  to  please, 
And  talk  of  their  bright  and  their  gloomy  ideas: 
Avoid  all  this  stiffness,  this  troublesome  toil, 
And  write  to  your  friends  in  your  every  day  style. 

These  smoothly  written  verses,  and  others  more 
pointed,  show  the  writer  to  have  possessed  a  plea- 
sant vein  of  humor.  His  graver  attempts  are 
somewhat  prosaic. 

THE  SELFISH   MAN'S  PEAYEE  ON  TIIE  PROSPECT  OF  WAB. 

Again  the  clouds  of  battle  lour 

Willi  terror  and  dismay  ; 
Protect  me,  all  disposing  power, 

Iu  this  disastrous  day  1 


As  in  the  camp  the  soldiers  learn 

To  riot,  curse  and  swear, 
'Twould  give  my  pious  soul  concern 

To  have  my  boys  go  there ! 

Then  while  my  neighbours  and  their  sons 

Are  called  to  war  aid  arms, 
Grant  that  my  boys,  secure  from  guns, 

May  cultivate  my  faims  I 

And  while  with  taxes  and  expense 

My  kindred  are  diBtress'd, 
0  grant  that  all  my  hard-earn'd  pence 

May  slumber  iu  the  chest ! 

And  should  the  Frenchmen  gain  the  day, 

And  all'their  foes  condemn : 
Then  may  I  wash  my  hands,  aud  say 

I  ne'er  opposed  them ! 

Yet,  if  by  thj-  disposing  will, 
My  country  gains  the  cause, 

0  may  I  find  a  shelter  still 
In  her  indulgent  laws ! 

And  should  she  disbelieve  my  word, 

May  I  upon  thee  call 
To  witness  I  ne'er  drew  my  sword, 

Or  fir'd  a  gun  at  all. 

For  since  from  frailty  and  mistake 
]S"o  carnal  mind  is  free, 

1  wish  no  active  part  to  take, 
But  leave  the  whole  to  thee  I 

Though  impious  pirates  on  the  seas 

Our  merchants'  ships  despoil; 
Yet  shall  my  spirit  rest  in  ease 

Till  foes  invade  the  soil. 

Then  let  the  fiends  of  battle  rave, 

My  peaceful  vales  shall  sing; 
And  oxen,  corn,  and  all  I  have, 

Full  thrice  their  value  bring. 

0  may  my  lands  yield  twenty-fold, 

The  army  to  supply ; 
May  fat  contractors,  fraught  with  gold,. 

My  copious  harvests  buy  I 

May  continental  rags  no  more 

Usurp  the  place  of  coin; 
But  crown  my  basket  and  my  store 

With  blessings  from  the  mine. 

What  though  the  fig-tree  shall  not  bloom 

Or  oxen  seek  the  siall ; 
What  though  it  be  thy  righteous  doom 

That  half  our  youth  shall  fall : 

Yet  if  thou  wilt  thy  servant  bless, 

And  my  posterity, 
I'll  joy  in  my  own  righteousness, 

To  perpetuity. 

TTTE  pvese: 

Addressed  to  a  Friend. 

The.  Author  was  journeying  with  a  friend :  for  convenience 
they  pursed,  their  money.  When  they  parted  tliey  divided 
their  money  and  their  purse  (which  teas  of  the  double  con- 
struction), each  taking  one  half  or  it.  When  he  understood 
his  friend  teas  a  candidate,  for  matrimony,  7te  returnea 
the  half  purse,  with  the  following  lines : — 

This  purse,  long  sever'd  from  its  mate, 
The  grateful  muse  returns  to  thee; 

Tis  not  oppress'd  with  golden  weight, 
Nor  yet  from  cash  entirely  free. 

This  trifling  sum,  in  prudent  hands, 

May  raise,  in  time,  a  fair  estate ; 
And,  truth  to  say,  its  silken  bands 

Are  well-constructed  to  dilate. 


JOSEPH  BROWN  LADD. 


515 


Allien  I  fond  purse;  what  though  no  more 

You  hold  society  with  me, 
May  fortune  bless  thy  master's  store, 

And  cram  thy  sides  with  many  a  fee. 

For  well  I  ween  the  marriage  state 
Full  oft  thy  succour  must  require, 

With  gen'rous  food  to  heap  the  plate- 
To  crown  the  glass  and  feed  the  fire. 

The  parson,  sure,  will  ask  his  hire 
For  making  one  who  once  were  two; 

And  eke,  when  seasons  may  require, 
For  sprinkling  round  the  holy  dew. 

The  licens'd  quack,  of  solemn  face, 

Of  want  and  pinching  times  shall  tell; 

And  take  a  fee,  devoid  of  grace, 

For  making  sick  what  late  was  well. 

The  merchant  next,,  with  craving  airs, 
Hopes  to  receive  his  bill  from  you  ; 
Aud,  in  sarcastic  tone,  declares, 
"  He  will  discharge  the  balance  due." 

The  landlord,  rough,  ungen'rous  wight, 
Proclaims  your  year  and  credit  spent; 
Then  swears,  occasions  [tress  so  tight, 
"  He  must  expect  a  higher  rent." 

The  tailor,  cloth-curtailing  rogue, 

His  long-stretched  bill  will  oft  display : 

The  lingo-prating  pedagogue 

Shall  greet  thee  ev'ry  quarter-day. 

The  French  friseur  shall  oft  complain 
Of  thirst,  of  hunger,  heat  and  cold; 

And  what  would  best  relieve  his  pain, 
I  trust  you  never  need  be  told. 

The  simp'ring  milliner  shall  prate 
Of  caps,  of  stays  and  negligees: 

Then  bode,  O!  purse  impending  fate, 
Whene'er  she  whispers,  if  you  please. 

The  cobler,  too,  when  hunger  plies, 
At  madam's  foot  will  lowly  bend  ; 

Admire  its  shape  and  handsome  size, 

And  hopes  that  you  will  prove  Ida  friend. 

Then  honest  John  comes  in  to  tell. 

He  longs  to  drink  your  worship's  health, 

And  that,  your  honour  knows  full  well, 
Poor  servants  are  not  born  to  wealth. 

Next  Doll,  with  ill-affected  blush, 
Hints  how  she  soon  expects  to  wed; 

That  cash  don't  grow  on  every  bush, 
Aud  that  she  late  was  brought  to  bed. 

Then  every  black  that  dwells  below 

In  sable  order  shall  arise  ; 
First  beg  they  may  a  Pinxt'ring*  go, 

Then  hint  the  want  of  fresh  supplies. 

Now  Master  Jack  or  Dick  shall  come, 
And  in  discordant  whine  relate, 

How  the  rude  boys  have  broke  his  drum, 
And  stole  away  his  other  skate. 

Start  not,  my  friend,  thy  better  half 

Shall  join  to  bear  the  burden  down: 
She  screams,  and  tells  you,  in  a  laugh, 
"  The  sweetest  China's  come  to  town. 

*  'Tis  true,  we  should  not  run  in  debt ; 
But  such  rare  bargains  must  not  pass  : 
And  Mrs.  Mayor  lias  bought  a  set, 
And  so  have  all  the  better  class. 


:  Whitsuntide,  a  holiday  for  servants  and  slaves. 


"  And  0 1  my  dear,  I  cannot  bear 
To  miss  the  family  of  West; 
The  ablest  connoisseurs  declare, 
Of  all  engravings  'tis  the  best 

"  Ten  guineas  only  is  the  price ; 

'Twill  do  to  pay  the  mouey  soon: 
It  is  so  elegant  and  nice 

To  hang  in  parlour  or  saloon. 

"  A  harpsichord,  at  price  still  lower, 
The  auctioneer  lias  now  to  sell ; 
And  little  Billey*  always  swore, 
My  fingers  moved  divinely  well. 

"  A  singing-bird,  of  tender  age, 

From  India's  groves  has  lately  flown : 
'Twill  match  the  robin  in  the  cage ; 
And  birds  should  never  live  alone." 

"Stop  here,"  you  cry,  "  O  wretch  profuse!" 
Have  patience,  friend,  I  scarce  begin: 
Proceed,  and  tell,  celestial  Muse, 
The  charges  of  a  lying-in  I 

The  accouthcur,  in  gratitude, 

Must  be  well  paid  for  every  boy; 

And  surely  all  would  deem  it  rude, 
You  treat  not  such  as  wish  you  joy. 

Panada,  caudle,  many  a  cup; 

Choice  figs  and  raisins  of  the  sun  ; 
And  cakes  of  every  sort  made  up — 

Pound  cake,  wiy,  wotfal,  cruller,  bun: 

Imperial,  souchong,  congo  teas, 

When  gossips  come  to  pay  their  court ; 

But  bucks  will  not  take  up  with  these; 
Be  theirs  Madeira,  Sherry,  Port. 

Pins,  too,  in  many  a  shining  row; 

Caps,  bibs,  and  shoes  of  crimson  skin; 
Small  ornaments  of  wond'rous  show, 

And  robes  to  wrap  the  infant  in. 

A  cradle  to  receive  the  child 

When  fortune  sends  a  downy  nap: 

A  pious  tiurse,  of  temper  mild, 
To  hush  its  cries,  and  get  the  pap. 

Get  many  a  volume  neatly  bound, 
And  give  the  wanton  bairn  to  rear; 

Whistles  of  shrill  unpleasing  sound, 
And  coral  sticks,  the  gums  to  wear. 

And  next But  stop,  nor  think  to  count 

Uiinumber'd  cares,  unnumber'd  tilings: 

First  tell  the  stars,  then  the  amount 
Of  the  vast  cost  which  wedlock  brings. 

0  !  who  in  this  unfathom'd  pit, 

In  sober  sense,  would  dare  to  plunge ; 

Bun  the  mad  chance  of  duns  and  debts, 
To  rot  in  jail — to  starve — to  spunge. 

Far  better  on  his  luckless  throat 

A  millstone's  pond'rous  bulk  were  hung; 

Far  better,  in  unmanly  note, 
He  to  Italian  ears  had  sung. 

JOSEPH  BROWN  L.VDD. 

Josepti  Brown  Ladd,  the  son  of  William  and 
Sarah  Ladd,  was  born  at  Newport,  R.  I.,  in  1764. 
lie  received  the  rudiments  of  an  English  educa- 
tion, and  at  the  early  age  of  ten  produced  a  few 
verses  not  without  merit.  In  1775  his  father 
removed  to  a  farm  at  Little  Compton,  which  he 
cultivated  with  the  assistance  of  his  sons.  This 
mode  of  life  was  distasteful  to  the  young  poet 

*  A  teacher  of  music. 


516 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


and  would-be  student,  who  was  wont  to  hide 
himself  away  with  his  books,  and  on  one  occa- 
sion constructed  a  retreat  in  a  thicket  of  alder 
bushes,  to  which  he  resorted,  with  his  silent  com- 
pahions,  daily  for  many  months  without  detec- 
tion. At  the  end  of  three  years  his  father  con- 
sented to  a  change,  and  placed  him  in  a  store ; 
but  this  was  still  more  repugnant  to  his  tastes 
than  the  farm.  A  printing-office  was  next  tried, 
where  it  was  supposed  his  interest  in  books  would 
be  satisfied.  While  he  was  employed  in  learning 
his  new  trade,  a  gentleman  who  had  noticed  his 
literary  readiness,  suggested  to  him  to  write  bal- 
lads on  certain  quack  doctors  in  the  town.  The 
success  which  followed  the  production  of  these 
satires  so  elated  him,  that  he  shot  at  higher 
game  in  the  person  of  the  celebrated  divine,  Dr. 
Hopkins,  minister  at  Newport.  The  doctor  did  not 
relish  the  proceeding,  complained  to  the  father 
of  his  assailant,  and  the  incident  led  to  his  with- 
drawal from  the  printing-office.  In  hi?  next 
change  he  was  allowed  to  follow  the  bent  of  his 
inclination,  which  was  to  become  a  physician, 
and  was  placed  in  the  charge  of  Dr.  Isaac  Senter. 
This  gentleman  sympathized  with  the  literary 
tastes  of  his  pupil,  and  rendered  him  good  service 
by  lending  him  books,  and  directing  his  classical 
as  well  as  medical  studies.  During  the  four  years 
thus  passed,  most  of  his  poems  were  written. 
Many  of  them  were  addressed,  under  the  signa- 
ture of  Arouet,  to  Amanda,  a  name  by  which  he 
designated  a  young  lady  to  whom  he  was 
attached.  She  was  a  young  orphan  heiress,  and 
her  guardians  are  charged,  by  the  writer  of  the 
poet's  biography  prefixed  to  the  collection  of  his 
works  in  1832,  with  throwing  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  the  union  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  the 
lucrative  management  of  her  estate  in  their  own 
hands,  as  the  trust  was  stipulated  to  terminate 
with  the  marriage  of  their  ward.  The  lady 
favored  him  if  the  guardians  did  not,  and  they 
were  privately  engaged. 

In  1783,  General  Greene,  the  revolutionary 
hero,  returned  to  Newport,  and  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  Ladd,  who  had  just  completed  his 
medical  education,  recommended  him  to  try  his 
fortune  at  the  south.  In  pursuance  of  the  advice, 
he  removed  to  Charleston,  with  letters  of  intro- 
duction from  his  distinguished  friend,  and  was 
soon  engaged  in  extensive  practice.  Here  he 
also  became  a  contributor  to  the  public  pres«,  and 

Siblished,  among  other  articles,  a  criticism  on 
r.  Johnson,  in  which  he  exposes  many  of  the 
doctor's  weak  points,  a  daring  literary  venture 
at  that  period. 

In  1785  he  was  appointed,  by  Governor  Moul- 
trie, fourth  of  July  orator  at  the  second  celebra- 
tion of  the  day  in  Charleston,  the.  first  there,  or 
in  any  part,  it  is  said,  of  the  country,  having  been 
observed  in  1778  by  an  address  by  Dr.  Ramsay. 
In  November,  1786,  a  political  controversy  in  the 
newspapers  in  which  he  was  engaged,  led  to  a 
challenge  from  his  opponent,  which  he  felt  forced, 
by  the  false  public  sentiment  prevalent  in  the 
community,  to  accept.  He  threw  away  his  fire, 
but  received  a  wound  from  his  antagonist  which 
put  an  end  to  his  life  at  the  age  of  twenty-two. 

His  literary  remains  were  collected  by  his 
sister,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Haskins,  of  Rhode  Island, 
and  published,  with  a  sketch  of  the  author's  life, 


by  W.  B.  Chittenden,  in  1832,  forty-six  years 
after  his  death.  They  consist  of  the  poems  to 
Amanda  of  which  we  have  spoken,  and  a  num- 
ber of  verses  on  patriotic  and  occasional  topics. 

AN  INVOCATION    TO    THE    ALMIGnTT.       WRITTEN  AT    THE  AGH 
OF  TEN    YEARS. 

My  God  !  the  Father  of  mankind, 
Whose  bounty  all  things  share; 

Let  me  thy  grace  my  portion  find — 
All  else  beneath  thy  care. 

I  ask  not  titles,  wealth,  or  state, 

By  joyless  hearts  possessed  ; 
Yet  may  I  still  be  rich  and  great, 

If  virtue  fill  my  breast. 

Let  fervent  charity  remain 

Forever  in  my  breast; 
Oh !  let  me  feel  another's  pain, 

In  others'  joys  be  blest. 

To  charity  wdthin  my  breast, 

Let  steady  faith  unite ; 
Nor  let  me  from  thy  law  depart, 

Nor  let  me  live  by  sight. 

With  patience  fortify  my  mind, 

To  bear  each  future  ill ; 
In  life  and  death,  alike  resigned 

To  thine  unerring  will. 

ODE  TO  RETIREMENT. 

Hail,  sweet  retirement !  hail ! 

Best  state  of  man  below  ; 
To  smooth  the  tide  of  passions  frail, 

And  bear  the  soul  away  from  scenery  of  wo. 
When  retired  from  busy  noise, 
Vexing  cares,  and  troubled  joys, 
To  a  mild,  serener  air, 
In  the  country,  we  repair; 
Calm  enjoy  the  rural  scene, 
Sportive  o'er  the  meadows  green. 
When  the  sun's  enlivening  ray, 
Speaks  the  genial  month  of  May; 
Lo !  his  amorous,  wanton  beams, 
Lance  on  yonder  crystal  streams ; 
In  soft  dalliance  pass  the  hours, 
Kissing  dew-drops  from  the  flowers; 
While  soft  music  through  the  grove, 
Sweetly  tunes  the  soul  to  love; 
And  the  hills,  harmonious  round, 
Echo  with  responsive  sound. 
There  the  turtle  dove  alone; 
Makes  his  soft;  melodious  moan  ; 
While  from  yonder  bough  'tis  heard. 
Sweetly  chirps  the  yellow  bird : 
There  the  linnet's  downy  throat, 
Warbles  the  responsive  note; 
And  to  all  the  neighboring  groves, 
Robin  redbreast  tells  his  loves. 

There,  Amanda,  we  might  walk, 
And  of  soft  endearments  talk ; 
Or,  anon,  we'd  listen,  love, 
To  the  gently  cooing  dove. 
In  some  sweet  embowering  shade, 
Some  fair  seat  by  nature  made, 
I  my  love  would  gently  place, 
On  the  tender-woven  grass; 
Seated  by  thy  lovely  side, 
Oh  !  how  great  would  be  my  pride: 
While  my  soul  should  fix  on  thine — 
Oh  !  the  joy  to  call  thee  mine. 

For  why  should  doves  have  more  delight, 
Than  we,  my  sweet  Amanda,  might? 
And  why  should  larks  and  linnets  be 
More  happy,  lovely  maid,  than  wef 


SAMUEL  LATHAM  MITCHILL 


517 


There  the  pride  of  genius  blooms, 
There  sweet  contemplation  comes; 
Tliere  is  science,  heavenly  fair; 
Sweet  philosophy  is  there. 
With  each  author  valued  most, 
Ancient  glory,  modern  boast : 
There  the  mind  may  revel  o'er 
Doughty  deeds  of  days  of  yore; 
How  the  mighty  warriors  stood— 
How  the  field  was  dyed  in  blood — 
How  the  shores  were  heaped  with  dead— 
And  the  rivers  streamed  with  red — ■ 
While  the  heroes'  souls  on  flame, 
Urged  them  on  to  deathless  fame  : 
Or  we  view  a  different  age, 
Pictured  in  the  historic  page  ; 
Kings  descending  from  a  throne — 
Tyrants  making  kingdoms  groan — 
With  each  care  on  state  allied, 
With  all  the  scenery  of  pride : 
Or  perhaps  we'll  study  o'er 
Books  of  philosophic  lore  ; 
Read  what  Socrates  has  thought, 
And  how  go  1-like  Plato  wrote  ; 
Vieiv  the  earth  with  Bacon's  eyes, 
Or  with  Newton  read  the  skies  ; 
See  each  planetary  ball, 
One  great  sun  attracting  all; 
All  by  gravitation  held, 
Self-attracted,  self-repelled : 
We  shall  cheat  away  old  time, 
Passing  moments  so  sublime. 

Hail,  sweet  retirement!  hail! 
Best  state  of  man  below; 

To  smooth  the  tide  of  passions  frail, 

And  bear  the  soul  away  from  scenery  of  wo. 

WHAT  IS   HAPPINESS  ? 

'Tis  an  empty,  fleeting  shade, 

By  imagination  made ; 

'Tis  a  bubble,  straw,  or  worse  ; 

'Tis  a  baby's  hobby  horse ; 

'Tis  a  little  living,  clear  ; 

'Tis  ten  thousand  pounds  a  year; 

'Tis  a  title  ;  'tis  a  name  ; 

'Tis  a  puff  of  empty  fame, 

Fickle  as  the  breezes  blow ; 

'Tis  a  lady's  yes  or  no  : 

And  when  the  description's  crowned, 

'Tis  just  no  inhere  to  be  found. 

SAMUEL  LATHAM  MITCHILL. 
Few  men  have  made  a  more  varied  and  useful 
employment  of  their  abilities  and  acquirements 
than  this  pioneer  in  American  scientific  research. 
Samuel  L.  Mitchill  was  born  in  North  Hempstead, 
Queens  County,  Long  Island,  August  20,  1764. 
He  was  the  third  son  of  a  Quaker  farmer,  and 
would  probably  have  received  few  of  the  advan- 
tages of  early  education  but  for  the  kindness  of 
his  maternal  uncle,  Dr.  Samuel  Latham,  of  the 
same  village.  He  was  placed  by  this  relative 
under  the  instruction  of  I)r.  Leonard  Cutting,  a 
graduate  of  Cambridge  ("England),  and  received  a 
good  classical  education.  He  afterwards  studied 
medicine  with  Dr.  Latham,  and  in  1780  removed 
to  New  York,  to  receive  the  instructions  of  Dr. 
Bard  of  that  city.  In  1783  he  went  to  the  cele- 
brated school  of  Edinburgh,  to  complete  his 
studies.  Here  he  remained  nearly  four  years,  the 
contemporary  at  the  University  of  Thomas  Addis 
Emmet  and  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  enjoying  the 


best  intellectual  society  of  the  eity.  After  re- 
ceiving his  diploma,  he  made  a  pedestrian  tour 
through  a  part  of  England  with  his  friend  William 
Dunlap,  and  then  returned  to  his  native  country. 
He  next  devoted  some  time  to  legal  and  politi- 
cal study  under  the  direction  of  Robert  Yates, 
Chief  Justice  of  the  State  of  New  York.  In 
consequence  of  this  connexion  he  was  appointed 
(his  first  public  trust)  one  of  the  Commissioners 
to  treat  with  the  Iroquois  for  a  cession  of  terri- 
tory, and  was  present  at  the  council  held  at  Fort 
Stanwix  in  1788.  In  1790  he  was  elected  a 
representative  of  his  native  county  of  Queens  in 
the  Legislature  of  the  State  of  New  York.  Li 
1792  he  received  the  appointment  of  professor  of 
chemistry,  natural  history,  and  philosophy,  in 
Columbia  College.  He  introduced  into  his  in- 
struction, for  the  first  time  in  the  United  States, 
the  new  nomenclature  of  Lavoisier,  but  with  a 
dissent  from  some  of  the  principles  of  that  philo- 
sopher. This  exception  involved  him  in  a  con- 
troversy with  Dr.  Priestley,  which  was  conducted 
with  such  courtesy  and  mutual  respect  that  it  led 
to  the  warm  personal  friendship  of  the  combat- 
ants. Dr.  Mitchill's  next  public  service  was  the 
establishment,  in  1793-4,  in  connexion  with 
Chancellor  Livingston  and  Simeon  De  Witt,  of 
the  Society  for  the  Promotion  of  Agriculture, 
Manufactures,  and  the  Useful  Arts.  He  delivered 
the  first  public  address  before  this  body,  and  in 
1796  made  his  report  on  the  Mineralogy  of  the 
State  of  New  York.  This  was  the  first  work  of 
the  kind  undertaken  in  the  United  States,  and 
secured  its  author  a  wide  reputation  in  Europe 
as  well  as  his  own  country.  It  is  published  in 
the  first  volume  of  the  Medical  Repository,  a 
periodical  which  was  commenced  in  1797  by  Dr. 


^^>i^>i£^^(^^/c^n/^f . 


¥> 


Mitchill,  in  connexion  with  his  friends  Drs.  Ed- 
ward Miller  and  Elihu  H.  Smith,  and  of  which 
he  continued  editor  for  more  than  sixteen  years. 


518 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


It  was  a  scientific  and  literary,  as  well  as  medical 
periodica],  and  was  published  in  quarterly  num- 
bers. 

On  the  23d  of  June,  1799,  Dr.  Mitchill  was 
married  to  Mrs.  Catharine  Cock,  daughter  of 
Samuel  Akerly.  After  this  event,  by  which  he 
became  possessed  of  an  ample  fortune,  he  devoted 
himself  entirely  to  scientific  and  public  occupa- 
tions. 

In  1807,  on  the  organization  of  the  College  of 
Physicians  and  Surgeons  of  the  City  of  New 
York,  he  was  appointed  its  first  professor  of 
chemistry,  an-  office  which  his  political  duties 
compelled  him  to  decline,  he  having  been  elected 
in  1800  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives, and  in  1804  of  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States.  After  the  expiration  of  his  term,  in 
1809,  he  was  re-elected  to  the  House.  He  sub- 
sequently accepted  a  professorship  of  botany  and 
materia  medica,  on  the  re-organization  of  the  in- 
stitution in  1820,  and  discharged  its  duties  until 
1826,  when,  in  consequence  of  difficulties  with 
the  trustees,  the  entire  body  of  professors  resigned. 
In  addition  to  the  literary,  scientific,  and  political 
labors  we  have  mentioned,  Dr.  Mitchill  was  an 
active  member  of  most  of  the  learned  societies 
of  Europe  and  America.  Numerous  papers  by 
him  are  included  in  their  Transactions;  and  he 
was  often  called  upon,  at  the  anniversaries  of 
those  of  his  own  city,  to  appear  as  their  orator. 
His  multifarious  productions  are  consequently 
scattered  over  a  number  of  separate  publications 
and  collections  of  pamphlets,  and  are  somewhat 
overshadowed  by  the  reputation  of  the  learned 
bodies  with  which  they  are  connected.  They 
have  fallen,  to  some  extent,  into  an  unmerited 
oblivion. 

His  elaborate  History  of  the  Botanical  Writers 
of  America  maybe  found  in  the  collections  of  the 
New  York  Historical  Society.  His  valuable 
work  on  the  Fishes  of  New  York,  the  scientific 
speciality  for  which  he  is  particularly  held  in  re- 
pute, was  printed,  with  illustrations,  in  the  Tran- 
sactions of  the  New  York  Literary  and  Philo- 
sophical Society. 

In  addition  to  these  scientific  productions,  Dr. 
Mitchill  was  the  author  of  an  address  delivered 
at  the  old  Presbyterian  Church  in  Wall  street, 
May  12,  1795,  before  the  Tammany  Society  or 
Columbian  Order,  containing  a  semi-fanciful, 
semi-historical  account  of  the  famous  Indian  chief, 
the  patron  saint  of  the  organization ;  and  of 
funeral  discourses  in  honor  of  Jefferson,  Thomas 
Addis  Emmet,  De  Witt  Clinton,  and  Dr.  Bard. 
In  the  progress  of  the  discourse  on  Jefferson,  he 
has  a  happy  remark  on  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence :  "  For  sententious  brevity,  strong  ex- 
pression, and  orderly  disposition  of  the  topics,  the 
reading  of  it  always  brings  to  my  mind  that  in- 
comparable performance,  the  Litany  of  the 
Christian  Church.  In  this,  miserable  sinners  in- 
voke the  Father  of  Heaven ;  in  that,  suffering 
subjects  submit  facts  to  a  candid  world.  In  the 
latter,  the  One  in  Three  is  entreated  to  spare  from 
all  evil  and  mischief  those  who  have  been  re- 
deemed; in  the  former,  a  worldly  prince,  for  a 
continuance  of  cruelties,  is  denounced  as  a  tyrant 
and  unfit  to  be  the  ruler  of  a  free  people.  In  the 
Litany,  the  church  supplicates  blessings  and  com- 
forts from  a  being  willing  to  grant  them ;  in  the 


Declaration,  the  nation  puts  at  defiance  the  power 
that  neither  pities  nor  forgives." 

The  Tammany  address  pretends  to  furnish  a 
biography  of  that  worthy,  who  appears  to  have 
been  an  Indian  St.  Patrick.  It  contains  an  ora- 
tion purporting  to  be  delivered  by  the  chief, 
which  we  annex,  with  a  preliminary  passage 
explaining  the  circumstances. 

The  doctor  occasionally  addressed  a  few  verses 
to  his  wife,  embellished  the  album  of  a  lady  peti- 
tioner, or  translated  some  Latin,  Greek,  or  Italian 
poem  which  attracted  his  fancy.  He  was  a  fluent 
speaker,  possessed  a  pleasant  vein  of  humor,  and 
presided  over  the  Sour  Krout  or  addressed  the 
Turtle  Club,  associations  formed  for  the  indul- 
gence of  gastronomy  and  hilarity,  with  the  same 
acceptability  as  the  Senate  or  hall  of  science. 
He  was  fond  of  society,  and  was  at  all  times 
ready  to  receive  and  answer  scientific  inquiries. 
His  suavity  was  often  mistaken  for  acquiescence. 
His  hospitality  to  new  ideas  as  well  as  new  comers 
occasionally  led  him  into  mistakes ;  though  his 
patient  attention  to  the  plans  of  theorizers  was 
often  construed  into  and  reported  as  an  acqui- 
escence in  views  which  he  was  far  from  adopting. 
The  doctor  was  too  prominent  an  object  to  escape 
the  shafts  of  the  wits  of  the  day,  and  they  were 
not  at  all  backward  in  availing  themselves  of  the 
opportunity.  -He  probably  enjoyed  the  jokes  of 
the  Croakers  and  Fanny,  as  well  as  the  rest  of 
the  town,  and  sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  his 
early  faith  in  steam  navigation,*  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  time  turn  the  laugh  on  his  oppo- 
nents. 

An  idea  which  Mitchill  at  one  time  advocated 
with  considerable  ingenuity,  was  a  new  name  for 
the  country.  Of  this  there  is  a  record  in  a  pro- 
duction in  1804,  attributed  to  his  pen — An  Ad- 
dress to  the  Fredes  or  People  of  the  United  States, 
on  the  28th  anniversary  of  their  independence.  A 
parenthesis  on  the  title-page  of  this  brief  pamphlet 
further  explains  the  designation.  "The  modern 
and  appropriate  name  of  the  people  of  the  United 
States  is  Fredes  or  Fredonians,  as  the  geographi- 
cal name  of  their  country  is  Fredon  or  Fredonia, 
and  their  relations  are  expressed  by  the  terms 
Fredonian  or  Fredish."  The  address  is  in  verse, 
and  celebrates  the  blessings  enjoyed  by  America 
in  the  fruits  of  its  Revolution,  the  establishment 
of  the  Constitution,  and  the  general  progress  of 
civilization,  particularly  in  the  extension  of  light- 
houses and  the  post-office.  The  idea  of  Mitchill 
was  to  provide  a  peculiar  designation,  a  national 
name  for  the  people  of  the  United  States.  Apa- 
lachian,  Alleghanian,  and  other  terms  have  been 
also  projected  to  meet  the  same  supposed  want; 
and  a  few  years  since  there  was  a  debate  on  the 
topic  in  the  New  York  Historical  Society  ;  but  if 
ever  the  matter  was  seriously  thought  of  it  has 
quite  rapidly  been  rendered  unnecessary  by  the 
growth  of  the  country,  in  filling  up  to  so  great  an 
extent  the  geographical  limits  of  the  appellation 
now  universally  awarded  of  American.  Mitchill, 
who,  like  father  Shandy,  had  a  theory  of  names, 
was  ingenious  in  hitting  upon  Fredonia,  a  term 
suggestive  at  once  of  a  generous  idea,  and  of  such 

*  Mitchill  was  a  warm  and  influential  advocate,  in  the  Legis- 
lature, in  the  face  of  much  ridicule  and  opposition,  of  the  act 
passed  in  179S.  which  conferred  on  Livingston  and  Fulton  the 
exclusive  right  to  navigate  the  waters  of  Kew  York  by  steam. 


SAMUEL  LATHAM  MITCHILL. 


519 


readily  grammatical  adaptation  as  a  noun  and  ad- 
jective in  Frede  and  Fredish.* 

One  of  the  social  gatherings  of  the  doctor's 
day  was  styled  the  Krout  Club.  It  was  composed 
of  descendants  of  the  original  settlers  of  the  city 
of  New  York,  who  met  together  to  eat  a  dinner 
"  after  the  maimer  of  the  ancients  "  of  Holland. 
Cabbage  in  various  culinary  forms  was  a  leading 
ingredient  of  the  feast,  and  it  was  customary, 
after  the  election  of  a  presiding  officer,  to  crown 
him  with  a  cabbage  head  neatly  scooped  out,  and 
place  on  his  shoulders  a  mantle  composed  of  the 
leaves  of  the  same  respected  esculent.  Dr.  Hit- 
chill  accepted  an  invitation,  on  one  occasion,  in 
1322,  to  one  of  these  dinners,  and  being  chosen 
Crand  Krout,  delivered  the  following  address, 
while  arrayed  in  the  insignia  of  his  office,  har- 
monizing happily  with  the  sportive  character  of 
the  occasion : 

This  association  owes  its  origin  to  our  venerable 
and  festive  ancestry.  The  cabbage  is  its  emblem, 
and  a  good  symbol  it  is.  The  Bourbons  displayed 
their  exalted  lily,  and  the  Bouapartes  their  humble 
violet.  The  pine  tree  gave  character  to  the  money 
coined  before  the  revolution  in  Massachusetts,  and 
the  white  rose  and  red  rose  distinguished  the  parties 
of  York  and  Lancaster  as  they  formerly  existed  in 
England.  The  Scotch  are  proud  of  their  thistle,  the 
Irish  of  their  shamrock,  and  the  Welsh  of  their 
leek. 

The  virtues  of  the  cabbage  surpass  all  these,  and 
are  worthy  of  the  highest  eulogium.  The  plant 
belongs  to  the  natural  family  of  the  antiscorbutics. 
It  is  capable  of  purifying  the  blood,  and  of  rectify- 
ing the  humors.  Whether  eaten  raw  or  boiled,  or 
after  preparation  in  our  excellent  way  of  Sour 
Krout,  the  article  is  worthy  of  particular  commenda- 
tion. The  sherris-sack  celebrated  by  Falstatf  is,  not- 
withstanding its  extraordinary  virtues,  far  inferior 
to  Krout.  I  recommend  to  all  Scurvy  feltbws, 
wherever  they  may  be,  a  course  of  this  sovereign 
remedy  to  make  them  sound  and  whole. ' 

Great  exertions  are  made  by  gardeners  and  farm- 
ers to  cultivate  the  precious  vegetable  in  large 
quantity  and  of  good  quality.  Their  industry  is 
stimulated  by  the  premiums  of  patriotic  societies. 
They  do  well  in  granting  such  premiums.  Its  nutri- 
tious and  succulent  leaves  increase  the  cow's  mea- 
sure of  milk  ;  which  when  mingled  with  eggs  gives 
us  custards,  with  isinglass  regales  us  with  blane 
mange,  and  when  converted  into  butter  ministers  to 
our  taste  and  luxury  in  an  hundred  ways. 

Best  member  in  the  family  of  Brasslca !  salu- 
brious is  the  employment  and  sweet  the  reward  of 
rearing  thee,  of  tending  thee  and  preparing  thee  for 
the  mouth  and  the  stomach! 

Moral,  and  sober,  and  industrious  are  the  persons 
who  are  devoted  to  thee !  Thou  impartest  strength 
to  the  muscles,  sensibility  to  the  nerves,  and  integri- 
ty to  the  brain.  The  social  principle  is  safe  in  thy 
keeping.  Thy  constitution  is  such  that  ardent  and 
intoxicating  drink  cannot  be  prepared  from  thee. 
Thou  sustainest  without  exhausting,  and  invigoratest 
without  depression.  Thy  votaries  here  present  give 
evidence  in  their  looks  and  conduct,  how  admirably 


*  A  year  or  two  later,  in  1806,  Fessenden,  in  the  notes  to  his 
J/o&oeme.y,  has  this  repudiation  of  the  term:  " Fredonia  is  a 
cant  phrase,  which  eerta'n  small  poets  or  prosaic  scribblers,  we 
forget  which,  would  have  us  adopt  as  an  appellation  to  desig- 
nate the  United  States  of  America.  At  a  time  like  this,  when 
misrule  and  licentiousness  aie  me  order  of  the  day,  there  can 
be  but  little  propriety  in  coining  new  phrases  to  enrich  the  vo- 
cabulary of  sedition. 


thou  conducest  to  innocent  recreation  and  to  festive 
joy.  Thy  name  lias  been  abused,  as  if  to  cabbage 
were  to  pilfer  or  steal.  I  repel  witli  indignation  this 
attempt  to  sully  thy  fame. 

Dr.  Mitchill  also  addressed  the  Turtle  Club,  an 
association  of  the  "  solid  men  "  of  the  city,  who 
assembled  in  a  grove  atHoboken  to  increase  their 
solidity  by  a  plentiful  repast  on  the  aldermanic 
dainty.  After  a  learned,  scientific,  and  classical 
dissertation  on  the  testudo,  natural,  military,  and 
mythological,  he  continues : — 

With  so  many  excellent  and  memorable  qualities, 
it  is  by  no  means  a  circumstance  of  marvel,  that  the 
name  of  a  feathered  favorite  should  have  been  trans- 
ferred to  this  amphibious  creature.  The  resident 
of  the  groves,  where  the  leafy  foresters  staud  close 
enough  to  exclude  piercing  sunshine,  and  where  the 
domestic  locust  trees  (robinia),  limetrees  (tilia),  and 
tulip  trees  (liriodendron),  stretch  out  their  arms  as  it 
were  to  welcome  those  exotics  the  poplars  from  the 
Po,  and  the  willows  from  the  Euphrates,  to  become 
joint  tenants  with  them,  the  Love  has  been  obliged 
to  surrender  a  part  of  her  title,  and  by  an  odd  per- 
version of  language,  the  Turtle  means  the  cooing 
bird  of  Fredonia,  and  also  the  four-footed  reptile  of 
Bahama. 

From  the  extraordinary  and  multifarious  functions 
of  this  oviparous  quadruped,  a  riddle  was  composed 
by  the  witty  Symposius,  propounding  the  question 
whether  that  living  existence  was  a  beast,  a  fish,  or 
a  harp,  as  you  may  read  in  his  collection  of  enigmas. 

After  a  statement  of  these  particulars,  I  feel  more 
than  ordinary  satisfaction  in  observing  that  some  of 
the  nations  of  the  south  regard  the  green  tortoise  as 
a  sacred  object;  a  peculiar  gift  of  the  Great  Master 
of  Breath.  Certain  of  them  have  proceeded  so  far 
under  this  persuasion,  as  to  denominate  him  the  i'i.sA 
of  God,  or,  in  the  dialect  of  the  French  colonists, 
Poisson  de  Dicu.  The  correct  and  honest  indigenes 
ascribe  to  the  soup,  or  in  other  words  the  decoction 
of  its  flesh,  swallowed  after  a  venomous  draught  has 
been  received  into  the  stomach,  the  most  astonishing 
effects  as  an  antidote  or  counter  poison. 

What  more  shall  I  say  on  this  head?  Why,  truly, 
that  this  exquisite  preparation  surpasses  all  the  other 
compounds  of  the  kitchen  and  the  shop.  Perhaps 
there  is  no  other  known  that  possesses  in  so  eminent 
a  degree  the  properties  both  of  food  and  medicine. 
It  is  an  aliment  of  the  most  palatable  and  nutritious 
kind ;  so  elaborated  by  coction  in  the  cauldron,  that 
very  little  digestion  in  the  stomach  is  necessary.  It 
assimilates  with  our  nature,  and  becomes  part  and 
parcel  of  our  living  frame  more  readily  than  almost 
any  other  substance ;  subduing  crudities,  rendering 
the  humors  bland,  and  promoting  good  humor  and 
hilarity  to  an  extraordinary  degree.  It  begets 
amenity  and  suavity  of  temper.  It  diminishes  the 
proueuess  to  give  and  to  take  offence,  and  I  proclaim 
the  information  to  the  universe  that  no  quarrel  be- 
tween the  members  has  ever  arisen  upon  this  hal- 
lowed spot,  rendering  a  settlement  necessary  by 
single  combat. 

Nor  are  its  virtues  less  prominent  as  a  prophylac- 
tic, or  preventer  of  disease.  Come  hither,  all  ye 
lean  and  tabid  sufferers !  Ye  who  are  wasted  by 
atrophy  and  emaciation!  and  ye  who  are  lingering 
with  hectic  fever  and  king's  evil!  Approach,  I  say, 
and  receive  the  benefit  of  a  panacea  incomparably 
better  than  the  boasted  balsams  which  occupy 
columns  of  the  gazettes.  Invitation  is  hereby  in 
like  manner  given  to  all  who  are  in  jeopardy  from 
malignant  disorders,  whether  engendered  from  mor- 
bid distemperature  within  the.  system,  or  through  a 
sickly  commixture  of  the  atmospheric  elements,  or 


520 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


by  the  introduction  of  a  virus  from  a  foreign  place. 
Know,  ye  supporters  of  imported  contagion  in  the 
yellow  fever,  that  the  tropical  latitudes,  which  are 
accused  of  sending  us  the  bane,  must  be  allowed  the 
credit  of  forwarding  likewise  the  remedy. 

It  has  been  regretted  by  some  persons  of  taste, 
that  the  Tortoise,  like  the  turtle,  is  not  furnished 
with  wings ;  those  nimble  members,  which  convert 
a  child  into  a  Cupid,  a  horse  into  a  Pegasus,  a  per- 
sonified breeze  into  a  Zephyr,  and  loose  words  into 
a  compact  sentence.*  The  fancy  of  the  poet  and 
the  colouring  of  the  painter  ma}',  however,  supply 
this  defect.  Imagination  may  thus  be  strengthened 
to  conceive  how  the  supporter  of  men  and  things 
shall  soar  from  the  element  on  which  he  has  floated 
time  immemorial,  and  give  us  a  flight  through  space, 
combining  the  velocity  of  a  meteor  with  the  eccen- 
tricity of  a  comet,  or  transporting  the  whole  of  his 
ponderous  charge  in  a  way  that  the  ingenious  and 
inventive  Greeks  never  comprehended,  to  the  region 
of  perfect  beatitude. 

The  most  celebrated  of  Dr.  Mitchill's  poetical 
productions  are  his  translations  of  the  third  and 
fifth  of  the  Piscatory  Eclogues  (five  in  number) 
of  Sannazarius,  a  Neapolitan  .pastoral  poet  01' the 
age  of  Leo  X.  De  Witt  Clinton,  in  a  note  to  his 
address  before  the  Literary  and  Philosophical  So- 
ciety, gives  the  first  of  these  as  a  "  literary  curi- 
osity "  of  interest  in  connexion  with  the  Doctor's 
investigations  on  ichthyology,  and  follows  with  the 
second,  as  "  procured  from  Dr.  Mitchill  by  the 
editor."  The  first  is  a  dialogue  between  Celadon, 
Mopsus,  Chronus,  and  Mas,  four  fishermen,  who 
extol  the  charms  of  their  mistresses,  Chloris  and 
Nisa,  by  similes  drawn  from  their  occupation. 
In  the  second,  the  punishment  indicted  by  an  en- 
chantress, Herpylis,  upon  Mceon,  a  faithless  swain 
who  had  deserted  a  maiden  and  thus  driven  her 
mad,  and  the  passion  of  Thelgon  for  the  unpitying 
nymph  Galatea,  are  dwelt  upon. 

Similes  like  the  following  hit  Mitchill's  fancy  :- 

With  weeping  dewy  wet  this  spunge  appears; 
Oh  sea-grown  spunge  imbibe  my  copious  tears; 
And  as  thy  thirsty  pores  the  drops  inhale, 
Ma3''st  thou  ungrateful  Mceon's  breast  assail." 

Revolve,  thou  wheel,  my  bands  pursue  your 
race, 

And  whirl,  0  spindle,  with  a  hurried  pace. 

The  pumice  fattens  as  the  waves  subside, 
That  toss'd  by  winds,  convey'd  it  far  and  wide; 
But  how  can  I,  oppress'd  by  poignant  grief, 
From  empty  words  and  moaning,  hope  relief? 
And  all  tiie  wrongs  by  graceless  Moeon  done 
Shall  I  content  repay  in  words  alone? 

Revolve,  thou  wheel,  my  bands  pursue  your 
race, 

And  whirl,  0  spindle,  with  a  hurried  pace. 

In  the  following  poems  he  has  also  shown  his 
affection  for  his  favorite  sciences. 

ELEGY  ON  A  SHELL — TUE  NAUTILUS! 

I  saw  thee,  beauteous  form, 
As  late  I  walked  the  oceanic  strand, 
And  as  my  curiosity  was  warm, 

I  took  thee  in  my  hand. 
Soon  I  discovered,  a  terrific  storm, 

Which  nothing  human  could  command, 
Had  robbed  thee  of  thy  life  and  east  thee  on  the 
sand. 


*   Ettccl  Urzpoci'ra,  wlrjged  words. 


Thou  wast  a  house  with  many  chambers  fraught, 

Built  by  a  Nautilus  or  Argonaut, 

With  fitness,  symmetry,  and  skill, 

To  suit  the  owner's  taste  and  sovereign  will. 

In  curves  of  elegance  thy  shape  appears, 
Surpassing  art  through  centuries  of  years, 
By  tints  and  colours  brilliant  made, 
And  all, — the  finished  workman  has  displayed. 

In  life  thy  home  was  near  Manilla's  shore, 
Where  on  the  bottom  groves  of  coral  grow, 
And  when  aweary  of  thy  seat  below, 

Thee  and  thy  architect  the  flood  uplifted  bore. 

Then  on  the  surface  of  the  placid  wave, 
With  guiding  oars  and  elevated  sail, 
Thou  didst  enjoy  the  pleasure-breathing  gale, 

And  hi  the  sea  thy  healthy  body  lave. 

To  thee  allied  is  many  a  splendid  shell, 
In  wdiich  a  fair  Mollusax  used  to  dwell, 
Such  as  the  Harpa,  marked  with  chorded  signs, 
The  Musica,  witli  imitative  lines, 
The  Cowry,  with  its  spots  and  figures  gay, 
The  Cone,  distinguished  by  its  rich  array, 
The  smooth  Volute,  that  glossy  beauty  bears, 
The  prized  Scalaria,  with  its  winding  stairs, 
The  Murex,  famous  for  its  purple  dye, 
The  Trochua,  dressed  to  captivate  the  eye, 
And  Buccinum  and  Strombus,  taught  to  sound 
Their  signal  notes  to  every  region  round. 

These  sorts  and  more,  through  rich  museums  spread, 
Are  vacant  dwellings,  and  their  tenants  dead, 
And  though  there's  not  an  occupant  alive, 
The  well  cemented  tenements  survive. 
So  man  erects  in  sumptuous  mode 
A  structure  proud  for  his  abode, 
But  knows  not,  when  of  life  bereft, 
Who'll  creep  within  the  shell  he  left. 

PYTnAGOBAS  AND  SAPPHO,  OE  THE  DIAMOND  AND  TIIE  K03E. 

Long  time  ago,  'tis  well  expressed, 

•    Pythagoras  the  seer 

This  question  artfully  addressed 

To  beauteous  Sappho's  ear : 
"When  hence  thou  shalt  be  forced  to  flee, 

By  transmigration's  power, 
Wouldst  thou  indeed  prefer  to  be 

A  jewel  or  a  flower?" 

Tlie  Lesbian  maid  these  words  returne  1 
To  greet  the  Snmiaii  sage, 
"For  gems  my  taste  has  never  burned, 
And  flowers  my  choice  engsge. 

"The  glittering  stones,  though  lich  a:;d  rare, 
IS'o  animation  know, 
While  vegetables  fine  and  fair 
With  vital  action  glow. 

"The  senseless  gem  no  pleasure  moves, 
Displayed  in  fashion's  use, 
But  flowers  enjoy  their  gentle  loves, 
And  progeny  produce. 

"Then  when  I  shall  surmount,"  she  cried, 
"  Rude  dissolution's  storm, 
Oh !  let  me  not  be  petrified, 
But  wear  a  living  form. 

"  Those  matchless  rays  the  diamond  shows, 
Witli  promptness  I  decline, 

That  I  may  dwell  within  the  rose 
And  make  its  blossoms  mine." 

One  of  the  doctor's  literary  amnsements  was 
the  preparation  of  a  pamphlet  of  eight  pages, 
bearing  the  title,  "  Some  of  the  Memorable  Events 


SAMUEL  LATHAM  MITCHILL. 


521 


and  Occurrences  in  the  Life  of  Samuel  L.  Mitchill, 
of  New  York,  from  the  year  1786  to  1827."  It 
is  a  chronological  enumeration  of  one  hundred 
and  ninety-two  distinct  items  of  the  achievements 
and  associations  of  his  active  career.  We  select 
a  portion  of  the  record. 

1.  Returns  from  Europe  with  the  diploma  of  M.D- 
from  Edinburgh,  obtained  in  1786 — after  having 
heen  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  Free  Masonry, 
in  the  Latin  Lodge  of  the  Eoman  Eagle,  by  the 
famous  Joannes  Bruno — 1787. 

2.  Visits  Saratoga  Springs  while  surrounded  by 
the  forest,  and  ascertains  experimentally,  that  the 
gas  extricated  from  the  water  was  fixed  air,  with 
the  power  to  extinguish  tlame,  destroy  the  life  of 
breathing  animals,  <fcc.  1787. 

4.  Walks  with  Josiah  Ogden  Hoffman,  "William 
Dunlap,  Joseph  Hunt  and  others,  in  the  very  grand 
procession  for  celebrating  the  adoption  of  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States,  under  the  guidance  of 
Col.  Richard  Piatt,  directing  the  place  for  the  Philo- 
logical Society— 1788. 

5.  Attends  the  Treaty  at  Fort  Schuyler,  by  which 
the  Mingos.  or  Five  Nations  of  Indians,  sold  the  great 
Western  District  to  the  people  of  New  York,  and 
subscribed  the  deed  as  a  witness — 1788.  Receives 
personal  names  from  the  Oneidas  and  Onondagas. 

11.  Exerts  himself  to  form  a  Library  in  the  town 
upon  Long  Island,  where  he  was  born,  under  the 
name  of  the  "  North  Hempstead  Library  Associa- 
tion;" which  still  subsists  and  improves — 1791. 

17.  Exhibits  at  full  length,  in  a  printed  Essay,  the 
actual  state  of  learning  in  Columbia  College — 1794 

19.  Makes  a  detailed  report  to  the  Agricultural 
Society,  of  his  geological  and  mineralogical  observa- 
tions during  a  tour  performed  at  their  request,  to 
the  banks  of  the  Hudson  for  Coal,  <fec. — December, 
1796 — a  performance  respectfully  quoted  by  Count 
Volney. 

20.  Member  of  the  Assembly  for  the  City  and 
County  of  New-York,  witli  Messrs.  Fairlie,  Hunt, 
Arcularius,  Clinton,  Burr,  Swartwout, Storm, Robins, 
and  Warner — April,  1797. 

26.  Makes  the  famous  motion  about  the  sixth 
Levitical  commandment,  in  the  House  of  Assembly 
at  Albany,  requiring  citizens  to  labour  six  days,  as 
we'd  as  refrain  from  it  on  the  seventh — February, 
1798.     (See  Journal  of  the  House.) 

29.  Delivers  the  Anniversary  Discourse  to  the 
assembled  citizens  on  the  National  Festival,  in  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  Bcekman-street — July  4, 1799. 

31.  Publishes  a  chart  of  Chymical  Nomenclature 
with  an  explanatory  memoir;  in  which  he  contends 
that  metals  in  their  ductile  and  malleable  state  are 
compounds  of  a  base  with  hydrogen  (phlogiston) ;  as 
in  their  calciform  state  they  consist  of  a  base  with 
oxygen :  and  that  in  several  there  is  an  intermediate 
condition,  in  which  there  is  no  union  either  with 
hydrogen  or  oxygen.  He  extended  the  same  doc- 
trine to  the  greater  part  of  inflammable  bodies — 
1801. 

34.  Corresponds  with  Albert  Gallatin,  Secretary 
of  the  Treasury,  on  the  project  for  illuminating  the 
Light  Houses  of  the  United  States  witli  inflammable 
air— April  30,  1S02.     (5  Med.  Rep.  p:  463—465.) 

56.  Translates  from  the  Latin  Lancisi's  book  on 
the  noxious  exhalations  of  Marshes,  at  Washington, 
during  the  winter  of  1806-7 — afterwards  printed  in 
the  Medical  Repository. 

59.  Writes  the  introduction  to  the  American  Edi- 
tion of  Assalini's  Observations  on  the  Plague,  Dysen- 
tery, and  Ophthnlmy  of  Egypt,  published  by  T.  &  J. 
Swords,  at  New-York — 1806. 


71.  Performs  with  Robert  Fulton  the  first  voyage 
in  a  Steam-Boat — August,  1S08. 

73.  At  the  request  of  the  College,  delivers  a  public 
Eulogy  upon  Professor  Rush,  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished of  Fredonian  citizens,  and  his  worthy 
friend. 

76.  Visits  Upper  Canada,  and  describes  the  Mine- 
ralogy of  Niagara  Falls — Summer,  1809. 

87.  Brings  up  for  adoption,  by  the  House  of  Re- 
presentatives, a  report  favourable  to  the  nascent 
nations  of  Spanish  America,  and  full  of  good  wishes 
towards  them,  in  their  exertions  to  become  free  and 
independent — December  11,  1811. 

89.  Visits  West  Point,  and  writes  the  History  of 
memorable  occurrences  there,  and  of  the  Military 
Academy — May,  1812. 

90.  Visits  his  friend  George  Clinton,  during  his 
last  illness,  at  the  seat  of  government :  and  after  his 
death,  as  Vice-President,  acts  as  a  member  of  the 
joint  committee  of  the  two  Houses  of  Congress  to 
superintend  his  funeral  obsequies — 1812. 

91.  Visits  Harper's  Ferry,  and  describes  the  Geo- 
logy of  the  Scenery  where  the  Potomac  and  Shenan- 
doah have  forced  their  passages  through  the  Blue 
Mountain — July  4,  1812. 

97.  Acts  as  a  Commissioner  under  the  Navy 
Department  of  the  United  States,  for  constructing  a 
Floating  Battery,  or  heavy  vessel  of  war,  to  defend 
the  coasts  and  harbours  of  the  United  States :  asso- 
ciated with  Messrs.  H.  Rutgers,  Th.  Morris,  Oliver 
Wolcott,  and  H.  Dearborn,  agents ;  with  R.  Fulton 
as  engineer,  and  A.  &  N.  Brown  as  constructors — 
1813-14. 

102.  Labours  jointly  with  his  patriotic  neighbours, 
with  mattock  and  shoveJ,  in  the  trenches,  for  several 
days,  to  erect  fortifications  against  the  enemy — 
1814. 

103.  Acts  with  Hosack  and  Williamson  in  laying 
the  foundation  of  a  Literary  and  Philosophical 
Society  in  New-York — 1S15.  Reads  a  detailed  nar- 
rative of  the  Earthquakes  in  the  United  States,  and 
in  foreign  parts,  during  1811,  '12,  and  '13.  Offers  to 
the  same  a  description  and  classification  of  166  species 
of  Fish,  chiefly  found  in  the  fresh  and  salt  waters 
adjacent  to  the  City  of  New  York ;  upwards  of  40 
additional  species  were  described  in  Bigelow  and 
Holly's  Magazine,  and  several  more  in  the  Journal  of 
the  Philadelphia  Academy  of  Natural  Sciences. 

106.  As  a  member  of  a-  Committee,  joins  his 
friends  in  petitioning  the  Common  Council  for  a 
grant  of  the  building  in  the  North  Park,  for  the 
purposes  of  Literature,  Science,  and  Arts. 

107.  Pronounces  a  public  Lecture  in  explanation 
of  Somnium,  or  Dream,  as  a  state  different  both 
from  wakefulness  and  sleep — November,  1815. 

117.  Makes  an  excursion  to  the  region  watered 
by  the  Walll.ill,  with  his  friend  Silvanus  Miller,  and 
at  Chester  they  and  their  companions'  succeed  in 
disinterring  a  mammoth — August,  1817. 

118.  Joins  Captain  Partridge,  and  other  friends,  in 
an  excursion  to  the  Neversink  Hills,  near  Sandy 
Hook,  and  aids  in  correcting  a  dangerous  mistake 
in  their  altitude,  which  is  in  reality  not  half  so 
great  (less  than  300  feet)  as  had  been  commonly 
supposed  (600  feet). 

122.  Brevet  from  his  Excellency  De  Witt  Clinton, 
LL.D.,  Governor  of  New-York,  Captain  General,  &c. 
for  the  office  of  Surgeon  General  to  the  Militia  of 
the  Commonwealth — August  5,  ISIS. 

128.  Vice-President  of  the  District  Convention, 
which  met  at  Philadelphia,  for  preparing  a  National 
Pharmacopoeia,  whereof  Thomas  Parke  was  Presi- 
dent, and  Lyman  Spaulding  Secretary — June  1, 
1S19. 

131.  Acts   with  Samuel   Wood    and    Garret    K. 


522 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Lawrence,  in  recommending  to  the  public  the 
Willow-leaved  Meadow-Sweet,  or  Spiraea  Salici- 
folia  of  North  America,  as  an  admirable  article  for 
refreshment  and  health,  and  as  a  substitute  for  the 
tea  of  China— July,  1819. 

147.  Receives  a  splendid  Diamond  Ring  from  the 
Emperor  of  all  the  Russias,  brought  by  Captain 
Josiah  Barker,  through  Mr.  Pinckney,  the  American 
Charge  d' Affaires  at  St.  Petersburgh,  pursuant  to  the 
request  of  the  Minister,  Count  Nesselrode — May  23, 
1821. 

151.  Delivers  the  Annual  Oration  to  the  Phi- 
Beta-Kappa  Society  of  Union  College,  Schenectady 
—July  24,  1821. 

156.  Gives  the  public  introductory  Lecture  in  the 
College  of  Physicians,  &c.  on  the  life  and  writings 
of  their  late  President  Samuel  Bard,  by  appointment 
of  the  Trustees — November  5,  1821. 

168.  Pronounces  a  Philosophical  Discourse  in  St. 
Stephen's  Chapel,  Bowery,  to  the  class  formed  in 
that  Congregation  for  cultivating  the  Natural  and 
Physical  Sciences ;  under  the  auspices  of  the  Rector, 
Dr.  Feltus — December  27,  1822. 

170.  Pronounces  a  Discourse  on  the  Life  and 
Writings  of  Sir  Charles  Linnseus,  before  the  learned 
and  fashionable  collection  of  citizens  who  assembled 
at  Prince's  justly  celebrated  Botanical  Garden  in 
Flushing,  on  May  24,  1823,  the  anniversary  of  the 
illustrious  Swede's  birth-day. 

172.  On  an  invitation  from  Albany  and  a  mission 
from  New- York,  performs,  after  the  Venetian 
example,  the  ceremony  of  marrying  the  Lakes  to 
the  Ocean,  at  Albany,  on  the  day  of  the  unprece- 
dented gathering  of  the  people  to  witness  the  scene 
of  connecting  the  Western  and  Northern  Canals  with 
the  River  Hudson — October  8,  1823. 

175.  Acts  with  William  Bayard,  Charles  King, 
Charles  Wilkes,  and  a  most  respectable  body  of 
other  gentlemen,  in  a  general  Committee  to  receive 
for  and  remit  to  the  Greeks  of  the  Morea  and  else- 
where, the  money  contributed  voluntarily  by  the 
Citizens  of  the  United  States,  to  aid  them  in  their 
efforts  to  free  themselves  from  the  dominion  of  the 
Turks  and  to  establish  an  independence  of  their 
own — a  season  of  particular  excitement  among  all 
ranks — Feb.  7,  1824. 

184.  Acts  with  Richard  Riker,  Jacob  Morton,  R. 
E.  Mount,  and  others,  on  a  central  committee  for  cele- 
brating the  completion. of  the  Western  Canal ;  and  in 
the  vicinity  of  Sandy  Hook,  pronounces  an  address  on 
the  introduction  of  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  to  the 
estate  of  her  spouse  the  Lord  of  the  Ocean — Nov.  4, 
1825. 

186.  August  29th,  delivers  the  Anniversary  Dis- 
course to  the  Horticultural  Society,  which  was  pub- 
lished by  request. 

157.  September  3,  publishes  by  desire  of  the 
Lyceum,  a  Catalogue  of  the  Geological  Articles  and 
Organic  Remains  which  he  presented  to  their 
Museum,  in  a  pamphlet  of  forty  pages. 

189.  October  11th,  pronounces  before  the  Lyceum, 
a  funeral  discourse,  by  appointment,  on  Thomas 
Jefferson,  one  of  its  honorary  members ;  which  was 
printed. 

Dr.  Mitchill  died  at  his  residence  in  the  city  of 
New  York,  September  7,  1831.  A  beautiful 
monument  was  placed  over  his  remains,  removed 
several  years  after  his  death  to  Greenwood  Ceme- 
tery, by  his  widow.  The  chief  portion  of  his 
extensive  cabinet  of  minerals,  valued  at  $10,000, 
was  presented  by  the  same  lady  to  the  Lyceum 
of  Natural  History.  His  biography  was  com- 
menced and  nearly  completed  by  his  brother-in- 


law  Dr.  Akerly  ;*  but  still  remains  in  manuscript, 
a  circumstance  to  be  regretted,  as  its  completion 
and  publication  would  have  reflected  honor  on  its 
author  as  well  as  subject. 

SPEECH  OP  TA3IHANT. 

As  the  eeeonomical  and  political  system  of  our 
legislator,  were  thus  progressing  to  perfection,  news 
was  brought  by  the  young  hunters,  that  a  body  of 
strangers  was  approaching;  that  their  dress,  man- 
ners, and  language,  differed  from  every  thing  seen 
in  those  parts  before;  and  that  with  tokens  of  peace 
and  friendship,  they  waited  respectfully  at  a  distance, 
until  they  should  be  invited  to  advance.  They 
had,  it  was  said,  presents  of  great  number  and  value 
to  offer,  and  intelligence  of  an  important  nature,  to 
communicate  to  the  chief  of  the  Tammanites. 

They  were  instantly  conducted  in  a  plain,  but 
hospitable  manner  to  the  castle:  enough  of  food, 
and  drink,  was  set  before  them ;  and  the  best  dress- 
ed skins  and  the  cleanest  mats  were  offered  them  to 
repose  upon. 

They  then  related  the  errand  on  which  they 
were  sent :  saying,  they  were  the  messengers  of 
Manco  Capac,  the  great  Inca  of  Peru,  and  the 
descendant  of  the  Smi ;  that  their  Chief  in  deep 
admiration  and  love  for  the  character  of  Tammany, 
had  dispatched  them,  in  order  to  testify  the  same, 
and  intreat  the  favor  of  an  interview;  that  their 
prince  ardently  wished  to  consult  him  on  a  form  of 
government  he  was  about  to  establish  for  the  Peru- 
vian nation  ;  that  the  ornaments  of  gold  and  silver, 
the  suits  of  fine  and  costly  clothing,  and  various 
other  natural  and  artificial  productions  of  their 
country,  were  brought  along  as  a  friendly  donation; 
which  they  prayed  he  would  vouchsafe  to  accept ; 
— and  concluded  with  informing,  that  if  he  could 
accommodate  their  anxious  prince  in  this  particular, 
Mexico,  a  castle,  nearly  equi-distant  from  both 
was  pitched  upon,  on  their  part,  as  the  place  of 
meeting. 

Tammany  was  deeply  affected  with  this  extraor- 
dinary message,  but  before  concluding  upon  the 
journey  to  the  south,  he  called  a  general  meeting  of 
his  people,  and  informed  them  of  the  honor  done 
him,  by  the  Inca.  He  expressed  some  desire,  at  first, 
to  accept  the  invitation ;  but  the  concern  for  the 
nation,  to  which  he  belonged,  quickly  extinguished 
every  idea  of  carrying  it  into  effect,  "  for  as  I  live, 
not  for  myself,"  said  lie,  "  but  for  my  people,  I  must 
not  sacrifice  their  welfare,  to  the  gratification  of  my 
individual  curiosity." 

The  Embassy  of  Manco  Capac  was  about  to  de- 
part, without  succeeding  in  their  business,  when 
upon  the  suggestion  of  the  considerate  old  men,  and 
prudent  matrons,  that  his  journey  might  be  attend- 
ed with  great  benefit  to  mankind,  Tammany  witli 
their  consent  and  approbation,  which  was  at  length, 
though  reluctantly  sanctioned,  by  all  the  tribes  of 
the  nation,  determined  with  an  accompanyment,  of 
twenty  chosen  young  men,  to  undertake  the  journey, 
and  have  a  talk  with  the  illustrious  Sachem  of  the 
Andes.  Previous  to  his  departure,  however,  he 
invited  all  his  people  to  come  together,  and  range 
themselves  by  tribes,  before  him.  And  ns  he  did 
not,  like  the  equivocating  Lycurgus,  intend  to  make 
them  promise  to  observe  his  instructions,  until  his 
return,  and  then  go  into  voluntary  exile,  and  die  in 
a  foreign  land;  he  delivered  a  few  sententious  pre- 
cepts to  each.     They  were  as  true  and  practical  as 


*Dr.  Samuel  Akerly  (lied  at  Staten  Island  July  6,  1846,  in 
the  sixtieth  year  of  his  age.  lie  wrote  much  on  scientific  and 
medical  topics  In  the  journals,  and  took  an  active  part  iu  the 
humanitarian  efforts  of  his  day. 


SAMUEL  LATHAM  MITCHILL 


523 


ever  Athens  heard ;  and  were  the  result  of  his  wis- 
dom, and  experience,  in  drawing  useful  lessons  from 
the  animals  who  tenanted  the  forests.  The  tribes 
rose  one  by  one,  as  he  addressed  them.  Old  Nestor 
himself,  from  whose  lips,  words  of  liquid  sweetness 
fell  trickling,  was  not  heard  with  more  attention  and 
silence,  than  our  American  Sage  ;  nor  did  Solomon, 
in  all  his  glory,  when  he  directed  sluggards  to  learn 
the  ways  of  the  ant,  and  be  wise,  interpret  nature  in 
a  more  happy  maimer: 

Children  of  the  first  tribe!* 

The  eagle  should  be  your  model.  He  soars  above 
the  clouds,  loves  the  mountain  tops,  takes  a  broad 
survey  of  the  country  round,  and  his  watch- 
fulness in  the  day  time  lets  nothing  escape  him. 
From  him  learn  to  direct  your  thouglits  to  elevated 
objects,  to  rise  superior  to  the  fogs  of  prejudice  and 
passion,  to  behold  in  the  clear  atmosphere  of  reason 
all  things  in  their  true  light  and  posture;  and  never 
expose  yourselves  to  be  surprized,  while  the  sun 
shines  in  a  tit  of  drowsiness  or  slumber. 
Children  of  the  second  tribe  ! 

The  tyger  affords  a  useful  lesson  for  you.  The  ex- 
ceeding agility  of  this  creature,  the  extraordinary 
quickness  of  his  sight,  and  above  all,  his  discriminat- 
ing power  in  the  'lark,  teach  you  to  be  stirring  and 
active  in  your  respective  callings,  to  look  sharp  to 
every  engagement  you  enter  into;  and  to  let  neither 
misty  days,  nor  gloomy  nights,  make  you  lose  sight 
of  the  worthy  object  of  your  pursuit. 
Children  of  the  third  tribe  ! 

You  are  to  pay  attention  to  the  good  qualities  of 
the  deer.  He  possesses  uncommon  readiness  of  hear- 
ing, can  judge  of  sounds  at  a  great  distance,  and 
where  danger  threatens,  and  a  retreat  is  advisable, 
ean  force  his  passage  surprizingly  through  the  thick- 
ets, or  even  make  his  escape  across  the  lakes  and 
rivers  by  swimming. 

In  like  manner,  open  ye  your  ears  to  whatever  is 
passing;  collect  the  substance  of  distant  rumors; 
and  learn  before  danger  surrounds  your  corn-fields 
and  wigwams,  what  is  going  on  at  a  distance.  Thus 
shall  you  be  forewarned,  and  prepared  against 
calamity  from  abroad ;  and  if  it  thickens  and 
threatens  you  with  irresistible  force,  you  will  know 
how  to  avoid,  with  prudence,  what  you  could  not 
oppose  with  success. 

Children  of  the  fourth  tribe! 

There  is  one  quality  of  the  wolf,  to  which  I  re- 
quest your  attention.  His  wide  extent  of  nostrils, 
catches  the  atoms  floating  in  the  air,  and  gives  him 
notice  of  the  approach  of  his  prey,  or  his  foe.  Thus, 
when  power  grows  rank,  and  like  a  contagion,  sends 
abroad  its  pestilent  steams,  I  see  the  wolf-like  myr- 
midons of  Tammany,  the  first  to  rouse,  turn  round 
their  heads,  and  suuff  oppression  in  every  tainted 
breeze. 

Children  of  the  fifth  tribe  I 

You,  my  children,  are  to  take  useful  hints  from 
the  buffaloe.  He  is  one  of  the  strongest  animals  of 
the  wilderness;  but  strong  as  he  is,  he  loves  the 
company  of  his  kind,  and  is  not  fond  of  venturing 
alone,  upon  distant  excursions.  This  is  wise  in  the 
buffaloe,  and  wise  will  it  be  in  you  to  imitate  him. 

It  will,  indeed,  be  your  duty  to  acquire,  by  hunt- 
ing, swimming,  running,  and  all  other  manly  ex- 
ercises, great  bodily  vigor,  and  personal  strength. 
But  it  will  be  ridiculous  to  value  yourselves  highly 
on  these  ;  a  fall,  a  cramp,  or  a  sprain,  hut  too  fre- 
quently  disables  an  individual ;  and  then,  if  he  is 


*  Tin-  Tammany  Society  is  divided  into  thirteen  tribes ;  cor- 
responding to  the  number  of  states  in  tbe  Union,  when  the 
society  was  instituted;  and  each  tribe  bears  the  name  of  an 
animal  according  to  tbe  Indian  method. 


alone  in  the  woods,  he  may  perish  for  want  of  help. 
Operate  in  concert,  stand  together,  support  each 
other,  and  you  will  be  a  mountain,  that  nobody  can 
move;  fritter  down  your  strength  in  divisions,  be- 
come the  sport  of  parties,  let  wigwam  be  divided 
against  wigwam,  you  will  be  an  ant-hill,  which  a 
baby  can  kick  over. 

Tammany  told  them,  that  disharmony  would 
terminate  in  their  ruin  ;  and  in  union  consisted  their 
salvation ;  and  impressed  his  people  with  the  truth 
of  it,  as  forcibly  as  ever  xEsop  inculcated  the  same 
doctrine,  by  his  celebrated  fable  of  the  sticks. 
Children  of  the  sixth  tribe  I 

That  social  and  valuable  creature,  the  dor/,  affords 
something  for  you  to  profit  by.  The  warmth  of  his 
attachment,  the  disinterestedness  of  his  friendship, 
and  the  unchangeableness  of  his  fidelity,  mark  him 
as  the  object  of  your  kindness  and  imitation.  Oh! 
my  children,  I  weep  for  the  faithlessness,  the  false- 
hood, and  the  deceit  of  man!  Do  but  love  each 
other  with  half  the  warmth,  sincerity,  and  steadi- 
ness, with  which  these  your  constant  hunting  com- 
panions love  you  all ;  and  happiness,  comfort,  and 
joy  will  make  your  land  their  dwelling-place,  and 
ye  shall  experience  all  the  pleasure,  that  human 
nature  ean  bear. 

Children  of  the  seventh  tribe! 

You  are  to  take  a  pattern  from  the  beaver.  His 
industry  merits  your  observance.  His  perseverance 
claims  your  regard.  His  judgment,  in  the  choice  of 
a  place  for  him  to  live  in,  demands  your  considera- 
tion. Like  him,  you  are  to  avail  yourselves  of  natural 
advantages,  and  opportunities  in  all  cases ;  and  to 
superadd  to  these  your  manual  improvements,  and 
works  of  art.  In  the  pursuit  of  your  industrious 
project,  no  difficulty  should  deter,  no  obstacle  dis- 
courage you.  Forests  must  be  cleared,  hills  leveled, 
rivers  turned,  to  accomplish  your  plans ;  and  land 
and  water  be  made  to  afford  their  joint  aid,  in  pio- 
moting  your  undertaking  ;  labour  and  perseverance 
overcome  every  thing ; — for  I  have  heard  the  old 
people  say,  their  ancestors  assisted  in  making  the 
sun  light,  and  immense  as  he  appears,  by  collecting 
into  a  heap,  all  the  fire-flies,  and  glow-worms  they 
could  find  ;  and  the  moon,  whose  light  is  fainter,  and 
size  smaller,  was  in  like  manner  formed,  by  their 
gathering  into  a  pile  all  the  fox-fire,  or  phosphoric 
rotten  wood,  they  could  procure. 
Children  of  the  eighth  tribe ! 

The  squirrel,  my  children,  offers  somewhat  profit- 
able to  you.  It  is  his  practice,  as  he  has  a  foresight 
of  winter,  to  collect  acorns,  chestnuts,  and  walnuts, 
and  carry  them  in  large  quantities  to  .his  hole;  and 
these  thus  treasured  up,  supply  him  with  nourish- 
ment during  the  stormy  season,  when  after  the  fall 
of  the  leaf,  it  would  be  dangerous  to  venture  far 
abroad.  In  like  manner  it  becomes  you  to  look  for- 
ward to  old  age,  the  winter  of  life,  and  have  some 
provision  ready  to  help  yourselves  with,  at  that 
needy  time.  You  cannot  labour  to  equal  advantage 
every  day ;  it  is  therefore  your  duty  to  collect  some- 
thing ahead,  and  lay  it  by  in  store  against  the  pinch- 
ing severity  of  an  unproductive  season.  This  you 
may  enjoy  by  your  fire-sides,  while  all  around  you 
the  frost  rends  the  trees  asunder,  and  the  white 
powder  lies  so  thick  upon  the  ground,  that  you  can- 
not venture  out  without  your  snow-shoes^ 
Cutldren  of  the  ninth  tribe! 

You  are  to  learn  a  lesson  of  caution  from  ihefox. 
He  looks  well  before  him  as  he  travels,  examines 
carefully  the  ground  he  treads  upon,  and  takes  good 
care  that  his  enemies  come  not  on  him  by  surprize. 
By  reason  of  his  wariness,  he  is  not  easily  led  into 
a  stratagem,  and  when  entangled,  by  his  contrivance, 
is  very  successful  in  making  his  escape.      Thus  may 


524 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


you  proceed  in  your  business  with  circumspection, 
examine  all  tilings  around  you  with  prudence,  and 
never  suffer  the  artifices  of  the  deceiver  to  entrap 
you  unawares.  Such  keen  examination  will  guard 
you  from  difficulties,  and  if  in  the  course  of  nature, 
you  should  be,  in  spite  of  all  this,  beset  by  them, 
nothing  will  more  effectually  enable  you  to  extricate 
yourselves. 

Children  of  the  tenth  tribe ! 

The  Tortoise,  who  supports  on  his  back  the  world 
we  inhabit,  offers  a  world  of  instruction  to  you. 
Was  it  not  for  his  benevolence  in  keeping  afloat  on 
the  immense  ocean  in  which  he  swims,  this  land  we 
inhabit  would  soon  go  to  the  bottom.  Ami  the  dis- 
pleasure he  feels  when  men  lead  lives  of  idleness 
and  vice,  when  they  quarrel  and  injure  their  neigh- 
bours, or  neglect  their  families,  has  induced  him 
more  than  once  to  dip  a  part  of  his  shell  under  the 
waters,  and  drown  a  set  of  wretches  no  longer  fit  to 
live.  In  other  cases,  where  he  wished  rather  to 
terrify  than  to  extirpate,  the  angry  movements  of 
his  body  have  caused  distressful  earthquakes,  which 
have  made  our  vallies  to  tremble,  and  have  rocked 
our  mountains  from  their  foundations.  Let  the 
winds  blow  from  what  quarter  they  list,  let  the 
storm  and  the  tempest  howl,  he  withdraws  from  their 
fury,  and  wraps  himself  up  securely  in  his  impene- 
trable coat.  His  moderation,  for  he  possesses  none 
of  that  feverish  fretfulness,  which  shortens  life, 
secures  to  him  great  length  of  days.  His  temper- 
ance, for  he  does  not  waste  his  vital  energy  in 
frolicks  and  carousing,  gives  him  an  animation  so 
quick  and  inherent  in  every  joint  and  member,  that 
it  is  difficult  to  kill  him.  If  then  you  wish  to  at- 
tain to  long  life,  and  possess  sensibility  and  comfort 
while  it  lasts,  imitate  the  virtues  of  the  tortoise,  for 
so  shall  you  be  protected  with  armour  less  vulner- 
able than  his  shell,  or  your  our  own  shields  of  bark 
and  hides,  and  arrive  to  good  old  age  without  danger 
of  earthquakes  or  inundations. 

Children  of  the  eleventh  tribe  ! 

I  recommend  to  your  attention  the  wholesome 
counsel  derived  to  man  from  the  Eel.  He  was  never 
known  to  make  a  noise  or  disturbance  in  the  world, 
norspeak  an  ungentle  sentence  to  any  living  creature. 
Slander  never  proceeded  from  his  mouth,  nor  does 
guile  rest  under  his  tongue.  He  forms  his  plans  in 
silence,  carries  them  into  effect  without  tumult,  and 
glides  and  slips  along  through  life  in  a  most  easy  and 
gentle  course.  Are  you  desirous,  my  children,  of 
modest  stillness  and  quiet?  Do  you  wish  for  the 
uuenvied  condition  of  retirement  and  humility  ? 
Would  you  like  to  live  peaceably  among  men  in  the 
uninterrupted  pursuit  of  your  business,  without  at- 
tracting the  broad  stare  of  the  surrounding  crowd? 
If  such  are  your  desires,  learn  a  lesson  of  wisdom 
from  the  Eel ;  who  although  he  knows  neither  his 
birth  nor  parentage,  but  is  east  an  orphan  upon 
creation,  yet  shows  by  his  strength  and  his  numbers, 
the  excellence  of  the  mode  of  life  he  has  chosen. 
Children  of  the  twelfth  tribe! 

I  shall  point  out  for  your  improvement  some  ex- 
cellent traits  of  character  in  the  Bear,  He  is  dis- 
tinguished for  his  patient  endurance  of  those  incon- 
veniences which  he  finds  it  impossible  to  ward  off. 
When  frost  and  snow,  with  all  their  chilling  horrors, 
surround  him  in  winter,  he  learns  to  live  with  a 
smaller  degree  of  heat  than  he  did  before ;  and  by 
aid  of  his  furry-skin  protects  himself  as  well  as  he 
can  from  the  rigor  of  the  season.  When  from  these 
causes  his  supplies  of  nourishment  are  cut  off,  and 
little  or  nothing  is  to  be  obtained  to  satisfy  the 
cravings  of  hunger,  he  endures  with  resolution  the 
calamities  which  await  him,  until  the  foodful  season 
shall  arrive.     Thus,  when  scarcity  threatens  your 


country  with  famine — when  diseases  among  the 
beasts  strew  your  hunting  grounds  with  carcases — 
when  insects  destroy  the  stalks  of  your  beans,  and 
worms  corrode  the  roots  of  your  corn — when  the 
streams  refuse  their  accustomed  supplies  of  fish — 
when  hurricanes  and  hail  lay  waste  your  plantations 
— or  when  the  clouds  withhold  their  stores  of  rain — 
what  is  to  be  done  ?  Why  certainly,  when  every 
effort  has  been  tried  in  vain,  and  discouraged  and 
spiritless  you  lay  you  down,  lay  not  yourselves  down 
to  die ;  but  bear  with  patience  and  resignation  what- 
ever necessity  imposes  upon  you,  make  the  allow- 
ance of  your  meal  correspond  to  your  stock  of  pro- 
vision ;  and  if  you  have  but  little,  contrive  with  all 
your  skill  to  make  that  little  do.  Show  yourselves 
men,  for  it  is  adversity  that  gives  scope  to  great 
talents,  by  enabling  you  to  endure  with  fortitude 
what  your  best  directed  efforts  have  failed  to  sur- 
mount. 

Children  of  the  thirteenth  tribe ! 

I  call  your  attention  to  the  order  and  economy  of 
the  Bee.  You  observe  among  these  creatures  a  dis- 
cipline not  surpassed  by  anything  the  woods  afford. 
The  community  is  like  yourselves,  divided  into 
tribes,  and  each  has  its  allotted  employment.  Hours 
of  labor,  of  refreshment,  and  of  rest  are  assigned, 
and  each  member  is  obedient  to  the  summons  of 
duty.  Idlers,  vagrants,  and  embezzlers  of  the  public 
property  have  no  toleration  there  ;  and  it  seems  to 
be  a  pretty  well  established  maxim,  with  but  few 
exceptions,  among  them,  that  he  who  works  not  shall 
have  nothing  to  eat.  Regularity  and  method  per- 
vades every  department  of  a  government,  whose  un- 
wearied inhabitants  in  their  flights  to  distant  places, 
possess  the  singular  secret  of  extracting  honey 
from  nauseous  and  fetid  blossoms,  and  of  collecting, 
without  injury  to  any  one,  the  whole  sweets  of  the 
surrounding  country,  in  their  own  inimitable  com- 
monwealth. 

Borrow  from  the  Bees  an  idea  of  arrangement  in 
business  ;  of  the  importance  of  system  to  make  mat- 
ters  go  on  aright,  of  the  advantage  accruing  from 
an  accurate  division  and  distribution  of  labor ;  of 
the  equity  causing  every  one  to  contribute  his  share 
to  the  support  of  the  general  weal,  or  be  precluded 
from  participating  its  benefits  and  blessings.  And 
above  all,  derive  from  their  instructive  example, 
that  alchemy  of  mind,  which  by  an  operation  some- 
what analogous  to  the  production  of  nectar  from 
venom,  converts  private  failings  into  public  advan- 
tages, and  makes  even  crimes  and  vices  ultimately 
conducive  to  good. 

BEOW^  TJXIVEESITY. 
TnE  College  of  Rhode  Island  had  its  origin  in 
the  conception  and  personal  exertions  of  the  Rev. 
James  Manning,  a  clergyman  of  the  Baptist 
faith,  a  native  of  New  Jersey,  and  graduate  of 
Princeton,  who  visited  Newport  in  1763,  for  the 
purpose  of  securing  to  his  brethren  the  influence 
of  the  Baptists,  then  in  the  government,  for  the 
establishment  of  a  learned  institution  in  the  in- 
terests of  their  denomination.  A  meeting  of 
friends  of  the  undertaking  assembled  at  the  house 
of  Colonel  Gardiner,  the  Deputy  Governor;  a 
plan  was  proposed,  and  the  work  set  in  pro- 
gress. A  charter  was  obtained  from  the  General 
Assembly,  in  1764,  for  the  college  or  university, 
in  the  English  colony  of  Rhode  Island  and  Pro- 
vidence Plantations,  in  New  England,  in  Ame- 
rica, with  a  provision  that  the  Trustees  and 
Fellows  should  at  any  time  after  be  at  liberty  to 
give  it  a  more  particular  name,  "  in  honor  of  the 


BROWN  UNIVERSITY. 


525 


greatest  and  most  distinguished  benefactor."  It 
bore  the  title  of  the  College  of  Rhode  Island  till 
1804,  when  it  became  designated  Brown  Univer- 
sity. The  provisions  of  the  charter  gave  a  pre- 
dominance to  the  Baptist  interest  in  the  number 
of  trustees,  and  the  president  is  to  be  of  that 
denomination,  with  an  unrestricted  choice  for  the 
remaining  officers;  but  other  religious  interest- — 
of  Quakers,  Oongregationalists,  and  Episcopalians 
— are  represented  in  a  minority  of  the  trustees: 
and  it  was  farther  specially  enacted  "that  into 
this  liberal  and  Catholic  institution  shall  never 
be  admitted  any  religious  tests,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, all  the  members  shall  for  ever  enjoy  full, 
free,  absolute,  and  uninterrupted  liberty  of  con- 
science." In  1705,  Manning  was  chosen  the  first 
president,  and  instructed  a  few  pupils  at  his 
resilience  at  Warren,  where  the  first  Commence- 
ment was  held  in  17G9.  A  local  contest  for  the 
seat  of  the  college  was  terminated  the  next  year  by 
the  selection  of  Providence.  The  work  of  instruc- 
tion went  on  with  regularity  till  the  Revolution, 
when  a  gap  occurs  in  the  catalogue  of  Commence- 
ments from  1777  to  1782.  The  college  was  occu- 
pied at  this  time  by  the  State  militia,  and  as  a 
French  hospital  for  the  troops  of  Roohambeau. 
In  1786,  the  president  was  elected  to  Congress, 
where  he  gave  his  influence  to  the  establishment 
of  the  Constitution,  still  retaining  his  college 
office.  His  death  occurred  in  1791,  in  his  fifty- 
third  year.  His  personal  character,  says  Allen, 
was  "  of  a  kind  and  benevolent  disposition,  social 
and  com'municative,  fitted  rather  for  active  life 
than  for  retirement.  Though  he  possessed  good 
abilities,  he  was  prevented  from  intense  study  by 
the  peculiarity  of  his  constitution.  With  a  digni- 
fied and  majestic  appearance,  his  address  was 
manly,  familiar,  and  engaging."* 

In  1792  he  was  succeeded  in  the  presidency  by 
the  Rev.  Jonathan  Maxcy,  who,  the  year  before, 
upon  the  death  of  Manning,  had  been  chosen  Pro- 
fessor of  Divinity.  He  was  a  native  of  Attle- 
borough,  Mass.,  born  in  1708,  and  is  memorable 
in  the  annals  of  American  education  for  having 
been  president  of  three  colleges,  succeeding  Ed- 
wards at  Union,  when  he  left  the  Rhode  Island 
institution  in  1802,  and  becoming  the  first  presi- 
dent of  the  college  of  South  Carolina,  at  Colum- 
bia, where  he  died  in  1820.  He  must  have  pos- 
sessed peculiar  qualifications  for  the  office.  Judge 
Pitman,  a  graduate  of  the  college  in  the  year 
1799,  during  his  administration,  in  an  Alumni 
Address,!  speaks  of  him  as  "  a  man  of  great 
dignity  and  grace  in  his  manner  and  deportment, 
with  a  countenance  full  of  intellectual  beauty," 
and  recalls  his  "  musical  voice,  graceful  action, 
and  harmonious  periods,"  accomplishments  never 
thrown  away  on  a  position  of  this  kind. 

The  Rev.  Asa  Messer  occupied  the  presidency 
for  twenty-four  years— from  1802  till  1820.  He 
was  a  graduate  of  the  college,  and  had  been  long 
employed  in  its  service  as  Tutor  and  Professor  of 
the  Languages  and  Mathematics.  He  survived 
his  final  retirement  from  the  college  ten  years, 
when  lie  died  at  the  age  of  sixty-seven.     The 


*  Allen's  Bioir.  Diet,  Art.  .Tas.  Manning. 

t  Address  to  the  Alumni  Association  of  Brown  University, 
delivered  in  Providence  on  their  first  anniversary,  Sept.  D, 
1848,  by  John  Pitman. 


college  flourished  in  his  time,  and  was  greatly 
assisted  by  the  very  liberal  grants  of  the  Hon. 


4W 


Nicholas  Brown. 


Nicholas  Brown,  from  whom  the  institution  then 
took  its  present  .name.  This  gentleman,  de- 
scended from  a  pious  ancestor,  who  came  with 
Roger  Williams,  was  born  in  Providence,  April  4, 
1709.  He  was  a  graduate  of  the  college  under 
President  Manning.  He  became  a  member  of  the 
Corporation  in  1791,  and  was  punctilious  in 
attention  to  its  interests.  His  mercantile  life,  in 
the  partnership  of  Brown  and  Ives,  brought  him 
great  wealth.  In  1804,  having  previously  given 
a  law  library,  he  founded  a  Professorship  of 
Oratory  and  Belles  Lettres  by  a  gift  of  five  thou- 
sand dollars.  In  1823,  he  erected,  at  his  sole 
expense,  a  second  college  building,  which  was 
called  after  the  Christian  name  of  his  sister,  Hope 
College.  lie  presented  the  college  with  astrono- 
mical apparatus.  By  his  liberality,  in  1837,'  that 
excellent  and  well  furnished  library  institution, 
the  Providence  Athenaeum,  was  placed  on  its 
present  footing  of  usefulness  to  that  communitv. 

For  the  library  of  the  university  and  the  erec- 
tion of  Manning  Hall,  the  building  in  which  it  is 
now  advantageously  placed,  situated  between  Uni- 
versity Hall  and  Hope  College,  Mr.  Brown  gave 
the  sum  of  nearly  thirty  thousand  dollars.  He  also 
gave  the  land  for  a  third  college  building,  and 
for  the  president's  house.  His  donations  by  will, 
and  altogether,  amounted  to  at  least  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars.  This  worthy  benefactor,  who 
richly  earned  the  honor  of  the  college  name,  died 
at  Providence  in  the  seventy-third  year  of  his 
age,  Sept.  27,  1841.* 

Dr.  Wayland  succeeded  Messer  in  the  presi- 
dency in  1827.  His  administration  has  been  dis- 
tinguished by  an  important  reform  in  the  distri- 
bution of  the  college  studies,  which  he  has 
advocated  in  several  publications  with  ability. 

Francis  Wayland  was  born  in  1790,  in  the  city 
of  Now  York,  of  English  parentage.  In  1811  he 
entered  the  Junior  Class  of  Union  College,  and 
received  his  degree  in  course.      He  then  pursued 


*  A  Discourse  in  Commemoration  or  tiie  Life  and  Character 
of  the  Hon.  Nicholas  Brown,  delivered  in  the  Chapel  of  Brown 
University,  Nov.  8, 1841,  by  Francis  Wayland,  President. 


526 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  study  of  medicine  for  three  years,  and  was 
licensed  as  a  practitioner.  His  views,  however, 
led  him  to  the  ministry,  and  in  1816  he  entered 
the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  where  he 
passed  a  year  under  the  instruction  of  the  late 
Professor  Stuart,  with  whom  lie  formed  a  lasting 
friendship.  Narrow  means  led  Wayland  to  ac- 
cept a  tutorship  in  Union  College,  a  position 
which  then  involved  a  much  larger  share  of  labor 
and  responsibility  than  at  present,  its  duties  being 
extended  to  nearly  every  department  of  study. 
He  was  tutor  at  Union  from  1816  to  1821,  and 
the  latter  portion  of  the  time  preached  to  a  con- 
gregation at  Burnt  Hills. 

The  friendship  and  character  of  Dr.  Nott  at 
this  time  greatly  influenced  Wayland's  course, 
who  has  availed  himself  of  an  important  oppor- 
tunity in  the  delivery  of  a  literary  address  at  the 
fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  incumbency  of  the  ve- 
nerable President  of  Union,  to  express  his  obliga- 
tions to  one  "  to  whom  he  owed  more  than  any 
other  living  man."  In  1821  he  became  pastor  of 
the  First  Baptist  Church  in  Boston,  where  he 
continued  for  five  years.  His  pulpit  style  at  this 
period,  clear  and  impressive,  may  be  judged  of 
from  his  volume  of  Discourses.  One  of  his  pub- 
lished sermons  of  this  period  on  the  Moral  Dig- 
nity of  the  Missionary  Enterprise,  an  eloquent 
production,  has  had  an  extraordinary  success, 
passing  through  many  editions  in  England  and 
America.  In  1826,  the  year  of  his  appointment 
to  the  Presidency  of  Brown  University,  he  was 
for  a  short  time  Professor  of  Mathematics  and 
Natural  Philosophy  at  Union.  He  entered  upon 
his  duties  at  Providence  in  1827. 

The  influence  of  Dr.  Wayland's  ability  and 
character  was  now  shown  in  the  new  adjustment 
and  regulation  of  the  college  affairs.  Its  present 
materials  of  books,  a  library  building,  and  philo- 
sophical apparatus,  were  brought  together  by  the 
aid  of  friends,  and  the  discipline  was  strengthened 
by  the  new  head.  The  new  life  of  the  college 
dates  from  this  time.  The  President  taught  by 
lectures  in  place  of  the  old  text  books,  and  the 
public  have  participated  in  his  efforts  within  the 
college  by  the  publication  of  his  works  on  Moral 
Science,  Political  Economy,  and  Intellectual  Phi- 
losophy. These  works  have  an  English  as  well  as 
American  reputation,  and  the  Moral  Science  has 
been  translated  into  several  foreign  languages. 
To  increase  the  hold  of  the  college  upon  the 
community,  Dr.  Wayland  next  proposed  a  change 
iu  its  working  system,  by  which  single  studies 
might  be  followed  and  college  honors  awarded  for 
a  partial  course.  He  had  stated  something  of  his 
views  on  this  subject  'in  his  Address  in  1829 
before  the  American  Institute  of  Instruction.  In 
1842  he  published  Thoughts  upon  the  Collegiate 
System  of  the  United  States,  which  led  to  much 
discussion.  At  length,  in  1850,  at  the  request  of 
the  Corporation  of  Brown  University,  lie  pre- 
sented a  report  discussing  the  matter,  showing 
the  defects  of  the  prevailing  system,  and  his  plan 
for  its  improvement.  He  thought  the  benefits  of 
the  college  should  be  extended  beyond  the  small 
class  who  pursued  professional  studies,  and  that 
greater  thoroughness  might  be  attained  in  pur- 
suing a  part  than  the  whole  of  a  course  too  ex- 
tended for  the  college  period.  To  carry  out  these 
ends,  in  the  new  provisions  for  instruction,  one 


hundred  and  thirty  thousand  dollars  were  sub- 
scribed for.  Practically,  the  change  has  been 
successful.  The  number  of  students  has  been 
doubled,  and  they  are  drawn  from  all  classes  ;* 
while  the  reputation  of  the  college  has  increased. 

Dr.  Wayland  has  also  identified  himself  with  a 
similar  movement  in  the  affairs  of  his  religious 
denomination,  by  his  advocacy  of  lay  participa- 
tion, and  a  better  adaptation  of  pulpit  training  in 
the  work  of  the  Christian  ministry. 

In  addition  to  the  works  of  President  Way- 
land  which  have  been  mentioned,  are  his  Letters 
on  Slavery,  addressed  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Fuller  of 
South  Carolina,  and  his  Life  of  the  Missionary 
Dr.  Judson,  published  in  1853. 

As  a  philosophical  writer,  Dr.  Wayland's  style 
is  marked  by  its  force  and  clearness.  He  reduces 
his  theme  to  its  simplest  elements,  and  builds  up 
strongly  his  philosophical  structure.  He  moves 
slowly  at  first,  but  with  increasing  momentum  to 
the  end.  His  reputation  as  an  orator  is  deservedly 
great,  and  the  importance  which  his  personal 
character  gives  to  the  chair  which  he  occupies, 
undoubted.  Of  his  habitual  manner  in  enfolding 
the  argument  of  his  subject  in  its  rhetorical  ap- 
peal, of  securing  the  convictions  of  his  hearers 
through  their  moral  susceptibilities,  we  may  take 
the  opening  of  his  high  argument  for  the  mission- 
ary enterprise. 

MATTHEW  Xm.   8S. — THE  FIELD  IS  TIIE  WORLD. 

Philosophers  have  speculated  much  concerning  a 
process  of  sensation,  which  has  commonly  been  de- 
nominated the  emotion  of  sublimity.  Aware  that, 
like  any  other  simple  feeling,  it  must  be  incapuble 
of  definition,  they  have  seldom  attempted  to  define 
it ;  but,  content  with  remarking  the  occasions  on 
which  it  is  excited,  have  told  us  that  it  arises,  in 
general,  from  the  contemplation  of  'whatever  is  vast 
in  nature,  splendid  in  intellect,  or  lofty  in  morals. 
Or,  to  express  the  same  idea  somewhat  varied,  in  the 
language  of  a  critic  of  antiquity, f  "  that  alone  is 
truly  sublime,  of  which  the  conception  is  vast,  the 
effect  irresistible,  and  the  remembrance  scarcely  if 
ever  to  be  erased.1' 

But  although  philosophers  only  have  written 
about  this  emotion,  they  are  far  from  being  the  only 
men  who  have  felt  it.  The  untutored  peasant, 
when  he  has  seen  the  autumnal  tempest  collecting 
between  the  hills,  and,  as  it  advanced,  enveloping  in 
misty  obscurity,  village  and  hamlet,  forest  and  mea- 
dow, has  tasted  the  sublime  in  all  its  reality ;  and, 


*  In  the  practical  management  of  the  college  to  meet  this 
change,  three  degrees  are  conferred.  That  of  Bachelor  of 
Arts  is  given  to  students  who  have  pursued  courses  of  one 
year  each,  in  an  Ancient  Language,  a  Modern  Language,  one  iu 
Mathematics,  one  in  Rhetoric,  one  in  History,  and  one  in  In- 
tellectual and  Moral  Philosophy,  with  two  others  to  be  chosen 
from  the  studies  of  Natural  Philosophy,  Chemistry  and  Phy- 
siology, Didactics  (a  department  of  instruction  in  the  philoso- 
phy and  discipline  of  school-keeping,  opened  for  those  who 
wish  to  become  professional  teachers),  Political  Economy,  and 
Geology,  or  from  advanced  courses  in  any  of  the  other  depart- 
ments. Th"  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Philosophy  requires 
similar  conditions,  omitting  the  ancient  languages:  while  the 
degree  of  Master  of  Arts  is  reserved  for  those  who  pursue  a 
full  course  of  liberal  education,  to  the  extent  of  each  of  the 
Ancient  Languages  for  one  year  and  a  half,  Mathematics  for 
one  year  and  a  half,  one  Modern  Language  for  one  year,  Natu- 
ral Philosophy,  Rhetoric  and  English  Literature.  Chemistry, 
and  Physiology,  History,  Intellectual  and  Moral  Philosophy, 
each,  for  one  year.  The  remainiug  courses  for  this  degree 
must  he  selected  from  the  courses  in  Political  Economy,  Geo- 
logy, Didactics,  a  second  Modern  Language,  or  from  advanced 
courses  in  an)r  of  the  other  departments, — Catalogue  of  the- 
Officers  and  Students  of  Brown  Uuiv.  185S-54. 

T  Longinus,  sec.  viL 


BROWN  UNIVERSITY. 


527 


whilst  the  thunder  has  rolled  and  the  lightning 
flashed  around  him,  has  exulted  in  the  view  of 
nature  moving  forth  in  her  majesty.  The  untaught 
sailor  hoy,  listlessly  harkening  to  the  idle  ripple  of 
the  midnight  wave,  when  on  a  sudden  he  has  thought 
upon  the  unfathomable  abyss  beneath  him,  and  the 
wide  waste  of  waters  around  him,  and  the  infinite 
expanse  above  him,  has  enjoyed  to  the  full  the 
emotion  of  sublimity,  whilst  his  inmost  soul  has 
trembled  at  the  vastness  of  its  own  conceptions. 
But  why  need  I  multiply  illustrations  from  nature  ? 
Who  does  not  recollect  the  emotion  lie  has  felt, 
whilst  surveying  aught,  in  the  material  world,  of 
terror  or  of  vastness  ?   , 

And  this  sensation  is  not  produced  by  grandeur 
in  material  objects  alone.  It  is  also  excited  on  most 
of  those  occasions  in  which  we  see  man  tasking,  to 
the  uttermost,  the  energies  of  his  intellectual  or 
moral  nature.  Through  the  long  lapse  of  centuries, 
who,  without  emotion,  has  read  of  Leontdas  and  his 
three  hundred's  throwing  themselves  as  a  barrier 
before  the  myriads  of  Xerxes,  and  contending  unto 
death  for  the  liberties  of  Greece! 

But  we  need  not  turn  to  classic  story  to  find  all 
that  is  great  in  human  action ;  we  find  it  in  our 
own  times,  and  in  the  history  of  our  own  country. 
Who  is  there  of  us  that  even  in  the  nursery  has  not 
felt  his  spirit  stir  within  him,  when  with  child-like 
wonder  he  has  listened  to  the  story  of  Washington? 
And  although  the  terms  of  the  narrative  were 
scarcely  intelligible,  yet  the  young  soul  kindled  at 
the  thought  of  one  man's  working  out  the  deliver- 
ance of  a  nation.  And  as  our  understanding, 
strengthened  by  age,  was  at  last  able  to  grasp  the 
detail  of  this  transaction,  we  saw  that  our  infantile 
conceptions  had  fallen  far  short  of  its  grandeur.  O  ! 
if  an  American  citizen  ever  exults  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  all  that  is  sublime  in  human  enterprise,  it  is 
when,  bringing  to  mind  the  men  who  first  conceived 
the  idea  of  this  nation's  independence,  he  beholds 
them  estimating  the  power  of  her  oppressor,  the 
resources  of  her  citizens,  deciding  in  their  collected 
might  that  this  nation  should  be  free,  and  through 
the  long  years  of  trial  that  ensued,  never  blenching 
from  their  purpose,  but  freely  redeeming  the  pledge 
.  which  they  had  given,  to  consecrate  to  it,  "  their 
lives,  their  fortunes,  and  their  sacred  honor." 

Patriots  have  toil'd.  and  in  their  country's  cause 
Bled  nobly,  and  their  deeds,  as  they  deserve, 
Receive  proud  recompense.    We  srive  in  charge 
Their  names  to  the  sweet  lyre.    The  historic  mu3e, 
Proud  of  her  treasure,  marches  with  it  down 
To  latest  times ;  and  sculpture  in  her  turn 
Gives  bond,  in  stone  and  ever  during  brass, 
To  guard  them  and  immortalize  her  trust.  ' 


It  will  not  be  doubted  that  in  such  actions  as 
these,  there  is  much  which  may  be  truly  called  the 
moral  sublime.  If,  then,  we  should  attentively  con- 
sider them,  we  might  perhaps  ascertain  what  must 
be  the  elements  of  that  enterprise,  which  may  lay 
claim  to  this  high  appellation.  It  cannot  be  ex- 
pected that  on  this  occasion,  we  should  analyze  them 
critically.  It  will,  however,  we  think,  be  found, 
upon  examination,  that  to  that  enterprise  alone  has 
been  awarded  the  meed  of  sublimity,  of  which  the 
object  was  vast,  the  accomplishment  arduous,  and 
the  means  to  be  employed  simple  but  efficient. 
Were  not  the  object  vast,  it  could  not  arrest  our  at- 
tention. Were  not  its  accomplishment  arduous, 
none  of  the  nobler  energies  of  man  being  tasked  in 
its  execution,  we  should  see  nothing  to  admire. 
Were  not  the  means  to  that  accomplishment  simple, 
our  whole  conception  being  vague,  the  impression 
would  be  feeble.     Were  they  not  efficient,  the  in- 


tensest  exertion  could  only  terminate  in  failure  and 
disgrace. 

And  here  we  may  remark,  that  wherever  these 
elements  have  combined  in  any  undertaking,  public 
sentiment  has  genernlly  united  in  pronouncing  it 
sublime,  and  history  has  recorded  its  achievements 
among  the  noblest  proofs  of  the  dignity  of  man. 
Malice  may  for  a  while  have  frowned,  and  interest 
opposed  ;  men  who  could  neither  grasp  what  was 
vast,  nor  feel  what  was  morally  great,  may  have 
ridiculed.  But  all  this  has  soon  passed  away. 
Human  nature  is  not  to  be  changed  by  the  opposition 
of  interest,  or  the  laugh  of  folly.  There  is  still 
enough  of  dignity  in  man  to  respect  what  is  great, 
and  to  venerate  what  is  benevolent.  The  cause  of 
man  has  at  last  gained  the  suffrages  of  man.  It  has 
advanced  steadily  onward,  and  left  ridicule  to  won- 
der at  the  impotence  of  its  shaft,  and  malice  to  weep 
over  the  ineffieacy  of  its  hate. 

And  we  bless  God  that  it  is  so.  It  is  cheering  to 
observe,  that  amidst  so  much  that  is  debasing,  there 
is  still  something  that  is  ennobling  in  the  character 
of  man.  It  is  delightful  to  know,  that  there  are 
times  when  his  morally  bedimmed  eye  "  beams  keen 
with  honor ;"  that  there  is  yet  a  redeeming  spirit 
within,  which  exults  in  enterprises  of  great  pith  and 
moment.  We  love  our  race  the  better  for  every 
such  fact  we  discover  concerning  it,  and  bow  with 
more  reverence  to  the  dignity  of  human  nature. 
We  rejoice  that,  shattered  as  has  been  the  edifice, 
there  yet  may  be  discovered,  now  and  then,  a  mas- 
sive pillar,  and,  here  and  there,  a  well  turned  arch, 
which  remind  us  of  the  symmetry  of  its  former  pro- 
portions, and  the  perfection  of  its  original  structure. 

Having  paid  this  our  honest  tribute  to  the  dignity 
of  man,  we  must  pause,  to  lament  over  somewhat 
which  reminds  us  of  any  thing  other  than  his 
dignity.  Whilst  the  general  assertion  is  true,  that 
he  is  awake  to  all  that  is  sublime  in  nature,  and 
much  that  is  sublime  in  morals,  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  there  is  a  single  class  of  objects,  whose 
contemplation  thrills  all  heaven  with  rapture,  at 
which  he  can  gaze  unlimited  and  unmoved.  The 
pen  of  inspiration  has  recorded,  that  the  cross  of 
Christ,  whose  mysteries  the  angels  desire  to  look 
into,  was  to  the  tasteful  and  erudite  Greek,  foolish- 
ness. And  we  fear  that  cases  very  analogous  to  this 
may  be  witnessed  at  the  present  day.  But  why,  my 
hearers,  should  it  be  so  ?  Why  should  so  vast  a  dis- 
similarity of  moral  taste  exist  between  seraphs  who 
bow  before  the  throne,  and  men  who  dwell  upon  the 
footstool?  Why  is  it,  that  the  man,  whose  soul 
swells  with  ecstaey  whilst  viewing  the  innumerable 
suns  of  midnight,  feels  no  emotion  of  sublimity, 
when  thinking  of  their  Creator  ?  Why  is  it,  that  an 
enterprise  of  patriotism  presents  itself  to  his  imagi- 
nation beaming  with  celestial  beauty,  whilst  the 
enterprise  of  redeeming  love  is  without  form  or 
comeliness?  Why  should  the  noblest  undertaking 
of  mercy,  if  it  only  combine  among  its  essential 
elements  the  distinctive  principles  of  the  gospel,  be- 
come at  once  stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable?  When 
there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repentctii, 
why  is  it  that  the  enterprise  of  proclaiming  peace  on 
earth,  and  good  will  to  man,  fraught,  as  it  would 
seem,  with  more  than  angelic  benignity,  should  to 
many  of  our  fellow-men  appear  worthy  of  nothing 
better  than  neglect  or  obloquy  ? 

The  reason  for  all  this  we  shall  not  on  this  oc- 
casion pretend  to  assign.  We  have  time  only  to  ex- 
press our  regret  that  such  should  be  the  fact.  Con- 
fining ourselves  therefore  to  the  bearing  which  this 
moral  bias  has  upon  the  missionary  cause,  it  is  with 
pain  Ave  are  obliged  to  believe,  that  there  is  a  large 
and  most  respectable  portion  of  our  fellow-citizens, 


528 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Brown  University. 


for  many  of  whom  we  entertain  every  sentiment  of 
personal  esteem,  and  to  whose  opinions  on  most 
other  subjects  we  bow  with  unfeigned  deference, 
who  look  with  perfect  apathy  upon  the  present 
system  of  exertions  for  evangelizing  the  heathen ; 
and  we  have  been  greatly  misinformed,  if  there  be 
not  another,  though  a  very  different  class,  who  con- 
sider these  exertions  a  subject  for  ridicule.  Perhaps 
it  may  tend  somewhat  to  arouse  the  apathy  of  the 
one  party,  as  well  as  to  moderate  the  contempt  of 
the  other,  if  we  can  show  that  this  very  missionary 
cause  combines  within  itself  the  elements  of  all  that 
is  sublime  in  human  purpose,  nay,  combines  them  in 
a  loftier  perfection  than  any  other  enterprise,  which 
was  ever  linked  with  the  destinies  of  man.  To 
show  this,  will  be  our  design;  and  in  prosecuting 
it,  we  shall  direct  your  attention  to  the  grandeur 

OF   THE   OBJECT  ;    the  AEDUOUSNESS    OF   ITS    EXECUTION  ; 

and  the  nature  of  the  means  on  which  we  rely  for 
success. 

When  Dr.  Samuel  Miller  published  his  Retro- 
spect of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  in  1803,  he 
remarked,  that  "  there  was  by  no  means  a  general 
taste  for  literature  in  Rhode  Island ;"  but  this 
position  is  not  confirmed  by  the  College  annals. 
Previously  to  that  time  it  had  educated  many 
distinguished  persons  of  the  state,  and  taking  its 
whole  career,  including  the  liberality  of  its  home 
founders,  it  has  contributed  its  full  quota  to  the 
American  records  of  this  kind.  Among  its  early 
graduates  we  read  the  mimes  of  Paul  Allen,  Tris- 
tain  Burgess,  Henry  Wheaton,  James  Tallmadge, 
"William  Hunter.  Two  of  its  old  Professors  or 
Instructors  deserve  special  notice,  Dr.  Benjamin 
"Waterhouse  and  the  lb  n.  Asher  Robbins. 

Benjamin  "Waterhouse  was  born  in  Newport, 
Rhode  Island.  His  father,  a  Presbyterian,  adopted 
Quakerism,  and  the  son  was  brought  up  in  the 
principles  of  that  sect,  which  he  never  closely  fol- 
lowed. He  was  a  pupil  of  Dr.  FothergiU,  in  Lon- 
don, and  received  his  medical  degree  at  Leyden. 
From  1783,  for  thirty  years,  he  was  Professor  of 
the  Theory  and  Practice  of  Medicine  at  Harvard. 
From  1782  to  1795,  he  was  a  member  of  the 
Board  of  Fellows  of  Rhode  Wand  College,  and  in 
1784  was  elected  Professor  of  Natural  History. 
He  delivered  at  this  time,  in  the  state-house  at 


Providence,  the  first  course  of  lectures  upon  that 
science  ever  given  in  the  United  States.  He  was 
the  author  of  an  octavo  volume  on  the  Junius 
question,  supporting  the  authorship  of  Lord  Chat- 
ham.    He  died  at  Cambridge  in  1846. 

Asher  Robbins  was  tutor  from  1783  to  1790. 
He  was  a  native  of  Connecticut,  and  a  graduate 
of  Tale  in  1782.  After  resigning  his  tutorship, 
during  which  he  had  become  a  thorough  proficient 
in  the  classics,  he  studied  law  with  Attorney- 
General  Channing,  of  Newport,  and  established 
himself  there  in  that  profession.  His  reputation 
for  familiarity  with  Greek  was  widely  extended 
among  scholars.     He  died  in  February,  1845. 

The  name  of  the  late  Professor  William  Giles 
Goddard  is  prominent  in  the  annals  of  the  Insti- 
tution. He  was  of  an  old  Connecticut  family  of 
worth  and  public  spirit.  His  father,  William 
Goddard,  was  long  connected  with  the  press* 
The  son  was  1  >orn  in  Rhode  Island,  and  was  educated 
at  Brown  University,  developing  a  taste  for  polite 
literature  which  was  not  checked  by  a  partial 
study  of  the  law.  In  1814,  he  purchased  the 
Rhode-Island  American,  a  Federal  paper  at  Pro- 
vidence, and  was  its  editor  for  eleven  years.  In 
1S25,  he  received  his  appointment  as  Professor 
of  Mtiral  Philosophy  and  Metaphysics  in  the  Col- 
lege, the  style  of  the  Professorship  being  changed, 
in  1834,  t'o  that  of  Belles-Lettres.  "ill-health 
compelled  his  resignation  in  1842.  He  died  sud- 
denly, February  16,  1846,  at  the  age  of  fifty-two. 
His  published  writings,  apart  from  his  political 
and  other  newspaper  topics,  are  his  Brown  Uni- 
versity Phi  Beta  Kappa  Address  on  "  The  ATalue 
of  Liberal  Studies,"  his  sketch  cf  the  first  Presi- 
dent Manning,  an  Address  on  the  Death  of  Wil- 
liam Henry  Harrison,  and  a  Discourse  on  the 
Change  of  the  Civil  Government  of  Rhode  Island 
in  1843. 

*  He  established  the  first  newspaper  in  Providence,  the  Ga- 
zette, in  176&  He  was  also  associated  with  Parker's  Gazctto  in 
New  York,  and  commenced  the  publication  of  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Chronicle,  in  Philadelphia,  in  1767.  In  1773.  lie  started 
the  Maryland  Journal,  which  he  published  till  1799.  He  was 
a  Whis  in  the  Eevolution.  After  the  Revolution  he  retired  to 
Rhode"  Island.  He  died  at  Prnvidencoiu  1S17.  in  his  seventy- 
eighth  year. — Prof.  W.  Gammell,  in  Updike's  Hist,  of  Karra- 
gansett  Church,  156. 


JOSIAS  LYNDON  ARNOLD. 


529 


Associated  with  Professor  Goddard  in  the  date 
of  his  appointment,  in  much  of  his  academical  ca- 
reer, was  Professor  Romeo  Elton,  D.D.,  who  was 
at  the  head  of  the  department  of  ancient  lan- 
guages and  literature.  He  was  a  native  of  Con- 
necticut, and  became  a  graduate  of  the  University 
in  1812.  He  was  settled  for  several  years  as  a 
clergyman  of  the  Baptist  denomination  in  New- 
port, R.  I.,  and  in  1825  was  appointed  to  the 
professors] lip.  Before  entering  on  its  duties  he 
spent  two  years  in  Europe,  especially  in  Germany 
and  Italy.  He  continued  in  the  college  till  1813, 
when  he  resigned,  and  has  since  resided  in  Exe- 
ter, England,  in  retirement  from  active  pursuits. 
His  published  works,  besides  several  sermons,  are 
Callendcr^s  Century  Sermon,  edited  with  copious 
notes,  and  biographical  sketches;  the  Works  of 
President  Maxcy,  with  an  Introductory  Memoir; 
and  more  recently  a  Biographical  Sketch  of  Ro- 
ger Williams,  which  was  fir.-t  published  in  Eng- 
land. 

Since  1814  Professor  John  L.  Lincoln  has  been 
at  the  head  of  the  department,  of  the  Latin  lan- 
guage and  literature.  He  was  born  in  Boston, 
and  early  trained  at  its  celebrated  Latin  school. 
He  became  a  graduate  of  the  University  in  1836, 
and  after  holding  the  office  ofHutor  for  two  years, 
passed  a  considerable  period  at  the  universities 
of  Berlin,  Heidelberg,  and  Halle,  in  Germany, 
and  on  his  return  in  1844  was  appointed  to  the 
professorship  he.  now  fills.  His  published  works, 
in  addition  to  numerous  articles  in  reviews,  are 
an  edition  of  Selections  from  Limps  Roman  His- 
tory, with  English  notes,  and  an  edition  of  the 
Worts  of  Horace,  both  of  which  are  extensively 
used  and  in  high  repute. 

Professor  William  Gammell  was  a  graduate  of 
the  class  of  1831,  and  was  soon  afterwards  ap- 
pointed to  the  Latin  tutorship.  In  1835  he  was 
appointed  instructor  in  the  department  of  rheto- 
ric, and  was  promoted  to  the  professorship  in 
that  department  in  1836,  a  post  which  he  con- 
tinued to  occupy  till  1850,  when  he  was  appoint- 
ed to  the  professorship  of  History  and  Political 
Economy,  which  he  now  holds.  He  has  published, 
besides  numerous  articles  in  reviews,  an  Address 
"before  the  Rhode  Island  Historical  Society  on  the 
occasion  of  the  Opening  of  its  Cabinet;  Life  of 
Roger  Williams,  first  printed  in  Sparks's  Ameri- 
can Biography,  Second  Series;  Life  of  Governor 
Samuel  Ward,  also  in  Sparks's  Second  Series; 
and  a  History  of  American  Baptist  Missions. 

The  library  of  this  institution,  now  a  muni- 
ficent collection,  dates  mainly  since  the  Revolu- 
tion, at  the  period  immediately  following  which 
its  interests  were  maintained  by  the  gifts  and 
personal  exertions  of  John  Brown,  the  brother  of 
Nicholas,  whose  donations  we  have  mentioned. 
Some  thirteen  hundred  volumes  were  bequeathed 
in  1818by  an  English  Baptist  clergyman,  the  Rev. 
William  Richards,  of  Lynn,  a  native  of  Wales, 
who  gave  his  library  to  the  college,  after  assuring 
himself  of  its  liberal  constitution.  He  was  the 
author  of  a  History  of  Lynn,  in  England,  a  Re- 
view of  Noble's  Cromwell  Memoirs,  and  a  Dic- 
tionary of  Welsh  and  English.  His  library,  thus 
given  to  the  college,  contained  a  number  of  Welsh 
books,  many  illustrating  the  History  and  Anti- 
quities of  England  and  Wales,  and  two  or  three 
hundred  bound  volumes  of  rare  pamphlets.    Con- 

voi..  I. — 31 


stant  donations  were  now  heaped  upon  the  col- 
lege shelves  from  various  sources,  including  a  col- 
lection of  gifts  brought  by  Professor  Elton  from 
Europe.  The  Hon.  Tlieron  Metcalf,  of  Boston, 
gave  a  valuable  series  of  fifty  volumes  of  Ordina- 
tion Sermons,  which  he  had  specially  collected. 
In  1853  there  were  in  the  library  mure  than  thirty- 
j  five  hundred  pamphlets  bound  and  catalogued,  an 
important  provision  in  public  collections  often 
•  neglected.  In  1831  Nicholas  Brown  laid  thefoun- 
I  dation  of  the  present  library  fund  by  a  gift  of  ten 
!  thousand  dollars.  The  institution  has  now  a  per- 
[  manent  fund  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  the 
interest  of  which,  applied  to  the  increase  of  the 
library,  has  stored  it  with  many  of  the  most  costly 
and  valuable  books  to  be  found  in  the  country. 
A  special  collection  of  the  Church  Fathers  and 
writers  of  the  Reformation  period  was  added  to 
the  library  in  1847,  at  an  expense  of  two  thou- 
sand dollars,  obtained  at  the  suggestion  of  the 
Rev.  Samuel  Osgood.  The  gathering  of  Ameri- 
can historical  materials  has  also  been  faithfully 
pursued.  A  liberal  policy  is  pursued  in  the  con- 
duct of  the  library.  Reuben  Aldridge  Guild  is 
the  present  librarian  (in  1855),  having  succeeded 
Charles  C.  Jewett,  in  1848.* 

By  the  Triennial  Catalogue  of  the  University  of 
1852,  it  appears  that  the  whole  number  of  gra- 
duates to  that  time  was  1784,  of  whom  1173 
were  living.  Of  these  477  pursued  divinity,  of 
whom  325  were  living. 

JOSIAS  LYNDON  AENOLD. 
Josias  Ltndox,  the  son  of  Dr.  Jonathan  Arnold, 
was  born  in  Providence  in  the  year  1765.  The 
family  removed  soon  after  to  St.  Johnsbury,  Vt. 
Arnold  entered  Dartmouth  College ;  on  the  com- 
pletion of  his  course  taught  school  for  a  few 
months  in  Plainfield,  Conn.,  and  then  commenced 
the  study  of  the  law  in  Providence.  He  was  ad- 
mitted to  practice,  but  instead  of  pursuing  his 
profession,  accepted  the  office  of  tutor  at  Brown 
University.  On  his  father's  death  in  1792,  ho 
removed  to  St.  Johnsbury,  where  he  married 
Miss  Perkinson,  March,  1795,  and  died  after  a 
ten-weeks'  illness  on  the  7th  June,  1796. 

His  poems  were  collected  after  his  death  in  a 
small  volume,  with  a  biographical  preface  signed 
James  Burrell,  jun.  The  editor  has  performed 
his  duties  carelessly,  as  he  has  included  a  poem 
entitled  The  Dying  Indian,  which  is  to  be  found 
in  Frenean's  Poems,  ed.  1795,  p.  59.  The  re- 
maining contents  of  the  volume  consist  of  trans- 
lations and  imitations  of  Horace,  one  of  which  is 
in  the  style  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins. 

It  was  published  in  the  "Dartmouth  Eagle," 
accompanied  by  a  note. 

Mr.  Ditmiah, — 

/  am  an  admirer  of  the  simplicity  of  Sternhold 
and  Hopkins  ;  and  am  happy  to  find  that,  even  in 
tills  enlightened  age,  those  venerable  bards  of  an- 
tiquity have  not  only  ambitious  imitators,  but  even 
formidable  rivals.  If  the  following  translation  has 
any   claim  to  excellence  in  this  neat  style,  you  are 


*  Mr.  Jewctt'a  Smithsonian  Report  of  the  U.  S.  Public  Li- 
braries (ls5( )  contains  a  full  notice  of  the  University  Libra- 
ries, pp.  53-GL  See  also  its  history  in  the  preface  to  its  cata- 
logue. 


530 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


requested  to  give  it  a  place  in  your  Rill;  not  so 
much  for  the  amusement  of  your  readers,  as  for  a 
sample  to  younn  poets. 

MARCUS. 


Exegi  monumenfum,  &c. 

Lib.  3,  Ode  30.    HoEiCE. 


Of  fame  a  mighty  monument 

In  time  erect  will  I, 
Than  brass  more  hard  and  durable, 

Or  eke  eternity. 

Sublimer — 0  far  more  sublime, 

Than  pyramids  full  high, 
That  stretch  their  tops,  and  all  upon 

Fair  Egypt's  plain  do  lie. 

Not  Boreas,  from  out  the  north 

Rude  rushing  all  so  bold, 
Nor  rain,  nor  -wind,  that  round  doth  roar, 

Nor  age  that's  yet  untold : 

Nor  yet  of  time,  full  swift  that  fliea, 
The  tootli  devour  shall  never ; 

For  stand  shall  this  same  monument, 
Like  rocks  and  mountains,  ever. 

This  pakt  of  ice  survive  shall  still, 

And  stay  behind  for  aye ; 
The  other — Proserpine  1  ween 

Right  soon  will  drag  away. 

These  are  followed  by  a  number  of  short 
poems  descriptive  of  sceneiy,  a  humorous  ec- 
logue, and  a  few  songs.  The  topics  are  almost 
entirely  American,  and  drawn  from  the  writer's 
own  observation.  They  are  to  be  regarded  as 
the  recreations  of  a  youthful  scholar,  the  light  in 
which  their  author  held  them ;  as  he  before 
his  death  contemplated  their  publication  under 
the  title  of  the  Prelusions  of  Ali, — an  anagram- 
matic  transposition  of  his  initials. 

ODE  TO  CONNECTICUT  P.TVEB. 

On  thy  lov'd  banks,  sweet  river,  free 
From  worldly  care  and  vanity, 
I  could  my  every  hour  confine, 
And  think  true  happiness  was  mine. 

Sweet  river,  in  thy  gentle  stream 
Myriads  of  finny  beings  swim: 
The  watchful  trout  with  speckled  pride ; 
The  perch,  the  dace  in  silvered  pride ; 
The  princely  salmon,  sturgeon  brave, 
And  lamprey,  emblem  of  the  knave. 

Beneath  thy  banks,  thy  shades  among, 
The  muses,  mistresses  of  song, 
Delight  to  sit,  to  tune  the  lyre, 
And  fan  the  heav'n-descended  fire. 

Here  nymphs  dwell,  fraught  with  every  grace, 
The  faultless  form,  the  sparkling  face, 
The  generous  breast,  by  virtue  ibrm'd, 
"With  innocence,  with  friendship  warni'd; 
Of  feelii  g5  tender  as  the  dove, 
And  yielding  to  the  voice  of  love. 

Happiest  of  all  the  happy  swains 
Are  those  who  till  thy  fertile  plains ; 
With  freedom,  peace,  and  plenty  crown'd, 
They  see  the  varying  year  go  round. 

But,  more  than  all,  there  Fanny  dwells, 
For  whom,  departing  from  their  cells, 
The  muses  wreaths  of  laurel  twine, 
And  bind  around  her  brows  divine ; 


For  whom  the  dryads  of  the  woods, 
For  whom  the  nereidas  of  the  floods, 
Those  as  for  Dian  fam'd  of  old, 
These  as  for  Thetis  reverence  hold; 
With  whom,  if  I  could  live  and  die, 
With  joy  I'd  live,  and  die  with  joy, 

SONG. 

Tnne — "Social  Fire." 
Of  Nancy's  charms  I  fain  would  sing, 
More  lovely  than  the  blooming  spring, 

The  nymph  of  my  desire, 
Whom  heaven  grant  to  cheer  my  cot, 
And  make  me  bless  my  happy  lot, 

Around  a  social  fire. 

While  others  barter  bliss  for  gain, 
And  wear  a  slavish  golden  chain, 

To  wealth  I'll  not  aspire ; 
I  ask  enough  to  live  at  ease, 
To  give  the  poor — my  friends  to  please, 

And  keep  a  social  fire. 

When  sets  the  sun  in  western  sky, 
How  pleasing  from  the  world  to  fly, 

And  to  my  cot  retire  ; 
To  find  me  there  a  cheerful  wife, 
And  hear  the  children's  playful  strife, 

Around  the  social  fire. 
• 
Such  joys  as  these  he  never  knows, 
Who  leads  a  life  of  dull  repose — 

Joys  that  can  never  tire ; 
Heaven  grant  me  soon  this  blissful  state, 
Then  will  I  hail  my  happy  fate, 

And  bless  my  social  fire. 


DAETMOUTn  COLLEGE. 

TnE  founder  of  this  college  was  Dr.  Eleazer 
Wheelock,  whose  name  it  might  more  properly 
bear  than  that  of  the  English  statesman  which  is 
attached  to  it.  The  college  grew  out  of  an  ear- 
lier school,  the  history  of  which  is  peculiar.  In 
1743,  when  the  B.ev.  Mr.  Wheelock,  a  native  of 
Windham,  Connecticut,  a  descendant  of  an  emi- 
nent ecclesiastical  family  in  New  England,  and  a 
distinguished  student  of  Yale,  where  he  had  taken 
the  first  Berkeley  premium,  had  become  settled  as 
a  devoted  minister  in  Lebanon,  Ct,  he  took  some 
pupils  under  his  charge  according  to  the  custom 
of  the  times,  among  whom  was  the  young  Mohe- 
gan  Indian,  Samson  Occom.  His  success  in  the 
education  of  this  native  scholar  induced  him  to 
form  the  plan  of  an  Indian  Missionary  School,  to 
raise  up  Indian  teachers.  Other  pupils  from  the 
Delaware  tribe  came  in.  The  attention  of  bene- 
volent individuals  was  excited ;  and  in  1754, 
Joshua  Moor,  a  farmer  in  Maffick!,  gave  a  house 
and  two  acres  of  laud  adjacent  to  Wheelock's  resi- 
dence for  the  purposes  of  the  school,  and  the  in- 
stitution, which  soon  increased  the  number  of  its 
pupils,  became  known  as  Moor's  Indian  Charity 
School.  Occom  collected  funds  in  England, which 
were  deposited  with  a  board  of  trustees,  of  which 
Lord  Dartmouth,  one  of  the  subscribers,  was  Pre- 
sident. The  success  of  the  school  in  the  collec- 
tion of  pupils  induced  Dr.  Wheelock  to  seek  an- 
other location  nearer  to  the  native  tribes  to  bo 
benefited.  Various  offers  were  made  him  of  situa- 
tions atAlbany,  in  Berkshire,Mass.,and  elsewhere; 
and  it  was  finally  determined  to  establish  the 
school  in  the  western  part  of  New  Hampshire, 
Governor  Wentworth  granted  a  charter  in  1769. 


DARTMOUTH  COLLEGE. 


531 


in  which  the  institution  was  called  a  college.  This 
new  organization  led  to  opposition  from  the  trus- 
tees of  the  school  fund ;  but  it  was  found  that 
the  existence  of  the  two  could  be  kept  distinct, 
though  they  are  now  established  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  same  board  of  trustees.  Lord  Dart- 
mouth gave  name  to  the  college  to  which,  from 
his  interest  in  the  school,  he  was  opposed.  Go- 
vernor Wentworth  was  the  warm  friend  of  the 
new  college,  which  received  grants  of  land,  and  was 
located  at  Hanover  near  the  Connecticut  river. 


Eleazer  Wheelock. 

In  1770,  Dr.  Wheelock,  approaching  the  age  of 
sixty,  left  Lebanon, and  commenced  his  new  work 
in  the  wilderness.  His  family  and  the  students 
at  first  lived  in  log  huts  on  the  clearing.  The 
Memoirs  of  Dr.  Wheelock  give  an  interesting  j 
sketch  of  the  novelties  of  the  college  life.  Upon 
a  circular  area  of  six  acres  the  pines  were  felled,  and 
in  all  directions  covered  the  ground  to  the  height 
of  about  live  feet.  One  of  these  was  two  hun- 
dred and  seventy  feet  in  height.  Paths  of  com- 
munication were  cut  through  them.  The  lofty 
tops  of  the  surrounding  forests  were  often  seen 
bending  before  the  northern  tempest,  while  the 
air  below  was  still  and  piercing.  The  snow  lay 
four  feet  in  depth  between  four  and  five  months. 
The  sun  was  invisible  by  reason  of  the  trees,  un- 
til risen  many  degrees  above  the  horizon.  In  this 
secluded  retreat  and  in  these  humble  dwellings, 
this  enterprising  colon}'  passed  a  long  and  dreary 
winter.  The  students  pursued  their  studies  with 
diligence  ;  contentment  and  peace  were  not  inter- 
rupted, even  by  nmrmurers.*  A  two-story  col- 
lege was  erected,  and  in  1771  four  students  gra- 
duated, one  of  whom  was  John  Wheelock,  son  of 
the  first,  and  the  future  President  of  the  College. 
Another  was  Levi  Frisbie,  father  of  the  poet,  and 
himself  a  writer  of  verses,  in  some  of  which  he  has 
celebrated  the  peculiar  circumstances  in  which  his 
Alma  Mater  was  founded. 

"  Forlorn  thus  youtliful  Dartmouth  trembling  stood, 

Surrounded  with  inhospitable  wood : 

No  silken  furs  on  her  soft  limbs  to  spread, 

No  dome  to  screen  her  fair,  defenceless  head ; 

Cn  every  side  she  cast  her  wishful  eyes, 

*  Memoirs  of  the  Eev.  E'eazer  Wheelock,  Founder  of  Dart- 
mouth, by  M'GIure  and  Elijah  Parish,  1S11. 


Then  humbly  rnis'd  them  to  the  pitying  skies. 
Thence  grace  divine  beheld  her  tender  care, 
And  bowed  an  ear,  propitious  to  her  prayer. 
Soon  chang'd  the  scene ;  the  prospect  shines  more 

fair ; 
Joy  lights  all  faces  with  a  cheerful  air; 
The  buildings  rise,  the  work  appears  alive, 
Pale  fear  expires,  and  languid  hopes  revive. 
Calm  solitude,  to  liberal  science  kind, 
Sheds  her  soft  influence  on  the  studious  mind; 
Afflictions  stand  aloof;  the  heavenly  powers 
Drop  needful  blessings  in  abundant  showers.* 

After  ten  years'  government  of  the  college  the 
first  president,  Wheelock,  died  in  1779,  aged 
sixty-eight.  He  was  succeeded  in  the  college 
government  by  his  son  John  Wheelock,  who  Mas 
educated  at  Hanover,  one  of  the  first  fruits  of  the 
college,  and  had  been  a  tutor  till  the  breaking  out 
of  the  Revolution,  when  he  led  an  active  military 
life  with  Stark  and  Gates  till  his  father's  death 
recalled  him  from  the  army.  In  1782  he  was 
sent  by  the  trustees  to  Europe  for  the  collection 
of  funds  and  the  promotion  of  the  college  inte- 
rests, which  had  not  escaped  the  depression  of 
the  war.  He  carried  with  him  letters  from 
Washington,  who  had  known  and  esteemed  him 
as  a  Revolutionary  officer,  from  the  French  Minis- 
ter Luzerne  to  the  Count  de  Vergennes.  Arriv- 
ing in  France,  Dr.  Franklin  and  John  Adams 
gave  him  introductions  to  the  Netherlands,  where 
a  considerable  sum  of  money  was  given  by  the 
Prince  of  Orange  and  others.  In  England  he  ar- 
ranged the  interrupted  funds  of  the  school-foun- 
dation, procured  philosophical  instruments  and 
other  valuable  donations,  and  on  his  return  to 
America,  after  suffering  in  a  severe  storm  on  the 
banks  of  Newfoundland,  was  wrecked  on  Cape 
Cod,  barely  escaping  with  life  to  the  shore.  The 
college  property  coming  afterwards  was  saved. 
Dr.  Wheelock's  exertions  were  next  directed  to 
the  erection  of  a  college  edifice  by  the  further 
collection  of  funds  and  other  co-operation,  for 
which  the  institution  was  greatly  indebted  to 
him.  He  also  discharged  the  duties  of  professor 
of  history.  After  thirty-six  years'  occupancy  of 
his  position  his  connexion  with  the  institution 
was  violently  closed. 

The  college  was  managed  by  a  bod}'  of  trus- 
tees, created  by  the  charter,  who  filled  vacancies 
in  their  number.  In  1815  they  drew  attention 
upon  themselves  by  an  act  memorable  not  only 
in  its  immediate  but  in  its  ultimate  consequences, 
as  affecting  the  position  of  the  college  and  de- 
termining a  great  question  of  legal  and  consti- 
tutional right.  Differences  in  the  college  with 
the  trustees,  and  questions  of  religious  opinion, 
led  them  in  that  .year  to  remove  Dr.  Wheelock 
from  the  presidency.  A  large  portion  of  the 
public  affected  to  be  outraged  at  the  proceed- 
ing. Governor  William  Plummer  invited  the 
attention  of  the  state  legislature  to  the  subject, 
who,  asserting  their  claim  to  alter  or  amend  a 
charter  of  which  they  were   the  guardians,  in 


*  From  a  poem  "  On  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  Moor's  Indian 
Charity  School  (now  incorporated  with  Dartmouth  College  )  its 
removal  and  settlement  in  Hanover,  and  the  founding  a  Church 
in  the  same,  by  one  of  Dr.  Wheelock's  pupils,  educated  in  said 
school,  and  now  a  member  of  said  college,  preparing  for  a  mis- 
sion anions  the  Indians."  It  is  printed  in  the  notes  to  M'C'lnre 
and  Parish's  Memoirs  of  Wheelock. 


532 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Dartmouth  College. 

1816  passed  acts  creating  a  new  corporation. 
Nine  trustees  to  be  appointed  by  the  governor 
and  council,  were  added  to  the  old  body,  the  cor- 
porate title  changed  to  Dartmouth  University, 
and  the  property  vested  in  the  new  board.  The 
old  tru  tees  set  all  this  legislation  at  naught,  and 
keeping  up  their  organization  commenced  an  ac- 
tion for  the  recovery  of  the  college  property.  It 
was  decided  against  them  by  Chief-Justice  Rich- 
ardson in  the  Superior  Court  of  the  state,  and 
thence  carried  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  Uni- 
ted States  before  Chief-Justice  Marshall,  wherein 
1819  the  judgment  was  reversed,  and  the  great 
principle  of  the  inviolability  of  chartered  corpo- 
rate property  fully  established.  It  was  in  this 
cause  that  Daniel  Webster,  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
five,  made  the  commencement  of  his  great  repu- 
tation as  a  constitutional  lawyer.*  He  had  be- 
come a  graduate  of  the  college  seventeen  years 
before,  in  1801,  and  had  argued  the  cause  for 
the  plaintiffs  in  the  highest  state  court.  Mr. 
Ticknor  has  described  the  effect  of  his  argument 
for  the  rights  of  the  trustees  and  the  college  in 
the  Supreme  Court: — "  lie  opened  his  cause  with 
perfect  simplicity  in  the  general  statement  of  its 
facts,  and  then  went  on  to  unfold  the  topics  of  his 
argument  in  a  lucid  order,  which  made  every  posi- 
tion sustain  every  other.  The  logic  and  the  law 
were  rendered  irresistible.  As  he  advanced,  his 
heart  warmed  to  the  subject  and  the  occa-ion. 
Thoughts  and  feelings  that  had  grown  old  with 
his  best  affections  rose  unbidden  to  his  lips.  He 
remembered  that  the  institution  he  was  defend- 
ing was  the  one  where  his  own  youth  had  been 
nurtured;  and  th  3  moral  tenderness  and  beauty 
this  gave  to  the  grandeur  of  his  thoughts,  the 
sort  of  religious  sensibility  it  imparted  to  his  ur- 
gent appeals  and  demands  for  the  stern  fulfilment 
of  what  law  and  justice  required,  wrought  up  the 
whole  audience  to  an  extraordinary  state  of  ex- 
citement.''t  Joseph  Hopkinson  of  Philadelphia, 
who  was  engaged  on  the  same  side  with  him, 
wrote  to  President  Brown  on  the  decision — "  I 
would  advise  you  to  inscribe  over  the  door  of 
your  institution,  founded,  by  Eleazer  Wlieeloch: 


*  Edward  Everett's  Biog.  Memoir.  Webster's  Works,  i. 
ilviii. 

t  An  article  by  George  Ticknor,  in  the  American  Quarterly 
Eeview  for  June,  1S81. 


refounded  by  Daxiel  Webster."*  In  this  case 
Webster  was  the  associate  of  Jeremiah  Smith  and 
Jeremiah  Mason ;  opposed  to  -John  Holmes  of 
Maine,  William  Pinckney  and  AVilliam  Wirt  of 
Maryland. 

The  local  agitation  which  this  interference  with 
the  college  excited  was  prodigious.  Rival  news- 
papers waged  furious  war,  the  Dartmouth  Ga- 
zette and  the  Portsmouth  Oracle  in  behalf  of  the 
college,  and  the  New  Hampshire  Patriot  for  the 
popular  opposition. I  Religious  and  political  an- 
tipathies lent  their  aid  to  the  controversy.  In 
the  midst  of  the  difficulties  President  Wheelock, 
who  had  been  restored  by  the  new  board  of  the 
university,  died  within  two  months  after  that 
event,  in  April,  1817,  at  the  age  of  sixty-three. 

In  1816,  an  important  pamphlet,  of  which  Dr. 
Wheelock  furnished  the  material,  appeared,  which 
was  an  entrenched  garrison  of  facts  and  state- 
ments for  the  support  of  his  friends  and  attacks  of 
his  enemies.  It  was  entitled,  "Sketches  of  the 
History  of  Dartmouth  College  and  Moor's  Chari- 
ty School,  with  a  particular  account  of  some  late 

I  remarkable  proceedings  of  the  Board  of  Trustees, 

j  from  the  year  1779  to  the  year  1815."  It  is 
given  by  Allen,  who  married  his  daughter,  as  the 

1  composition  of  Wheelock. J  It  is  well  written. 
He  also  published  a  eulogy  on  Dr.  Smith,  the 
classical  professor  of  the  College,  and  Allen  tells 
us  that  he  prepared  further  a  large  historical 
work,  still  remaining  in  manuscript.  He  was  a 
laborious  student,  rising  early,  and  abstemious. 

Francis  Brown  was  the  regular  successor  ap- 
pointed b}'  the  Trustees  on  the  removal  of  Whee- 
lock in  1815.  He  was  a  native  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, born  in  1784,  a  graduate  of  the   College, 

;  and  subsequently  pastor  of  the  church  in  North 
Yarmouth,  Maine.  Succeeding  Wheelock  in  the 
presidency  of  Dartmouth,  he  carried  the  College 
by  his  exertions  successfully  through  its  difficult 
period  of  conflict.  His  serious  illness  followed 
close  upon  the  decision  of  the  important  college 
question.  He  travelled  for  his  health,  but  shortly 
returned  to  die  at  Hanover,  July  .27,  1820.      He 

]  left  a  few  published  discourses,  among  which  were 

S  a  defence  of  Calvin  and  an  Address  on  Music,  de- 
livered before  the  Handel  Society  of  Dartmouth 
College  in  1809. 

Dr.  Brown  was  succeeded  by  the  Rev.  Daniel 
Dana,  who  retained  the  office  but  one  year,  when 
the  Rev.  Bennet  Tyler  succeeded,  and,  upon  his 
resignation  in  182S,  the  present  incumbent,  the 
Rev.  Nathan  Lord,  received  the  appointment. 

The  Triennial  Catalogue  of  1852,  and  the 
Catalogue  of  Officers  and  Students  for  the  Acade- 
mical year  1854-5,  exhibit  the  Institution  in  a 
flourishing  condition  as  to  the  extent  of  studies 

I  pursued,  and  the  number  of  students  availing 
themselves  of  the  .iberal  advantages  presented. 
The  College  comprises  a  faculty  of  Arts  and 
Medicine,  a  separate  course  of  Scientific  Instruc- 


*  Life  of  President  Brown,  bv  the  T.ev.  Henry  Wood.  Am. 
Quar.  Keg.  vii.  183. 

t  History  of  New  Hampshire,  from  its  discovery  in  1G14  to 
the  passage  uf  the  Toleration  Act  in  1&19,  by  Georire  Barstow. 
2dcd.  1S58. 

+  Biog.  Diet.,  article  John  Wheelock.    Any  one  who  wishes 

'    to  pursue  this  angry  discussion  may  find  abundant  materials  in 

i    a  'Candid  Analytical  Review  of  ihe  Sketches,"  an  answer,  by 

Josiah  Dunham,  to  the.  "Vindication'' of  the  Trustees,  amorjg 

the  pamphlets  of  the  times. 


SAMUEL  LOW. 


533 


tion,  while  Moor's  school,  still  remnins  a  distinct 
and  independent  corporation,  furnishing  an  Acade- 
mical department.  The  Professorships  of  the 
Greek  and  Latin  Languages  and  Literature  are 
respectively  held  hy  the  Rev.  John  N.  Putnam 
and  E.  D.  Sanborn.  Lectures  are  delivered  to 
the  Senior  Class  by  the  President,  on  the  studies 
of  the  year ;  by  Professor  Ira  Young  on  Natural 
Philosophy  and  Astronomy  to  the  Juniors,  by 
Professor  Oliver  Payson  Hubbard,  M.D.,  on  Che- 
mistry and  Geology  to  the  Seniors,  and  on  Mi- 
neralogy to  the  Juniors;  by  Professor  Clement 
Long,  D.D.,  on  Intellectual  Philosophy  to  the 
Senior-,  by  Professor  Samuel  Oilman  Brown,  D.D., 
on  Rhetoric  and  Belles  Lettres  to  the  Seniors  and 
Juniors,  by  Professor  Edwin  David  Sanborn  on 
History  to  the  Sophomores,  by  Professor  Daniel 
James  Noy.es,  D.D.,  on  Theology  and  Moral  Phi- 
losophy to  the  Seniors  and  Juniors  ;  by  Pro- 
fessor E.  D.  Peaslee,  M.D.,  on  Anatomy  and 
Physiology  to  the  Seniors.  The  Hon.  Joel  Parker 
holds  the  chair  of  Medical  Jurisprudence  to  the 
Faculty.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Roswell  Shurtleff,  who 
was  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  from  1827  to 
1838,  has  since  that  time  reached  Emeritus. 
The  Rev.  Charles  B.  Haddock  was  Professor  of 
Rhetoric  from  1819  to  1838,  and  afterwards  of 
Intellectual  Philosophy  and  Political  Economy. 
He  lias  since  held  a  foreign  appointment  from 
1851  to  1833,  as  Charge  d' Affaires  at  Lisbon. 
In  1840  he  published  a  Collection  of  Addresses 
and  Miscellaneous  Writings.  Dr.  Oliver  Wendall 
Holmes  was  Professor  of  Anatomy  and  Physiology 
from  1838  to  1840.  The  Chandler  Scientific 
School  was  founded  b}T  a  bequest  of  Abiel  Chan- 
dler, late  of  Walpole,  N.  II.,  and  formerly  of  Bos- 
ton, Mass.,  who  gave  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  be 
invested,  and  the  income  applied  to  "  the  establish- 
ment and  support  of  a  permanent  department  or 
school  of  instruction  in  the  College,  in  the  prac- 
tical and  useful  arts  of  life,  comprised  chiefly  in 
the  branches  of  Mechanics  and  Civil  Engineer- 
ing, the  Invention  and  Manufacture  of  Machinery, 
Carpentry,  Masonry,  Architecture  and  Drawing, 
the  Investigation  of  the  Properties  and  Uses  of 
the  Materials  employed  in  the  Arts,  the  Modern 
Languages  and  English  Literature,  together  with 
Book-keeping,  and  such  other  brandies  of  know- 
ledge as  may  best  qualify  young  persons  for  the 
duties  and  employments  of  active  life."  These 
studies  are  embraced  in  a  regular  course  of  three 
years,  and  the  scholars  pursuing  them  are  entitled 
to  a  degree  of  Bachelor  in  Science. 

The  various  libraries  connected  with  the  Col- 
lege have  an  aggregate  of  more  than  thirty 
thousand  volumes.  By  the  enumeration  of  the 
Catalogue,  it  appears  that  the  whole  number  of 
the  alumni  in  1852  was  2,71!',  of  whom  l,fi!>7 
were  then  living.  Six  hundred  and  eight}  -four 
of  these  bad  become  Ministers  of  the  Gospel. 

SAMUEL  LOW. 
From  the  concluding  couplet  of  one  of  the  au- 
thor's poem*,  dated  December  11,  1785 — 

"  Yes,  twice  ten  years  ago  to-morrow  night, 

Began  to  breathe  the  rhyming,  moon-struck  wight " — 

we  may  place  the  date  of  his  birth  December  12, 
1705. 


His  poems  were  published,  as  usual,  by  sub- 
scription, in  two  thin  volume-,  by  T.  &  J.-Swords, 
in  1800.  They  include,  his  preface  informs  us, 
"  nearly  the  whole  of  his  poetic  writings."     The 


* 


y> 


collection  opens  with  an  ode  on  the  death  of 
General  Washington,  which  was  recited  by  Hodg- 
kinson  in  the  New  York  Theatre,  January  8, 
1800.  It  contains  a  number  of  other  poems  ad- 
dressed to  Washington,  and  several  patriotic 
effusions  on  the  fourth  of  July  and  the  adoption 
of  the  constitution.  Themes  of  a  private  and 
familiar,  as  well  as  a  public  nature,  attracted  his 
ready  muse.  "A  Glass  of  Wine,"  and  "  A  Cigar," 
are  honored  like  Anna,  Portia,  Fraternus,  and 
others,  with  a  sonnet  a-piece ;  while  the  births, 
marriages,  and  deaths  of  his  family  and  friends 
are  commemorated  more  at  length.  A  few  hu- 
morous trifles  towards  the  close  of  the  second 
volume  bear  the  title  of  "Juvenile  Levities." 
The  most  elaborate  effort  of  the  collection  is  a 
descriptive  poem  of  some  length  on  Winter.  The 
picture  of  the  cottage  fireside  is  pleasing. 

TIIE  WINTER  FIRESIDE. 

While  uproar  now  incessant  reigns  without, 
While  Winter  pours  his  ruffian  blasts  about, 
Columbia's  peasants  trim  their  ample  fires, 
And  through  their  dwellings  genial  heat  transpires; 
In  yonder  cot,  whence  smoky  columns  rise, 
The  rustic  group,  secure  from  stormy  skies, 
Their  ev'ning  hours  in  tranquil  ease  employ, 
And  rural  pastime  'wakes  their  souls  to  joy; 
A  social  crescent  round  the  fire  they  form, 
Whose  vivid  blaze  at  once  can  cheer  and  warm  ; 
Beneficence  and  simple  truth  are  there, 
And  there  content  and  innocence  repair; 
The  surly  mastiff"  by  his  master  stands, 
And  wistful  begs  a  morsel  at  his  hands  ; 
Around  the  room  her  tricks  grimalkin  tries; 
The  crackling  faggot  up  the  chimney  flies; 
The  cricket  chirrups  blithesome  in  the  hearth, 
And  all  conspire  to  heighten  harmless  mirth, 
The  roof,  that  pond'rous  heaps  of  snow  sustains, 
Now  loudly  cracking,  of  the  storm  complains: 
They  hear  the  tempest  rage,  but  reckless  hear ; 
Its  piercing  blast  they  neither  feel  nor  fear  ; 
la  words  uncouth  they  tell  their  rustic  tales, 
Soon  o'er  the  list'ning  throng  the  charm  prevails ; 
Of  goblins  dire  some  talk,  while  others  hear 
With  woud'ring  approbation,  mix'd  with  fear ; 
Imagination's  terrors  o'er  them  creep, 
And  banish  from  their  eyes  encroaching  sleep : 
In  social  converse  fleet  their  winter  nights, 
Or  the  brisk  dance,  or  jocund  song  delights  ; 
Columbia's  rural  daughters  join  the  strain, 
Or  lead  the  dance,  with  each  her  fav'rite  swain  ; 
The  quaint  old  ballad  prompts  some  son'rous  voice, 
While  sires  and  matrons  silently  rejoice : 
Or  if  some  wit  or  humorist  be  there, 
Or  Humor's  murderer,  or  Wit's  despair, 
A  elam'rous  laugh  applauds  his  poor  pretence ; 
Grimace  is  humor  there,  and  triteness  sense. 
By  Science  uninform'd,  and  unrefin'd 
By  aught  of  taste  that  guides  the  cultured  mind, 
The  mimic's  Proteus  power,  that  can  adapt 


534 


CYCLOPiEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Itself  to  all  things,  with  resemblance  apt ; 

The  sprightly  jest ;  the  applicable  thought ; 

And  irony,  with  hidden  satire  fraught ; 

The  ludicrous  burlesque  that  laughter  moves ; 

The  attic  flash  of  wit  that  genius  loves  ; 

The  ready  repartee;  the  well-timed  pun  ; — 

All  these  their  feelings  and  their  sense  outrun  : 

Such  brilliant  sallies  have  no  power  to  please, 

Perceptions  unappropriate  to  these ; 

But,  tho'  their  faculties  'gainst  these  rebel, 

The  coarse  attempt  at  wit  they  relish  well ; 

The  common-place  remark,  and  vulgar  joke, 

Delight  them  more  than  if  a  Garrick  spoke : 

In  such  rude  ignorance  perhaps  more  blest 

Than  if  fastidious  taste  their  minds  possess'd ; 

They  know  not  what  the  critic's  raptures  mean, 

But  neither  do  they  know  the  critic's  spleen; 

Disgust,  and  pride,  and  envy  gnaw  his  breast, 

But  they,  at  least,  are  negatively  blest ; 

For  apathy,  stupidity,  and  phlegm, 

And  sensual  good,  are  happiness  to  them ; 

"With  daily  toil  and  nightly  e:>  e  content, 

Thus  Winter  glides,  aad  thus  their  lives  are  spent. 

OK  A  SPRING  OF  WATER  IS  KINGS  COUNTY,   LONG  ISLAND. 

"When  parch'd  by  thirst,  and  faint  with  heat, 

I  make  this  fav'rite  spot  my  seat, 

And  see,  beneath  the  willow's  shade, 

This  limpid  spring,  this  sweet  cascade, 

"Which  through  a  million  pores  of  earth 

Refines  and  filtrates  ere  its  birth, 

In  gentle  currents  pour  along, 

The  green  and  flow'ry  meads  among  ; 

And  carry  my  delighted  gaze 

Where'er  its  course  meand'ring  strays, 

And  see  it  kissing,  as  it  flows, 

Each  shrub  that  here  luxuriant  grows. 

Each  od'rous  plant  of  varied  green, — 

0.  how  delicious  is  the  scene ! 

When  o'er  the  fount  I  eager  bend, 

And  hear  the  gurgling  sound  ascend,  ■ 

And  see  the  pearly  globules  rise, 

My  ears  are  charm'd,  regal'd  mine  eyes; 

But  when,  my  burning  thirst  to  slake, 

I  Nature's  wholesome  bev'rage  take, 

Far  more  refreshing  is  the  draught 

Than  that  by  Bacchanalians  quaff 'd: 

No  liquid  fire,  of  man  the  bane, 

That  yields  us  joy  which  ends  in  pain, 

Can  thus  revive  and  charm  each  sense, 

Or  such  salubrious  gifts  dispense : 

Not  juice  from  luscious  grapes  expressed 

Can  yield  so  sweet,  so  pure  a  zest ; 

For,  though  the  rich  potation  please, 

It  prostrates  mind,  and  sows  disease. 

Then  shun,  oh,  man  !  the  specious'  good, 

Dash  from  your  lips  the  purple  flood, 

Nor  let  its  fires  inflame  your  blood ; 

Escape  from  such  fallacious  joys, 

From  frantic  mirth  and  brutal  noise ; 

From  Circe's  incantations  flee, 

And  taste  unmix'd  delight  with  me;* 

Here  draw  supplies  of  strength  for  age. 

And  here  your  fev'rish  thirst  assuage. 

Like  Kais*  were  you  doom'd  to  roam 
Far,  far  from  Leila  and  your  home ; 
(Arabia's  Nightingale  was  he, 
His  incense-breathing  Rose  was  she.) 
Ah  !  if  like  him  in  desert  lands, 
You  trod  forlorn  on  burning  sands, 
And  breath'd  Arabia's  torrid  air, 
And  found  nor  shade  nor  fountain  there ; 

*  See  D'lsraeli's  romance  of  Mejnoun  and  Leila. 


Your  wasting  frame  with  fever  fir'd, 
Increas'd  by  ev'ry  breath  respir'd; 
O'er  your  scorch'd  head  a  brazen  sky  ; 
Around  no  spot  to  bless  your  eye 
"With  verdure  cooling  shade  or  stream, 
(Obnoxious  to  the  solar  beam) 
Your  arid  tongue  consum'd  by  thirst, 
Your  heart  by  hopeless  love  necurs'd, — 
How  would  you  pant,  and  long,  and  mourn 
For  this  sweet  Spring  which  now  j'ou  scorn  I 

But  should  benignant  Genii  bear, 
From  sandy  wastes,  and  stagnant  air, 
Your  haggard  form,  by  Famine  worn, 
"Which  heat  hath  blasted,  flints  have  torn, 
To  this  blest  spot,  where  Phoebus'  beam 
Nor  shrivels  plants  nor  dries  the  stream ; 
If,  by  a  miracle,  convey'd 
Beneath  this  lovely  willow's  shade, 
You  heard  this  rill, — romantic  sound  1 
In  soothing  murmurs  purl  around; 
And  look'd  and  gaz'd  with  raptur'd  eyes 
On  all  t'ii.gs  cir  led  by  'he  skies  ■ 
And  felt  what  cooling  influence  brings 
The  zephyr  on  its  balmy  wings; 
And  what  refrigerating  power 
Is  in  the  soft,  pellucid  shower, 
"Which  falls  so  sweetly,  gently  here. 
That  ev'n  the  sight  can  cool  and  cheer, — 
O  !  what  a  Paradise  of  bliss 
A  scene  delectable  like  this 
Would  open  to  the  ravish'd  view 
Of  such  a  dying  wretch  as  you ! 
'Twould  all  your  languid  powers  revive, 
And  bid  exhausted  Nature  live  ! 

Beneath  a  scorching  vertie  sun, 
A  fearful  distance  still  to  run, 
What  would  the  harass' d  seaman  give, 
Could  he  to  such  a  spot  arrive  ! 
Oft  does  the  famish' d  suff' rer  dream 
Of  such  a  spot,  with  such  a  stream ; 
And  oft  the  draught  which  he-  desires 
From  his  unsated  lip  retires ; 
He  'wakes  to  longings  more  intense, 
His  veins  are  fir'd,  disturb'd  his  sense  ; 
He  'wakes  to  fev'rish  thirst  a  prey, 
And  joyless  ploughs  the  briny  way. 

Marcissa,  innocent  as  fair, 
Of  this  translucent  Spring  beware ; 
For  when,  your  ardent  thirst  to  slake, 
You  stoop  the  temp'rate  draught  to  take, 
This  mirror  may  attract  desire, 
And  water  may  engender  fire ; 
For  in  that  mirror  you  may  view 
A  form  as  beautiful  as  you ; 
That  form,  already  passing  fair, 
Will  shine  with  added  beauty  there; 
In  it  the  clear  cerulean  sky 
With  brighter  azure  charms  the  eye, 
And  the  light  fleece  which  floats  in  air, 
Is  lovelier  when  reflected  there  : 
Then  lest  (like  erst  an  am'rous  swain) 
You  love  your  beauteous  self  in  vain, 
And  for  that  lovely  image  sigh 
"Which  in  the  crystal  fount  you  spy, 
Admire  not  those  reflected  charms, 
Nor  vainly  strive  to  fill  your  arms 
"With  the  fair  shadow  you  would  miss, 
But  seek  for  safer,  purer  bliss ; 
Less  fleeting,  more  attractive  too, — ■ 
Admire  the  mind  which  dwells  in  you. 

JOHN  S.  J.  GARDINER. 

John  Sylvester  Jonx  Gardiner,  tho  Rector  of 
Trinity  Church  in  Boston,  the  author  of  nume- 


JOHN  SYLVESTER  JOHN  GARDINER 


535 


rous  published  discourses,  and  the  imputed  writer 
of  the  political-poetical  tract  of  the  Jacobiniad, 
was  born  of  American  parentage  in  South  Wales,  at 
Haverford  West,  in  1765.  His  father,  John  Gardi- 
ner, the  son  of  Dr.  Sylvester  Gardiner,  was  a  native 
of  Boston,  who  waj  sent  to  be  educated  in  England, 
and  who  studied  law  at  the  Temple.  In  London 
he  became  the  intimate  of  Churchill  the  satirist, 
and  the  acquaintance  of  Lord  Mansfield.  His 
participation  in  the  liberal  measures  of  the  day 
as  junior  counsel  in  the  Wilkes  ease,  marked  his 
future  political  principles.  Having  married  in 
Wales,  he  left  Great  Britain  in  1766,  with  the 
appointment  of  attorney-general  to  the  island  of 
St.  Christopher,  remaining  in  the  West  Indies 
till  after  the  Revolution,  when,  in  1783,  he  removed 
to  Boston.  Hedelivered  a  Fourth  of  July  Oration 
in  1785  for  the  town  authorities  of  Boston.  He 
next  settled  at  Pownalboro,  in  Maine,  whence  he 
was  sent  to  the  Legislature  of  Massachusetts. 

In  1702,  he  delivered  a  speech  in  the  Massa- 
chusetts House  of  Representatives,  on  the  subject 
of  the  Report  of  the  Committee  appointed  to  con- 
sider the  Expediency  of  repealing  the  law  against 
Theatrical  Exhibitions  within  this  Common- 
wealth, in  which  he  maintained  with  spirit,  good 
humor,  and  a  considerable  array  of  learning,  the 
rights  of  the  stage.  He  was  assisted  in  his  read- 
ing on  the  subject  by  Thaddeus  Mason  Harris 
and  others,  and  his  numerous  quotations  extend 
over  Greek  and  Roman  literature  as  well  as  the 
recent  English  poetry.  A  pa-sage  will  show  the 
ardor  with  which  he  entered  upon  the  matter. 

"The  illiberal,  unmanly,  and  despotic  act,  which 
now  prohibits  theatrical  exhibitions  among  us,  to  me, 
sir,  appears  to  be  the  brutal,  monstrous  spawn  of  a 
sour,  morose,  malignant,  and  truly  benighted  super- 
stition, which,  with  her  impenetrable  fogs,  hath  but 
too  long  begloomed  and  disgraced  this  rising  coun- 
try ! — a  country  by  nature  intended  for  the  produc- 
tion and  cultivation  of  sound  reason,  and  of  an 
enlightened,  manly  freedom !  From  the  same 
detestable,  canting,  hypoeritic  spirit  was  generated 
that  abominable  Hutchinsonian  warden  act,  which 
hath  twice,  in  my  time,  been  reprobated  by  the 
House  of  Representatives,  who  passed  two  several 
bills  for  its  repeal;  although,  it  seems,  it  could  not 
be  given  up  by  certain  Simon  Pures,  the  sanctified 
zealots  of  former  senates.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that 
this  hypoeritic,  unconstitutional  act  is  still  permit- 
ted to  disgrace  our  statute  book  ;  while  every  man 
who  has  duly  investigated  the  sacred  principles 
of  civil  liberty  contemns,  and,  with  the  enlightened 
town  of  Boston,  abhors,  and  pays  not  the  smallest 
respect,  the  least  attention,  to  tins  abominable 
impotent  act.  Notwithstanding  Boston  annually 
refuses  to  choose  the  tyrannical  wardens,  I  would 
ask,  where,  under  the  sun,  are  there  on  the  Sabbath 
day,  a  more  decent,  orderly  people  than  the  inhabit- 
ants of  this  great  commercial  sea-faring  town,  who 
thus  continue  to  treat  with  due  contempt  that 
hypoeritic  nefaiious  act."*' 

*  The  law  dated  from  'he  year  1750.  Gardiner,  assisted  by 
Dr.  Jarvis,  to  whom  he  gave  the  epithet  of  "the  towering 
Bald  Eagle  of  the  Boston  seat,"  was  unsuccessful  in  his  advo- 
cacy of  the  petition.  T*'e  law  remained  in  force.  Samuel 
Adams  and  Benjamin  Austin  opposed  the  repeal.  The  latter, 
says  Dnnlap.  quoting  Dramatic  Reminiscences  in  the  New 
England  Magazine,  wrote  a  series  of  essays  to  prove  that 
Shakespeare  had  no  genius.  William  TndOT  and  Charles 
Jarvis  supported  stage  exhibitions.  In  1792.  the  matter  was 
circumvented  by  an  exhibition  room  which  introdueed  the 
lower  ra  k  of  theatrical  performances.  The  next  year  the  law 
was  repealed. — Duulap's  Am.  Theatre,  ch.  xj. 


To  this  speech  was  appended  "  A  Dissertation 
on  the  Ancient  Poetry  of  the  Romans;  with 
Incidental  Observations  on  certain  Superstitions," 
dec. 

Gardiner  was  drowned  off  Cape  Ann,  in  a 
storm,  Oct.  1793,  when  he  was  on  his  way  to 
the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts,  leaving  the 
reputation  of  a  man  of  energy  as  a  politician  and 
speaker. 

His  son  had  been  taken  in  his  childhood  to 
Boston  for  education.  On  the  breaking  out  of 
the  Revolution  lie  returned  to  his  father  in  the 
West  Indies,  and  was  sent  at  the  age  of  eleven  to 
England,  where  he  passed  six  years  under  the 
instruction  of  Dr.  Parr.  He  rejoined  his  father, 
and  shortly  proceeded  with  him  to  Boston.  At 
first  he  directed  his  attention  to  the  law,  but  soon 
attached  himself  to  divinity,  receiving  his  ordina- 
tion in  1787  from  Bishop  Provoost  at  New  York. 
He  began  preaching  at  Beaufort,  S.  C.  In  1792 
he  was  appointed  assistant  minister  of  Trinity 
Church  on  the  Greene  foundation,  and  in  1805,  on 
the  death  of  Bishop  Parker,  became  Rector, — 
relinquishing  at  this  time  the  charge  of  a  gram- 
mar-school which  he  had  conducted  on  an  exact 
and  critical  model  in  the  studies  of  Latin  and 
Greek,  in  which  he  was  a  proficient. 

His  religious  tenets  thus  differed  from  those  of 
his  father,  who  had  been  instrumental  in  effecting 
the  change  of  the  English  liturgy  in  the  Book  of 
Common  Prayer  in  King's  Chapel,  by  omitting  the 
allusions  to  the  Trinity.  Dr.  Gardiner,  the  divina 
was  a  staunch  advocate  of  Episcopacy,  and  a  zeal- 
ous Federalist,  warm  in  his  attachment  to  England. 
His  numerous  published  Discourses  always  fur- 
nish indications  of  his  acumen,  extensive  reading, 
and  independent  judgment.  He  was  a  good 
hater  of  the  French  school  of  politicians  of  his 
day,  of  which  proof  may  be  found  in  his  dis- 
courses as  well  as  in  the  satire  of  the  Jacobiniad. 
The  latter  was  communicated  in  a  series  of  num- 
bers to  the  Federal  Orrery.  Under  cover  of  a 
review  of  a  pretended  poem,  "  The  Jacobiniad,"  of 
which  extracts  were  furnished,  the  liberal  clubs 
of  Boston,  with  their  members,  were  sharply 
satirized.  The  papers  were  afterwards  collected 
together  and  published  with  several  vigorous 
etchings  of  spirit — probably  the  best  things  of 
the  kind  which  had  then  appeared  in  the  country.* 

In  a  Fast  Day  Sermon  at  Trinity  Church,  in 
1808,  Gardiner  thus  expressed  his  view  of  the 
relations  of  the  country  towards  France  and 
England. 

Though  submissive  and  even  servile  to  France,  to 
Great.  Britain  we  are  eager  to  display  our  hatred 
and  hurl  our  defiance.  The  American  eagle,  though 
meek  as  a  dove  before  the  Gallic  cock,  yet  to  the 
British  lion  will  present  the  "terrors  of  his  beak, 
the  lightnings  of  his  eye,"  and  the  strength  of  bis 


*  Remarks  on  the  Jacobiniad  :  revised  and  corrected  by  the 
author ;  and  embellished  with  caricatures.    Part  First. 
Well  may  they  dread  the  Muse's  fatal  skill : — 
Well  may  they  tremble,  when  she  draw*  lie;-  qui'l; 
Her  magic  quill,  that,  like  Ithuriel's  spear, 
Reveals  the  cloven  hoof,  or  lengthened  ear; 
Gives  fools  and  demagogues  their  natural  shapes; 
Makes  Austins  crocodiles — and  Vinals,  rpes; 
Drass  the  vile  Clubbist  from  his  dark  abode, 
Tilfall  the  demon  starts  up  from  the  toad. 
Printed  at  Eoston,  by  E.  W.  Weld  and  W.  Grccnough,  1795. 
8vo.  pp.  54 


y?,e 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


talons.  Every  petty  dispute  which  may  happen 
between  an  American  captain  and  a  British  officer 
is  magnified  into  a  national  insult.  The  land  of  our 
fathers,  whence  is  derived  the  best  blood  of  the  na- 
tion, the  country  to  which,  we  are  chiefly  indebted 
for  our  laws  and  knowledge,  is  stigmatized  as  a 
nest  of  pirates,  plunderers,  and  assassins.  We 
entice  away  her  seamen,  the  very  sinews  of  her 
power;  we  refuse  to  restore  them  on  applica- 
tion; we  issue  hostile  proclamations;  we  inter- 
dict her  ships  of  war  from  the  common  rites  of  hos- 
pitality ;  we  pass  non-importation  acts ;  we  lay 
embai  goes ;  we  refuse  to  ratify  a  treaty  in  which 
she  had  made  great  concessions  to  us ;  we  dismiss 
her  envoy  of  peace,  who  came  purposely  to  apolo- 
gize for  an  act  unauthorized  by  her  government ; 
we  commit  every  act  of  hostility  against  her  pro- 
portioned to  our  means  and  situation.  Observe  the 
contrast  between  the  two  nations,  and  our  strange 
conduct.  France  robs  us,  and  we  love  her  ;  Britain 
courts  us,  and  we  hate  her.  France  is  hostile,  Bri- 
tain friendly.  'With  France  we  have  a  treaty,  with 
Britain  none.  France  is  fighting  for  the  subjugation 
of  the  world,  Britain  for  its  independence,  France 
is  contending  for  her  own  aggrandizement,  Britain 
for  her  salvation.  If  France  is  victorious  we  are 
slaves ;  if  Britain  proves  victorious  we  remain  free. 
France  is  a  land  of  slaver}' ;  Britain  of  freedom. 
The  insults  and  injuries  we  receive  from  France  are 
unpardonable,  and  the  immediate  acts  of  her  go- 
vernment ;  the  insults  and  injuries  we  receive  from 
Britain  are  not  authorized  by  her  government,  and 
ore  often  provoked  by  the  rudeness  and  ill-manners 
of  our  own  people.  France  makes  actual  war  upon 
us,  and  yet  we  court  her.  We  make  actual  war  on 
Britain,  and  yet  she  tries  every  expedient  to  conci- 
liate us. 

He  took  a  similar  view  of  the  distrust  of  Eng- 
land on  another  Fast  Day  Sermon  in  1810. 

Of  his  Church  views  an  idea  may  be  gathered 
from  a  sermon  which  he  delivered  in  behalf  of  a 
Prayer-Book  Society,  at  Trinity  Church,  in  1S1G. 

Even  the  Church  of  Scotland,  before  the  Reforma- 
tion  the  most  bigoted  of  all  Christian  societies,  used 
a  form  of  prayer;  nor  was  it  laid  aside  till  Knox 
and  other  reformers,  as  they  pleased  to  call  them- 
selves, began  to  persecute  those  who  dissented  from 
them,  and  levelled  or  disfigured  the  finest  churches 
of  the  north.  Their  hatred  to  the  Catholic  religion 
was  so  violent  that  they  determined  to  retain  no- 
thing that  in  the  smallest  degree  resembled  it;  to 
discard  equally  what  was  blameable  and  what  was 
excellent ;  and  among  other  things,  to  annihilate 
forms  of  prayer,  and  to  address  the  Deity  in  their 
own  indecent  and  extemporaneous  effusions.  Poli- 
tical prejudices  against  England  cooperated  with 
their  b:gotry,  and  Scotland  was  covered  with  con- 
venticles, in  which  were  delivered  extempore  ha- 
rangues, that  contained  a  strange  mixture  of  poli- 
tics and  theology.  Their  polities  inculcated  rebel- 
lion, and  their  theology  clothed  God  with  the  attri- 
butes of  the  Devil.  It  is,  however,  but  candid  to 
remark,  that  these  follies  and  blasphemies  gradually 
ceased  ;  and  at  the  present  day  the  Scottish  church 
is  eminently  distinguished  for  rational  piety,  libe- 
rality of  sentiment,  and  extent  of  learning.  It  has 
not,  however,  resumed  a  form  of  prayer,  but  still 
retains  the  custom  of  extemporary  addresses,  which 
began  in  enthusiasm  and  has  been  preserved  by 
prejudice.  It  is,  indeed,  wonderful,  that  men  of 
sense  and  candor  will  not  adopt  a  form  of  prayer, 
the  superiority  of  which  the  liberal  and  enlight- 
ened are  ever  ready  to  acknowledge.      Its  advan- 


tages are  numerous  and  striking;  it  promotes,  in" 
a  high  degree,  the  honor  of  Almighty  God  ;  it  is 
more  expressive  of  reverence,  and  devotion,  it 
preserves  an  impressive  solemnity  and  decorum;  it 
is  at  once  dignified  and  simple:  in  a  word,  it  as  far 
surpasses  extemporary  prayer  as  the  sober  dignity 
and  chaste  eloquence  of  the  learned  divine  excels 
the  indecent  freaks  and  senseless  rant  of  the  itine- 
rant and  unlettered  enthusiast. 

His  occasional  discourses,  as  his  sermon  before 
the  Mass.  Humane  Society,  and  his  address  before 
the  members  of  the  Mass.  Charitable  Fire  Soci- 
ety, in  1803,  with  his  sermon  before  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Boston  Female  Asylum,  in  1809, 
show  a  similar  energy  and  freedom  of  style.  In 
the  last  he  urges  a  profounder  systerh  of  female 
education.  "  There  must  be  something  wrong,"  he 
says,"  in  the  present  system  of  female  education. 
It  is  far  too  superficial.  It  is  almost  exclusively 
directed  to  the  improvement  of  the  person  and 
address.  I  should  wish  for  something  more 
substantial.  *  *  *  Only  lay  a  solid  foundation, 
and  you  may  raise  on  it  a  superstructure  as  airy 
and  fantastical  as  yon  please."  He  commends 
the  Latin  grammar  as  "  the  shortest  road  to  the 
knowledge  of  universal  grammar  and  to  the  at- 
tainment of  every  modern  language." 

There  is  a  story  told  of  Gardiner  on  the  break- 
ing out  of  the  war  with  England,  to  which  he 
was  violently  opposed,  having  taken  for  his  text, 
in  allusion  to  Madison,  a  portion  of  the  sentence 
of  Mark  x.  41  :  They  began  to  be  much  displeased 
icith  James* 

Gardiner  was  one  of  the  original  founders  of 
the  Boston  Alhcnwum,  and  a  frequent  contributor 
to  the  Monthly  Anthology. 

Of  Gardiner's  poetic  talent  there  is  an  instance 
preserved  by  Mr.  Loring,  in  the  verses  sung  in 
King's  Chapel,  July  6,  1808,  after  the  delivery  of 
the  Eulogy  of  Samuel  Dexter,  over  the  remains 
of  Fisher  Ames. 

As,  when  dark  clouds  obscure  the  dawn, 

The  day-star's  lustre  disappears, 
So  Ames  beheld  our  natal  morn, 

And  left  desponding  friends  in  tears. 

Soon  as  the  distant  cannon's  roar, 

Announced  that  morn's  returning  ray, 


*  Gardiner,  like  his  father,  had  a  sympathy  for  the  stage,  if  we 
may  attach  any  importance  to  an  anecdote  related  in  Dunlap's 
Life  of  George  Frederick  Cooke.  The  clergyman  went  to  fee 
the  actor  perform,  and  the  great  tragedian,  nattered  with  the 
attention,  thought  it  necessary  to  return  the  compliment  by 
going  to  hear  the  divine  preach.  Cooke  was  not  exactly  in 
condition  for  religious  services,  but  he  went.  "  He  had,"  says 
Dunlap,  ''  at  the  previous  dinner-party,  made  an  engagement 
with  Mr.  Bernard  to  go  and  hear  Mr.  Gardiner  preach. "and  he 
most  heroically  kept  to  the  intention.  He  got  np,  not  very 
different  in  bodily  estate  from  what  he  was  when  he  was 
tumbled  into  bed,  except  with  better  command  of  limb. 
While  sitting  under  the  hands  of  his  hairdresser,  Mr.  Price 
came  in.  "What!  up  already!''  "Do  you  know.  Price, 
I  am  going  to  church!"  "To  church:"  "  Yes,  I  am  going 
to  hear  Parson  Gardiner.  He's  the  only  one  of  thorn  that 
has  done  me  the  honor  to  come  and  see  the  play,  and  I'll  do 
him  the  honor  of  going  to  hear  him  preach.  Sam,  give  me 
some  hot  brandy  toddy."  The  hairdresser  and  honest  Sam, 
having  performed  their  respective  offices,  and  a  large  glass  of 
stiff  brandy  toddy  having  been  swallowed  as  a  restorative,  he 
attended  upon  his  friend  Bernard,  as  gay  as  one-and-twenty, 
to  Mr.  Gardiner's  church.  Here.  Mr.  Cooke,  notwithstanding 
the  preacher's  eloquence  and  his  own  efforts  to  the  contrary, 
fell  asleep,  to  the  no  little  annoyance  of  his  companion,  and 
the  amusement  of  those  near  him.  and  awoke  in  time  to 
walk  very  decently  out  of  the  church,  with  the  rest  of  the  con- 
gregation.— Irtmldp's  Life  of  Cooler  ch.  xxvii. 


WILLIAM  DUNLAP. 


He  fear'd  its  early  hopes  were  o'er, 
And  flew  to  everlasting  day. 

0  drop  thy  mantle,  sainted  shade, 

On  some  surviving  patriot  name, 
Who,  great  by  thy  example  made, 

May  yet  retrieve  a  nation's  fame ! 

The  manly  genius,  ardent  thought, 

The  love  of  truth  and  wit  refined. 
The  eloquence  that  wonders  wrought, 

And  flash'd  its  light  on  every  mind. 
These  gifts  were  thine,  immortal  Ames! 

Of  motive  pure,  of  life  sublime ; 
Their  loss  our  flowing  sorrow  claims, — 

Their  praise  survives  the  wreck  of  time. 

Dr.  Gardiner  died  at  Harrowgate,  England,  on 
a  tour  for  his  health,  July  29,  1830,  at  the  age  of 
sixty-five.* 

WILLIAM  DUNLAP. 
The  father  of  William  Dunlap  was  an  Irishman, 
and  came  to  this  country  as  an  officer  in  the  Eng- 
lish army  sent  out  to  attack  Quebec.  He  was 
wounded  in  the  memorable  engagement,  and  after 
the  war  resigned  his  commission  and  settled  in 
Perth  Amboy,  New  Jersey,  where  his  only  son 
was  born,  February  19,  1766.  The  child's  earli- 
est instructor  was  a  benevolent  old  bachelor  by 
the  name  of  Thomas  Bartow,  who  lived  in  a 
pleasant  cottage  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  a 
garden  filled  with  choice  fruits,  and  well  stocked 
within  with  books  and  print-:,  to  all  which  the  kind 
old  gentleman  allowed  his  boy-friend  free  access, 
taking  great  delight  in  teaching  him  the  story  of 
the  Iliad,  HJneid,  and  Paradise  Lost,  by  the  pic- 
tures in  the  old  editions  of  Pope,  Dryden,  and 
Milton.  This  pleasant  intercourse  was  broken  up 
by  no  lessan  event  than  the  American  Revolution; 
the  quiet  old  gentleman,  a  Royalist,  retiring  in- 
land to  Bethlehem,  Pa.,  when  the  British  men-of- 
war  made  their  appearance  in  New  York  bay  at 
the  outset  of  the  contest.  After  the  landing  of 
the  British  on  Staten  Island,  the  Dunlap  family 
removed  to  the  village  of  Piscatawa  on  the  Rari- 
tan,  where  they  remained  from  1775  to  1777,  the 
father  siding  with  the  Royalists.  In  1777,  they 
removed  to  New  York,  and  William  was  sent  to 
school.  In  June,  1778,  when  on  a  visit  to  Mr. 
Elliott's  country  seat,  afterwards  the  original 
Sailor's  Snug  Harbor,  "  while  playing  with  the 
boys  after  dinner,  he  was  struck  by  a  bit  of  wood 
and  deprived  of  his  right  eye.  The  medical  treat- 
ment which  ensued  put  a  stop  to  any  further  re- 
gular schooling.  When  after  several  months  he 
was  allowed  to  use  his  remaining  eye,  he  devoted 
himself  to  drawing,  to  which  he  had  early  mani- 
fested an  inclination.  In  1784,  he  was  sent  to 
London  to  study  under  West,  where  he  remained 
about  three  years,  passing  most  of  the  time,  as  he 
candidly  confesses,  "  in  unprofitable  idleness."  In 
1786,  he  made  a  pedestrian  tour  with  Dr.  Samuel 
L.  Mitcliill,  who  had  just  received  his  diploma  at 
Edinburgh,  to  Oxford.  On  his  return,  be  settled 
in  New  York ;  married  Elizabeth,  daughter  of 
Benjamin  Woolsey;  and  wrote  a  play  which  was  j 
accepted  by  the  managers  of  the  American  Com-  I 


*Lorina's  Boston  Orators,  iri8-72,  203.  Buckingham's 
Newspaper  Reminiscences,  ii.  223.  Qnincy's  History  of  the 
Boston  Athenu?um,  and  Memoir  oi"  Gardiner. 


pany,  Hallam  and  Henry,  but  owing  to  green- 
room difficulties  in  the  distribution  of  the  parts 
its  oft  postponed  production  never  took  place. 
While  the  matter  was  in  suspense,  he  wrote  a  se- 
cond five  act  comedy,  entitled  The  Father,  in 
which  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  "fit"  the  lead- 
ing actors  with  parts,  and  the  piece  was  brought 
out  September  7th,  1789. 


The  Father,  afterwards  published  with  the  title 
of  The  Father  of  an  Only  Child,  is  the  best  of 
Dunlap's  plays.  The  piece  is  of  the  sentimental 
school,  and  the  humor  closely  resembles  that  of 
the  productions  of  Oohnan  the  younger,  and  Mor- 
ton. It  was,  however,  written  before  the  produc- 
tions of  these  dramatists ;  and  the  author  seems 
entitled  to  the  originality  he  claims  for  his  Tattle, 
a  rattling  gossip  who  will  bear  a  not  unfavorable 
comparison  with  his  brother  practitioner,  Ollapod. 
The  scenes  in  which  he  is  introduced  are  excellent. 
We  give  a  portion. 

SCENE  FROM  THE  COMEDY,    "  TIIE  FATHER  OF  AN  ONLT  CniLD." 

Present,  liuspoti,  Racket,  Tattle,  Mrs.  Backet. 
Enter  Tattle. 

Tat.  Oh  Racket,  my  dear  fellow,  how  d'ye  do  ? 

Rack,  (asid)  Ho,  another  infernal  coxcomb! 

Tat.  What's  the  matter?  You  don't  seem  well 
How  d'ye  do,  ma'am?  (To  Rusport)  Your  servant, 
sir.  Racket,  you  have  not  introduced  me  to  this  gen- 
tleman. 

Rack.  Captain  Rusport,  this  is  my  friend,  doctor 
Tittle. 

Tat.  Yes,  sir.    Tattle  ;  Terebrate  Tattle,  M.D. 

Rack.  Doctor,  this  is  captain  Rusport,  just  arrived 
in  the  last  packet  from  Halifax. 

Tat.  How  d'ye  do,  sir  ?  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you 
indeed.  Very  fine  potatoes  in  Halifax.  Racket! 
this  way.  Here.  Just  come  from  abroad!  You'll 
recommend  me. 

Rack.  If  he  should  want  a  physician,  I  certainly 

will (half  aside)  in  the  full  hope  that  you  will 

poison  him. 

Tat.  Thank  you;  thank  you.  Servant,  ma'am. 
Fine  weather,  ha?     A  little  rainy,  but  that's  good 


538 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


for  the  country.  (To  Rusport)  A  fine  season  for 
coughs  and  colds,  sir.  O  Racket!  my  dear  fellow, 
I  had  forgot  that  I  heard  of  your  accideut.  No  great 
harm  done,  I  perceive.  What  a  tremendous  fall 
you  must  have  had !  Precipitated  from  the  scaffold- 
ing of  a  three  story  house,  and  brought  with  your 
os  parietale  in  contact  with  the  pavement,  while 
your  heels  were  suspended  ill  the  air,  by  being  en- 
tangled in  a  mason's  ladder. 

Rack.  Pooh,  Pooh  !  I  tumbled  from  a  cow's  back, 
and  broke  my  nose. 

Tat.  Is  that  all?      Why,  I  heard So,  so,  only 

a  contusion  on  the  pons  ?iasi.  Ay,  ay.  I  was  called 
up  to  a  curious  ease  last  evening. 

Rack.  Then  I'm  off.  (  While  Tattle  is  speaking, 
Racket  goes  out ;  and  Rusport  and  Mrs.  Racket  re- 
tire behind,  laughing.) 

Tat.  Very  curious  case  indeed.  I  had  just  finish- 
ed my  studies  for  the  evening,  smoked  out  my  last 
cigar,  and  got  comfortably  in  bed.  Pretty  late.  Very 
dark.  Monstrous  dark.  Cursed  cold.  Monstrous 
cold,  indeed,  for  the  season.  Very  often  the  case 
with  us  of  the  faeult}'.  Called  up  at  all  times  and 
seasons.  Used  to  be  so  when  I  was  a  student  in  Pa- 
ris. Called  up  one  night  to  a  dancing-master,  who 
had  his  skull  most  elegantly  fractured,  his  leg  most 
beautifully  broke,  and  the  finest  dislocation  of  the 
shoulder  I  ever  witnessed.  I  soon  put  the  shoulder 
in  sfate  to  draw  the  bow  again,  and  his  leg  to  caper 
to  the  tune  of  it.  As  for  the  head,  you  know  a 
dancing-master's  head,  ma'am,  (looking  round)  head 
— head — Oh!  there  you  are,  are  you?  I  beg  your 
pardon,  I  declare  I  thought  you  were  by  me.  So 
you  see,  madam,  as  I  was  saying,  I  was  called  up  last 

night  to  witness  the  most  curious  case (follows 

them,  talking)     The  bone  of  the  right  thigh ■ 

Re-enter  Racket. 

Rack.  So,  the  doctor  is  at  it  still. 

Tat.  I'm  glad  you've  come  to  hear  it,  Racket.  The 
bone  of  the  right  thigh — (Racket  turns  aicay) — The 
bone  of  the  right  thigh,  ma'arn — (she  turns  off) — 
The  bone  of  the  right  thigh,  captaii. 

Rusp.  Ay,  you  must  have  gained  great  credit  by 
that  cure,  doctor. 

Tat.  Sir!  What?  0,  you  mean  the  dancing- 
master  !  I  can  assure  you,  sir,  I  am  sought  for.  I 
have  a  pretty  practice,  considering  the  partiality 
the  people  of  this  country  have  to  old  women's  pre- 
scriptions: hoar-hound,  cabbage-leaves,  robin-run- 
away, dandy-grey-russet,  and  the  like.  A  young 
man  of  ever  so  liberal  and  scientific  an  education 
can  scarcely  make  himself  known. 

Mrs.  Rack.  But  you  have  made  yourself  known, 
doctor. 

Tat.  Why  yes,  ma'am.  I  found  there  were  but 
two  methods  of  establishing  a  reputation,  made  use 
of  by  our  physicians;  so,  for  fear  of  taking  the 
wrong,  I  took  both. 

Mrs.  Rack.  And  what  are  they,  doctor? 

Tat.  Writing  for  the  newspapers,  or  challenging 
and  caning  all  the  rest  of  the  faculty. 

Rack.  These  are  methods  of  attaining  notoriety. 

Mrs.  Rack.  And  notoriety,  let  me  tell  you,  is  often 
the  passport  to  wealth. 

******** 

Rusp.  Ha,  ha  ha!  He  is  a  queerity,  by  all  that's 
quizzish ! 

Rack.  He  is  an  insufferable  bore. 

Mrs.  Rack.  O  no.  I  think  he's  very  amusing, 
now  and  then. 

Rusp.  He  is  a  traveller,  I  think  you  say. 

Rack.  He  has  traversed  France,  Italy,  and  Ger- 
many in  pursuit  of  science. 

3frs.  Rack.  But  Science  travelled  faster  than  he 


did,  and  cruelly  eluded  hi3  pursuit.  Poor  doctor  I 
The  few  ideas  he  has  are  always  travelling  post,  and 
generally  upon  cross  roads.  His  head  is  like  New 
York  on  May-day,  all  the  furniture  wandering. 

Re-enter  Tattle. 

Tat.  Racket,  I  forgot  to  tell  you 

Mrs.  Rack.  Could  not  you  find  my  sister? 

Tat.  I  want  to  tell  you,  madam,  of  a  monstrous 
mollification 

Rack.  Pooh,  pooh!  Nonsense!  Is  Caroline  at 
home  ? 

Tat.  Who  ?  0 !  ah !— I  had  forgot.  I  don't  know. 
I'll  tell  you — I  had  ascended  about  half,  perhaps  two 
thirds  of  the  stair-case — ease — Did  I  tell  you  of  the 
case  of  the 

Rack.  Kay,  stick  to  the  stair-case. 

Tat.  No.  I  must  descend.  I  happened  to  think, 
without  any  apparent  train  of  associated  ideas  lead- 
ing to  the  thought,  of  an  affair  that  happened  last 
night — nay  you  must  listen — it's  worth  hearing.  It's 
quite  likely  that  1  told  you  some  time  ago  of  my 
having  emploj-ed  a  professor  of  the  mechanical  part 
of  painting  to  delineate  my  name  upon  ablack  board 
to  put  over  my  door.  By  the  bye,  it's  a  very  mis- 
taken notion,  that  the  effluvia  arising  from  the  pig- 
ments used  in  this  branch  of  painting 

Rack.  Nay,  nay,  the  sign.  It  was  painted  and  put 
over  your  door. 

Tat.  And  looked  very  well  too,  didn't  it  ?  Very 
well,  I'll  assure  you,  captain.  Terebrate  Tattle,  M.  D. 
Large  gold  characters;  well  and  legibly  designated. 
This  striking  the  organ  of  vision,  or  rather  being  im- 
pressed on  the  retina  in  an  inverted  position,  like  the 
figures  in  a  camera  obscura,  and  thence  conveyed  to 
the  mind,  denoted  1113*  place  of  residence.  An  inge- 
nious device,  and  it  answered  my  purpose.  I  got  a 
case  of  polypusses  by  it  immediately. 

Rusp.  Pray,  sir,  what  kind  of  instruments  are  they? 

Tat.  Nay,  sir,  polypusses  are 

Rack.  Kay,  but,  doctor,  the  sign. 

Tat.  Ay.  Right !  good !  So,  sir,  it  was  displayed, 
to  the  ornament  of  the  street,  and  the  edification  of 
the  passengers.  Well,  sir,  last  night, — last  night,  sir, 
somebody  or  other  took  it  down, — took  it  down, 
sir,  and  nailed  it  over  a  duck-coop.  "  Terebrate  Tat- 
tle," say  the  gold  letters ;  "  Quack,  quack,  quack," 
say  the  ducks.  'Twas  illiberal,  cursed  illiberal ! — 
What  a  beautiful  fracture  of  the  os  femoris  I  saw 

this  morning !    The  upper  portion  of  the  bone 

******** 

Re-enter  Tattle. 

Tat.  So.  Racket,  as  I  was  saying 

Rack,  (disengaging  himself)  Infernal  puppy ! 

Tat.  The  upper  portion  of  the  bone  being  very 
much  shattered,  I  had  recourse  to- 

Rack.  Excuse  me.  [Exit. 

Tat.  So,  miss  Susannah,  the  os  femoris — the  upper 
portion  of  the  os  femoris. 

Sus.  None  of  sich  names  to  me,  Mr.  Doctor  I  I 
don't  understand  being  called  names,  so  I  don't.  Ox 
feminine  and  feminine  ox!  You  think  I  don't  know 
your  meaning!  It  shows  your  breeding,  so  it  does. 
Feminine  ox!  La  souls!  [Exit. 

Tat.  Astonishing  ignorance!  Now  she  under- 
stands no  more  of  anatomy  than  I  do  of  making  a 
custard.  And  these  people  will  not  be  taught.  You 
might  as  well  attempt  to  pour  ipecacuanha  down 
their  throats,  as  science  into  their  ears.  Well,  I'll 
publish  this  case  of  the  fractured  os  femoris.  If  no- 
body will  hear  it,  perhaps  somebody  will  rend  it; 
and  there  is  much  magic  in  print.  Curious  art. 
Yes,  I'll  send  it  to  the  editor  of  the  American  Maga- 
zine, and  at  least  he  and  his  printers  must  read  it 

[Exit. 


WILLIAM  DUNLAP. 


A  benevolent  old  officer,  a  lively  wife  who  re- 
forms a  dissipated  husband,  Platoon  a  servant, 
very  closely  after  the  model  of  Corporal  Trim, 
Susannah  a  simple-minded  Audrey,  Jacob  a 
German  servant,  and  Rusport  a  showy  British 
officer,  who  turns  out  to  be  an  impostor,  furnished 
the  remainder  of  the  varied  and  well  sustained 
dramatis  persons.  The  piece  was  successful,  and 
ww  followed  by  an  Interlude  entitled  Darby's 
Return.  This  was  written  for  Wignell,  the  actor, 
who  was  a  great  favorite  in  the  character  of  Dar- 
by in  the  "  Poor  Soldier,"  to  which  it  formed  a 
sequel ;  Darby,  after  various  adventures  in  the 
United  States  and  Europe,  returning  to  Ireland. 
Washington,  the  author  informs  us,  was  present 
at  one  of  the  representations. 

The  remembrance  of  this  performance  is  rendered 
pleasing  from  the  recollection  of  the  pleasure  evinc- 
ed by  the  first  president  of  the  tl.  States,  the  immor- 
tal Washington,  who  attended  its  representation. 
The  eyes  of  the  audience  were  frequently  bent  on  liis 
countenance,  and  to  watch  the  emotions  produced 
by  any  particular  passage  upon  him  was  the  simul- 
taneous employment  of  all.  When  Wignell,  as  Dar- 
by, recounts  what  had  befallen  him  in  America,  in 
New  York,  at  the  adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitu- 
tion, and  the  inauguration  of  the  president,  the  in- 
terest expressed  by  the  audience  in  the  looks  and 
the  changes  of  countenance  of  this  great  man  became' 
intense.  He  smiled  at  these  lines  alluding  to  the 
change  in  the  government — 

There  ton,  I  saw  gome  mighty  pretty  shows ; 
A  revolution,  without  blood  or  blows, 
For,  as  I  understood  the  cunning  elves, 
The  people  all  revolted  from  theinsolves. 

Put  at  the  lines — 

A  man  who  fought  to  free  the  land  from  wo, 
Like  m<\  had  left  his  farm,  a  soldiering  to  go, 
But  having  gain'd  his  point,  he  had,  lilcome, 
Keturn'd  his  own  potaloe  ground  to  see. 
But  there  he  could  not  rest.     With  one  accord 
He's  call'd  to  be  a  kind  of — not  a  lord — 
I  don't  know  what,  he's  not  a  great  man  sure, 
For  poor  men  love  him  just  as  he  were  poor. 
They  love  him  like  a  father,  or  u  brother. 

DERMOT. 
As  we  poor  Irishmen  love  one  another, 
the  president  looked  serious ;    and  when  Kathleen 
asked — 

How  look'd  he,  Darby  ?  .Was  he  short  or  tall? 

his  countenance  showed  embarrassment,  from  the  ex- 
pectation of  one  of  those  eulogiums  which  he  had 
been  obliged  to  hear  on  many  public  occasions,  and 
Which  must  doubtless  have  been  a  severe  trial  to  his 
feelings;  but  Darby's  answer  that  he  had  not  seen 
him,  because  he  had  mistaken  a  man  "  all  lace  and 
glitter,  botherum  and  shine"  for  him  until  all  the 
show  had  passed,  relieved  the  hero  from  apprehen- 
sion of  further  personality,  and  he  indulged  in  that 
which  was  with  him  extremely  rare,  a  hearty  laugh. 

_  These  successes,  of  course,  brought  the  drama- 
tist in  close  relations  with  the  theatre.  Other 
pieces,  tragic  and  comic,  from  bis  pen  were  pro- 
duced ;  he  appeared  once  upon  the  stage  himself, 
and  in  1796  became  an  associate  with  Dallam 
and  Ilodgkinson  in  the  management  of  the  John 
Street  Theatre.  On  the  28th  of  January,  1798, 
the  company  was  transferred  to  the  new'ly  com- 
pleted Park  Theatre,  suon  after  which  Dunlap  be- 
came sole  manager.  On  the  30th  of  March  his 
five  act  tragedy  in  blank  verse  on  Andre  was 


produced  with  success.  He  kept  the  theatre  well 
supplied  with  other  pieces  from  bis  own  pen, 
mostly  translations,  making  a  great  hit  in  a  ver- 
sion of  Kotzebue's  Stranger;  and  appears  to  have 
conducted  his  business  with  spirit  and  intelli- 
gence. The  result  was,  however,  disastrous,  as  on 
the  22d  of  February,  1805,  he  closed  the  theatre  a 
bankrupt.  In  addition  to  this  misfortune,  he  was 
"a  debtor  to  the  United  States  as  a  security  for 
the  marshal  of  New  Jersey!  w'10  was  a  defaulter." 
During  his  management  he  bad  kept  his  hand  in 
as  an  artist  to  some  extent  by  painting  "  some 
small  sketchy  likenesses"  of  Dr.  Eliliti  II.  Smith, 
C.  B.  Brown,  and  other  literary  associates  of  the 
Friendly  Club  ;  and  he  now  devoted  himself  for 
a  number  of  years  to  his  original  profession.  His 
paintings  were  chiefly  portraits.  In  1800,  he 
again  became  connected  as  assistant  manager  with 
a  salary  at  the  Park  theatre,  and  so  remained  un- 
til 1811.  In  1812,  he  published  the  Memoirs  of 
the  great  "  Star,"  George  Frederick  Cooke;  a  work 
which,  from  his  intimacy  with  the  actor,  he  was 
well  prepared  to  write,  and  commenced  a  maga- 
zine entitled  the  Recorder,  which  had  but  a  brief 
career.  The  numbers  were  collected  into  a  vo- 
lume with  the  title,  "  A  Record  Literary  and  Po- 
litical of  Five  Months  in  the  Year  1813  ;  by  Wil- 
liam Dunlap  and  others."  He  also  wrote  a  life 
of  his  friend  Charles  Brockden  Brown,  accompa- 
nied by  a  selection  from  his  literary  remains,  which 
he  says,  in  apology  for  its  unmethodical  arrange- 
ment, was  made  by  Paid  Allen  of  Baltimore,  and 
in  part  printed  before  the  work  was  placed  i.n  his 
hands.  In  1814,  he  received  the  appointment  of 
Assistant  Paymaster-General  of  the  New  York 
State  militia  from  Daniel  I).  Tompkins,  a  favor 
which  he  attributes  to  the  good  offices  of  Wash- 
ington Irving,  then  one  of  the  general's  aides. 
This  he  held  until  the  close  of  the  year  1816, 
when  he  resumed  the  brush.  In  his  fifty-fifth, 
year  he  painted  a  picture  18  by  12  feet,  after  tho 
printed  descriptions  of  West's  "  Christ  Rejected," 
which  was  exhibited  in  most  of  the  cities  and 
towns  of  the  Un' ted  States  with  success.  On  the 
5th  of  May,  1828,  he  opened  to  the  public  an  ori- 
ginal painting  18  by  14  of  "Calvary."  This  ho 
also  carried  to  various  parts  of  the  United  States. 
In  the  winter  of  1831  and  '2,  he  delivered  in  New 
York  two  lectures  on  the  fine  arts.  In  1833,  his 
History  of  the  American  Theatre  was  published, 
and  on  the  28th  of  February  following  he  received 
the  well  deserved  honor  of  a  complimentary  bene- 
fit at  the  Park  Theatre,  which  placed  the  hand- 
some sum  of  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  in  his 
pocket.  His  History  of  the  Arts  of  Design  in 
the  United  States  was  published  by  subscription 
in  1834.  It  forms  two  octavo  volumes,  and  con- 
tains full  biographical  notices  of  all  the  artists  in 
every  department  of  design  in  the  oountry,abounds 
in  anecdote  as  well  as  information  collected  with 
great  pains  from  original  sources,  which  cannot 
be  found  elsewhere,  and  is  tho  most  valuable  of  the 
author's  productions. 

In  1836,  he  published  a  novel  entitled  Tliirty 
Years  Ago  ;  or  the  Memoirs  of  a  Water  Drinker, 
which  he  dedicated  to  "all  Temperance  Societies." 
He  introduces  in  it  many  of  his  old  recollections 
of  New  York,  bringing  in  the  moral  of  his  story 
in  the  disastrous  convivial  habits  of  George  Fre- 
derick Cooke,    whoso  conversation  is  the  main 


540 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


theme  of  the  book.  The  old  Park  Theatre  and 
its  group  of  actors  figure  largely  -with  the  no- 
tices of  the  main  personages  of  the  city.  Dunlap 
delighted  to  trace  its  historic  scenes,  and  has  pur- 
sued this  theme  agreeably  in  these  volumes  in  his 
chapter  on  the  Battery ;  and  a  description  of  the 
Inauguration  of  Washington  at  Federal  Hall,  in  a 
dinner  party  conversation.  Among  the  incidents 
of  Cooke's  life,  the  hoaxing  duel  with  Cooper  at 
Cato's  is  described  with  humorous  effect  by  Dun- 
lap,  who  enters  with  gusto  into  the  grand  style  of 
his  favorite  subject,  whose  life  he  had  written  in 
a  graver  measure. 

In  1837,  his  History  of  New  York  for  Schools 
appeared  in  two  duodecimo  volumes.  This  lit- 
tle book  is  written  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue  be- 
tween an  uncle  and  his  nephews.  It  is  mainly  taken 
up  with  the  city,  and  contains  notices  of  the  men 
distinguished  in  art  and  literature  as  well  as  state 
affairs,  who  have  graced  its  annals.  The  pictur- 
esque incidents  of  the  Revolution  are  minutely  and 
vividly  .depicted,  and  an  additional  historical  va- 
lue is  given  to  the  work  by  several  well  executed 
wood-cuts  of  old  houses,  and  other  interesting  lo- 
calities. The  look  closes  with  the  inauguration 
of  Washington. 

His  success  in  this  effort  probably  induced  one 
of  a  more  elaborate  character  on  the  same  topic. 
His  History  of  New  Netherlands,  Province  of 
New  York,  and  State  of  New  York,  appeared  in 
two  octavo  volumes  in  1839.  It  is  a  work  of  in- 
dustry and  re.-earch,  and  contains  a  valuable  ap- 
pendix, occupying  half  of  the  second  volume,  in 
which  he  has  collected  a  number  of  curious  facts 
relating  to  manners  and  customs.  It  closes  at  the 
same  period  with  his  previous  history. 

Dunlap  died  soon  after  the  completion  of  this 
work,  September  28,  1839. 


A  NIGHT  ON   THE  HUDSON  RIVER  WITH  CIIARLES  MATHEWS. 

FROM  THE    HISTORY  OF  THE  AMERICAN   THEAffRE. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  April,  in  the  year  1823, 
that  I  embarked  with  two  hundred  and  fifty  others, 
in  the  steamboat  Chancellor  Livingston,  for  Albany. 
After  the  bustle  of  leave-takii  g,  and  the  various 
ceremonies  and  multifarious  acts  of  hurried  business 
which  daily  take  place  on  the  departure  of  one  of 
these  self-moving  hotels  from  the  city  of  Kew  York, 
I  had  leisure  to  look  around  me,  with  the  intention 
of  finding  some  acquaintance  as  a  companion,  or  at 
least  to  satisfy  my  curiosity  as  to  who  were  on 
board. 

I  had  seen  many  faces  known  to  me  when  I  first 
entered  tlie  boat,  but  they  had  vanished:  all  ap- 
peared, at  first,  strange.  I  soon,  however,  observed 
James  Fennimore  Cooper,  the  justly-celebrated  no- 
velist, in  conversation  with  Dr.  Francis.  The  last- 
mentioned  gentleman  I  had  long  known,  but  with 
the  first  my  acquaintance  was  of  recent  date.  We 
had  occasionally  met  at  the  bookstore  of  Wiley,  his 
publisher ;  but  it  was  not  until  after  the  circum- 
stance I  am  now  recording  that  an  intimacy  took 
place,  which  has  been  to  me  a  source  of  very  great 
pleasure. 

I  soon  after  noted  a  man  of  extraordinary  appear- 
ance, who  moved  rapidly  about  the  deck,  and  occa- 
sionally joined  the  gentlemen  above  named.  His 
age  might  be  forty ;  his  figure  tall,  thin,  and  mus- 
cular ;  one  leg  was  shorter  than  the  other,  which, 
although  it  occasioned  a  halt  in  his  gait,  did  not  im- 
pede his  activity ;  his  features  were  extremely  irre- 


gular, yet  his  physiognomy  was  intelligent,  and  his 
eyes  remarkably  searching  and  expressive.  I  had 
never  seen  Mathews,  either  in  private  or  public, 
nor  do  1  recollect  that  I  had  at  that  time  ever  seen 
any  representation  of  him,  or  heard  his  person 
described;  but  I  instantly  concluded  that  this  was 
no  other  than  the  celebrated  mimic  and  player. 
Doubtless  his  dress  and  manner,  which  were  evi- 
dently English,  and  that  peculiarity  which  still 
marks  some  of  the  votaries  of  the  histrionic  art, 
helped  me  to  this  conclusion.  I  say,  "  still  marks ;" 
for  I  remember  the  time  when  the  distinction  was 
so  gross  that  a  child  would  say,  "  There  goes  a  play- 
actor." 

The  afternoon  was  uncommonly  fine  for  our  cli- 
mate in  the  cold  month  of  April.  The  passengers 
generally  kept  the  deck.  We  had  not  gone  far  on 
our  voyage  before  the  author  of  The  Spy  (for  he 
was  then  chiefly  known  by  that  fascinating  work) 
accosted  me  nearly  thus  : — "  I  understand  from  Ma- 
thews that  you  and  he  have  never  met.  He  is  on 
board,  and  has  expressed  a  wish  to  be  introduced  to 
you.  Have  you  seen  him  off  the  stage  ln 
"  No — nor  on." 

"  Is  it  possible !     There  he  stands  with  Francis." 
"  I  have  been  noticing  that  figure,  and  had  come 
to  a  conclusion  that  it  was  Mathews." 

"  His  figure  is  odd  enough,  to  be  sure.  I  suppose 
you  know  that  his  lameness  and  the  deficiency  in 
the  regular  symmetry  of  his  face  are  owing  to  his 
being  thrown  from  a  gig,  and  very  much  injured  by 
the  fall ;  but  these  defects  are  not  seen  on  the  stage, 
or  are  turned  to  good  account  by  his  skill  in  his 
profession." 

Part  of  this  passed  as  we  approached  the  subject 
of  the  dialogue,  and  I  soon  made  acquaintance  with 
Charles  Mathews.  He  introduced  the  subject  of 
George  Frederick  Cooke  and  his  Memoirs,  compli- 
mented the  author  of  them,  and  of  course  made 
himself  agreeable.  Fennimore  was  very  attentive 
to  me,  and  appeared  to  wish  my  gratification  by  a 
display  of  tlie  talents  of  Mathews,  who,  as  the 
novelist  afterwards  told  me,  was  at  his  suggestion 
making  a  voyage  to  Albany,  that  he  might  see 
something  more  of  America  and  American  manners 
than  are  to  be  found  in  a  seaport  town. 

The  figure  and  manner  of  the  actor  were  suffi- 
ciently uncommon  to  attract  the  attention  of  a 
throng  of  men  usually  employed  in  active  business, 
but  here  placed  in  a  situation  which,  of  all  others, 
calls  for  something  to  while  away  time  ;  but  when 
)  some  who  traced  the  likeness  between  the  actor 
on  the  deck  of  the  steamboat  and  the  actor  on 
the  stage  of  the  theatre,  buzzed  it  about  that  this 
was  the  mirth-inspiring  Mathews,  curiosity  showed 
itself  in  as  many  modes  as  there  were  varieties  of 
character  in  the  motley  crowd  around  him. 

This  very  natural  and  powerful  propensity,  which 
every  person  who  exposes  himself,  or  herself,  upon 
a  public  stage,  to  the  gaze  of  the  mixed  multitude, 
wishes  ardently  to  excite,  was,  under  the  present 
peculiar  circumstances  of  time,  place,  and  leisure, 
expressed  in  a  manner  rather  annoying  to  the  hero 
of  the  sock,  who  would  now  have  willingly  appeared 
in  the  character  of  a  private  gentleman. 

There  are  individuals  who  can  generally  overcome 
this  difficulty  by  dint  of  character,  talent,  or  per- 
sonal appearance ;  but  in  the  case  before  us  there 
was  nothing  sufficiently  dignified  to  repress  the 
clownish  propensities  of  such  among  the  crowd  as 
were  clowns,  and  they  were  not  a  few. 

The  passengers  in  the  Chancellor  Livingston  find- 
ing themselves  on  the  same  boards  with  the  cele- 
brated Mathews,   and  at  liberty  to   gaze   without 
j   paying  for  it,  at  the  man  who  had  delighted  them 


WILLIAM  DUNLAP. 


511 


on  the  stage,  gratified  their  curiosity  without  much 
ceremony;  and  whenever  Mathews  was  perceived 
to  be  stationary,  and,  with  his  usual  animation, 
amusing  his  immediate  companions,  the  watchful 
loungers  closed  around  by  degrees,  and  according  to 
character,  feeling,  or  education,  became  distant  or 
nearer  auditors  and  admirers  of  the  wondrous  man. 

One  clown,  in  particular,  followed  the  object  of 
his  very  sincere  admiration  with  a  pertinacity  which 
deserved  a  better  return  than  it  met.  He  was  to 
Mathews  a  perfect  Monsieur  Tonson,  and  his  appear- 
ance seemed  to  excite  the  same  feelings.  The  novelist 
and  physician  pointed  out  to  me  the  impertinent 
curiosity  of  this  admirer  of  the  actor,  and  we  all 
took  some  portion  of  mischievous  delight  in  observ- 
ing the  irritability  of  Mathews.  It  increased  to  a, 
ludicrous  degree  when  Mathews  found  that  no  effort 
or  change  of  place  could  exclude  his  tormentor  from 
his  sight;  and  when,  after  having  made  an  effort  to 
avoid  him,  he,  on  turning  his  head,  saw  Monsieur 
Tonson  fixed  as  a  statue,  again  listening  in  motion- 
less admiration  to  his  honeyed  words;  the  actor 
would  suddenly  change  from  the  animated  relation 
of  story  or  anecdote,  with  which  he  had  been  enter- 
taining his  companions,  to  the  outpouring  of  a 
rhapsody  of  incoherent  nonsense,  uttered  with  in- 
credible volubility :  without  altering  his  former 
manner,  he  would  rattle  off  something  like,  "  Snr- 
danapalus  Heliogabalus  Faustina  and  Kitty  Fisher 
with  their  fourteen  children  Cecrops  Moses  Ariadne 
Robinson  Crusoe  Ximrod  Captain  Cooke  Bonaparte 
and  Jack  the  Giant-Killer  had  a  long  confab  with 
Nebuchndonozer  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  the  pope 
on  the  best  mode  of  making  caraway  comfits."  But 
he  found  that  this  only  made  his  admirer  listen 
more  intently,  and  open  his  eyes  and  mouth  more 
widely  and  earnestly.  As  happens  with  many  other 
orators,  the  more  unintelligible  his  nonsense,  the 
greater  was  the  admiration  of  the  auditor. 

We  had  but  one  regular  meal  on  the  passage,  a 
very  plentiful  supper,  at  about  seven  o'clock,  with 
tea  and  coffee.     We  had  embarked  at  5  P.  M.,  and 
arrived  at  Albany  by  suurising.     The  meal  was  not 
suited  to  the  habits  of  Mr.  Mathews,  and  he  was   i 
offended  by  both  the  matter  and  manner  of  it;  but 
when  the  preparations  for  sleeping  took  place,  and   ! 
he  found  that  the  whole  company,  females  excepted,   ! 
must  seek  rest  in  the  same  cabin,  some  in  berths  and   | 
others  accommodated  with  mattresses  on  the  floor, 
his  feelings  revolted,  and  he  protested  against  taking 
rest  on  such  terms. 

To  this  feeling  I  am  indebted  for  a  night  of  much 
amusement;  I  should  be  unjust  if  I  did  not  add,  and 
some  instruction.  I  had  secured  a  mattress  on  the 
floor  of  one  of  the  cabins,  and  should  have  dully 
slept  away  at  least  part  of  the  night,  but  that  Fen- 
nimore  Cooper  gave  me  intimation  of  Mathews's  ' 
wisli  to  sit  up,  and  of  his  (Cooper's)  success  in  obtain- 
ing the  captain's  cabin  on  the  deck  of  the  vessel, 
where  Mathews,  Francis,  and  himself  had  deter- 
mined to  enjoy  a  supper,  whiskey-punch,  and  such 
convivial  pleasure  as  could  be  extracted  from  such 
circumstances,  and  such  a  meeting.  I  was  invited 
to  make  one,  and  readily  accepted  the  invitation. 

Seated  in  the  captain's  cabin,  and  freed  from  all 
annoyance,  Mathews  became,  as  usual,  the  fiddle  of  | 
the  company;  and  story,  anecdote,  imitation,  and 
song  poured  from  him  with  the  rapidity  and  bril- 
liancy of  the  stars  which  burst  from  a  rocket  on  a 
rejoicing  night.  To  make  himself  still  more  agree- 
able to  the  senior,  he  introduced  the  memoirs  of  , 
George  Frederick,  with  that  flattery  which  is  deli- 
cious to  all  men,  and  peculiarly  so  to  an  author. 
"The  story  of  Cooke  and  Mrs.  Burns,"  he  added, 
"  you  havo  told  remarkably  well,  and  when  I  have 


introduced  it  in  my  ' Youthful  Days'  I  have  always 
taken  your  words  ;  but  Tom  Cooper  from  whom,  as 
I  understand,  you  had  it,  forgot  the  termination  of 
the  story', — the  real  denouement, — which  makes  it 
infinitely  more  dramatic." 

All  joined  in  the  request  that  Mathews  would 
tell  the  story  in  his  own  way,  and  he,  nothing  loath, 
began : — 

"  I  was  a  raw  recruit  in  the  Thespian  corps,  and 
it  was  my  first  campaign  in  Dublin.  Chance  made 
me  a  fellow-lodger  with  Cooke,  at  the  house  of  Mis- 
tress Burns.  1  had  looked  at  the  great  actor  with 
an  awful  reverence,  but  had  not  yet  been  honoured 
by  any  notice  from  him. 

"  In  getting  up  Maeklin's  Love  a  la  Mode,  I  had 
been  cast  for  Beau  Mordecai,  and  assuredly  a  more 
unfit  representative  of  the  little  Jew  can  scarcely  he 
imagined.  As  tall  as  I  now  am,  I  had  then  all  the 
rawboned  awkwardness  of  a  hobbletehoy,  and  no 
knowledge  of  the  world  or  of  the  stage.  But  Mr. 
Cooke  must  be  shown  to  the  Dublin  public  as  Sir 
Arehj',  and  there  was  no  other  Mordecai  to  be  had. 
I  was,  however,  perfect  in  the  words ;  and  if  I  mur- 
dered the  Jew,  I  did  it  impartially ;  I  murdered 
him  '  every  inch.' 

"  After  the  farce,  I  tarried,  as  you  Yankees  say,  a 
considerable  time  at  the  theatre,  rather  choosing  to 
linger  among  the  almost  expiring  dipped  candles  of 
the  dressing-rooms  thai)  to  seek,  through  rnist  and 
mud,  my  lofty  but  comfortless  abode  in  Mrs.  Burns's 
garret ;  but  the  property-man  gave  me  my  cue  to 
depart,  by  putting  out  the  lights ;  and  I  was  slowly 
mounting  to  my  bed,  when,  as  I  passed  the  room  of 
the  great  man,  I  saw  him  (the  door  being  open)  sit- 
ting with  a  jug  before  him,  indulging  after  the 
labours  of  the  evening.  I  was  stealing  by,  and  had 
already  one  foot  on  the  flight  of  stairs  which  led  to 
my  exalted  apartment,  when  I  was  arrested  by  a 
loud,  high-pitched  voice,  crying,  '  Come  hither, 
young  man.'  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  senses  :  I 
hesitated.  '  Come  in,'  was  repeated.  I  advanced. 
'  Shut  the  door,  and  sit  down.'  I  obeyed.  He 
assumed  an  air  of  courtesy,  and  calling  upon  Mis- 
tress Burns  for  another  tumbler,  filled  for  himself 
and  me.  '  You  will  be  so  kind,  my  good  Mistress 
Burns,  as  to  bring  another  pitcher  of  whiskey  -punch 
in  honour  of  our  young  friend.'  '  To  be  sure  and 
I  will,  Mr.  Cooke.'  The  punch  was  brought,  and  a 
hot  supper,  an  unusual  luxury  then  to  me.  After 
supper,  the  veteran,  quite  refreshed  and  at  ease, 
chatted  incessantly  of  plays  and  players, — lashing 
some,  commending  others, — while  I,  delighted  to  be 
thus  honoured,  listened  and  laughed;  thus  playing 
naturally  and  sincerely  the  part  of  a  most  agreeable 
companion.  After  the  third  jug  of  punch,  I  was 
sufficiently  inspired  to  ask  a  few  questions,  and  even 
to  praise  the  acting  of  the  veteran. 

"  '  To  use  your  own  words,  as  I  have  often  before 
done,'  said  Mathews,  addressing  himself  to  the  bio- 
grapher, '  one  jug  of  whiskey-punch  followed  the 
other,'  and  Cooke  began  to  advise  his  young  com- 
panion how  to  conduct  himself  on  the  real  and  on 
the  mimic  scene  of  life.  '  You  are  young,  and  want 
a  friend  to  guide  you.  Talent  you  have;  but  talent 
without  prudence  is  worthless,  and  may  be  per- 
nicious. Take  my  word  for  it,  there  is  nothing  can 
place  a  man  at  the  head  of  Ids  profession  but  industry 
and  sobriety.  Mistress  Burns ! — shun  ebriety  as  you 
would  shun  destruction.  Mistress  Burns!  another 
jug  of  whiskey-punch,  Mistress  Burns.' 

"  '  Oh,  Mister  Cooke — ' 

"  '  You  make  it  so  g>od,  Mistress  Burns  ;  another 

jug-' 

"  '  Yes,  Mister  Cooke.' 

"  '  In  our  profession,  my  young  friend,  dissipation 


542 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


is  the  bane  of  hundreds ;  "  villanous  company" — low 
company  leads  to  drinking  ;  and  the  precious  time 
is  lost  which  should  have  been  employed  in  gaining 
that  knowledge  which  alone  can  make  men  respect- 
able. Ah !  thank  you,  Mistress  Burns :  this  has  the 
true  Ilibernia  smack  ?'  " 

"  '  You  may  say  that,  Mister  Cooke.'  " 

It  is  needless  to  remind  the  reader,  that  with  the 
aid  of  Mathews's  powers  of  imitation,  sometimes 
called  ventriloquism  in  this  humbugging  world,  all 
this  and  much  more  would  be  extremely  pleasant, 
and  the  more  especially  as  the  company  had  re- 
peated supplies  of  the  same  inspiring  beverage  from 
the  steward,  and  almost  as  good,  certainly  as  strong, 
as  that  of  Mistress  Burns's. 

Mathews  went  on  to  describe  the  progress  of 
Cooke's  intoxication,  during  which  his  protests 
against  drunkenness  became  stronger  with  each 
glass.  He  then  undertook  to  instruct  the  tyro  in 
the  histrionic  art,  and  especially  in  the  manner  of  ex- 
hibiting the  passions.  Here  it  would  be  vain  to 
endeavour  to  follow  Mathews:  Cooke's  grimaces 
and  voice, — while  his  physical  powers,  under  the 
government  of  whiskey,  rebelled  at  every  effort 
against  the  intention  of  the  lecturer, — were  depicted 
by  the  mimic  in  a  manner  beyond  the  conception  of 
even  those  who  have  seen  the  public  exhibition  of 
his  talents:  here  all  was  unrestrained  gig  and  fun, 
and  the  painting  truly  con  amove,  and  glowing  from 
heart  and  glass. 

"  It  must  be  remembered,"  continued  Mr.  Ma- 
thews, "  that  I  was  but  a  boy,  and  Cooke  in  the  full 
vigour  of  manhood,  with  strength  of  limb  and  voice 
Herculean.  I  had  the  highest  reverence  for  his 
talents,  and  literally  stood  in  awe  of  him  ;  so  that 
when  he  made  his  horrible  faces,  and  called  upon 
me  to  name  the  passion  he  had  depicted,  I  was  truly 
frightened, — overwhelmed  with  the  dread  of  offend- 
ing him,  and  utterly  at  a  loss  to  distinguish  one  gri- 
mace from  another,  except  as  one  was  more  and 
another  most  savnge  and  disgusting. 

"  '  Sow,  sir — observe — what's  that?' 

"  '  Revenge — ' 

"  '  Revenge,  you  booby !     Pity !  pity !' 

"  Then,  after  making  another  hideous  contortion 
of  countenance,  he  cries, 

"  'What  is  that,  sir?' 

"  '  Yery  fine,  sir;  very  fine,  indeed.' 

"  '  But  what  is  it,  sir  ?' 

"  Forced  to  answer,  and  utterly  unable  to  guess 
the  meaning  of  the  distorted  face  which  he  then 
again  thrust  before  me,  I  stammered  out, 

"  '  Anger,  sir.' 

"  'Anger  !' 

"  '  Yes,  sir ;  anger,  to  be  sure.' 

"  '  To  be  sure  you  are  a  blockhead!  Look  again, 
sir  look  nsrain  !  It's  fear,  sir — fear.  You  play  I 
you  a  play l.     ' 

Mathews  then  exhibited  the  face  of  Cooke,  as 
he  distorted  it  to  express  the  tender  passion, — a 
composition  of  Satanic  malignity  and  the  brutal 
leering  of  a  drunken  satyr, — and  imitating  Cooke's 
most  discordant  voice,  cried, 

".  '  There,  sir  ;  that's  love.' 

"  This,"  continued  Matthews,  "  was  more  than  I 
could  bear:  even  my  fears  could  not  restrain  my 
laughter :  I  roared.  He  stared  at  first ;  but  imme- 
diately assuming  a  most  furious  aspect,  he  cried, 

"  '  What  do  you  laugh  at,  sir  !  Is  George  Frede- 
rick Cooke  to  be  made  a  laughing-stock  for  a  booby  I 
What,  sir  !' 

"  Luckily,  at  that  moment  Mrs.  Burns  stood  with 
the  door  partly  opened,  and  another  jug  in  her 
hands.  '  You  must  pardon  me,  sir,'  I  said,  with  a 
quickness  which  must  have  been  the  inspiration  of 


whiskey,  '  but  you  happened  to  turn  your  soft  and 
languishing  look' towards  the  door  just  as  Mrs.  Burns 
opened  it,  and  I  could  not  but  think  of  the  dangerous 
eifect  of  such  a  look  upon  her  sex's  softness.' 

"  He  laughed  ;  and  embracing  the  jug  as  the  good 
woman  put  it  down,  he  looked  at  Mrs.  Burns,  and 
with  some  humour  endeavoured  to  sing.  How  happy 
could  I  be  with  cither,  were  t'  oilier  dear  charmer 
away,  but  with  a  voice  which  defies  art  and  nature 
for  a  comparison. 

"  Mrs.  Burns  now  protested  against  any  more 
punch  ;  but  after  some  time  agreed,  upon  Cooke's 
solemn  promise  to  be  satisfied  with  one  more  jug,  to 
bring  it. 

"  '  But  remember  your  honour,  Mister  Cooke ; 
and  that  is  the  jewel  of  a  jontleman ;  and  sure  you 
have  pledged  it  to  me,  5-ou  have.' 

"  '  I  have,  my  good  Mistress  Burns  ;  and  it  is 
"  the  immediate  jewel  of  the  soul,"  as  you  say.' 

"  '  I  said  no  such  thing ;  but  I'll  be  as  good  as  my 
word;  and  one  more  jug  you  shall  have,  and  the 
divil  a  bit  more,  jewe   or  no  jewel.' 

"  I  was  heartily  tired  by  this  time,  and  placed  mo 
hope  on  Mrs.  Burns's  resolution.  The  last  jug  came, 
and  was  finished  ;  and  I  wished  him  good  night. 

"  '  Not  yet,  my  dear  boy.' 

"  '  It's  very  late,  sir.' 

"  '  Early,  early  :  one  jug  more.' 

"  '  Mrs.  Burns  will  not  let  us  have  it,  sir.' 

"  'She  will  not  I     I'll  show  you  that  presently  !'" 

Then  followed  a  fine  specimen  of  imitation  ;  Ma- 
thews, as  Cooke,  calling  upon  Mrs.  Burns  (who  was 
in  the  room  below,  and  in  bed),  and  then  giving  her 
answers,  as  coming  up  through  the  floor,  in  the  man- 
ner called  ventriloquism. 

"  '  Mistress  Burns !  Do  you  hear,  Mistress 
Burns  ?' 

"  '  Indeed  and  I  do,  Mister  Cooke.' 

"  '  Bring  me  another  jug  of  whiskey-punch,  Mis- 
tress Burns !'  . 

"  '  Indeed  and  I  won't,  Mister  Cooke  I" 

"  '  You  won't  ?' 

"  '  Indeed  and  indeed  so  I  won't.' 

"  '  Do  you  hear  that,  Mistress  Burns  ?'  (smashing 
the  jug  on  the  floor). 

"  '  Indeed  and  I  do,  and  you'll  be  sorry  for  it  to- 
morrow.' " 

He  then  regularly  took  the  chairs,  one  by  one, 
and  broke  them  on  the  floor  immediately  over  Mrs. 
Burns's  head,  after  every  crash  crying,  "  Do  you 
hear  that,  Mistress  Burns  ?"  and  she  as  regularly 
answering,  "  Indeed  and  I  do,  Mr.  Cooke."  He  next 
opened  the  window,  and  threw  the  looking-glass 
into  the  street. 

"  I  stood,"  continued  Mathews,  ■'  in  a  state  of 
stupid  amazement  during  this  scene  ;  but  now  at- 
tempted to  make  my  escape,  edging  towards  the 
door,  and  making  a  long  stride  to  gain  the  garret 
stairs. 

"  '  Come  back,  sir  !     Where  are  you  going  V 

"  '  To  bed,  sir.' 

"  'To  bed,  sir!  What,  sir!  desert  me!  I  com- 
mand you  to  remain,  on  }'our  allegiance  !  Desert 
me  in  time  of  war  I     Traitor  !' 

"  I  now  determined  to  make  resistance ;  and  feel- 
I   ing  pot-valiant,  looked  big,  and  boldly  answered, 

"  '  I  will  not  be  commanded !  I  will  go  to  bed !' 

"  '  Aha  !'  cried  the  madman,  in  his  highest  key, 
!  '  Aha  !  do  you  rebel  ?  Caitiff !  wretch  !  mur- 
!   derer  !' 

"  He  advanced  upon  me,  and  I  shrank  to  nothing 
before  his  flashing  eye.  '  Murderer !'  and  he  seized 
me  by  the  collar  with  Herculean  grip,  '  You  will 
go !  I  will  send  you  to  the  place  you  are  fittest  for! 
Murderer,  I'll  drag   you  to  your  doom  1     I'll   give 


WILLIAM  DUNLAP. 


5.43 


you  up  to  Fate !  Come  along,  caitiff !'  and  he 
dragged  me  to  the  open  window,  vociferating, 
'  Watch  !  watch !  murder !  murder !'  in  his  highest 
and  loudest  key. 

"  Immediately  the  rattles  were  heard  approaching 
in  all  directions,  and  a  crowd  instantly  collected. 
He  continued  vociferating,  '  Watch !  watch !  mur- 
der!' until  the  rattles  and  exclamations  of  the  watch- 
men almost  drowned  his  stentorian  voice. 

"  *  What's  the  matter  ?  who's  kilt  ?  who's  mur- 
dered ?     Where's  the  murderer  ?' 

"  '  Silence  !'  screamed  Cooke,  '  hear  me  !'  All 
became  hushed.  Then  holding  me  up  to  the  win- 
dow, the  raving  tragedian  audibly  addressed  the 
crowd  : — '  In  the  name  of  Charles  Macklin,  I  charge 
this  culprit,  Charles  Mathews,  with  the  most  foul, 
cruel,  deliberate,  and  unnatural  murder  of  the  un- 
fortunate Jew,  Beau  Mordecai,  in  the  farce  of  Love 
a  la  Mode.'  Then  pulling  down  the  window,  he 
cried,  '  Now  go  to  bed,  you  booby  !  go  to  bed  !  go 
to  bed!  go  to  bed  !'  " 

The  steamboat  party  remained  together  until  near 
morning,  and  then  retired  to  rest.  Let  it  not  be 
supposed  that  they  imitated  the  folly  of  the  hero  of 
the  above  tale  because  whiskey-punch  has  been 
mentioned.  The  evening,  or  night,  was  one  of  real 
interchange  of  mind,  heightened  by  the  peculiar 
powers  and  habits  of  the  very  extraordinary  his- 
trionic artist  who  gave  this  instance  of  Cooke's 
eccentric  and  pernicious  propensities. 

A  SCENE  WITH    COOKE   AND    COOPER    AT    CATO'S — FROM  THE  ME- 
MOIRS OF  A  WATER-DRINKER. 

Who  has  not  heard  of  Cato  Alexander's  f  Not  to 
know  'l  Cato's,"  is  not  to  know  the  world.  At  least 
bo  it  was  thought  twenty-five  or  thirty  years  ago. 
But  as  all  our  readers  are  not  supposed  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  the  world,  we  must  point  out  the 
situation,  and  describe  the  localities  of — Cato's — that 
our  tale  may  be  duly  understood,  and  its  incidents 
appreciated. 

Between  four  and  five  miles  north-east  from  the 
building  called  in  New  York  the  City  Hall,  in  front 
of  which  we  first  met  our  readers,  and  introduced 
them  to  our  hero,  and  other  personages  of  note,  3Tet 
to  be  made  more  intimately  known — between  four 
and  five  miles  from  this  building,  on  the  west  side  of 
the  old  Boston-road,  stands  this  celebrated  tavern, 
owned  and  kept  by  Cato  Alexander,  and  called,  from 
the  landlord,  "  Cato's." 

Cato,  the  keeper  of  a  road  tavern !  Alexander  the 
bearer  of  gin  toddy  to  a  whiskered  shop-boy  on  a 
Sunday!  Cato — Alexander — what  awful  names! 
How  full  of  associations !  each  singly  denoti  g  the 
conqueror  of  self,  or  the  conqueror  of  the  world; 
now  united  to  designate  a  servant  of  vicious  and 
pampered  appetites! 

Do  not  let  us  be  mistaken.  Cato  of  Cato's  was  no 
worse  a  man  than  the  tens  of  thousands  with  whiter 
faces,  who  administer  to  the  pride,  passions,  and 
vices  of  the  multitude.  He  was  neither  more  nor 
less  than  the  keeper  of  an  eating  and  drinking-house; 
one  whose  lawful  trade  is  to  tempt  to  excess,  and 
who  may  legally  live  by  administering  poison. 

It  would  puzzle  any  but  a  philosopher  to  find  a 
reason  for  that  preference  "  Cato's"  lias  enjoyed  for 
many  years  overall  the  many  receptacles  of  idleness 
and  intemperance  which  stand  invitingly  open  on 
the  roads  and  avenues  leading  to  and  from  our  moral 
and  religious  city.  We,  being  a  philosopher,  have 
found  it,' and  can  communicate.  It  is  preferred  to 
other  houses  of  refuge  from  temperance,  that  are 
known  under  the  appellation  of  retreats,  (such  as 
"  Citizen's  Retrent,"  "  Fireman's  Retreat,"  "  Mecha- 
nic's Retreat,"   "  Old  Countryman's  Retreat,"  and  a 


hundred  other  retreats  from  public  notice,  or  domes- 
tic duties,)  not  because  its  situation  has  more  of  rural 
retirement — for  it  stands  full  in  view  of  the  traveller 
or  way-farer.  It  is  not  a  retreat  from  noise,  for  that 
resounds  within  ;  nor  from  dusl^,  for  that  it  invites 
and  receives  from  every  wheel  and  hoof  that  pnsses. 
It  is  not  preferred  because  it  enjoys  or  gives  its  vi- 
sitors better  or  more  extensive  prospects  than  its 
rivals,  for  it  commands  no  view  but  of  the  dirty  high- 
road, a  cabbage-garden,  a  horse-shed,  and  a  sign- 
post ;  nor  is  'it  chosen  for  that  the  breezes  of  either 
land  or  sea  bear  health  or  refreshment  to  its  admir- 
ers ;  for  the  land  rises  on  every  side,  barring  every 
wind  that  blows  from  visiting  it  too  roughly.  Nei- 
ther is  it  the  spacious  apartments  or  elegant  furni- 
ture that  gives  it  preference,  for  its  inmates  are 
cabined,  cribbed,  and  confined  in  cells  like  acorn- 
cups,  compared  with  the  halls  and  saloons  of  the 
town  hotels  and  gambling-houses.  But,  Mrs.  Catois 
a  notable  cook.  The  "  cibin  is  convenient."  There 
are  none  but  black  faces  belonging  to  the  establish- 
ment. We  feel  that  we  are  "  right  worshipful."  All 
around  is  subserviency.  Desdemona  saw  Othello's 
visage  in  his  mind  ;  it  is,  to  some,  pleasing  to  see  the 
badge  of  subserviency  in  the  visage. 

■#■  i£  ^  vt  96  ■£  -ift  & 

Leave  we  the  company  of  thought-drown ers,  and 
meet  them  again  by-aud-by.  Some  hours  had  pass- 
ed. Spiffard  had  tired  of  the  noise  of  the  table, 
wearied  with  flashes  of  merriment  not  inspired  by 
wit,  but  by  wine;  not  the  genuine  and  healthy  pro- 
geny of  the  reasoning  faculty  when  indulging  in 
sportive  recreation,  but  the  mere  empty  ebullition 
of  excited  animal  spirits,  without  the  guidance  or 
control  of  reason.  He  had  walked  up  and  down  the 
road  in  search  of  a  pleasant  place  for  retirement,  but 
finding  none,  seated  himself  upon  a  bench  under  a 
building  erected  for  the  reception  of  water  drinkers, 
— it  was  the  horse-shed  in  front  of  the  house.  The 
tavern  lias  a  piazza,  but  the  noise  of  the  revel- 
lers made  it  almost  as  disagreeable  as  the  smoke-in- 
cumbered  dining-room.  The  tumult  increased  so  as 
to  reach  the  place  of  refuge  he  had  chosen.  Dis- 
cordant sounds  commingled  in  confusion,  the  mono- 
tony of  which  was  broken  by  the  high,  harsh, 
screeching  and  croaking  of  Cooke's  notes  of  inebria- 
tion. 

"I'm  your  man,  sir! — a  dead  shot,  sir!  George 
Frederick  is  the  name  to  eovi  a  yankee!" 

The  whole  party  now  issued  to  the  piazza,  and  af- 
ter a  preliminary  discussion  of  the  mode  in  which 
wounded  honour  was  to  be  cured  by  the  duello,  (a 
discussion  of  which  Spiffard  only  heard  pieces  or 
snatches  of  sentences,  as  "  ten  paces — five  paces, — ■ 
yankee  actor, — dead  shot,"  they  descended,  and  took 
a  station  between  the  tavern  and  the  horse-shed. 

It  now  appeared  that  Cooke  and  Cooper  were  to 
be  pitted,  not  as  actors,  but  as  duellists.  The  seconds 
were  busy  loading  the  pistols,  (an  implement  of 
death  or  amusement  always  kept  in  readiness  at  Ca- 
to's.) Cooke  became  silent  and  dignified,  only  show- 
ing by  increased  energy  in  his  step,  (not  always  pro- 
perly applied.)  and  increased  colour  in  his  face,  the 
increase  of  his  ebriety.  His  antagonist  was  all  po- 
liteness— the  established  etiquette  with  those  who 
meet  to  murder.  The  seconds  and  witnesses  display- 
ed to  the  eye  of  the  water-drinker,  or  any  other  ra- 
tional animal,  that  they  were  all  so  far  blinded  them- 
selves, that  they  could  notsee  how  plainly  they  were 
exposing  their  supposedly  deep-hidden  hoax  to  any 
clear-sighted  spectator. 

The  word  was  given.  The  two  tragedians  fired  at 
the  same  moment,  or  nearly  so.  Cooke's  second  took 
advantage  of  the  smoke  and  noise  to  thrust  a  stick 
through  his  principal's  coat,  to  produce  a  bullet-hole. 


544 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


at  the  same  time  he  threw  his  left  arm  around 
him,  as  if  for  support,  crying,  "He  has  hit  you, 
sir." 

But  Cooke  was  in  one  of  those  half-mad,  half-cun- 
ning paroxysms,  which  enabled  him  to  act  as  the 
subject  of  the  hoax,  while  he  in  reality  hoaxed  the 
hoaxers;  and  enjoyed  all  the  pleasure  of  acting  the 
part  of  the  dupe,  with  the  assurance  of  duping  those 
who  thought  they  were  playing  upon  him.  He  was 
assuming  the  madman,  and  sufficiently  mad  to  enjoy 
all  the  pleasure  which  "  only  madmen  know."  Pre- 
tending to  believe  that  he  was  hit  by  his  opponent's 
ball,  lie,  with  a  force  which  only  madness  could  give, 
threw  out  his  left  arm,  and  hurled  his  officiously  de- 
signing second  several  paces  from  him,  reeling  until 
the  eow-yard  (the  court-yard  of  the  establishment) 
received  him  at  fall  length.  As  the  smoke  evaporat- 
ed, Cooper  was  seen  extended  in  mock  agonies  ;  his 
second  and  others  of  the  party,  leaning  over  him  in 
pretended  mourning. 

"Mr.  Cooke,  your  ball  has  passed  through  the 
lungs  of  poor  Cooper,  I'm  afraid.  The  surgeon  is 
examining  the  wound.     There  is  little  hope — " 

"None,  sirrl  I  never  miss.  He  is  the  tenth.  I 
am  sorry  for  him."  He  stalked  up  to  the  pretended 
hurt  man  with  due  gravity.  This  was  a  precious 
opportunity  for  the  veteran  to  mingle  sarcasm  and 
mock  regrets,  and  to  pay  the  hoaxers  in  their  own 
coin,  stampt  anew  in  the  mint  of  his  brains,  and  he 
did  not  let  it  escape  him. 

"Poor  Tom,  poor  '  Tom's  acold!'  I'm  sorry  for 
him.  I'm  sorry  that  his  farthing-eamlle-life  was  ex- 
tinguished by  my  hand,  although  he  deserved  death 
from  none  more.  '  This  even-handed  justice  com- 
mends the  ingredients  of  our  murderous  pistols  to 
our  own  breasts.  I  warned  him  of  my  unerring  aim ; 
but  the  '  thief  will  seek  the  halter.'  How  do  you 
find  his  wound,  sirr  ?" 

"  I  am  examining  it,  sir;  I  am  torturing  him." 

"  It  is  no  more  than  he  has  done  to  hundreds  of 
hearers." 

"  I  am  afraid,  sir,  he  will  never  play  again." 

"Then  by  murdering  him  honourably,  I  have  pre- 
vented many  dishonourable  murders.  Shade  of 
Shakespeare,  applaud  me  I  He  will  never  again 
murder  Macbeth  instead  of  Duncan,  or  throttle 
Othello  instead  of  Desdemona.  I  am  a  second  Ma- 
homet overthrowing  idolatry  !  The  wooden  god  of 
the  Yankee-doodles  lies  prostrate!  Fie,  George 
Frederick,  to  triumph  over  a  block.  Farewell,  poor 
Tom!  poor  enough."  This  was  said  over  his  shoul- 
der. "  1  could  have  better  spared  a  better  actor — 
but  let  that  pass,  while  we  pass  to  our  pious  medita- 
tions. Who  takes  order  for  the  funeral  ?  Bear  the 
body  in !"  When  sober  none  did  more  justice  to  bis 
rival's  merit,  although  now  so  scurrilously  unjust. 

"  He  revives,  sir.  There  is  hope  yet,"  said  the 
surgeon. 

"  Then  may  the  poets  mourn." 

While  the  pretended  dead  duellist  was  removed 
into  the  house,  Cooke's  second  approached  him,  ex- 
claiming,   "  The   horses   are   ready,   sir ;   we   must 

fly-",    . 

"  We,  sir!  when  I  fly  or  creep,  I  choose  my  com- 
pany. George  Frederick  Cooke  never  flies  from 
danger.  Fly,  sir!  if  the  idol  of  Yankee-land  lives, 
there  is  nothing  to  apprehend  from  his  worshippers, 
nothing  to  fly  from,  except  when  he  acts;  and  if  he 
dies,  and  by  p/y  hand,  I  have  honoured  him,,  and 
benefited  the  world."  So  saying,  the  hero  strutted 
most  sturdily  to  the  steps  of  the  piazza,  where,  feel- 
ing the  difficulty  of  ascent,  he  recollected  his  wound 
called  for  assistance,  and  was  supported  to  the  table, 
at  which  sat,  like  another  Banquo,  the  man  whose 
fall  he  triumphed  over. 


ALEXANDER  WILSON. 
Alexander,  Wilson,  the  first  to  claim  the  title 
of  the  American  Ornithologist,  was  born  at 
Paisley,  Scotland,  July  6,  1766.  His  parents 
were  persons  in  humble  but  respectable  circum- 
stances, and  their  anticipations  for  their  son 
seem  to  have  looked  forward  to  a,  time,  as  ex- 
pressed in  his  own  words, 

AVhen,  clad  in  sable  gown,  with  solemn  air, 
The   walls  of  God's  own  house  Bhould  echo  back 
his  prayer. 

The  death  of  his  mother,  when  he  was  ten 
years  old,  and  the  re-marriage  of  his  father  not 
long  after,  probably  prevented  the  execution  of 
this  plan.  July  31,  1773,  he  was  apprenticed  to 
a  weaver,  and  an  entry  on  the  indenture,  dated 
"  Agst,  1782,"  records  in  verse  the  expiration  of 
his  time  :— 

Be't  kent  to  a'  the  warld  in  rhime, 
That  wi'  right  mickle  wark  an'  toil, 

For  three  lang  years  I've  ser't  my  time, 
Whiles  feasted  wi'  the  hazel  oil. 

He  continued  working  at  the  loom  for  four 
years  longer,  varying  his  labors,  as  during  his 
novitiate,  with  various  attempts  at  poetry.  One 
of  the  couplets  shows  the  restiveness  of  his  active 
mind  and  body,  under  his  sedentary  and  mono- 
tonous employment : — 

Good  gods!  shall  a  mortal  with  legs, 
So  low  uncomplaining  be  brought. 

About  the  close  of  this  period  he  was  at  work  for 
William  Duncan,  his  brother-in-law,  under  whom 
he  had  served  his  apprenticeship.  Duncan  deter- 
mined to  make  a  venture  as  a  pedlar,  and  Wilson, 
considering  that  occupation  a  much  more  appro- 
priate one  for  a  "mortal  with  legs,"  accompanied 
him.  Three  years  of  his  life  were  employed  in 
this  manner,  during  which  he  visited  various 
portions  of  Scotland,  digressing  from  his  route 
to  all  places  of  literary  or  romantic  interest 
which  lay  within  reasonable  distance.  His  op- 
portunities of  observation  increased  his  taste  for 
writing,  by  furnishing  him  with  ample  material 
to  work  upon ;  and  we  find  him,  in  1789,  making 
a  contract  with  Mr.  John  Neilson,  a  Paisley 
printer,  for  an  edition  of  his  poems.  He  added 
a  number  of  prospectuses  to  the  varied  contents 
of  his  pack,  and  set  off  afresh  with  purposes 
pleasantly  recorded  in  a  journal  which  he  kept  of 
his  tour. 

As  youth  is  the  most,  favourable  time  to  establish 
a  man's  good  fortune  in  the  world,  and  as  his  success 
in  life  depends,  in  a  great  measure,  on  his  prudent 
endeavours,  and  unwearied  perseverance,  I  have 
resolved  to  make  one  bold  push  for  the  united  inte- 
rests of  pack  and  poems.  Nor  can  any  one  justly 
blame  me  for  it,  since  experience  has  now  convinced 
me,  that  the  merit  I  am  possessed  of  (which  is  cer- 
tainly considerable)  might  lie  for  ever. buried  in 
obscurity,  without  such  an  attempt.  I  have,  there- 
fore, fitted  up  a  proper  budget,  consisting  of  silks, 
muslins,  prints,  ifcc.  for  the  accommodation  of  those 
good  people  who  may  prove  my  customers, — a  suffi- 
cient quantity  of  proposals  for  my  poetical  friends; 
and,  to  prevent  those  tedious  harangues,  which 
otherwise  I  would  be  obliged  to  deliver  at  every 
threshold,  I  have,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
most  polite  pedlars,  committed  the  contents  of  my 


ALEXANDER  'WILSON'. 


545 


pack  to  a  handbill,  though  in  a  style  somewhat  re- 
mote from  any  I  have  yet  seen. 

ADVERTISEMENT  EXTRAORDINARY. 

Fair  ladies,  I  pray,  for  one  moment  to  stay, 

Until  with  submission  I  tell  you, 
What  muslins  so  curious,  for  uses  so  various, 

A  poet  has  here  brought  to  sell  you. 

Here's  handkerchiefs  charming ;   book-muslins  like 
ermine. 

Brocaded,  striped,  corded,  and  cheek'd ; 
Sweet  Venus,  they  say,  on  Cupid's  birth-day, 

In  British-made  muslins  was  deck'd. 

If  these  can't  content  ye,  here's  muslins  in  plenty, 

From  one  shilling  up  to  a  dozen, 
That  Juno  might  wear,  and  more  beauteous  appear, 

When  she  means  the  old  Thunderer  to  cozen. 

Here  are  fine  jaconets,  of  numberless  sets, 

With  spotted  and  sprigged  festoons; 
And  lovely  tambours,  with  elegant  flowers, 

For  bonnets,  cloaks,  aprons,  or  gowns. 

Now,  ye  Fair,  if  ye  choose  any  piece  to  peruse, 

With  pleasure  I'll  instantly  shew  it: 
If  the  Pedlar  should  fail  to  be  favor'd  with  sale, 

Then  I  hope  you'll  encourage  the  Poet. 

Though  the  subscription  part  of  the  enterprise 
was  a  failure,  the  book  was  printed  in  July, 
1700,  and  the  author  again  made  his  roimds  to 
deliver  copies  to  the  few  subscribers  he  had  ob- 
tained, and  sell  to  some  of  the  many  who  were 
not.  Poetry  is  said  to  be  a  drug  on  a  publisher's 
shelves,  and  can  only  be  an  active  commodity  of 
a  pedlar's  pack  when  its  proprietor  is  on  foot. 
The  second  tour  produced  a  disgust  to  the.  busi- 
ness, and  he  abandoned  it  for  the  loom  at  Paisley. 
That  had  not  been  long  in  motion  before  he 
heard  of  a  proposed  discussion  at  an  Edinburgh 
debating  society,  composed  of  a  portion  of  the 
city  literati,  as  to  "whether  have  the  exertions 
of  Allan  Ramsay  or  Robert  Fergusson  done  more 
honor  to  Scottish  poetry?"  He  borrowed  the 
poems  of  the  latter  poet,  worked  hard  by  day  to 
earn  the  means  to  travel  to  Edinburgh,  and  by 
night  at  a  poem,  The  Laurel  Disputed,  which  ho 
read  at  the  time  and  place  of  the  discussion, 
before  the  assembled  "Forum."  The  audience 
did  not  agree  with  him  in  his  preference  of  Fer- 
gnsson, but  the  merits  of  the  performance  gained 
him  friends — among  others,  Dr.  Anderson,  for 
whose  periodical  of  the  Bee  he  became  a  contri- 
butor. 

Before  leaving  town  he  recited  two  other 
poems,  Rab  and  Ringan,  and  The  Loss  o'  the 
Pack,  and  published  with  his  friend  Ebenezer 
Picken,  who  had  taken  the  part  of  Ramsay  in 
blank  verse,  a  pamphlet,  entitled  The  Laurel 
Disputed;  or,  the  Merits  of  Allan  Ramsay  and 
Robert  Fergusson  Contrasted,  in  Two  Poetical 
Essays,  by  E.  Picken  and  A.  Wilson.  On  return- 
ing to  Paisley,  when  his  funds  were  exhausted, 
his  Edinburgh  success  induced  him  to  bring  out 
a  second  edition  of  his  poems.  The  volume,  with 
the  title,  Poems,  Humorous,  Satirical,  and  Serious, 
was  issued  immediately,  and  the  author  again 
attempted  to  be  his  own  bookseller,  and  again 
failed. 

In  1792,  his  poem  of  Watty  and  Meg  was  pub- 
lished anonymously.  It  met  with  very  great 
success — one  hundred  thousand  copies  being  sold 

vol..  i. — 35 


within  a  few  weeks — and  received  the  high  honor 
of  being  attributed  to  Burns.  This  was  a  great 
gratification  to  the  author,  who  entertained  a 
high  regard  for  the  great  poet,  and  had  pre- 
viously made  his  acquaintance  by  a  letter  which 
he  wrote  to  Burns  on  the  first  publication  of  his 
poems,  in  which  he  objected  to  some  on  the  score 
of  immorality.  Burns  replied  he  was  so  used  to 
such  communications  that  he  usually  paid  no 
attention  to  them ;  but  that  as  Wilson  showed 
himself  to  be  a  good  poet,  he  would,  in  this  in- 
stance, vindicate  himself.  Wilson  afterwards 
visited  Burns  at  Ayrshire. 

A  dispute  arising  between  the  manufacturers 
and  weavers  of  Paisley,  Wilson,  in  the  interest  of 
j  the  latter,  wrote  several  satirical  poems  against 
the  former,  which  were  handed  around  in  MS. 
One  of  these,  The  Shark,  or  Long  Mills  Detected, 
he  sent  in  manuscript  to  the  person  it  attacked, 
with  an  offer  to  suppress  it  iorjire  guineas.  For 
this  he  was  prosecuted,  and  on  conviction  sent  to 
jail  for  a  few  days,  and  to  burn  his  poem  in  pub- 
lic. The  latter  portion  of  his  sentence  was  put 
in  execution  on  the  sixth  of  February,  1793.  In 
consideration  to  his  feeling*,  no  public  notice  was 
given,  and  the  act  was  witnessed  only  by  the 
chance  passers-by.  The  poem  had  already  been 
secretly  printed  after  the  commencement  of  the 
prosecution,  in  the  preceding  May.*  This  occur- 
rence was,  no  doubt,  one  of  the  causes  of  his 
emigration  to  America.  The  others  were  his 
sympathy  with  the  democratic  spirit  of  the  early 
days  of  the  French  Revolution,  which  caused 
him  to  be  suspected  by  the  authorities,  the  hope- 
lessness of  bettering  his  condition  in  the  old 
world,  and  the  alluring  prospect  of  political  and 
pecuniary  independence  held  out  by  tire  new. 
After  living  for  four  months  at  the  rate  of  a  shil- 
ling a  week,  he  saved  money  enough  to  pay  for 
his  passage,  walked  to  Port  Patrick,  sailed  to 
Belfast,  and  thence  embarked  as  a  deck  passen- 
ger for  America. 

He  landed  at  Newcastle,  Delaware,  July  14, 
1794,  and  proceeded  forthwith  to  Philadelphia, 
distant  thirty-three  miles,  on  foot,  shooting  on  the 
way  a  bird  of  the  red-headed  woodpecker  species, 
the  commencement  of  his  ornithological  pursuits. 
On  his  arrival  at  the  city,  he  worked  for  a  time 
at  copperplate  printing  with  one  of  his  country- 
men, and  afterwards  tried  his  old  avocations  of 
weaving  and  peddling.  These  were  abandoned 
in  1794  for  school-keeping.  He  commenoed  this 
portion  of  his  career  near  Frankford,  which  he 
soon  abandoned  for  a  better  position  at  Miles- 
town,  Pa.,  where  he  remained  until  the  com- 
mencement of  the  next  century,  diligently  em- 
ployed in  repairing  the  deficiencies  of  his  own 
education,. as  well  as  laying  the  foundations  of 
that  of  the  children  in  his  charge.  He  also 
indoctrinated  himself  in  American  politics,  deli- 
vered an  oration  On  the  Power  and  Value  of 
National  Liberty,  and  wrote  the  song,  Jefferson 
and  Liberty,  about  this  period. 


*  A  few  years  before  his  death  Wilson  sent  for  his  brother 
David  to  join  him  in  America.  David  brought  with  him 
copies  of  these  satires,  which  he  had  collected  with  some 
trouble,  and  presented  them  to  his  brother.  The  author,  how- 
ever, at  once  threw  them  in  the  fire,  saying:  "These  were  the 
follies  of  youth;  and  had  I  taken  my  srood  old: father's  advioe, 
tbey  never  would  have  seen  the  light?' 


546 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


In  1802  he  took  charge  of  a  seminary  near 
Gray's  Ferry,  on  the  Schuylkill,  four  miles  from 
Philadelphia.  This  brought  him  into  communi- 
cation with  two  valuable  friends,  'William  Bar- 
tram  the  naturalist,  and  Lawson  the  eno-raver. 
His  leisure  hours  were  now  devoted  to  the  pur- 
suit to  which  he  was  becoming  more  and  more 
attached — that  of  Ornithology. 

I  sometimes  smile  (he  writes  to  Bartram)  to  think, 
that  while  others  are  immersed  in  deep  schemes  of 
speculation  and  aggrandizement,  in  building  towns 
and  purchasing  plantations,  I  am  entranced  in  con- 
templation over  the  plumage  of  a  lark,  or  gazing 
like  a  despairing  lover  on  the  lineaments  of  an  owl. 
While  others  are  hoarding  up  their  bags  of  money, 
without  the  power  of  enjoying  it,  I  am  collecting, 
without  injuring  my  conscience,  or  wounding  my 
peace  of  mind,  those  beautiful  specimens  of  Nature's 
works  that  are  for  ever  pleasing.  I  have  had  live 
crows,  hawks,  n,nd  owls ;  opossums,  squirrels,  snakes, 
lizards,  <fcc,  so  that  my  room  has  sometimes  re- 
minded me  of  Noah's  ark ;  but  Xoah  had  a  wife  in 
one  corner  of  it,  and,  in  this  particular,  our  parallel 
does  not  altogether  tally. 

I  receive  every  subject  of  natural  history  that  is 
brought  to  me ;  and,  though  they  do  not  march  into 
my  ark  from  all  quarters,  as  they  did  into  that  of 
our  great  ancestor,  yet  I  find  means,  by  the  distri- 
bution of  a  few  fivepenny  bits,  to  make  them  find 
the  way  fast  enough.  A  boy,  not  long  ago,  brought 
me  a  large  basketful  of  crows.  I  expect  his  next 
load  will  be  bull  frogs,  if  I  don't  soon  issue  orders 
to  the  contrary.  One  of  my  boys  caught  a  mouse  in 
school,  a  few  days  ago,  and  directly  marched  up  to 
me  with  his  prisoner.  1  set  about"  drawing  it  that 
same  evening  ;  and  all  the  while  the  pantings  of  its 
little  heart  shewed  it  to  be  in  the  most  extreme 
agonies  of  fear.  I  had  intended  to  kill  it,  in  order 
to  fix  it  in  the  claws  of  a  stuffed  owl ;  but,  happen- 
ing to  spill  a  few  drops  of  water  near  where  it  was 
tied,  it  lapped  it  up  with  such  eagerness,  and  looked 
in  my  face  with  such  an  eye  of  supplicating  terror,  as 
perfectly  overcame  me.  I  immediat  ely  untied  it,  and 
restored  it  to  life  and  liberty.  The  agonies  of  a 
prisoner  at  the  stake,  while  the  fire  and  instruments 


of  torment  are  preparing,  could  not  be  more  severe 
than  the  sufferings  of  that  poor  mouse ;  and,  insigni- 
ficant as  the  object  was,  I  felt  at  that  moment  the 
sweet  sensations  that  mercy  leaves  on  the  mind  when 
she  triumphs  over  cruelty. 

A  letter  written  a  little  after,  in  June,  1803, 
shows  that  the  amateur  amusement  was  about 
becoming  the  engrossing  occupation  of  his  life. 
Addressing  a  friend  at  Paisley,  he  says :  "  Close 
application  to  the  duties  of  my  profession,  which 
I  have  followed  since  November,  1795,  has  deeply 
injured  my  constitution ;  the  more  so,  that  my 
rambling  disposition  was  the  worse  calculated  of 
any  one's  in  the  world  for  the  austere  regularity 
of  a  teacher's  life.  I  have  had  many  pursuits 
since  I  left  Scotland — mathematics,  the  German 
language,  rniMC,  drawing,  &e.,  and  I  am  now 
about  to  make  a  collection  of  all  our  finest  birds." 
The  labors  to  which  he  refers  had  been  undergone 
to  supply,  not  only  his  own  simple  wants,  but 
also  those  of  a  nephew,  who  with  his  family  had 
settled  on  a  farm,  of  which  Wilson  and  the 
nephew  wore  joint  owners,  in  the  state  of  New 
York.  One  of  his  various  occupations  had  been 
to  contribute  a  number  of  poems,  among  others 
his  Solitary  Tutor,  to  Charles  Brockden  Brown's 
Literary  Magazine. 

Iu  October,  1S04,  Wilson,  with  two  friends, 
made  a  pedestrian  tour  to  the  Falls  of  Niagara. 
Winter  overtook  them  on  their  return,  in  Novem- 
ber, near  Cayuga  Lake.  One  of  his  companions 
tarried  with  his  relatives  until  the  spring,  and  the 
other  availed  himself  of  a  less  fatiguing  mode  of 
transportation  than  that  afforded  by  his  legs ;  but 
Wilson  trudged  on  with  his  gun  through  the 
snow  "  mid-leg  deep,"  and  arrived  home  in  the 
beginning  of  December,  after  a  journey  of  1257 
miles,  and  an  absence  of  59  days.  One  result  of 
the  trip  was  his  poem  of  The  Foresters,  pub- 
lished in  the  Port  Folio;  another  to  confirm  him 
in  the  resolution  he  had  taken.  He  says,  in  a 
letter  to  Bartram  : — 

So  far  am  I  from  being  satisfied  with  what  I  have 
seen,  or  discouraged  by  the  fatigues  which  every 
traveller  must  submit  to,  that  I  feel  more  eager  than 
ever  to  commence  some  more  extensive  expedition, 
where  scenes  and  subjects,  entirely  new  and  gene- 
rally unknown,  might  reward  my  curiosity ;  and 
where,  perhaps,  my  humble  acquisitions  might  add 
something  to  the  stores  of  knowledge.  For  all  the 
hazards  and  privations  incident  to  such  an  undertak- 
ing, I  feel  confident  in  my  own  spirit  and  resolution. 
With  no  family  to  enchain  my  affections;  no  ties 
but  those  of  friendship  ;  with  the  most  ardent  love 
to  my  adopted  country  ;  with  a  constitution  which 
hardens  amidst  fatigues ;  and  with  a  disposition 
sociable  and  open,  which  can  find  itself  at  home  by 
an  Indian  fire  in  the  depth  of  the  woods,  as  well  as 
in  the  best  apartment  of  the  civilized  ;  for  these, 
and  some  other  reasons  that  invite  me  away,  I  am 
determined  to  become  a  traveller. 

Wrilson  now  employed  his  leisure  hours  in  per- 
fecting himself  in  drawing  and  coloring.  He 
also  practised  the  art  of  etching,  and  endeavored 
to  engage  his  friend  Lawson*  in  his  projected 


*  Alexander  Law=on  was  born  at  Lanark,  Scotland,  in  1773. 
At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  removed  to  Manchester.  He  early 
developed  a  taste  for  his  futnre  pursuit,  commencing,  after  fill- 
ing bis  copy-books  with  sketches,  by  engraving  on  smooth 
pennies  with  the  point  of  a  knife.    He  next  employed  a  black- 


ALEXANDER  WILSON. 


547 


publication  on  American  Ornithology,  but  with- 
out success.  Obstacles  did  not,  however,  change 
his  purpose.-  He  declared  his  intention  to  go  on, 
though  the  effort  cost  him  his  life.  'k  If  so,"  he 
said,  "  I  shall  at  least  leave  a  small  beacon  to 
point  out  where  I  perished."  He  wrote  to  Jef- 
ferson in  1806,  requesting  employment  in  the  ex- 
peditions fitting  out  for  the  survey  of  the  western 
territory.  No  reply  was  received  to  the  applica- 
tion ;*  but  private  enterprise  was  now  about  to 
furnish  the  means  for  the  execution  of  his  long 
cherished  project.  William  Bradford,  the  pub- 
lisher, of  Philadelphia,  engaged  Wilson  to  super- 
intend a  new  edition  of  Reel's  Cyclopaedia,  which 
he  was  desirous  of  issuing.  The  liberal  salary 
which  he  paid  enabled  his  editor  to  abandon  the 
drudgery  of  school-keeping,  and  devote  himself 
to  this  work,  which  progressed  so  well  in  his 
hands  that  the  publisher  agreed  to  undertake  the 
Ornithology.  He  worked  so  unremittingly  in 
preparing  for  the  press  that  his  health  began  to 
fail.  As  a  relaxation,  he  undertook  a  pedestrian 
excursion  through  Pennsylvania  in  August,  1807, 
from  which  he  returned  with  new  vigor  to  the 
desk. 

The  first  of  the  nine  volumes  contemplated  was 
published  in  September,  1808,  the  edition  consist- 
ing of  only  two  hundred  copies.  The  plates 
were  engraved  by  Lawson.  In  the  same  month, 
the  author  set  out  for  the  eastward  to  procure 
subscribers.  His  letters  record  the  various  modes 
of  reception  he  encountered. 

I  have  (he  writes)  purposely  avoided  saying 
any  tiling,  either  good  or  bad,  on  the  encourage- 
ment I  have  met  with.  I  shall  only  say,  that  among 
the  many  thousands  that  have  examined  my  book — 
and  among  these  were  men  of  the  first  character  for 
taste  and  literature — I  have  heard  nothing  but  ex- 
pressions of  the  highest  admiration  and  esteem.  If 
1  have  been  mistaken  in  publishing  a  work  too  good 
for  the  country,  it.  is  a  fault  not  likely  to  be  soon 
repcate  1,  and  will  pretty  severely  correct  itself. 
But,  whatever  may  be  tiie  result  of  these  matters,  I 
shall  not  sit  down  with  folded  hands,  whilst  any 
thing  can  be  done  to  carry  my  point,  since  God  helps 
them  who  help  themselves.  I  am  fixing  corres- 
pondents in  every  corner  of  these  northern  regions, 
like  so  many  pickets  and  out-posts  ;  so  that  scarcely 
a  wen  or  lit  shall  be  able  to  pass  along  from  York 
to  Canada  but  I  shall  gut  intelligence  of  it. 

********* 
T  spent  nearly   the  whole  of  Saturday   in  New- 
ark, where  my  bonk  attracted  as  many  starers  as  a 
bear  or  a  mammoth  would  have  done  ;  and  I  arrived 


smith  to  imkc  him  a  graver  from  his  description  of  the  tool, 
and  amused  himself  as  lie  drank  his  ale  of  an  evening,  io  orna- 
menting the  pewter  tankard.  Thirty-six  years  after  his  re- 
moval to  the  United  States,  he  heard  a  traveller  speak  of  hav- 
ing been  shown  this  tankard  by  the  innkeeper  of  the  house  he 
then  frequented.  At  the  aire  of  twenty  he  emigrated  to  Ame- 
rica, and  established  himself  in  Philadelphia.  His  plates  for 
Wilson  form  his  chief  work. 

*  '■  How  often,"  says  Audubon,  speaking  of  his  own  recep- 
tion at  Washington,  "  did  I  think  of  the  error  committed  by 
Wilson,  when,  instead  of  going  to  Washington  and  presenting 
himself  to  President  Jefferson,  he  forwarded  his  application 
through  an  uncertain  medium.  He,  like  myself,  would  doubt- 
less have  been  received  with  favor,  and  obtained  his  desire. 
How  often  have  1  thought  of  the  impression  his  piercing  eye 
■would  have  made  on  the  discriminating  and  learned  President, 
to  whom,  in  half  the  time  necessary  for  reading  a  letter,  he 
might  have  said  six  times  as  much  as  it  contained.  But,  alas  1 
"Wilson,  instead  of  presenting  himself,  sent  a  substitute,  which 
it  seems  was  not  received  by  the  President,  and  which,  there- 
fore, could  not  have  answered  the  intended  end."" 


in  New  York  the  same  evening.  The  next  day,  I 
wrote  a  number  of  letters,  enclosing  copies  of  the 
prospectus  to  different  gentlemen  in  town.  In  the 
afternoon  of  Tuesday,  I  took  my  book,  and  waited 
on  each  of  those  gentlemen  to  whom  I  had  written 
the  preceding  day.  Among  these  I  found  some 
friends,  but  more  admirers.  The  professors  of  Co- 
lumbia College  expressed  much  esteem  for  my  per- 
formance. The  professor  of  languages,  being  a 
Scotchman,  and  also  a  Wilson,  seemed  to  feel  all  the 
pride  of  national  partiality  so  common  to  his  country- 
men; and  would  have  done  me  any  favour  in  his 
power.  I  spent  the  whole  of  this  week  traversing 
the  streets,  from  one  particular  house  to  another, 
till,  I  believe,  I  became  almost  as  well  known  as  the 
public  crier,  or  the  clerk  of  the  market,  for  I  could 
frequently  perceive  gentlemen  point  me  out  to 
others,  as  I  passed  with  my  book  under  my  arm. 

On  reaching'  Hartford,  I  waited  on  Mr.  G.  a 
member  of  Congress,  who  recommended  me  to  seve- 
ral others,  particularly  Mr.  W.,  a  gentleman  of  taste 
and  fortune,  who  was  extremely  obliging.  The  pub- 
lisher of  a  newspaper  here  expressed  the  highest 
admiration  of  the  work,  and  has  since  paid  many 
handsome  compliments  to  it  in  his  publication,  as 
three  other  editors  did  in  New  York.  This  is  a  species 
of  currency  that  will  neither  purchase  plates,  nor 
pay  the  printer ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  is  gratifying 
to  the  vanity  of  an  author, — when  nothing  better 
can  be  got. 

I  travelled  on  through  New  Hampshire,  stopping 
at  every  place  where  I  was  likely  to  do  any  busi- 
ness ;  and  went  as  far  east  as  Portland,  in  Maine, 
where  I  staid  three  days;  and,  the  supreme  court 
being  then  sitting,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
and  conversing  with  people  from  the  remotest  boun- 
daries of  the  United  States  in  this  quarter,  and  re- 
ceived much  interesting  information  from  them  with 
regard  to  the  birds  that  frequent  these  northern 
regions.  From  Portland,  I  directed  my  course 
across  the  country,  among  dreary,  savage  glens,  and 
mountains  covered  with  pines  and  hemlocks,  amid 
whose  black  and  half  burnt  trunks,  the  everlasting 
rocks  and  stones,  that  cover  this  country,  "grinned 
horribly."  One  hundred  and  fifty-seven  miles 
brought  me  to  Dartmouth  College,  New  Hampshire, 
on  the  Vermont  line.  Here  I  paid  my  addresses  to 
the  reverend  fathers  of  literature,  and  met  with  a 
kind  and  obliging  reception.  Dr.  Wheelock,  the 
President,  made  me  eat  at  his  table,  and  the  profes- 
sors vied  with  each  other  to  oblige  me. 

I  expect  to  be  in  Albany  in  five  days;  and,  if 
the  legislature  be  sitting,  I  shall  be  detained  perhaps 
three  days  there.  In  eight  days  more,  I  hope  to  be 
in  Philadelphia.  I  have  laboured  with  the  zeal  of 
a  knight-errant,  in  exhibiting  this  book  of  mine, 
wherever  I  went,  travelling  with  it,  like  a  beggar 
with  his  bantling,  from  town  to  town,  and  from  one 
country  to  another.  I  have  been  loaded  with 
praises,  with  compliments,  and  kindnesses, — shaken 
almost  to  pieces  in  stage  coaches  ;  I  have  wandered 
among  strangers,  hearing  the  same  O's  and  Ah's,  and 
telling  the  same  story,  a  thousand  times  over:  and 
for  what  ?  Ay,  that's  it!  You  are  very  anxious  to 
know,  and  you  shall  know  the  whole  when  I  reach 
Philadelphia. 

During  the  winter  he  continued  his  tour  south- 
ward. 

In  Annapolis  I  passed  my  book  through  both 
houses  of  the  legislature  ;  the  wise  men  of  Maryland 
stared  and  gaped,  from  bench  to  bench  ;  but,  having 
never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  one  hundred  and 
twenty  dollars  for  a  book,  the  ai/cs  for  subscribing 
were  none ;  and  so  it  was  unanimously  determined 


548 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


in  the  negative.  Nowise  discouraged  by  this  sage 
decision,  I  pursued  my  route  through  the'  tobacco 
fields,  sloughs,  and  swamps  of  this  illiterate  comer 
of  the  State  to  "Washington,  distant  thirty-eight 
miles  ;  and  in  my  way  opened  fifty-live  gates.  I 
was  forewarned  that  I  should  meet  with  many  of 
these  embarrassments,  and  I  opened  twenty-two  of 
them  with  all  the  patience  and  philosophy  I  could 
muster ;  but  when  1  still  found  them  coining  thicker 
and  faster,  my  patience  and  philosophy  both  aban- 
doned me,  and  I  saluted  every  new  gate  (which 
obliged  me  to  plunge  into  the  mud  to  open  it)  with 
perhaps  less  Christian  resignation  than  I  ought  to 
have  done.  The  negroes  there  are  very  numerous, 
and  must  wretchedly  clad :  their  whole  covering,  in 
many  instances,  assumes  the  appearance  of  neither 
coat"  waistcoat,  nor  breeches,  but  a  motley  mass  of 
coarse,  dirty  woollen  rags,  of  various  colours, 
gathered  up  about  them.  When  I  stopped  at  some 
of  the  negro  huts  to  inquire  the  road,  both  men  and 
women  huddled  up  their  filthy  bundles  of  rags 
around  them,  with  both  arms,  in  order  to  cover  their 
nakedness,  and  came  out,  very  civilly,  to  shew  me 
the  way. 

I  mentioned  to  you  in  my  last,  that  the  streets 
of  Norfolk  were  in  a  most  disgraceful  state ;  but  I 
was  informed,  that,  some  time  before,  they  had  been 
much  worse  ;  that  at  one  time,  the  news-carrier  de- 
livered his  papers  from  a  boat,  which  he  poled  along 
through  the  mire  ;  and  that  a  party  of  sailors,  hav- 
ing nothing  better  to  do,  actually  launched  a  ship's 
long  boat,  into  the  streets,  rowing  along  with  four 
oars  through  the  mud,  while  one  stood  at  the  bow, 
heaving  the  lead,  and  singing  out  the  depth. 

The  general  features  of  North  Carolina,  where  I 
crossed  it,  are  immense,  solitary  pine  savannas, 
through  which  the  road  winds  among  stagnant 
ponds,  swarming  with  alligators,  dark,  sluggish  i 
creeks,  of  the  colour  of  brandy,  over  which  are 
thrown  high  wooden  bridges,  without  railings,  and  ( 
so  crazy  and  rotten,  as  not  only  to  alarm  one's  horse,  I 
but  also  the  rider,  and  to  make  it  a  matter  of  thanks- 
giving with  both,  when  they  get  fairly  over,  without 
going  through  ;  enormous  cypress  swamps,  which, 
to  a  stranger,  have  a  striking,  desolate,  and  ruinous 
appearance.  Picture  to  yourself  a  forest  of  pro- 
digious trees,  rising,  as  thick  as  they  can  grow,  from 
a  vast,  fiat,  and  impenetrable  morass,  covered  for  ten  j 
feet  from  the  ground  with  reeds.  The  leafless  limbs  j 
of  the  cypresses  are  clothed  with  an  extraordinary  ! 
kind  of  moss,  (Tillandsia  Uhneoides,) from  two  to  ten 
feet  long,  in  such  quantities  that  fifty  men  might 
conceal  themselves  in  one  tree.  Nothing  in  this 
country  struck  me  with  such  surprise  as  the  prospect 
of  several  thousand  acres  of  such  timber,  loaded,  as 
it  were,  with  many  million  tons  of  tow,  waving  in 
the  wind.  I  attempted  to  penetrate  several  of  these 
6wamps  with  my  gun,  in  search  of  something  new  ; 
but,  except  in  some  chance  places,  I  found  it  al- 
together impracticable.  1  coasted  along  their  bor- 
ders, how  ever,  in  many  places,  and  was  surprised  at 
the  great  profusion  of  evergreens,  of  numberless 
sorts,  and  a  variety  of  berries  that  I  knew  nothing 
of.  Here  I  found  multitudes  of  birds,  that  never 
wintered  with  us  in  Pennsylvania,  living  in  abun- 
dance. 

From  Wilmington  I  rode  through  solitary  pine 
savannas  and  cypress  swamps  as  before,  sometimes 
thirty  miles  without  seeing  a  hut  or  human  being. 
On  arriving  at  the  "Waekamaw,  Pedee,  and  Black 
River,  I  made  long  zigzags  among  the  rich  nabobs, 
who  live  on  their  rice  plantations,  amidst  large  vil- 
lages of  negro  huts.  One  of  these  gentlemen  told 
me  that  he  had  "  something  better  than  six  hundred 
head  of  blacks !" 


Returning  with  a  few  subscribers,  three  hundred 
additional  copies  were  struck  off.  Volume  II. 
appeared  in  January,  1810,  and  the  author,  having 
seen  it  through  the  press,  set  out  on  a  tour  down 
the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  in  quest  of  new  mate- 
rials and  new  subscribers.  After  consultation  at 
Pittsburgh,  he  decided  to  make  the  descent  of  the 
river  in  a  small  open  skiff,  a  mode  which,  though 
perilous,  recommended  itself  on  the  score  of  eco- 
nomy and  freedom  of  action.  He  embarked  alone 
on  the  24th  of  February,  and  writes  to  his  friend, 
Lawson — 

My  stock  of  provisions  consisted  of  some  biscuit 
and  cheese,  and  a  bottle  of  cordial,  presented  me  by 
a  gentleman  of  Pittsburg ;  my  gun,  trunk,  and  great 
coat  occupied  one  end  of  the  boat ;  I  had  a  small  tin, 
occasionally  to  bale  her,  and  to  take  my  beverage 
from  the  Ohio  with ;  and,  bidding  adieu  to  the 
smoky  confines  of  Pitt,  I  launched  into  the  stream, 
and  soon  winded  away  among  the  hills  that  every 
where  enclose  this  noble  river.  The  weather  was 
warm  and  serene,  and  the  river,  like  a  mirror,  except 
where  floating  masses  of  ice  spotted  its  surface,  and 
which  required  some  care  to  steer  clear  of;  hut 
these,  to  my  surprise,  in  less  than  a  day's  sailing, 
totally  disappeared.  Far  from  being  concerned  at 
my  new  situation,  I  felt  my  heart  expand  with  joy 
at  the  novelties  which  surrounded  me  ;  I  listened 
with  pleasure  to  the  whistling  of  the  red  bird  on  the 
banks  as  I  passed,  and  contemplated  the  forest 
scenery,  as  it  receded,  with  increasing  delight.  The 
smoke  of  the  numerous  sugar  camps,  rising  lazily 
among  the  mountains,  gave  great  effect  to  the  vary- 
ing landscape  ;  and  the  grotesque  log  cabins,  that 
here  and  there  opened  from  the  woods,  were 
diminished  into  mere  dog-houses  by  the  sublimity 
of  the  impending  mountains.  If  you  suppose  to 
yourself  two  parallel  ranges  of  forest-covered  hills, 
whose  irregular  summits  are  seldom  more  than  three 
or  four  miles  apart,  winding  through  an  immense 
extent  of  country,  and  enclosing  a  river  half  a  mile 
wide,  which  alternately  washes  the  steep  declivity 
on  one  side,  and  leaves  a  rich,  forest-clad  bottom  on 
the  other,  of  a  mile  or  so  in  breadth,  you  will  have 
a  pretty  correct  idea  of  the  appearance  of  the  Ohio. 
The  banks  of  these  rich  flats  are  from  twenty  to 
sixty  and  eighty  feet  high  ;  and  even  these  last  were 
within  a  few  feet  of  being  overflowed  in  December, 
1808. 

I'  now  stripped  with  alacrity  to  my  new  avoca- 
tion. The  current  went  about  two  and  a  half  miles 
an  hour,  and  I  added  about  three  and  a  half  miles 
more  to  the  boat's  way  with  my  oars. 

I  rowed  twenty  odd  miles  the  first  spell,  and 
found  I  should  be  able  to  stand  it  perfectly  well. 
About  an  hour  after  night,  I  put  up  at  a  miserable 
cabin,  fifty-two  miles  from  Pittsburg,  where  I  slept 
on  what  I  supposed  to  be  corn  stalks,  or  something 
worse  ;  so,  preferring  the  smooth  bosom  of  the  Ohio 
to  this  brush  heap,  I  got  up  long  before  day,  and. 
being  under  no  apprehension  of  losing  my  way,  I 
again  pushed  out  into  the  stream.  The  landscape 
on  each  side  lay  in  one  mass  of  shade  ;  but  the  gran- 
deur of  the  projecting  headlands  and  vanishing 
points,  or  lines,  was  charmingly  reflected  in  the 
smooth  glassy  surface  below.  I  could  only  discover 
when  I  was  passing  a  clearing  by  the  crowing  of 
cocks,  and  now  and  then,  in  more  solitary  places, 
the  big-horned  owl  made  a  most  hideous  hollowing, 
that  echoed  among  the  mountains.  In  this  lonesome 
manner,  with  full  leisure  for  observation  and  reflec- 
tion, exposed  to  hardships  all  day,  and  hard  berths 
all  night,  to  storms  of  rain,  hail,  and  snow, — for  it 
froze  severely  almost  every  night, — I   persevered, 


ALEXANDER  WILSON. 


549 


from  the  21th  of  February  to  Sunday  evening, 
March  17,  when  I  moored  my  skiff  safely  in  Bear 
Grass  Creek,  at  therapids  of  the  Ohio,  after  a  voy- 
age of  seven  hundred  and  twenty  miles. 

It  was  during:  this  descent  of  the  Ohio  that  he 
wrote  the  poem  of  the  Pilgrim.  From  Louisville 
he  made  his  way  to  Nashville,  and  thence  through 
the  Indian  country  to  Natchez. 

A  pleasant  incident  of  his  journey  was  his 
treatment  by"  a  planter  named  Dunbar,  residing 
near  Nashville,  who,  hearing  that  he  was  in  the 
vicinity,  addressed  him  the  following  letter  : — 

Sir, — It  is  very  unfortunate  that  I  should  be  so 
much  indisposed  as  to  be  confined  to  my  bed-room  ; 
nevertheless,  I  cannot  give  up  the  idea  of  having 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  as  soon  as  you  find  it 
convenient.  The  perusal  of  your  first  volume  of 
Ornithology,  lent  me  by  General  Wilkinson,  lias  pro- 
duced in  me  a  very  great  desire  of  making  your 
acquaintance. 

1  understand  from  my  boy,  that  you  propose 
going,  in  a  few  days,  to  New  Orleans,  where  you 
will  see  some  small  cabinets  of  natural  history  that 
may  interest  you.  But,  as  I  presume  it  is  your  in- 
tention to  prosecute  your  inquiries  into  the  interior 
of  our  country,  this  cannot  be  done  better  than  from 
my  house  as  your  head-quarters,  where  every  thing 
wdl  be  made  convenient  to  your  wishes.  My  house 
stands  literally  in  the  forest,  and  your  beautiful 
orioles,  with  other  elegant  birds,  are  our  court-yard 
companions. 

The  bearer  attends  you  with  a  couple  of  horses, 
on  the  supposition  that  it  may   be  convenient  for 
you  to  visit  us  to-day  ;   otherwise,  he  shall  wait  on 
you  any  other  day  that  you  shall  appoint. 
I  am  respectfully,  die. 

William  Dunbar. 

Forest,  26th  Hay,  1S10. 

Wilson  accepted  the  invitation,  and  found  the 
reality  fully  equal  to  the  promise.  He  returned 
to  Philadelphia  on  the  second  of  August,  after  a 
seven  mouths'  tour,  during  which  he  had  ex- 
pended only  four  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 

Several  amusing  incidents,  as  might  naturally 
be  expected,  occurred  during  these  and  several 
other  canvassing  tours  at  a  later  period,  for  sub- 
scriptions of  $120  each.  Not  only  were  private 
collectors  rare  in  those  days,  but  public  libraries 
were  few  and  generally  poor.  At  Haverhill,  NIL, 
he  was  arrested  in  1812  as  a  spy  from  Canada, 
taking  sketches  for  the  use  of  an  anticipated 
British  invasion,  and  brought  before  a  magistrate, 
by  whom  he  was  promptly  released.  In  1812, 
lie  was  made  a  member  of  the  American  Philo- 
sophical Society.  He  resided  for  a  great  portion 
of  this  and  the  previous  year  with  his  friend,  Mr. 
Bartram,  at  the  Botanic  Garden,  and  at  this  con- 
genial and  delightful  residence  made  rapid  pro- 
gress in  his  work.  The  seventh  volume  was 
published  in  the  early  part  of  1813.  The  author's 
anxiety  to  complete  his  work  induced  him,  in 
consequence  of  the  difficulty  of  finding  competent 
artists  lo  color  his  plates,  to  undertake  the  work 
himself,  in  addition  to  his  usual  severe  literary 
labors,  which  were  crowded  so  far  into  the 
night  as  to  deprive  him  of  his  necessary  rest. 
The  unavoidable  result  was  impaired  health.  His 
friends  remonstrated,  but  his  reply,  was,  "  Life  is 
short,  and  without  exertion  nothing  can  be  per- 
formed."    In  his  last  letter,  written  about  this  | 


time,  to  Paisley,  he  says,  "  T  am,  myself,  far  from 
being  in  good  health.  Intense  application  to 
study  has  hurt  me  much.  My  eighth  volume  is 
now  in  the  press,  and  will  be  published  in  No- 
vember. One  volume  more  will  complete  the 
whole."  The  last  sentence  shows  the  object  on 
which  his  heart  was  fixed.  Until  that  "  :>no 
volume"  was  out  of  the  printer's  hands,  there 
was  no  hope  of  any  relaxation  of  his  labor. 
While  his  health  was  thus  impaired  by  sedentary 
toil,  it  is  said  that  he  chanced  one  day  to  notice 
a  bird  of  some  rare  species,  of  winch  he  had  long 
"been  in  search.  He  snatched  his  gun,  ran  out, 
and  swam  a  river  in  pursuit  of  his  prey,  which 
he  secured,  but  caught  a  cold  which  led  to  a  dy- 
sentery. Whether  this  incident,  which  is  related 
on  the  authority  of  "  one  of  Wilson's  American 
friends,  who  visited  Scotland  some  years  ago,"  in 
the  life  prefixed  to  the  reprint  of  the  Ornithology 
in  Constable's  Miscellany,  is. authentic  or  not,  it  is 
certain  that  Wilson  was  attacked  by  dysentery, 
which,  notwithstanding  the  efforts. of  the  best 
physicians  of  the  country,  caused  his  death  on 
the  23d  of  August,  1813.  His  remains  were  in- 
terred, with  great  respect,  in  the  Swedish  burial- 
ground,  Southwark.  During  his  health  he  had 
expressed  a  wish  that  he  might  be  buried  "  where 
the  birds  might  sing  over  his  grave."  Had  this 
wish  been  known  to  the  friends  who  superin- 
tended his  funeral  it  would  have  been  more  fully 
complied  with,  than  by  a  grave  within  city 
limits. 

The  eighth  volume  was  nearly  through  the 
press  when  the  author's  death  occurred.  The 
remaining  portion  was  edited  by  his  friend, 
George  Ord,  who  wrote  the  letter-press  of  the 
ninth  and  last  volume.  Both  appeared  in  1814, 
with  the  illustrations,  which  had  all  been  prepared 
under  Wilson's  supervision,  prior  to  his  death. 
Mr.  Ord  had  been  Wilson's  'assistant  in  several 
of  his  rambles,  anil  was  well  qualified  to  complete 
his  work.  He  accompanied  the  volume  with  a 
life  of  its  author. 

In  1825,  Mr.  Ord  prepared  a  new  edilion  of  the 
last  three  volumes  of  the  Ornithology,  and,  in 
1828,  four  supplementary  volumes  by  Charles 
Lucieu  Bonaparte,  Prince  of  Canino,  were  pub- 
lished, the  first  of  which  was  prepared  for  the 
press  by  John  D.  Godman,  and  the  three  last  by 
William  Cooper.  The  entire  work  was  reprinted 
in  1831,  in  four  volumes  of  Constable's  Miscel- 
lany, with  a  life  of  the  author  by  W.  M.  Ilethe- 
riugton. 

The  poems  of  Wilson  reflect  his  sympathies, 
his  sensibilities,  his  love  of  humorous  observation 
among  men  ;  as  his  prose,  with  its  quick  lively 
step  and  minute  discrimination,  so  freshly  pictures 
the  animal  world.  In  his  humor  and  feeling 
Wilson,  as  a  poet,  belongs  to  the  family  of  Burns. 
He  addresses  his  friends  in  verse  with  the  old 
loving  feeling  of  Scottish  brotherhood,  has  his 
song  for  love  and  beauty,  and  his  similar  choice 
of  subject  in  ludicrous  tale  or  ballad,  with  a 
smarting  sense  of  wrong  and  poverty;  while  an 
early  observation,  in  natural  history,  and  his  pur- 
suit of  descriptive  poetry,  belong  .especially  to 
Wilson  the  naturalist.  In  Scotland  he-  described 
the  Disconsolate  Wren,  the  beauties  of  Lochwin- 
nock,  and  the  wonderful  young  scholar  Ringan  ; 
as,  in  America,  he  afterwards  wrote  his  verses  on 


550 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  Blue  Bird,  sketched  the  Pennsylvania!!  scenery 
of  the  Foresters,  and  celebrated  the  Solitary 
Tutor  on  the  Schuylkill. 

In  that  fine  descriptive  poem  of  the  Foresters, 
in  which  he  describes  an  October  journey  through 
Pennsylvania,  and  across  the  Alleghanies  from 
Philadelphia  to  Niagara,  the  reader  may  have  a 
true  enjoyment  of  his  poetic  tastes  and  of  his 
ardent  love  of  nature  and  adventure.  The  three 
travellers,  Wilson,  his  friend,  and  nephew,  set 
forth  on  foot,  well  provided  with  knapsack  and 
fowling-piece,  and  with  a  stock  of  youth  and  good 
humor,  to  overcome  the  difficulties  of  the  way. 
The  poet,  who  became  thoroughly  endenizened  in 
America,  has  this  opening  appeal  for  the  themes 
of  American  song,  with  a  generously  overdone 
compliment  to  Humphreys. 

To  Europe's  shores  renowned  in  deathless  song, 
Must  all  the  honours  of  the  bard  belong  ? 
And  rural  Poetry's  enchanting  strain 
Be  only  heard  beyond  the  Atlantic  main  ? 
What  though  profuse  in  many  a  patriot's  praise, 
We  boast  a  Barlow's  soul-exalting  lays ; 
An  Humphreys,  blessed  with  Homer's  nervous  glow ; 
And  freedom's  friend  and  champion  in  Freneau ; 
Yet  Nature's  charms  that  bloom  so  lovely  here, 
Unbailed  arrive,  unheeded  disappear  ; 
While  bare  bleak  heaths,  and  brooks"of  half  a  mile 
Can  rouse  the  thousand  bards  of  Britain's  isle. 
There  scarce  a  stream  creeps  down  its  narrow  bed, 
There  scarce  a  hillock  lifts  its  little  head, 
Or  humble  hamlet  peeps  their  glades  among 
But  lives  and  murmurs  in  immortal  song; 
Our  western  world,  with  all  its  matchless  floods, 
Our  vast  transparent  lakes  and  boundless  woods, 
Stamped  with  the  traits  of  majesty  sublime, 
Unhonoured  weep  the  silent  lapse  of  time, 
Spread  their  wild  grandeur  to  the  unconscious  skv, 
In  sweetest  seasons  pass  unheeded  by; 
While  scaree  one  Muse  returns  the  songs  the}'  gave, 
Or  seeks  to  6natch  their  glories  from  the  grave. 

The  rural  descriptions  are  highly  felicitous,  as 
in  this  sketch  of  the  farm  scenery  of  Bucks  and 
the  boor  of  Northampton. 

Thus  half  the  day 
O'er  hill  and  dale  our  stretching  journey  lay, 
Through  fertile  Bucks,*  where  lofty  barns  abound, 
For  wheat,  fair  Quakers,  eggs,  and  fruit  renowned ; 
Full  fields,  snug  tenements,  and  fences  neat, 
Wide  spreading  walnuts  drooping  o'er  each  gate ; 
The  spring-house  peeping  from  enclustering  trees, 
Gay  gardens  filled  with  herbs,  and  roots  and  bees, 
Where  quinces,  pears,  and  clustering  grapes  were 

seen, 
With  ponderous  calabashes  bung  between  ; 
While  orchards,  loaded,  bending  o'er  the  grass, 
Invite  to  taste  and  cheer  us  as  we  pass. 
But  these  too  soon  give  place  to  prospects  drear, 
As  o'er  Northampton's!  barren  heights  we  steer; 
Bleak   bind   of  stones,    deep   swamps,    and   pigmy 

woods, 
Where  the  poor  Swabian  o'er  his  drudgerv  broods ; 
Toils  hard ;  and  when  the  heats  of  harvest  burn, 


*  The  County  of  Bucks,  in  Pennsylvania,  is  a  rich,  well-cul- 
tivated tract  of  country,  containing  nearly  half  a  million  of 
acres,  and  upwards  of  8u,()00  inhabitants. 

t  Northampton  is  an  oblong  hilly  county,  adjoining  that  of 
Bucks.  It  is  crossed  nearly  at  right  angles  by  that  remarkable 
range  of  the  Allegany  known  by  the  name  of  the  Blue  Eidge 
or  Blue  Mountain,  which  presents  the  appearance  of  an  im- 
mense rampart,  extending  farther  than  the  eye  can  reach,  with 
an  almost  uniform  height  of  summit. 


Gleans  from  the  rocks  his  pittance  in  return. 

Yet  though  so  cursed  his  soil,  his  sheaves  so  few, 

All-conquering  Industry  still  bears  him  through; 

Averse  to  change,  pleased  patiently  to  plod 

The  same  dull  round  his  honest  father  trod. 

Behold  his  low  roofed  hut  tin  yonder  green, 

There  no  gay  front  or  proud  piazza's  seen  ; 

Let  wealthy  fools  their  precious  hoards  disburse, 

No  whim  can  tempt  him  to  untie  his  purse. 

A  moss-grown  penthouse  shades  his  narrow  door, 

One  window  joins  with  patches  covered  o'er; 

Around  the  garden  numerous  hives  are  ranged, 

And  pendant  gourds  to  fading  yellow  changed. 

Sheds,  smoke-bouse,  hog  pens,  crowd  the  miry  yard. 

Where  endless  yells  from  growling  pigs  are  heard. 

Approach  this  humble  hut;  look  in,  nor  fear; 

Say,  could  Ambition  find  one  comfort  here? 

Yet  sweet  Content  e'en  here  is  sometimes  found, 

Turning  the  wheel,  or  slumbering  by  its  sound. 

No  mirrors  dazzle,  no  rich  beds  appear, 

Wide  wasting  Fashion  never  entered  here. 

Those  plates  of  pewter,  ranged  along  the  frame, 

In  ancient  days  from  distant  Teuchlaud  came. 

That  oaken  table,  so  uncouth  and  low, 

Stood  where  it  stands  some  sixty  years  ago. 

In  this  arm  chair  where  Hans  delights  to  snore, 

His  great-grandfather  nodded  long  before. 

Thus  glows  his  greasy  stove  throughout  the  year, 

The  torrid  zone  for.  ever  rages  here. 

Here,  when  the  shades  of  weary  evening  fall, 

Sits  Hans,  the  lord  and  sovereign  of  all ; 

Das  Neue  Callender*  from  the  nail  unhooks, 

His  dark  brows  solemn  and  morose  his  looks ; 

Beside  his  lamp,  with  spectacles  on  nose, 

To-morrow's  weather  seeks,  its  rains  or  snows, 

The  moon's  eventful  signs,  th'  auspicious  hour 

To  plant  the  downward  root  or  rising  flower; 

Of  witch-confounding  doctors  tells  the  tale, 

Sips  his  metheglin,  or  his  cider  stale. 

All  other  joys  for  which  he  ever  sighs 

His  dear  loved  saur-eraut  or  his  pipe  supplies. 

With  the  schoolmaster,  the  honor  of  his  pur- 
suits and  his  inglorious  trials,  Wilson  always  had 
a  keen  sympathy.  He  has  introduced  in  this 
poem  an  appeal  which  deserves  to  be  printed  for 
gratuitous  circulation  in  every  village  or  school 
district  in  the  country. 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 


Of  all  professions  that  this  world  has  known, 
From  clowns  and  cobblers  upwards  to  the  throne; 
From  the  grave  architect  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
Down  to  the  framer  of  a  farthing  broom, 
The  worst  for  care  and  undeserved  abuse, 
The  first  in  real  dignity  and  use, 
(If  skilled  to  teach,  and  diligent  to  rule) 
Is  the  learned  master  of  a  little  school, 
Not  he  who  guides  the  legs,  or  skills  the  clown 
To  square  his  fist,  and  knock  his  fellow  down  ; 
Not  he  who  shows  the  still  more  barbarous  art 
To  parry  thrusts,  and  pierce  the  unguarded  heart ; 
But  that  good  man,  who,  faithful  to  his  charge, 
Still  toils  the  opening  reason  to  enlarge ; 
And  leads  the  growing  mind,  through  every  stage, 
From  humble  A,  B,  C,  to  God's  own  page ; 
From  black,  rough  pothooks,  horrid  to  tile  sight, 
To  fairest  lines  that  float  o'er  purest  wddte ; 
From  Numeration,  through  an  opening  way, 
Till  dark  Annuities  seem  clear  as  dav ; 
Pours  o'er  the  mind  a  flood  of  mental  light, 
Expands  its  wings,  and  gives  it  powers  for  flight, 


*  The  New  Almanac. 


ALEXANDER  WILSON. 


551 


Till  earth's  remotest  bound,  and  heaven's  bright  train 
He  trace,  weigh,  measure,  picture,  and  explain. 

If  such  his  toils,  sure  honour  and  regard. 
And  wealth  and  fame  shall  be  his  dear  reward; 
Sure  every  tongue  will  utter  forth  his  praise, 
And  blessings  gild  the  evening  of  his  days! 
Yes — blest  indeed,  by  cold  ungrateful  scorn, 
With  study  pale,  by  daily  crosses  worn, 
Despised  by  those  who  to  his  labour  owe 
All  that  they  read,  and  almost  all  they  know. 
Condemned,  each  tedious  day,  such  cares  to  bear 
As  well  might  drive  e'en  Patience  to  despair ; 
The  partial  parent's  taunt — the  idler  dull — 
Tile  blockhead's  dark  impenetrable  scull — 
The  endless  round  of  A,  B,  C's  whole  train, 
Repeated  o'er  ten  thousand  times  in  vain, 
Placed  on  a  point,  the  object  of  each  sneer, 
His  faults  enlarge,  his  merits  disappear  ; 
If  mild — "  Our  lazy  master  loves  his  ease, 
The  boys  at  school  do  anything  they  please." 
If  rigid — "  He's  a  cross  hard-hearted  wretch, 
He  drives  the  children  stupid  with  his  birch. 
My  child,  with  gentle  means,  will  mind  a  breath ; 
But  frowns  and  flogging  frighten  him  to  death." 
Do  as  lie  will  his  conduct  is  arraigned,. 
And  dear  the  little  that  he  gets  is  gained; 
E'en  that  is  given  him,  on  the  quarter  day, 
With  looks  that  call  it — money  thrown  away. 
Just  Heaven  !  who  knows  the  unremitting  care 
And  deep  solicitude  that  teachers  share, 
If  such  their  fate,  by  thy  divine  control, 
0  give  them  health  and  fortitude  of  soul! 
Souls  that  disdain  the  murderous  tongue  of  Fame, 
And  strength  to  make  the  sturdiest  of  them  tame; 
Grant  this,  ye  powers!  to  dominies  distrest, 
Their  sharp-tailed  hickories  will  do  the  rest. 

In  contrast  with  the  Dutch  boor  of  Northamp- 
ton we  may  present  the  pleasing  sketch  of  hospi- 
tality on.  the  Susquehanna,  with  its  eloquent  tri- 
bute to  the  genius  of  the  scene. 

AT  nOME  ON  THE  SUSQUEnANNA. 

Now  up  green  banks,  through  level  fields  of  grass, 
With  heavy  hearts  the  fatal  spot  we  pass 
Where  Indian  rage  prevailed,  by  murder  fired, 
And  warriors  brave  by  savage  hands  expired; 
Where  bloody  Butler's  iron-hearted  crew, 
Doomed  to  the  flames  the  weak  submitting  few; 
While  screams  of  horror  pierced  the  midnight  wood,* 
And  the  dire  axe  drank  deep  of  human  blood, 
Obscured  with  mud,  and  drenched  with  soaking  rain, 
Through  pools  of  splashing  mire  we  drove  amain  ; 
Night  darke  dug  round  us;   when  in  luckj'  hour. 
Led  by  its  light  we  readied  a  cottage  door. 
There  welcomed  in  we  blest  our  happy  lot, 
And  all  the  drudgery  of  the  day  forgot. 
A  noble  fire  its  blazing  front  displa3Ted, 
Clean  shelves  of  pewter  dazzling  round  arrayed, 
Where  rows  of  ruddy  apples,  ranged  with  care, 
With  grateful  fragrance  filled  the  balmy  air; 
Our  bard  (chief  orator  in  times  like  these,) 
Though  frank,  yet  diffident,  and  fond  to  please, 
In  broken  German  joked  with  all  around, 
Told  who  we  were,  from  whence  and  whither  bound; 


*  The  massacre  here  alluded  to  took  place  after  the  battle  of 
3d  July,  1778.  which  was  fought  near  this  spot.  The  small 
body  of  American  troops  were  commanded  by  that  brave,  hu- 
mane, and  intelligent  officer,  Colonel  Butler;  the  tories  and 
savages  were  headed  by  another  Colonel  Butler,  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent description.  Were  I  disposed  to  harrow  up  the  feelings 
of  the  reader,  I  might  here  enlarge  on  the  particulars  of  this 
horrible  affair ;  but  I  choose  to  decline  it.  Those  who  wish  to 
see  a  detail  of  the  whole  are  referred  to  the  Philadelphia  Uni- 
versal Magazine  for  March  20, 1707,  p.  391). 


The  cottage  group  a  ready  opening  made, 
And  "  welcome  friends,"  the  little  Dutchman  said. 
Well  pleased  our  guns  and  knapsacks  we  resigned, 
The  adjoining  pump,  or  running  stream  to  find; 
There  washed  our  boots,  and  entering,  took  our  seat, 
Stript  to  the  trowsers  in  the  glowing  heat. 
The  mindful  matron  spread  her  table  near. 
Smoking  with  meat,  and  tilled  with  plenteous  cheer ; 
And  supper  o'er,  brought  forth  and  handed  round 
A  massy  .bowl  with  mellow  apples  crowned; 
For  all  our  wants  a  mother's  care  exprest, 
And  pressed  us  oft,  and  picked  us  out  the  best ; 
But  Duncan  smiled,  and  slyly  seemed  to  seek 
More  tempting  fruit  in  Susan's  glowing  cheek, 
Where  such  sweet  innocence  and  meekness  lay 
As  fairly  stole  our  pilot's  heart  away. 
He  tried  each  art  the  evening  to  prolong. 
And  cheered  the  passing  moments  with  a  song, 
So  sadly  tender,  with  such  feeling  raised, 
That  all  but  Susan  with  profusion  praised  ; 
She  from  his  glance  oft  turned  her  glistening  eye. 
And  paid  in  tears  and  many  a  stifled  sigh. 

Thus  passed  the  evening  charmingly  away, 
Each  pleased  and  pleasing,  innocent  and  gay, 
Till  early  bed-time  summoned  us  to  part, 
And  Susan's  glances  spoke  her  captive  heart. 

Swift  flew  the  night,  in  soundest  sleep  enjoyed, 
By  dawn  we  start  and  find  all  hands  employed; 
The  wheel,  the  cards,  by  fire-light  buzzing  go; 
The  careful Inother  kneads  her  massy  dough; 
Even  little  Mary  at  her  needle  sits, 
And  while  she  nurses  pussy,  nicely  knits. 
Our  generous  friends  their  courtesy  bestowed, 
Refused  all  price,  and  pointed  out  the  road  ; 
With  kindest  wishes  bade  us  all  farewell ; 
What  Susau  felt,  the  rising  tear  could  tell. 

Blest  Hospitality!  the  poor  man's  pride, 
The  stranger's  guardian,  comforter,  and  guide, 
Whose  cheering  voice  and  sympathetic  eye, 
Even  angels  honour  as  they  hover  nigh ; 
Confined  (in  mercy  to  our  wandering  race) 
To  no  one  country,  people,  age,  or  place; 
But  for  the  homeless  and  the  exiled  lives, 
And  smiles  the  sweeter  still  the  more  she  gives. 
O  if  on  earth  one  spot  I  e'er  can  claim, 
One  humble  dwelling,  even  without  a  name, 
Do  thou,  blest  spirit!  be  my  partner  there, 
With  sons  of  woe  our  little  all  to  share  ; 
Beside  our  fire  the  pilgrim's  looks  to  see, 
That  swim  in  moisture  as  he  thinks  on  thee; 
To  hear  his  titles  of  wild  woods  wandering  through  ; 
His  ardent  blessings  as  he  bids  adieu  ; 
Then  let  the  selfish  hug  their  gold  divine ! 
Ten  thousand  dearer  pleasures  shall  be  mine. 

The  whole  of  this  poem,  with  its  humorous 
contrasts  of  the  privations  and  enjoyments  of  tho 
travellers,  and  ifs  truthful  pictures  of  nature  and 
local  scenery,  is  in  a  very  happy  vein.  If  the 
poet's  genius  is  incapable  of  adding  new  glories 
to  Niagara,  at  the  close  of  the  poem,  it  must  pay 
that  act  of  submission  in  its  inferiority  to  the 
great  sublime. 

RAB  AND  KINGAN. — A  TALE. 

Pelivcrcd  by  the  author  in  the  Pantheon,  Edinburgh,  in  a 
debate  on  the  question — "Whether  is  Diffidence,  or  tho  Al- 
lurements of  Pleasure,  the  greatest  bar  to  the  Progress  in 
Knowledge  ?" 

introduction; 
Hech !  but  it's  awfu'  like  to  rise  up  here, 
Where  sic  a  sight  o'  learned  folks'  pows  appear  I 
Sae  mony  piercing  een  a'  fixed  on  ane, 
Is  maist  enough  to  freeze  me  to  a  stane  ! 


552 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


But  it's  a  mercy — mony  thanks  to  fate, 
Pedlars  are  poor,  but  unco  seldom  blate. 
(Speaking  to  the  President.) 

This  question,  sir,  has  been  right  well  disputed, 
And  meikle  weel-a-wat's  been  said  about  it: 
Ciiiels,  that  precisely  to  the  point  can  speak, 
And  gallop  o'er  lang  blauds  of  kittle  Greek, 
Ha'e  seut  frae  ilka  side  their  sharp  opinion, 
And  peeled  it  up  as  ane  wad  peel  an  ingon.* 

I  winna  plague  you  lang  wi'  my  poor  spale, 
But  only  crave  your  patience  to  a  tale : 
By  which  yell  ken  on  whatna  side  I'm  stannin'. 
As  I  perceive  your  hindmost  minute's  rinuin'. 

THE  TALE. 

There  lived  in  Fife,  an  auld,  stout,  worldly  chiel, 
Wha's  stomach  kend  nae  fare  but  milk  and  meal ; 
A  wife  he  had,  I  think  they  ea'd  her  Bell, 
And  twa  big  sous,  ainaist  as  heigh's  himsel'. 
Rab  was  a  gleg,  smart  cock,  with  powdered  pash ; 
Ringan,  a  slow,  feared,  bashfu',  simple  hash. 

Baith  to  the  college  gaed.     At  first  spruce  Rab, 
At  Greek  and  Latin,  grew  a  very  dab : 
He  beat  a'  roundabout  him,  fair  and  clean, 
And  ilk  ane  courted  him  to  be  their  frien'; 
Frae  house  to  house  they  harled  him  to  dinner, 
But  cursed  poor  Ringau  for  a  hum-drum  sinner. 

Rab  talked  now  in  sic  a  lofty  strain, 
As  though  braid  Scotland  had  been  a'  his  ain : 
He  ca'd  the  kirk  the  church,  the  yirth  the  globe, 
And  changed  his  name,  forsooth,  frae  Rab  to  Bob. 
Whare'er  ye  met  him,  flourishing  his  rung, 
The  haill  discourse  was  murdered  wi'  his  tongue. 
On  friends  and  faes  wi'  impudence  he  set, 
And  rammed  his  nose  in  everything  he  met. 

The  college  now,  to  Rab,  grew  douf  and  dull, 
He  scorned  wi'  books  to  stupify  his  skull : 
But  whirled  to  plays  and  balls,  and  sic  like  places, 
And  roared  awa'  at  fairs  and  kintra  races: 
bent  hame  for  siller  frae  his  mother  Bell, 
And  eaft  a  horse,  and  rade  a  race  himsel' ; 
Drank  night  and  day,  and  syne,  when  mortal  fa', 
Rowed  on  the  floor,  and  snored  like  ony  sow; 
Lost  a'  his  siller  wi'  some  g;imbling  sparks, 
And  pawed,  for  punch,  his  Bible  and  his  sarks ; 
'fill,  driven  at  last  to  own  he  had  eneugh, 
Gaed  hame  a'  rags  to  haud  his  father's  plough. 

Poor  hum-drum  Ringan  played  anither  part, 
For  Ringan  wanted  neither  wit  nor  art: 
Of  mony  a  far-aff  place  he  kent  the  gate ; 
Was  deep,  deep  learned,  but  uneo,  uneo  blate. 
He  kend  how  mony  mile  'twas  to  the  moon, 
How  mony  rake  wad  lave  the  ocean  toom; 
Where  a'  the  swallows  gaed  in  time  of  snaw ; 
What  gal's  the  thunders  roar,  and  tempests  blaw; 
Where  lumps  o'  siller  grow  aneath  the  gran', 
How  a' this  yirth  rows  round  about  the  sun; 
In  short,  on  books  sae  meikle  time  he  spent, 
Ye  cou'dna  speak  o'  aught,  but  Ringan  kent. 

Sae  meikle  learning  wi'  sae  little  pride, 
Soon  gained  the  love  o'  a'  the  kintra  side; 
And  Death,  at  that  time,  happening  to  nip  aff 
The  parish  minister — a  poor  dull  calf, 
Ringan  was  sought — he  cou'dna'  say  them  nnv, 
And  there  he's  preaching  at  this  very  day. 

MORAL, 

Now,  Mr.  President,  I  think  'tis  plain, 
That  youthfu'  diffidence  is  certain  gain. 

*  The  question  had  been  spoken  upon  both  sides  before  this 
tale  was  recited,  which  was  the  last  opinion  given  on  the  de- 
bate. 


I   Instead  of  blocking  up  the  road  to  knowledge, 
;   It  guides  alike,  in  commerce  or  at  college; 
j   Struggles  the  bursts  of  passion  to  controul, 
Feeds  all  the  finer  feelings  of  the  soul ; 
Defies  the  deep  laid  stratagems  of  guile, 
And  gives  even  innocence  a  sweeter  smile; 
Ennobles  all  the  little  worth  we  have, 
And  shields  our  virtue  even  to  the  grave. 

How  vast  the  difTrenee,  then,  between  the  twain, 
Since  pleasure  ever  is  pursued  by  pain. 
Pleasure's  a  syren,  with  inviting  arms, 
Sweet  is  her  voice  and  powerful  are  her  charms ; 
Lured  by  her  call  we  tread  her  flowery  ground, 
I   Joy  wings  our  steps  and  music  warbles  round; 
Lulled  in  her  arms  we  lose  the  flying  hours, 
And  lie  embosomed  'midst  her  blooming  bowers, 
Till — armed  with  death,  she  watches  our  undoing, 
Stabs  while  she  sings,  and  triumphs  in  our  ruin. 

CONNEL  AND  FLORA. — A  80NG. 

Dark  lowers  the  night  o'er  the  wide  stormy  maij, 
Till  mild  rosy  morning  rise  cheerful  again  ; 
Alas  !   morn  returns  to  revisit  our  shore ; 
But  Connel  returns  to  his  Flora  no  more ! 

For  see  on  yon  mountain,  the  dark  cloud  of  death, 
O'er  Connel's  lone  cottage,  lies  low  on  thelieath; 
]   While  bloody  and  pale,  on  a  far  distant  shore, 
He  lies  to  return  to  his  Flora  no  more. 

Ye  light  fleeting  spirits  that  glide  o'er  yon  steep, 
O  would  ye  but  waft  me  across  the  wild  deep; 
j   There  fearless  I'd  mix  in  the  battle's  loud  roar, 
1   I'd  die  with  my  Connel,  and  leave  him  no  more ! 

AUCHTEF.TOOL. 

Tune — "  One  bottle  'more." 
From  the  village  of  Lessly,  with  a  head  full  of  gle?, 
And  my  pack  on  my  shoulders,  I  rambled  out  free; 
Resolved  that  same  evening,  as  Luna  was  full, 
To  lodge  ten  miles  distant,  in  old  AuchtertooL 

Through   many   a   lone   cottage  and  farm-house  I 

steered, 
Took  their  money,  and  off  with  my  budget  I  sheered ; 
The  road  I  explored  out  without  form  or  rule, 
Still  asking  the  nearest  to  old  AuchtertooL 

A  clown  I  accosted,  inquiring  the  road, 
He  stared  like  an  idiot,  then  roared  out  "  Gude  G-d, 
Gin  ye're  gaun  there  for  quarters  ye're  surely  a  fool. 
For  there's  nought  but  starvation  in  old  AuchtertooL" 

Unminding  his  nonsense,  my  march  I  pursued, 
Till  I  came  to  a  hill  top,  where  joyful  I  viewed, 
Surrounded  witli  mountains,  and  many  a  white  poci, 
The  small  smoky  village  of  old  AuchtertooL 

At  length  I  arrived  at  the  edge  of  the  town, 
As  Phoebus  behind  a  high  mountain  went  down; 
The  clouds  gathered  dreary,  and  weather  blew  foul, 
And  I  hugged  myself  safe  now  in  old  AuchtertooL 

An  inn  I  inquired  out,  a  lodging  desired. 
But  the  landlady's  pertness  seemed  instantly  fired ; 
For  she  saucy  replied,  as  she  sat  carding  wool, 
"  I  ne'er  keep  sic  lodgers  in  auld  AuchtertooL" 

With  scorn  I  soon  left  her  to  live  on  her  pride, 
But  asking,  was  told  there  was  none  else  beside, 
Except  an  old  weaver  who  now  kept  a  school, 
And  these  were  the  whole  that  were  in  AuchtertooL 

To  his  mnnsion  I  scampered,  and  rnpt  at  the  door, 
He  op'd,  but  as  soon  as  I  dared  to  implore, 
He  shut  it  like  thunder,  and  uttered  a  howl, 
That  rung  through  each  corner  of  old  AuchtertooL 

Provoked  now  to  fury,  the  dominie  I  curst. 
And  offered  to  cudgel  the  wretch,  if  he  durst; 


ALEXANDER  WILSON. 


553 


But  the  door  lie  fast  bolted,  though  Boreas  blew  cool, 
And  left  me  all  friendless  in  old  Auchtertool. 

Deprived  of  all  shelter,  through  darkness  I  trod, 
Till  I  came  to  a  ruined  old  house  by  the  road ; 
Here  the  night  I  will  spend,  and,  inspired  by  the  OW;, 
I'll  send  up  some  prayers  for  old  Auchtertool. 

THE  BLUE   BIRD. — FBOM  THE   ORNITHOLOGY. 

The  pleasing  manners,  and  sociable  disposition  of 
this  little  bird,  entitle  him  to  particular  notice.  As 
one  of  the  first  messengers  of  spring,  bringing  the 
charming  tidings  to  our  very  doors,  he  bears  his  own 
recommendation  always  along  with  him,  and  meets 
with  a  hearty  welcome  from  every  body. 

Though  generally  accounted  a  bird  of  passage,  yet, 
eo  early  as  the  middle  of  February,  if  the  weather  be 
open,  he  usually  makes  his  appearance  about  his  old 
haunts,  the  barn,  orchard,  and  fence  posts.  Storms 
and  deep  snows  sometimes  succeeding,  he  disappears 
for  a  time  ;  but  about  the  middle  of  March  is  again 
seen,  accompanied  by  his  mate,  visiting  the  box  in 
the  garden,  or  the  hole  in  the  old  apple  tree,  the 
cradle  of  some  generations  of  his  ancestors.  "  When 
he  first  begins  his  amours,"  says  a  curious  and  cor- 
rect observer,  "  it  is  pleasing  to  behold  his  courtship, 
his  solicitude  to  please  and  to  secure  the  favour  of 
his  beloved  female.  He  uses  the  tenderest  expres- 
sipns,  sits  close  by  her,  caresses  and  sings  to  her  his 
most  endearing  warblings.  When  seated  together, 
if  he  espies  an  insect  delicious  to  her  taste,  he  takes 
it  up,  flies  with  it  to  her,  spreads  his  wing  over  her, 
and  puts  it  in  her  month."*  If  a  rival  makes  his 
appearance,  (for  they  are  ardent  in  their  loves,)  he 
quits  her  in  a  moment,  attacks  and  pursues  the  in- 
truder as  he  shifts  from  place  to  place,  in  tones  that 
bespeak  the  jealousy  of  his  affection,  conducts  him, 
with  many  reproofs, beyond  the  extremities  of  his  ter- 
ritory, and  returns  to  warble  out  his  transports  of 
triumph  beside  his  beloved  mate.  The  preliminaries 
being  thus  settled,  and  the  spot  fixed  on,  they  begin 
to  clean  out  the  old  nest,  and  the  rubbish  of  the 
former  year,  and  to  prepare  for  the  reception  of  their 
future  offspring.  Soon  after  this,  another  sociable 
little  pilgrim,  (motad.lla  domestica,  house  wren,) also 
arrives  from  the  south,  and,  finding  such  a  snug  berth 
preoccupied,  shows  his  spite,  by  watching  a  conve- 
nient opportunity,  and,  in  the  absence  of  the  owner, 
popping  in  and  pulling  out  sticks;  but  takes  special 
care  to  make  oft*  as  fast  as  possible. 

The  female  lays  five,  and  sometimes  six  eggs,  of  a 
pale  blue  colour;  and  raises  two,  and  sometimes 
three  brood  in  a  season  ;  the  male  taking  the  young- 
est under  his  particular  care  while  the  female  is 
again  sitting.  Their  principal  food  are  insects,  par- 
ticularly large  beetles,  and  other  hard-shelled  sorts, 
that  lurk  among  old,  dead,  and  decaying  trees. 
Spiders  are  also  a  favourite  repast  with  them.  In 
the  fall,  they  occasionally  regale  themselves  on  the 
berries  of  the  sour  gum  ;  and,  as  winter  approaches, 
on  those  of  the  red  cedar,  and  on  the  fruit  of  a  rough 
hairy  vine  that  runs  up  and  cleaves  fast  to  the 
trunks  of  trees.  Ripe  persimmons  is  another  of  their 
favourite  dishes,  and  many  other  fruits  and  seeds 
which  I  have  found  in  their  stomachs  at  that  season, 
which,  being  no  botanist,  I  am  unable  to  particu- 
larize. They  are  frequently  pestered  with  a  species 
of  tape  worm,  some  of  which  I  have  taken  from  their 
intestines  of  an  extraordinary  size,  and,  in  some  eases, 
in  great  numbers.  Most  other  birds  are  also  plagued 
with  these  vermin,  but  the  blue  bird  seems  more 
subject  to  them  than  any  I  know,  except  the  wood- 
cock.    An  account  of  the  different  species  of  vermin, 

*  Letter  from  Mr.  William  Bartram  to  the  author. 


many  of  which,  I  doubt  not,  are  nondescripts,  that 
infest  the  plumage  and  intestines  of  our  birds,  would 
of  itself  form  an  interesting  publication ;  but,  as  this 
belongs  more  properly  to  the  entomologist,  I  shall 
only,  in  the  course  of  this  work,  take  notice  of  some 
of  the  most  remarkable. 

The  usual  spring  and  summer  song  of  the  blue-bird 
is  a  soft,  agreeable,  and  oft-repeated  warble,  uttered 
with  open  quivering  wings,  and  is  extremely  pleas- 
ing. In  his  motions  and  general  character,  he  has 
great  resemblance  to  the  robin  redbreast  of  Britain  ; 
and,  had  he  the  brown  olive  of  that  bird,  instead  of. 
his  own  blue,  could  scarcely  be  distinguished  from 
him.  Like  him,  he  is  known  to  almost  every  child ; 
and  shows  as  much  confidence  in  man  by  associating 
with  him  in  summer,  as  the  other  by.  his  familiarity 
in  winter.  He  is  also  of  a  mild  and  peaceful  dispo- 
sition, seldom  fighting  or  quarrelling  with  other 
birds.  His  society  is  courted  by  the  inhabitants  of 
the  country,  and  few  farmers  neglect  to  provide  for 
him,  in  some  suitable  place,  a  snug  little  summer- 
house,  ready  fitted  and  re.it  free.  For  this  he  more 
than  sufficiently  repays  them  by  the  cheerfulness  of 
his  song,  and  the  multitude  of  injurious  insects  which 
he  daily  destroys.  Towards  fall,  that  is  in  the 
month  of  October,  his  song  changes  to  a  single  plain- 
tive note,  as  he  passes  over  the  yellow  many-coloured 
woods;  and  its  melancholy  air  recalls  to  our  minds 
the  approaching  decay  of  the  face  of  nature.  Even 
after  the  trees  are  stript  of  their  leaves,  he  still  lin- 
gers over  his  native  fields,  as  if  loath  to  leave  thein. 
About  the  middle  or  end  of  November,  few  or  none 
of  them  are  seen ;  but,  with  every  return  of  mild  and 
open  weather,  we  hear  his  plaintive  note  amidst  the 
fields,  or  in  the  air,  seeming  to  deplore  the  devasta- 
tions of  winter.  Indeed,  he  appears  scarcely  ever 
totally  to  forsake  us;  but  to  follow  fair  weather 
through  all  its  journeyings  till  the  return  of  spring. 

Such  are  the  mild  and  pleasing  manners  of  the 
bluebird,  and  so  universally  is  he  esteemed,  that  I 
have  often  regretted  that  no  pastoral  muse  has  yet 
arisen  in  this  western  woody  world,  to  do  justice  to 
his  name,  and  endear  him  to  us  still  more  by  the 
tenderness  of  verse,  as  has  been  done  to  his  repre- 
sentative in  Britain,  the  robin  redbreast.  A  small 
acknowledgment  of  this  kind  I  have  to  offer,  which 
the  reader,  I  hope,  will  excuse  as  a  tribute  to  rural 
innocence. 

When  winters  cold  tempests  and  snows  are  no 
more, 
Green  meadows  and  brown  furrow'd  fields  re-ap- 
pearing, 
The  fishermen  hauling  their  shad  to  the  shore, 
And  cloud-cleaving  geese  to  the  lakes  are  a-steering ; 

When  first  the  lone  butterfly  flits  on  the  wing, 
When  red  glow  the  maple?,  so  fresh  and  so  pleasing, 

0  then  comes  the  bluebird,  the  herald  of  spring! 
And   hails   with   his  warblings  the  charms  of  the 
season. 

Then  loud  piping  frogs  make  the  marshes  to  ring; 
Then  warm  glows  the  sunshine,  and  fine  is  the  wea- 
ther ; 

The   blue   woodland   flowers    just   beginning   to 
spring, 
And  spieewood  and  sassafras  budding  together: 

O  then  to  your  gardens  ye  housewives  repair, 
Your  walks  border  up,  sow  and  plant  at  your  leisure ; 

The  bluebird  will  chant  from  his  box  such  an  air, 
That  all  your  hard  toils  will  seem  truly  a  pleasure! 

He  flits  through  the  orchard,  he  visits  each  tree, 
The  red  flowering  peach,  and  the  apple's  sweet  blos- 
soms : 

He  snaps  up  destroyers  wherever  they  be, 
And  seizes  the  caitiffs  that  lurk  in  their  bosoms ; 


554 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


He  drags  the  Tile  grub  from  the  corn  it  devours, 
The  worms  from  the  webs,  where  they  riot  and 
welter ; 

His  song  and  his  services  freely  are  ours, 
And  all  that  he  asks  is — in  summer  a  shelter. 

The  ploughman  is  pleased  when  he  gleans  in  his 
train, 
Now  searching  the  furrows — now  mounting  to  cheer 
him; 

The  gard'ner  delights  in  his  sweet,  simple  strain, 
And  leans  on  his  spade  to  survey  and  to  hear  him  ; 

The  slow  ling'ring  schoolboys  forget  they'll  be  chid, 
"While  gazing  intent  as  he  warbles  before  them 

In  mantle  of  sky-blue,  and  bosom  so  red, 
That  each  little  loiterer  seems  to  adore  him. 

When  all  the  gay  scenes  of  the  summer  are  o'er, 
And  autumn  slow  enters  60  silent  and  sallow, 

And  millions  of  warblers,  that  charm'd  us  before, 
Have  fled  in  the  train  of  the  sun-seekir.g  swallow; 

The  bluebird,  forsaken,  yet  true  to  his  home, 
Still  lingers,  and  looks  for  a  milder  to-morrow, 

Till  forced  by  the  horrors  of  winter  to  roam, 
He  sings  his  adieu  in  a  lone  note  of  sorrow. 

"While  spring's  lovely  season,  serene,  dewy,  warm, 
The  green  face  of  earth,  and  the  pure  blue  of  heaven, 

Or  love's  native  music  have  influence  to  charm, 
Or  sympathy's  glow  to  our  feelings  are  given, 

Still  dear  to  each  bosom  the  bluebird  shall  be ; 
His  voice,  like  the  thrillings  of  hope,  is  a  treasure , 

For,  through  bleakest  t  forms,  if  a  calm  he  but  see, 
He  comes  to  remind  us  of  sunshine  and  pleasure! 

THE  FISH-HAWK. 

This  formidable,  vigorous-winged,  and  well  known 
bird,  subsists  altogether  on  the  finny  tribes  that 
swarm  in  our  bays,  creeks,  and  rivers  ;  procuring  his 
prey  by  his  own  active  skill  and  industry;  and 
seeming  no  farther  dependent  on  the  land  than  as  a 
mere  resting  place,  or,  in  the  usual  season,  a  spot  of 
deposit  for  his  nest,  eggs,  and  young. 

The  fish-hawk  is  migratory,  arriving  on  the  coasts 
of  New  York  and  ISew  Jersey  about  the  21st  of 
March,  and  retiring  to  the  south  about  the  twenty- 
second  of  September.  Heavy  equinoctial  storms  may 
vary  these  periods  of  arrival  and  departure  a  few 
days;  butloi  g  observation  has  ascertained,  that  they 
are  kept  with  remarkable  regularity.  On  the  arri- 
val of  these  birds  in  the  northern  parts  of  the  United 
States,  in  March,  they  sometimes  fi..d  the  bays  and 
ponds  frozen,  and  experience  a  difficulty  in  procuring 
fish  for  many  days.  Yet  there  is  no  instance  on  re- 
cord of  their  attacking  birds,  or  inferior  land  animals, 
with  intent  to  feed  on  them ;  though  their  great 
strength  of  flight,  as  well  as  of  feet  and  claws,  would 
seem  to  render  this  no  difficult  matter.  But  they  no 
sooner  arrive,  than  they  wage  war  on  the  bald 
eagles,  as  against  a  horde  of  robbers  and  banditti ; 
sometimes  succeeding,  by  force  of  numbers,  and  per- 
severance, in  driving  them  from  their  haunts,  but 
6eldom  or  never  attacking  them  in  single  combat. 

The  first  appearance  of  the  fish-hawk  in  spring,  is 
welcomed  by  the  fishermen,  as  the  happy  signal  of 
the  approach  of  those  vast  shoals  of  herring,  shad, 
<fec,  that  regularly  arrive  on  our  coasts,  and  enter 
our  rivers  ill  such  prodigious  multitudes.  Two  of  a 
trade,  it  is  said,  seldom  agree;  the  adage,  however, 
will  not  hold  good  in  the  present  case,  for  such  is 
the  respect  paid  the  fish-hawk,  not  only  by  this  class 
of  men,  but,  generally,  by  the  whole  neighbourhood 
where  it  resides,  that  a  person  who  should  attempt 
to  shoot  one  of  them,  would  stand  a  fair  chance  of 
being  insulted.  This  prepossession  in  favour  of  the 
fish-hawk  is   honourable   to   their   feelings.     They 


associate,  with  its  first  appearance,  ideas  of  plenty, 
and  all  the  gaiety  of  business ;  they  see  it  active  and 
industrious  like  themselves ;  inoffensive  to  the  pro- 
ductions of  their  farms;  building  with  confidence, 
and  without  the  least  disposition  to  concealment,  in 
the  middle  of  their  fields,  and  along  their  fences; 
and  returning,  year  after  year,  regularly  to  its  for- 
mer abode. 
******* 

The  regular  arrival  of  this  noted  bird  at  the  vernal 
equinox,  when  the  busy  season  of  fishing  commences, 
adds  peculiar  interest  to  its  first  appearance,  and 
procures  it  many  a  benediction  from  the  fishermen. 
With  the  following  lines,  illustrative  of  these  cir- 
cumstances, I  shall  conclude  its  history : — ■ 

Soon  as  the  sun,  great  ruler  of  the  year, 
Bends  to  our  northern  climes  his  bright  career, 
And  from  the  caves  of  ocean  calls  from  sleep 
The  finny  shoals  and  myriads  of  the  deep; 
When  freezing  tempests  back  to  Greenland  ride, 
And  day  and  night  the  equal  hours  divide; 
True  to  the  season,  o'er  our  sea-beat  shore, 
The  sailing  osprey  high  is  seen  to  soar, 
With  broad  unmoviug  wing;  and,  circling  slow, 
Marks  each  loose  straggler  in  the  deep  below  ; 
Sweeps  down  like  lightning!   plunges  with  a  roar  I 
And  bears  his  struggling  victim  to  the  shore. 

The  long-housed  fisherman  beholds  with  joy, 
The  well  known  sigi.als  of  his  rough  employ; 
And,  as  he  bears  his  nets  arid  oars  along, 
Thus  hails  the  welcome  season  with  a  song: — 

THE  FISHEEMAN'S    HYMN. 

The  osprey  sails  above  the  sound, 

The  geese  are  gone,  the  gulls  are  flying; 
The  herring  shoals  swarm  thick  around, 

The  nets  are  launch'd,  the  boats  are  plying; 
Yo  ho,  my  hearts !  let's  seek  the  deep, 

Raise  high  the  song,  and  cheerly  wish  her, 
Still  as  the  bending  net  we  sweep, 

"  God  bless  the  fish-hawk  and  the, fisher  I" 

She  brings  us  fish — she  brings  us  spring. 

Good  times,  fair  weather,  warmth,  and  plenty, 
Fine  store  of  shad,  trout,  herring,  ling, 

Sheepshead  and  drum,  and  old-wives'  dainty. 
Yo  ho,  my  hearts !  let's  seek  the  deep, 
Ply  every  oar,  and  cheerly  wish  her, 
Still  as  the  bending  net  we  sweep, 

"  God  bless  the  fish-hawk  and  the  fisher  1" 

She  rears  her  young  on  yonder  tree. 

She  leaves  her  faithful  mate  to  mind  'em ; 
Like  us,  for  fish,  she  sails  to  sea, 

And,  plunging,  shows  us  where  to  find  'em. 
Yo  ho,  my  hearts!  let's  seek  the  deep, 
Ply  every  oar,  and  cheerly  wish  her, 
While  the  slow  bending  net  we  sweep, 
"  God  bless  the  fish-hawk  and  the  fisher !" 

JOHN  EDMUND  HAEWOOD. 
Harwood,  the  actor,  who  came  over  to  America 
with  Wignell's  company  to  Philadelphia,  in  1793, 
was  a  writer  of  verses  of  ease  and  sweetness,  a 
collection  of  which  he  published  in  New  York  in 
1809.  Dunlnp,  in  his  History  of  the  American 
Stage,  has  given  some  pleading  reminiscences  of 
the  man  in  his  account  of  the  opening  of  the  New 
York  Theatre  in  1803  : — 

"  John  E.  Harwood  lias  been  mentioned  in  the 
catalogue  of  the  splendid  company  brought  out 
to  this  country  in  1793  for  Philadelphia.  He 
was  a  man  endowed  by  nature  witli  brilliant  ta- 
lents, and  had  received  in  every  respect  the  edu- 


JOHN  EDMUND  HARWOOD. 


555 


cation  of  a  gentleman.  His  Trapanti,  Sir  David 
Dunder,  Lenitive,  Dennis  Brulgraddery,  Canton, 
Gradus,  Captain  Ironsides,  and  a  long  list  of  cha- 
racters, were  superior  to  any  man's,  in  our  opi- 
nion, yet  seen  in  this  country  :  he  was  more  like 
John  Bannister  than  any  other  actor  of  the  Eng- 
lish stage.  His  Falstaff  was  the  be-t  in  this 
country  until  Cooke  played  it,  except, — -and  it  is 
a  most  formidable  exception, — that  it  was  not 
sufficiently  studied.  In  truth,  self-indulgence  was 
the  ruin  of  Harwood,  as  of  thousands  on  and  off 
the  stage.  After  his  marriage,  he  had  retired 
from  the  stage,  and  kept  a  bookstore  and  circu- 
lating library:  this  retirement  from  a  profession 
in  which  he  was  qualified  to  shine  was  probably 
not  his  own  choice.  He  read  his  books,  and 
neglected  his  business.  Booksellers  should  never 
read;  if  they  do,  they  are  lost.  There  are  bril- 
liant exceptions ;  but  then  they  wrote  also :  they 
did  not  read  merely  fir  the  gratification  of  read- 
ing, or  to  Mil  time,  but  to  gain  knowledge,  and 
they  exerted  themselves  to  impart  it.  The  vene- 
rable Matthew  Carey  is  an  instance  in  point. 
Harwood  was  a  poet,  and  had  in  early  life  pub- 
lished a  volume  of  verses.  He  was  a  man  of  wit, 
and  the  favorite  of  every  company  ;  never  obtru- 
sive, and  always  willing  to  take  a  joke  or  to  give 
one.  He  was  lazy,  and  became  corpulent;  the 
first  disqualified  him  for  all  business,  and  ren- 
dered many  of  his  new  characters,  after  he  re- 
turned to  the  stage,  less  perfect  than  they  would 
have  been;  the  second  spoiled  his  appearance 
and  action  for  high  or  genteel  comedy,  for  a  cor- 
pulent Michael  Perez  (and  he  played  it  well) 
should  not  be  placed  by  the  side  of  Cacofogo. 
John  E.  Harwood,  off  the  stage,  would  have 
shone  as  a  man  of  fortune,  and  he  had  a  wife 
equally  fitted  to  be  a  man  of  fortune's  wife ;  but 
as  unfit  for  a  poor  man's  wife  as  he  was  for  a 
poor  man.  The  consequence  was  the  return  to 
the  stage,  which  brings  him  again  before  the 
reader." 

Harwood's  mood,  in  the  volume  of  his  verses 
before  us,  is  of  a  gonial,  sentimental  character, 
softly  tuned  to  melancholy  at  the  voice  of  the 
nightingale,  or  the  full  of  the  leaf;  competent  at 
ode  and  elegy,  and  gallantly  assisted,  in  its  high- 
est animation,  by  the  presence  of  the  sex.  In  an 
"  irregular  ode"  he  rather  irreverently  speaks  of 
himself  as  a  "  dangler  on  a  petticoat ;"  a  distinc- 
tion which  his  constant  attentions  in  verse  to 
Emma,  Myra,  and  other  ladies,  in  their  various 
humors,  would  seem  fully  to  justify.  There  was 
delicacy  in  his  Muse  as  lie  watched  the  fair  ones 
with  a  fond  affection  ;  and  sang  bis  amiable  songs 
after  the  manner  of  the  gentleman  of  the  olden 
time,  in  the  age  which  was  at  its  height  at  the 
beginning  of  the  century. 


ODE  TO  rNDOLENCE. 


Goddess  of  ease !  whose  all-lethargic  sway 

In  drowsy  fetters  binds  the  senseless  soui, 
Whose  mogic  power  e'en  mighty  seas  obey, 
And  touch'd  by  thee  in  smoother  billows  roll, 
At  thine  approach  in  summer's  scorching  heat, 
The  cattle  grazing  on  the  verdant  plain 
To  some  kind  shade  direct  their  weary  feet, 
T'  enjoy  sweet  sleep  beneath  thy  placid  reign. 

Oh  !  take  me,  Goddess,  to  thy  circling  arms, 
And  pour  sweet  visions  o'er  my  languid  head  ; 


O'er  every  thought  infuse  thy  magic  charms, 
And  round  my  pillow  all  thy  poppies  spread. 
What  time  the  wearying  sun,  no  longer  bright, 
Now  paints  the  western  sky  with  streaks  of  red ; 
What  time  the  moon  extends  her  glimmering  light, 
And  darkening  shades  advise  the  tranquil  bed; 

What  time  the  shepherds  urge  to  quiet  folds, 
And  weary,  haste  to  pen  their  tardy  sheep; 
What  time  "  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds," 
And  weary  nature  welcomes  balmy  sleep  ; 
Oh,  waft  me,  Goddess,  to  that,  peaceful  shore 
Where  drowsy  silence  lulls  the  quiet  mind, 
Where  Strife's  discordant  voice  is  heard  no  more, 
And  sadd'ning  thoughts  a  potent  opiate  find. 
Bear  me  propitious  to  some  fragrant  seat, 
Some  couch  of  nature's  sweetest  flow'rets  made ; 
While  slumbers  hover  o'er  the  still  retreat, 
And  lull  each  sense  within  the  languid  shade. 
Ne'er  shall  ambition's  flame  awake  my  breast, 
Ne'er  shall  her  honors  gild  my  humble  name, 
For  glory's  votaries  be  the  brass  imprest, 
And  let  admiring  ages  learn  their  fame. 

And  if  the  Mnse  afford  some  latent  fire, 
May  the  dull  couplet  run  in  numbers  slow — 
Do  thou  a  languid  heaviness  inspire, 
And  bid  them,  languid  as  myself,  to  flow. 
Soon  will  the  Muse's  proudest  landscape  fade  : 
Soon,  soon  will  death  dispel  the  fleeting  joy  ; 
Let  not  one  envious  wish  disturb  this  sliade, 
One  weak  desire  this  happy  ease  destroy. 

And  Bacchus,  let  me  not  thy  orgies  share, 
Far  be  from  me  thy  quarrel-breeding  bowl ; 
Let  not  the  shouts  of  drunkards  jar  iny  ear, 
Nor  folly's  noise  disturb  my  peaceful  soul. 
Now  take  me,  Goddess,  in  thy  circling  arms, 
And  pour  soft  visions  o'er  this  languid  head ; 
In  every  thought  infuse  thy  magic  charms, 
And  round  my  pillow  peaceful  poppies  shed. 

TO  MISS  S Y,   ON   RETURNING  THE  JUVENILIA  OF  WITHER. 

I. 

I  thank  thee  for  the  simple  lay, 
Upon  my  memory  fixt, 
Which  can  such  wholesome  truths  convey. 
With  so  much  sweetness  mixt ; 
-  The  sting  of  censure  pleasantness  can  hide, 
And.  as  it  spares  our  pride, 
It  cannot  fail  to  please  ; 
For  those  most  wrong 
Will  love  the  song, 
That  can  rebuke  with  ease  I 

ii. 
And  should  I  ever  be  in  love, 
As  much  I  hope  to  be ! 
His  verse  my  mistress'  faith  shall  prove, 
How  true  she  loveth  me ; 
I  will  not  trust  the  wanton,  laughing  eye, 
Of  heedless  revelry, 
Nor  all  the  tricks  of  art; 
But  tears  that  flow, 
Perforce  for  wo, 
When  sorrow  melts  the  heart. 

in. 
The  smile  benign  when  virtue  gains 
A  trium]  >h  over  vice ; 
Heart,  like  her  bosom,  free  from  stains, 
An  earthly  paradise ! 
Though  she  herself  can  never,  never  slide. 
Too  gentle  others  to  deride ; 
With  alabaster  hand. 
Not  strctcli'd  in  show, 
But  to  bestow 
A  blessing  through  the  laud. 


556 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Not  to  coquet  'with  other  men, 

But  truly  cherish  one : 

ily  passion  to  return  again, 

And  smile  on  me  alone ; 

Though  unreserved  in  discourse,  and  free, 

Her  lips  reserved  for  me ; 

So  shall  I  pleasure  prove, 

And  find  a  mate 

To  mine  estate, 

Full  worthy  of  my  love. 

IN  A  "WOOD. 

Meet  Peace  here  holds  her  silent  reign, 

Along  these  paths  she  loves  to  rove. ; 

Where  nought  is  heard  but  the  sweet  strain, 

The  feathery  songsters  pour  to  love. 
Sweet  partners  of  the  sylvan  scene, 
Ye  have  not  half  my  love,  I  ween ! 

Not  all  that  makes  the  forest  ring ; 
And  if  ye  swell  your  little  throats, 
With  all  your  softest,  sweetest  not,3s, 

My  love  is  greater  far  than  ye  can  sing. 

THE  FRIENDS  TO  THEIR  OPPOSITE  NEIGHBORS. 

Ah  !  forbear,  in  mercy,  ladies! 

'Tis  enough  we  own  your  sway  ; 
Neither  such  a  hectoring  blade  is 

Longer  on  the  field  to  stay. 

Mark'd  by  elegance  and  fashion, 

Not  to  love  were  to  be  blind ; 
Soon,  too  soon,  the  subtle  passion 

Chains  an  inexperienced  mind. 

With  such  dextrous  art  you  wheedle, 

Half-averted  looks  and  smiles, 
Hearts  insnaring  with  your  needle, 

Music,  romping,  and  such  wiles. 

Now,  while  mirth  and  harmless  story 

Stay  the  lagging  foot  of  time, 
We,  your  slaves,  who  much  adore  ye, 

Tell  our  loves  in  doggrel  rhyme. 

Ladies,  hear,  in  pity,  hear  us ! 

Spare  the  anguish  of  each  heart ! 
Yield  to  love,  you  need  not  fear  us, 

Few  so  j'ouug  are  vers'd  in  art. 

JOHN  QDINCY  ADAMS. 

Joitm  Quincy,  the  son  of  John  Adams,  was  born 
at  the  residence  of  his  great-grandfather,  John 
Quiney,  in  Braintree,  Massachusetts,  July  11, 1767. 
He  was  named  John  Quiney  at  the  request  of  his 
grandmother,  after  this  aged  relative,  who  was 
dying  at  the  time  of  his  baptism.  As  his  father 
was  absent  from  home  on  public  affairs  the  child's 
education  devolved  principally  on  his  mother, 
one  every  way  fitted  for  her  important  position. 
Every  day,  after  saying  his  prayers,  he  was  re- 
quired to  repeat  the  noble  lines  of  Collins,  com- 
mencing— 

How  sleep  the  brave  who  sink  to  rest, 

and  the  ode  by  the  same  author  on  the  death  of 
Colonel  Charles  Boss*     It  was  truly  said  of  him 


*  This  characteristic  anecdote  of  bis  childhood  was  read  a 
few  ytars  before  bis  death  by  Mr.  Adams  to  Mr.  Robert  C. 
Winthrop.  from  a  letter  which  he  had  just  written  to  John  J. 
Guroey,  of  England.  "  He  recited  the  lines,'1  the  narrator 
says,  "  with  an  expression  and  an  energy  which  I  shall  never 
forget — the  tears  coursing  down  his  cheeks,  and  his  voice,  every 
bow  and  then,  choked  with  emotion.1' 


by  Senator  Davis,  that  "  the  cradle  hymns  of  the 
child  were  the  songs  of  liberty." 

In  February,  1778,  in  his  eleventh  year,  he  ac- 
companied his  father  on  his  mission  to  France. 
He  was  placed  at  school  in  Paris,  where  he  re- 
mained until  his  return  with  his  father  after  the 
conclusion  of  the  treaty  with  America  in  1779. 
"He  is  respected,"  writes  his  father  the  same 
year,  "  wherever  he  goes  for  his  vigor  and  viva- 
city both  of  mind  and  body,  for  his  constant 
good  humor,  and  for  his  rapid  progress  in  French, ' 
as  well  as  for  his  general  knowledge,  which  at 
his  age  is  uncommon." 

In  1781  he  was  made  private  secretary  to  the 
Hon.  Francis  Dana,  Minister  to  Russia.  He  re- 
mained at  the  embassy  until  October,  1782,  when 
after  a  short  tour  he  joined  his  father  in  Holland, 
in  April,  17S3.  After  the  signature  of  the  treaty 
of  peace  at  Paris  in  the  following  September,  he 
accompanied  his  father  to  England.  In  1785  he 
returned  home  with  a  letter  from  his  father  to 
Benjamin  Waterhouse,  in  which  the  son's  acquire- 
ments are  spoken  of  with  a  just  pride : — 

TO   BENJAMIN   WATERnOFSE. 

Autewil,  24  April,  1785. 

This  letter  will  be  delivered  you  by  your  old  ac- 
quaintance John  Quiney  Adams,  whom  I  beg  leave 
to  recommend  to  your  attention  and  favor.  He  is 
anxious  to  study  some  time  at  your  university  be- 
fore he  begins  the  study  of  the  law,  which  appears 
at  present  to  be  the  profession  of  his  choice.  He 
must  undergo  an  examination,  in  which  I  suspect  he 
will  not  appear  exactly  what  he  is.  In  truth,  there 
are  few  who  take  their  degrees  at  college,  who  have 
so  much  knowledge.  But  his  studies  having  been 
pursued  by  himself,  on  his  travels,  without  any 
steady  tutor,  he  will  be  found  awkward  in  speaking 
Latin,  in  prosody,  in  parsing,  and  even,  perhaps,  in 
that  accuracy  of  pronunciation  in  reading  orations 
or  poems  in  that  language,  which  is  often  chiefly 
attended  to  in  such  examinations.  It  seems  to  be 
necessary,  therefore,  that  I  make  this  apology  for 
him  to  you,  and  request  you  to  communicate  it  in 
confidence  to  the  gentlemen  who  are  to  examine 
him,  and  such  others  as  you  think  prudent.  If  you 
were  to  examine  him  in  English  and  French  poetry, 
I  know  not  where  you  would  find  anybody  his  supe- 
rior; in  Roman  and  English  history,  few  persons  of 
his  age.  It  is  rare  to  find  a  youth  possessed  of  so 
much  knowledge.  He  has  translated  Virgil's  jEneid, 
Suetonius,  the  whole  of  Sallust,  and  Tacitus's  Agri- 
cola,  his  Germany,  and  several  books  of  his  Annals, 
a  great  part  of  Horace,  some  of  Ovid,  and  some  of 
Csesar's  Commentaries,  in  writing,  besides  a  number 
of  Tally's  orations.  These  he  may  show  you  ;  and 
although  you  will  find  the  translations  in  many  pla- 
ces inaccurate  in  point  of  style,  as  must  be  expected 
at  his  age,  you  will  see  abundant  pruof  that  it  is 
impossible  to  make  those  translations  without  under- 
standing his  authors  and  their  language  very  well. 

In  Greek  his  progress  has  not  been  equal ;  yet  he 
has  studied  morsels  in  Aristotle's  Poetics,  in  Plu- 
tarch's Lives,  and  Lucian's  Dialogues,  the  choice  of 
Hercules,  in  Xenophon,  and  lately  he  has  gone 
through  several  books  in  Homer's  Iliad. 

In  mathematics  I  hope  he  will  pass  muster.  In 
the  course  of  the  last  year,  instead  of  playing  cards 
like  the  fashionable  world,  I  have  spent  my  even- 
ings with  him.  We  went  with  some  accuracy 
through  the  geometry  in  the  Preceptor,  the  eight 
books  of  Simpson's  Euclid  in  Latin,  and  compared 
it,  problem  by  problem,  and  theorem  by  theorem, 


JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 


557 


with  le  pere  de  Chales  in  French ;  we  went  through 
plane  trigonometry  and  plane-sailing,  Fenning's  Al- 
gebra, anil  the  decimal  fractions,  arithmetical  and 
geometrical  proportions,  and  the  conic  sections,  in 
Ward's  Mathematics.  I  then  attempted  a  sublime 
flight,  and  endeavored  to  give  him  some  idea  of  the 
differential  method  of  calculation  of  the  Marquis  de 
L'Hopit.il,  and  the  method  of  fluxions  and  infinite  se- 
ries of  Sir  Isaac  Newton  ;  but  alas!  it  is  thirty  years 
since  I  thought  of  mathematics,  and  I  found  1  had 
lost  the  little  I  once  knew,  especially  of  these  higher 
branches  of  geometry,  so  that  he  is  as  yet  but  a 
smatterer,  like  his  father.  However,  he  has  a  foun- 
dation laid,  which  will  enable  him  with  a  year's  at- 
tendance on  the  mathematical  professor,  to  make 
the  necessary  proficiency  for  a  degree.  He  is  stu- 
dious enough,  and  emulous  enough,  and  when  he 
comes  to  mix  with  his  new  friends  and  young  com- 
panions, he  will  make  his  way  well  enough.  I  hope 
he  will  be  upon  his  guard  against  those  airs  of  supe- 
riority among  the  scholars,  which  his  larger  ac- 
quaintance with  the  world,  and  his  manifest  superi- 
ority in  the  knowledge  of  some  things,  may  but  too 
naturally  inspire  into  a  young  mind,  and  I  beg  of 
you,  Sir,  to  be  his  friendly  monitor  in  this  respect 
and  in  all  others. 

He  was  of  course  prepared  for  an  advanced  class 
at  Harvard,  and  took  liis  degree  in  1787,  the  year 
after  his  admission.  The  subject  of  his  Com- 
mencement oration  was  The  Importance  and  Ne- 
cessity of  Public  Faith  to  the  Well-being  of  a 
Community . 

Iiv  1790,  after  preliminary  studies  in  the  office 
of  Theophilus  Parsons  at  Newbnryport,  lie  com- 
menced the  practice  of  the  law,  which  he  con- 
tinued, varying  his  occupation  by  occasional  com- 
munications, signed  Publicola  and  Marcellus,  in 
the  Centinel,  edited  by  Benjamin  Russell,  until 
his  appointment  as  Minister  to  the  Hague  in  1794 
by  Washington,  who.  in  1797  pronounced  him 
"  the  most  valuable  public  character  we  have 
abroad,  and  the  ablest  of  all  our  diplomatic  corps." 
In  July  of  the  same  year  he  was  married  to  Louisa, 
daughter  of  Joshua  Johnson  of  Maryland,  consu- 
lar agent  of  the  United  States  at  London.  lie 
was  soon  after  recalled  by  his  father  on  his  ac- 
cession to  the  presidency.  During  his  residence 
abroad  he  made  a  tour  in  Silesia.  A  number  of 
letters,  written  to  his  brother  during  its  progress, 
were  published  by  the  latter  in  the  Portfolio, 
and  were  collected  in  a  volume  by  a  London 
publisher  in  1804.*  The  work  is  'divided  into 
parts,  one  of  which  is  devoted  to  a  description, 
and  the  other  to  statistical  information  respecting 
the  country. 

In  1801  he  was  elected  to  the  state  Senate,  and 
in  1803  a  member  of  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States.  In  1808  he  resigned  his  seat  in  conse- 
quence of  the  dissatisfaction  of  the  state  legisla- 
ture with  his  advocacy  of  some  of  the  measures 
of  Jefferson's  administration.  He  had  previously, 
in  1806,  been  appointed  Boylston  Professor  of 
Rhetoric,  in  Harvard  College,  and  continued  the 
discharge  of  his  duties  until  he  resigned  in  1809. 
In  1810  he  published  the  lectures  he  had  deli- 


*  Letters  on  Silesia,  written  during  a  tour  through  that 
country  in  the  years  1SO0, 1801,  by  liis  Excellency  John  Quincy 
Adams,  then  Minister  Plenipotentiary  from  the  United  States 
to  the  Court  of  Berlin,  and  since'  a  member  of  the  American 
Senate.    London:  1804.    8vo.  pp.  387. 


vered  in  his  courses.*'  In  1810  he  was  appointed 
by  Madison  Minister  to  Russia,  where  he  re- 
mained until  1815,  when  with  Clay,  Bayard, 
Russell,  and  Gallatin  he  negotiated  the  treaty  of 
peace  with  England  at  Ghent,  and  was  appointed 
minister  to  that  country  in  the  same  year  by  Ma- 
dison. In  1817  he  returned  home,  was  appointed 
Secretary  of  State  by  Monroe,  and  remained  in 
office  eight  years,  when  he  was  himself  chosen 
to  the  presidency  by  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives, on  whom  the  choice  had  devolved.  Ho  re- 
mained in  office  one  term,  when  he  was  succeeded 
by  General  Jackson.  He  was  immediately  after 
elected  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives from  his  native  state,  a  position  which  he 
retained  till  his  death.  In  1833  he  was  nomi- 
nated by  the  anti-masonic  party  as  governor  of 
his  state.  The  result  of  the  contest  between 
three  candidates  threw  the  election  into  the 
Legislature,  there  being  no  choice  by  the  people, 
whereupon  Mr.  Adams  withdrew.  He  had  pre- 
viously, from  1831  to  1833,  published  a  series  of 
letters  condemnatory  of  the  principles  and  prac- 
tice of  the  Free-Masons,  reprinted  in  a  volume  in 
1847.  Throughout  his  long  and  active  political 
career,  Mr.  Adams  retained  a  fondness  for  litera- 
ture. He  published  in  1832  a  long  poetical  com- 
position, Dermot  Mae  Morrogh^  the  argument  of 
which  is  concisely  summed  up  in  a  sentence  of 
the  preface : — 

Dermot  Mac  Morrogh,  for  insupportable  tyranny 
over  his  subjects,  aggravated  by  the  violation  of  the 
most  sacred  of  human  ties,  the  seduction  of  another's 
wife,  is  justly  expelled  from  his  kingdom.  He  imme- 
diately repairs  to  "  the  greatest  prince  of  his  time, 
for  wisdom,  virtue  and  abilities,"  and  sells  his  coun- 
try for  the  price  of  being  restored  by  the  foreign 
invader  to  his  principality.  The  English  king,  to 
cover  the  basest  of  aggressions  with  the  mantle  of 
religion,  applies  to  Pope  Adrian  the  Fourth,  an  Eng- 
lishman, for  authority  to  ravage  Ireland  with  fire 
and  sword,  under  pretence  of  reforming  the  inhabit- 
ants, and  reducing  them  to  the  orthodox  faith  of 
paying  tribute  to  the  Roman  See.  This  authority 
Pope  Adrian  grants  him' without  scruple.  You  may 
!  read  in  Rapiu  the  brief  itself.  And  with  this  sacri- 
|  legious  abuse  of  religion,  Henry,  reeking  with  the 
blood  of  Becket,  and  Dermot,  the  ruffian  builder  of 
monasteries,  achieve  the  conquest  of  Ireland,  in  vas- 
salage to  the  crown  of  England.  And  this  is  the 
tenure  by  which  Ireland  is  held  as  an  appendage  to 
the  sister  island,  at  the  present  day. 

It  is  written  not  at  all  happily,  with  a  tame 
adaptation  of  the  Don  Juan  style,  and  consists  of 
a  rhymed  chronicle  of  the  events  it  celebrates. 
The  subject,  says  the  author— 

The  subject,  was  well  adapted  to  the  composition 
of  an  historical  tale,  and  as  such  I  deliver  it  to  the 
judgment  of  ury  country.  It  is  intended  also  as  a 
moral  tale,  teaching  the  citizens  of  these  States  of 
both  sexes,  the  virtues  of  conjugal  fidelity,  of  ge- 
nuine piety,  and  of  devotion  to  their  country,  by 
pointing  the  finger  of  scorn  at  the  example  six  hun- 


*  Lectures  on  Rhetoric,  and  Oratory,  delivered  to  the  classes 
of  Senior  and  Junior  Sophistors  in  Harvard  University.  Cam- 
bridge :  Hilliard  &  Metcalf.  1810. 

+  Dermot  Mac  Morroirli ;  or,  the  Conquest  of  Ireland.  An 
Historical  Tale  of  the  Twelfth  Century,  in  four  cantos.  By 
John  Quinev  Adams.  Boston:  Carter",  Hendee  &  Co.,  1832. 
Svo.  pp.  10S. 


558 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


dred  years  since  exhibited  of  a  country  sold  to  a 
foreign  invader  by  the  joint  agency  of  violated  mar- 
riage vows,  unprincipled  ambition,  and  religious 
imposture. 

We  extract 

THE  BONO. 

Nought  shines  so  bright  in  beauty's  eyes, 

As  the  bold  warrior's  gallant  bearing: 
The  proudest  deems  his  heart  a  prize ; 

The  fairest  would  his  fate  be  sharing  ; 
Let  Truth,  let.  Valor  be  thy  guide; 

And  faithful  love,  thy  priceless  jewel — 
Thou  ne'er  shalt  lack  a  lovely  bride; 

Nor  find  a  female  bosom  cruel. 

'Tis  true,  the  soldier's  life  is  short; 

But  what  is  life,  depriv'd  of  action? 
The  craven  coward's  base  resort; 

A  universe,  without  attraction. 
Then,  urge  thy  courser  to  the  field, 

And  thou  slialt  gain  renown  in  story — 
Compel  the  fiercest  foe  to  yield  ; 

Or  die  upon  the  bed  of  glory. 

Poems  of  a  briefer  compass  on  suhjects  of  the 
day  frequently  appeared  from  his  pen.  A  collec- 
tion of  these  was  made  in  1848.*  It  contains  a 
poetic  version  of  the  thirteenth  satire  of  Juvenal. 
A  small  volume  of  letters,  written  from  St.  Pe- 
tersburg to  his  son,  On  the  Bible  and  its  Teach- 
ings, was  published  after  his  death. t 

In  1830,  on  the  seifii-eentenuial  anniversary  of 
the  adoption  of  the  federal  constitution,  Mr. 
Adams  delivered  an  address  before  the  Historical 
Society  of  New  York.  He  was  of  course  fre- 
quently called  upon  for  such  services,  but  his 
public  discourses  of  this  character,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  funeral  discourses  on  Madison  and 
Monroe  delivered  in  1836,  1834,  and  1831,  which 
were  re-published  with  the  title  of  Lives  of  Cele- 
brated Statesmen  by  John  Quincy  Adams,  in 
1846,  have  not  been  collected.  lie  was  a  constant 
reader,  and  his  admirable  memory  enabled  him  to 
accumulate  a  vast  stock  of  ready  information.  In 
English  as  well  as  ancient  and  foreign  literature, 
he  was  thoroughly  versed,  and  able  to  repeat  long 
passages  from  authors  in  various  languages.  He 
translated  Wieland's  Oberon  in  verse,  but  withheld 
liis  version  from  the  press  on  the  appearance  of 
that  of  Sotheby. 

In  the  latter  part  of  his  career  Mr.  Adams  was 
a  leader  of  the  anti-slavery  party,  and  an  inflexible 
advocate  of  the  right  of  petition  on  this  as  well  as 
on  every  other  subject.  He  carried  this  so  far  as 
on  one  occasion  to  present  a  petition  for  a  disso- 
lution of  the  Union,  expressing  at  the  same  time 
his  dissent  from  and  abhorrence  of  such  a  pro- 
ceeding. 

Mr.  Adams  retained  the  full  vigor  of  his  mind 
and  body  by  his  temperate  and  active  mode  of  life 
to  the  hour  almost  of  his  death.  He  was  in  his 
place  in  the  House  on  the  21st  of  February,  1848, 
and  gave  an  emphatic  "  no"  on  a  motion  to  pre- 
sent the  thanks  of  the  House  with  gold  medals  to 
various  officers  who  had  distinguished  themselves 
in  the  Mexican  war.  A  little  after  this  the  course 
of  business  was  interrupted  by  a  cry,  "  Mr.  Adams 


*  Poems  of  Religion  and  Society  by  John  Quincy  Adams. 
Ktw  York  :  W.  II.  Graham.     ISnio.  pp.  Iu8. 
t  Auburn.  185<l.     16mo.  pp.  128. 


J ,    H    cAj-o.v*^ 


is  dying."  He  was  falling  over  the  left  side  of 
his  chair,  his  right  hand  clutching  at  his  .desk 
for  support.  He  was  placed  on  a  sofa,  and  re- 
moved for  air  to  the  rotunda,  and  thence  to  the 
door  of  the  east  portico.  As  he  could  not  be  taken 
with  safety  to  his  residence  he  was  carried  to  the 
apartment  of  the  Speaker,  Mr.  Winthrop.  Here 
he  rallied  enough  to  falter  his  memorable  dying 
words,  "  This  is  the  end  of  earth — I  am  content." 
He  then  sank  into  an  apparent  stupor,  in  which 
he  remained  until  he  expired,  at  a  quarter  past 
seven  in  the  evening  of  the  day  but  one  after  his 
attack.  "  It  is  better  to  wear  out  than  to  rust 
out,"  was  the  favorite  maxim  of  Adams.  It  was 
one  which  he  lived  fully  up  to,  and  with  which 
the  circumstances  of  his  last  hours  finely  har- 
monized. Had  his  mode  of  death  been  presented 
to  his  choice  in  life,  it  would  have  probably  been 
joyfully  accepted  as  a  fitting  close  to  his  sixty-five 
years  of  active  public  service. 

THE  WANTS  OF  MAN.* 

"  Man  wants  but  little  here  below, 
JNor  wants  that  little  loner. ' — 

GoLdtsmith's  Hermit 


"  Man  wants  but  little  here  below, 

Nor  wants  that  little  long." 
'Tis  not  with  me  exactly  so, 

But  'tis  so  in  the  song. 
My  wants  are  many,  and  if  told 

Would  muster  many  a  score; 
Anil  were  each  wish  a  mint  of  gold, 

I  still  should  long  for  more. 


'What  first  I  want  is  daily  bread, 
And  cauvass-backs  and  wine; 


*  It  was  written  under  these  circumstances: — General  Ogle 
informed  Mr.  Adams  that  several  young  ladies  in  his  district 
had  requested  him  to  procure  Mr.  A.'s  autograph  for  them.  In 
accordance  with  this  request.  Mr.  Adams  wrote  the  following 
beautiful  poem  upon  "The  Wants  of  Man,"  each  stanze  upon  a 
sheet  of  note  paper. 


JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 


559 


And  all  the  realms  of  nature  spread 

Before  me  when  I  dine. 
Four  courses  scarcely  can  provide 

My  appetite  to  quell, 
With  four  choice  cooks  from  France,  beside, 

To  dress  my  dinner  well. 

in. 
What  next  I  want,  at  heavy  cost, 

Is  elegant  attire  ; — 
Black  sable  furs,  for  winter's  frost, 

And  silks  for  summer's  fire, 
And  Cashmere  shawls,  and  Brussels  lace 

My  bosom's  front  to  deck. 
And  diamond  rings  my  hands  to  grace, 

And  rubies  for  my  neck. 

IV. 

And  then  I  want  a  mansion  fair, 

A  dwelling-house,  in  style, 
Four  stories  high,  for  wholesome  air— 

A  massive  marble  pile; 
With  halls  for  banquets  and  for  balls, 

All  furnished  rich  and  fine  ; 
With  stabled  studs  in  fifty  stalls, 

And  cellars  for  my  wine. 


I  want  a  garden  and  a  park,   ' 

My  dwelling  to  surround — 
A  thousand  acres  (bless  the  mark), 

With  walls  encompassed  round — 
Where  flocks  may  range  and  herds  may  low, 

And  kids  and  lambkins  play, 
And  flowers  and  fruits  commingled  grow, 

All  Eden  to  display. 


I  waut,  when  summer's  foliage  falls, 

And  autumn  strips  the  trees, 
A  house  within  the  city's  walls, 

For  comfort  and  for  ease. 
But  here,  as  space  is  somewhat  scant, 

And  acres  somewhat  rare. 
My  house  in  town  I  only  want 

To  occupy a  square. 

VII. 

I  want  a  steward,  butler,  coolcs; 

A  coachman,  footman,  grooms, 
A  library  of  well-bound  books, 

And  picture-garnished  rooms; 
Corregios,  Magdalen,  and  Night, 

The  matron  of  the  chair; 
Guido's  fleet  coursers  in  their  flight, 

And  Claudes  at  least  a  pair. 

VIII. 

I  want  a  cabinet  profuse 

Of  medals,  coins,  and  gems; 
A  printing  press,  for  private  use, 

Of  fifty  thousand  ems; 
And  plants,  and  minerals,  and  shells; 

Worms,  insects,  fishes,  birds; 
And  every  beast  on  earth  that  dwells, 

In  solitude  or  herds. 


I  want  a  board  of  burnished  plate, 

Of  silver  and  of  gold ; 
Tureens  of  twenty  pounds  in  weight, 

With  sculpture's  richest  mould  ; 
Plateaus,  with  chandeliers  and  lamps. 

Plates,  dishes — all  the  same  ; 
And  porcelain  vases,  with  the  stamps 

Of  Sevres,  Angouleme. 


And  maples,  of  fair  glossy  stain, 

Must  form  my  chamber  doors, 
And  carpets  of  the  Wilton  grain 

Must  cover  all  my  floors ; 
My  walls,  with  tapestry  bedeck'd, 

Must  never  be  outdone ; 
And  damask  curtains  must  protect 

Their  colors  from  the  sun. 


And  mirrors  of  the  largest  pane 

From  Venice  must  be  brought  ; 
And  sandal- wood,  and  bamboo  can-?, 

For  chairs  and  tables  bought ; 
On  all  the  mantel-pieces,  clocks 

Of  thrice-gilt  bronze  must  stand, 
And  screens  of  ebony  and  box 

Invite  the  stranger's  hand. 

XII. 

I  want  (who  does  not  want?)  a  wif3, 

Affectionate  and  fair, 
To  soia£e  all  the  woes  of  life, 

And  all  its  joys  to  share ; 
Of  temper  sweet,,  of  yielding  will, 

Of  firm,  yet  placid  mind. 
With  all  my  faults  to  love  me  still, 

AVith  sentiment  refiu'd. 


And  as  Time's  car  incessant  runs, 

And  Fortune  fills  my  store, 
I  want  of  daughters  and  of  sons 

From  eight  to  half  a  score. 
I  want  (alas  !   can  mortal  dare 

Such  bliss  on  earth  to  crave  ?) 
That  all  the  girls  be  chaste  and  fair — 

The  boys  all  wise  and  brave. 

xrv. 
And  when  my  bosom's  darling  sing.:, 

With  melody  divine, 
A  pedal  harp  of  many  strings 

Must  with  her  voice  combine. 
A  piano,  exquisitely  wrought, 

Must  open  stand,  apart, 
That  all  my  daughters  may  be  taught 

To  win  the  stranger's  heart. 

xv. 

My  wife  and  daughters  will  desiro 

Refreshment  from  perfumes, 
Cosmetics  for  the  skin  require, 

And  artificial  blooms. 
The  civet  fragrance  shall  dispense, 

And  treasur'd  sweets  return  ; 
Cologne  revive  the  flagging  sense, 

And  smoking  amber  burn. 

XVI. 

And  when  at  night  my  weary  head 

Begins  to  droop  and  doze, 
A  southern  chamber  holds  my  bed, 

_For  nature's  soft  repose; 
With  blankets,  counterpanes,  and  sheet, 

Mattrass,  and  bed  of  down, 
And  comfortables  for  my  feet, 

And  pillows  for  my  crown. 

xvn. 
I  want  a  warm  and  faithful  friend, 

To  cheer  the  adverse  hour, 
Who  ne'er  to  flatter  will  descend, 

Nor  bend  the  knee  to  power; 
A  friend  to  chide  me  when  I'm  wrong, 

My  inmost  soul  to  see ; 


560 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


And  that  my  friendship  prove  as  stron; 
For  him,  as  his  for  me. 

XVIII. 

I  want  a  kind  and  tender  heart, 

For  others'  wants  to  feel ; 
A  soul  secure  from  Fortune's  dart. 

And  bosom  arm'd  with  steel ; 
To  bear  divine  chastisement's  rod, 

And  mingling:  hi  my  plan, 
Submission  to  the  will  of  God, 

With  charity  to  man. 

XIX. 

I  want  a  keen,  observing  eye, 

An  ever-listening  ear, 
The  truth  through  all  disguise  to  spy, 

And  wisdom's  voice  to  hear ; 
A  tongue,  to  speak  at  virtue's  need, 

In  Heaven's  subliinest  strain  ; 
And  lips,  the  cause  of  man  to  plead, 

And  never  plead  in  vain. 

xx. 

I  want  uninterrupted  health, 

Throughout  my  long  career, 
And  streams  of  never-failing  wealth, 

To  scatter  far  and  near ; 
The  destitute  to  clothe  and  feed, 

Free  bounty  to  bestow ; 
Supply  the  helpless  orphan's  need, 

AJid  soothe  the  widow's  woe. 


I  want  the  genius  to  conceive, 

The  talents  to  unfold, 
Designs,  the  vicious  to  retrieve, 

The  virtuous  to  uphold  ; 
Inventive  power,  combining  skill, 

A  persevering  soul, 
Of  human  hearts  to  mould  the  will, 

And  reach  from  pole  to  pole. 

XXIL 

I  want  the  seals  of  power  and  place, 

The  ensigns  of  command, 
Charged  by  the  people's  unbought  grace, 

To  rule  my  native  land. 
Nor  crown,  nor  sceptre  would  I  ask 

But  from  my  country's  will, 
By  day,  by  night,  to  ply  the  task 

Her  cup  of  bliss  to  fill. 

xxnL 
I  want  the  voice  of  honest  praise 
,   To  follow  me  behind, 
And  to  he  thought  in  future  days 

The  friend  of  human  kind ; 
That  after  ages,  as  they  rise, 

Exulting  may  proclaim, 
In  choral  union  to  the  skies. 

Their  blessings  on  my  name. 

^  4 

XXIV. 

These  are  the  wants  of  mortal  man ; 

I  cannot  want  them  long, 
For  life  itself  is  but  a  span, 
.    And  earthly  bliss  a  song. 
My  last  great  want,  absorbing  all , 

Is,  when  beneath  the  sod, 
And  summoii'd  to  my  final  call, 

The  mercy  of  my  God. 


And  oh  !  while  circles  in  my  veins 
Of  life  the  purple  stream, 

And  yet  a  fragment  small  remains 
Of  nature's  transient  dream. 


My  soul,  in  humble  hope  unscar'd, 

Forget  not  thou  to  pray, 
That  this  thy  want  may  be  prepared 

To  meet  the  Judgment  Day. 

FROM  THE  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER  OF  JAMES  MADISON. 

This  constitution,  my  countrymen,  is  the  great 
result  of  the  North  American  revolution.  This  is 
the  giant  stride  in  the  improvement  of  the  condition 
of  the  human  race,  consummated  in  a  period  of  less 
than  one  hundred  years.  Of  the  signers  of  the  ad- 
dress to  George  the  Third  in  the  Congress  of  1774 — 
of  the  signerB  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  in 
1776 — of  the  signers  of  the  Articles  of  Confederation 
in  1781,  and  of  the  signers  of  the  federal  and  na- 
tional Constitution  of  Government  under  which  we 
live,  with  enjoyments  never  before  allotted  to  man, 
not  one  remains  in  the  land  of  the  living.  The  last 
survivor  of  them  all  was  he  to  honor  whose  memory 
we  are  here  assembled  at  once  with  mourning  and 
with  joy.  We  reverse  the  order  of  sentiment  and 
reflection  of  the  ancient  Persian  king — we  look  back 
on  the  century  gone  by — we  look  around  with  anx- 
ious and  eager  eye  for  one  of  that  illustrious  host  of 
Patriots  and  heroes,  under  whose  guidance  the  revo- 
lution of  American  Independence  Avas  begun,  and 
continued,  and  completed.  We  look  around  in  vain. 
To  them  this  crowded  theatre,  full  of  human  life,  in 
all  the  stages  of  existence,  full  of  the  glowing  exul- 
tation of  youth,  of  the  steady  maturity  of  manhood, 
the  sparkling  eyes  of  beauty,  and  the  grey  hairs  of 
reverend  age — all  this  to  them  is  as  the  solitude  of 
the  sepulchre.  We  think  of  this  and  say,  how  short 
is  human  life !  But  then,  then,  we  turn  back  our 
thoughts  again,  to  the  scene  over  which  the  falling 
curtain  lias  but  now  closed  upon  the  drama  of  the 
day.  From  the  saddening  thought  that  they  are  no 
more,  we  call  for  comfort  upon  the  memory  of  what 
they  were,  and  our  hearts  leap  for  joy,  that  they 
were  our  fathers.  We  see  them,  true  and  faithful 
subjects  of  their  sovereign,  first  meeting  with  firm 
but  respectful  remonstrance,  the  approach  of  usur- 
pation upon  their  rights.  We  see  them,'  fearless  in 
their  fortitude,  and  confident  in  the  righteousness  of 
their  cause,  bid  defiance  to  the  arm  of  power,  and 
declare  themselves  Independent  States.  We  see 
them  waging  for  seven  years  a  war  of  desolation 
and  of  glory,  in  most  unequal  contest  with  their  own 
unnatural  stepmother,  the  mistress  of  the  seas,  till, 
under  the  sign-manual  of  their  king,  their  Independ- 
ence was  acknowledged— -and  last  and  best  of  all,  we 
see  them,  toiling  in  war  and  in  peace  to  form  and 
perpetuate  an  union,  under  forms  of  Government 
intricately  but  skilfully  adjusted  so  as  to  secure  to 
themselves  and  their  posterity  the  priceless  blessings 
of  inseparable  liberty  and  law. 

Their  days  on  earth  are  ended,  and  yet  their  cen- 
tury has  not  passed  away.  'Their  portion  of  the 
blessings  which  they  thus  labored  to  secure,  they 
have  enjoyed,  and  transmitted  to  us,  their  posterity. 
We  enjoy  them  as  an  inheritance — won,  not  by  our 
toils — watered,  not  with  our  tears — saddened,  not 
by  the  shedding  of  any  blood  of  ours.  The  gift  of 
heaven  through  their  sufferings  and  their  achieve- 
ments— but  not  without  a  charge  of  corresponding 
duty  incumbent  upon  ourselves. 

And  what,  my  friends  and  fellow  citizens — what 
is  that  duty  of  our  own  ?  Is  it  to  remonstrate  to  the 
adder's  ear  of  a  king  beyond  the  Atlantic  wave,  and 
claim  from  him  the  restoration  of  violated  rights? 
No.  Is  it  to  sever  the  ties  of  kindred  and  of  blood 
with  the  people  from  whom  we  sprang?  To  cast 
away  the  precious  name  of  Britons,  and  be  no  more 
the  countrymen  of  Shak&peare  and  Milton — of  New- 
ton and  Locke — of  Chatham  and  Burke  ?     Or  more 


THADDEUS  MASON"  HARRIS. 


5G1 


and  worse,  is  it  to  meet  their  countrymen  in  the 
deadly  conflict  of  a  seven  years'  war?  No.  Is  it 
the  last  and  greatest  of  the  duties  fulfilled  by  them? 
Is  it  to  lay  the  foundation  of  the  fairest  Government 
and  the  mightiest  nation  that  ever  floated  on  the  tide 
of  time  ?  No!  These  awful  and  solemn  duties  were 
allotted  to  them ;  and  by  them  they  were  faithfully 
performed.  What  then  is  our  duty  ?  Is  it  not  to 
preserve,  to  cherish,  to  improve  the  inheritance  which 
they  have  left  us — won  by  their  toils — watered  by 
their  tears — saddened  but  fertilized  by  their  blood  ? 
Are  we  the  sons  of  worthy  sires,  and  in  the  onward 
march  of  time  have  they  achieved  in  the  career  of  hu- 
man improvement  so  much,  only  that  our  posterity 
and  theirs  may  blush  for  the  contrast  between  their 
unexampled  energies  and  our  nerveless  impotence  ? 
between  their  more  than  Herculean  labors  aud  our 
indolent  repose  ?  No,  my  fellow  citizens,  far  be  from 
us,  far  be  from  you,  for  he  who  now  addresses  you 
has  but  a  few  short  days  before  he  shall  be  called  to 
join  the  multitude  of  ages  past — far  be  from  you  the 
reproach  or  the  suspicion  of  such  a  degrading  contrast. 
You  too  have  the  solemn  duty  to  perform,  of  improv- 
ing the  condition  of  your  species,  by  improving  your 
own.  Not  in  the  great  and  strong  wind  of  a  revo- 
lution, which  rent  the  mountains  and  brake  in  pieces 
the  rocks  before  the  Lord — for  the  Lord  is  not  in  the 
wind — not  in  the  earthquake  of  a  revolutionary  war, 
marching  to  the  onset  between  the  battle  field  and 
the  scaffold — for  the  Lord  is  not  in  the  earthquake— 
not  in  the  fire  of  civil  dissension — in  war  between 
the  members  and  the  head — in  nullification  of  the 
laws  of  the  Union  by  the  forcible  resistance  of  one 
refractory  State — for  the  Lord  is  not  in  the  fire  ;  and 
that,  fire  was  never  kindled  by  your  fathers!  No!  itis 
in  the  still  small  voice  that  succeeded  the  whirlwind, 
the  earthquake,  and  the  fire.  The  voice  that  stills 
the  raging  of  the  waves  and  the  tumults  of  the 
people — that  spoke  the  words  of  peace — of  harmony 
— of  union.  And  for  that  voice,  may  you  and  your 
children's  children,  "  to  the  last  syllable  of  recorded 
time,"  fix  your  eyes  upon  the  memory,  and  listen 
with  your  ears  to  the  life  of  James  Madison. 

THADDEUS  MASON  IIAEEIS. 

The  Rev.  Thaddeus  Mason  Harris,  one  of  a  family 
distinguished  for  its  attention  to  American  anti- 
quarian literature,  was  librarian  at  Harvard  from 
1701  to  1793,  as  his  son,  the  Eev.  Thaddeus 
William  Harris,  distinguished  as  an  entomologist, 
has  occupied  the    position   since   1831.*      The 


father  was  born  in  Charlestown  in  1768,  and  be- 
came a  graduate  in  the  Harvard  class  with  John 
Quincy  Adams  in  1787,  when  he  delivered  a 
poem  on  History,  which  Dr.  Belknap  at  the  time 
complimented.  He  became  teacher  of  a  school 
at  Worcester,  and  was  invited  by  Washington  to 
become  his  private  secretary,  an  honorable  posi- 
tion which  he  eagerly  accepted,  when  he  was 


*  A  grandson,  Wi!  in  Thaddeus  Harris,  died  in  1S54  at  the 
ogeottwenty-Bieht,  leaving  a  reputation  or  antiquarian  accom- 
plishments and  diligence. 

vol.  i. — 36 


[  prevented  engaging  in  it  by  an  attack  of  illness. 

;  He  then  pursued  a  theologic  course  at  Cambridge, 
where,  in  1700,  he  delivered  a  Phi  Beta  Kappa 

;  Oration  on  "  Learned  Associations."     In  1793,  he 

i  became  pastor  of  the  church  in  Dorchester  where 
he  continued  through  a  long  life.  In  1790  he 
published  an  elegy,  The  Triumphs  of  Supersti- 
tion* which  denotes  his  thought  and  feeling,  and 
the  opening  lines  of  which  we  may  quote  for 
their  appropriate  imagery : — 

THE  TEIUMPHS   OF  SUPERSTITION. 

The  sun  retires.     Night  spreads  her  dusky  plume. 

The  gray  mist  rises  from  the  passing  stream. 
Yon  cloud,  o'ershadowing,  deepens  all  the  gloom  : 

And  the  heart  trembles  as  the  lightnings  gleam. 

Pale  terror  wanders  o'er  the  dewy  lawn. 

The  loud  blast  groans  along  the  distant  shore. 
The  ghost,  complaining,  rides  upon  the  storm. 

The  sea  rolls  high:  the  beating  surges  roar. 

Now  guilt  forsakes  his  agonizing  bed, 

Where  conscience  planted  many  a  piercing  thorn. 
Kind  sleep  has  left  his  eye;  each  joy  is  fled: 

He  waits,  impatient  for  the  coming  morn. 

Full  many  an  airy  shape— dejected — pale, 

To  his  sad  mind  imagination  paiuts  ; 
And  as  they  flit  across  the  blighted  vale, 

He  hears  the  breeze — they   sigh ;  he  chills  and 
faints. 

Yet  gentle  innocence,  with  bosom  pure, 

Fears   not  the   loud   wind's   groan,   the   breeze's 
sigh, 

But  walks  abroad  in  virtue's  garb  secure, 
Nor  startles  as  the  harmless  lightnings  fly. 

Mark,  as  deep  musing  in  these  still  retreats, 
No  anxious  pang  distracts  her  peaceful  soul; 

No  pulse  tumultuous  in  her  wild  breast  beats; 
No  goblins  haunt,  nor  fancied  death-bells  toll. 

Come,  let  us  join  the  solitary  dame, 

Though  panting  terror  frowns  along  the  vale. 

And  hear  attentively  her  useful  strain  : 

When  reason  dictates,  let  her  truths  prevail. 

A  portion  of  the  poem  is  taken  up  with  the 
story  of  the  desecration,  by  a  parent,  of  the  grave 
of  his  daughter,  and  the  burning  of  the  remains 
to  provide  a  charm  for  the  health  of  their  sisters 
which  a  note  speaks  of  as  an  actual  occurrence  at 
Ballston. 

There  is  a  pleasing  reminiscence  of  Harris  at 
this  period,  in  connexion  with  the  youth  of  Ed- 
ward Everett,  When  the  latter  was  about  four 
years  old,  at  his  birth-place,  in  Dorchester,  he  re- 
cited the  following  copy  of  verses  which  Mason 
wrote  for  the  child,  the  "little  roan"  referring 
to  the  color  of  the  speaker's  hair.f 

THE    LITTLE  ORATOR. 

Pray,  how  should  I,  a  little  lad, 

In  speaking,  make  a  figure  ? 
You're  only  joking,  I'm  afraid, — 

Do  wait  till  I  am  bigger. 


*  The  Triumphs  of  Superstition  ;  an  Elegy.  By  a  Student 
of  Harvard  University. 

"  Superstitio  error  iusanus  est ;  amandos  timet,  quos  collt 
violat." — Seneca's  Epist. 

'■  Tantum  Superstitio  potuit  suadere  inalorllin  !" — Virgil. 
(Sic) 

Printed  at  Boston,  by  Isaiah  Thomas,  and  Ebcuezer  T.  An- 
drews, at  Faust's  Statue,  No.  45  Newberry -street.   17110. 

t  Loring's  Boston  Orators,  p.  531. 


562 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


But,  6ince  you  wish  to  hear  my  part, 

And  urge  me  to  begin  it, 
I'll  strive  for  praise,  with  all  my  heart, 

Though  small  the  hope  to  win  it. 

I'll  tell  a  tale  how  Farmer  John 

A  little  roan-colt  bred,  sir, 
And  every  night  and  every  morn 

He  water'd  and  he  fed,  sir. 

Said  neighbour  Joe  to  farmer  John, 
"  Arn't  you  a  silly  dolt,  sir, 
To  spend  such  time  and  care  upon 
A  little  useless  colt,  sir  ?" 

Said  Farmer  John  to  Neighbour  Joe, 
"  I'll  bring  my  little  ro.'in  up, 
Not  for  the  good  he  now  can  do, 
But  will  do,  when  he's  grown  up." 

The  moral  you  can  well  espy, 
To  keep  the  tale  from  spoiling ; 

The  little  colt,  you  think,  is  I, — 
I  know  it  by  your  smiling. 

And  now,  my  friends,  please  to  excuse 
My  lisping  and  my  stammers ; 

I,  for  this  once,  have  done  my  best, 
And  so — I'll  make  my  manners. 

His  pastoral  duties  were  varied  by  a  journey 
for  his  health  in  the  western  states  and  a  tour  in 
Great  Britain.  As  a  memorial  of  the  former  he 
published,  on  his  return,  his  "  Journal  of  a  Tour 
into  the  Territory  North-west  of  the  Alleghany 
Mountains,  made  in  the  Spring  of  the  year  1803, 
with  a  geographical  and  historical  account  of  the 
State  of  Ohio."  Its  dedication  is  characteristic 
of  his  mood. 

To  the  candor  of  the  Public 

I  submit  my  work ; 

to  the 

Providence  and  favour  of  Almighty  God 

I  commend  my  beloved  family ; 

And  to  the  hopes, 

Not  of  the  present, 

but 

Of  the  future  life, 

I  resign  myself. 

In  the  same  year,  1803,  he  published  a  compi- 
lation, in  four  small  volumes,  entitled  the  "  Minor 
Encyclopaedia,"  which  Daniel  Webster  remem- 
bered as  a  useful  work.  In  1805  he  delivered  a 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  poem  "  On  the  Patronage  of 
Genius."  In  1820  he  published  a  "  Natural  His- 
tory of  the  Bible,"  on  which  he  had  been  long 
engaged,  which  was  pirated  and  mutilated  in 
England,  and  tran.-lated  in  Germany.  Visiting 
Savannah  for  his  health,  his  antiquarian  inquiries 
led  him  to  write  his  "  Biographical  Memorials  of 
James  Oglethorpe,  founder  of  Georgia,"  which 
appeared  in  1841.  He  also  published  numerous 
Sermons  and  Addresses,  many  of  the  latter  in 
connexion  with  the  Masonic  Fraternity,  of  which 
he  was  a  member.  He  also  took  an  active  part 
in  the  several  historical  and  learned  societies  of 
his  clay.  He  (lied  in  1842,  in  his  seventy-fourth 
year.  Dr.  Frothingham  has  drawn  iiis  character, 
that  of  an  amiable  divine  and  sensitive  scholar, 
with  tenderness  in  his  memoir  in  the  publications 
of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,*  of  which 
Harris  was  one  of  the  original  members. . 


*  Mass.  Hist.  Soe.  Coll.,  Fourth  Series,  ii.  180. 


JOSEPH  DENNIE, 
Tub  elegant  essayist,  the  "lay  preacher"  of 
the  old  American  journals,  was  born  at  Boston, 
August  10,  1768.  He  acquired  his  literature  at 
Harvard,  of  the  class  of  1790,  reading  law  after- 
wards with  Benjamin  West  at  Charleston,  New 
Hampshire,  in  which  state  he  opened  an  office  at 
Walpole. 

Dennie  made  one  attempt  at  the  bar,  of  which 
a  humorous  account  was  published  by  his  friend 
and  early  litei'ary  associate  Royal  Tyler.*  He 
spoke  like  an  elegant  scholar,  with  some  unneces- 
sary eloquence,  on  a  provisory  note  case  before 
a  crude  provincial  judge,  who  did  not  appreciate 
his  rhetoric,  was  discomfited  by  the  bluntness  of 
the  bench,  and  did  not  renew  his  efforts. 

The  Farmer's  Museum,  published  at  Walpole, 
New  Hampshire,  originally  established  by  Isaiah 
Thomas  and  David  Carlisle  in  1793,  under  the 
editorship  of  Dennie,  who,  after  having  con- 
tributed to  its  columns,  became  its  conductor  in 
1796,  gathered  around  it  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
corps  of  writers  ever  congregated  to  advance  the 
fortunes  of  a  similar  undertaking  in  America.  It 
numbered  among  its  authors,  each  constantly  fur- 
nishing a  department,  the  witty  lawyer  Royal 
Tyler,  a  man  of  acute  mind  and  well  directed 
powere ;  David  Everett,  Thomas  Green  Fessenden, 
Isaac  Story,  and  others,  whose  abilities  may  be 
traced  in  its  elegantly  arranged  folio  pages.  The 
inventions  of  the  paper  were  endless.  Poem, 
essay,  criticism,  were  served  up  with  the  skill  of 
a  French  cook  compounding  his  hundredth  varia- 
tion of  omelette.  There  were  the  "  Farrago,"  the 
"  Lay  Preacher,"  the  "  Shop  of  Colon  and  Spon- 
dee," "Peter  Quince,"  " Simon  Spunkev,"  " The 
Hermit,"  "  The  Rural  Wanderer,"  "  Peter  Pendu- 
lum," "  The  Desk  of  Beri  Hesden,"  every  trick 
of  alliteration  to  catch  the  negligent  readers.t 

Dennie  wrote  for  the  Museum,  The  Farrago, 
a  series  of  essays  full  of  warm  apprehension  of 
the  poetic  beauties  of  life  and  literature;  the 
Lay  Preacher,  which  had  the  fault  of  irreverence 
in  taking  its  texts  for  familiar  discussion  from 
Scripture,  though  jarring  upon  the  reader  less  in 
Dennie's  hands  from  his  good  taste  and  tone  of 
morality,|  and  ne  projected  The  Wandering  Jew, 
which  was  to  close  his  labors  in  this  kind. 

In  the  Port  Folio  the  "Lay  Preacher"  de- 
scribes himself  accomplishing  his  series  of  essays, 
"a  young  man,   valetudinary,   without  fortune, 


*  In  the  New  England  Galaxy,  July  24, 1818.  Quoted  in 
Buckingham's  Newspaper  Literature. 

t  The"  mottoes  of  the  Farmer's  Museum  at  different  times  in- 
dicate its  spirit : — 

Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth  for  novelty,  come  1 
At  another  period  it  had  the  lines  from  Bunyan  at  its  head — 
Wouldst  thou  remember 
From  New  Tear's  day  to  the  last  of  December, 
Then  read — 

which  gave  place  to  the  verses,  appropriate  to  its  rural  locality, 
from  Goldsmith's  Village — 

Hither,  each  week,  the  peasant  shall  repair, 
To  sweet  oblivion  of  his  daily  care; 
Again  the  farmer's  news — the  barber's  tale, 
Again  the  woodman's  ballad  shall  prevail. 

Buckingham's  Newspaper  Literature,  ii.  174-220. 

%  Since  successfully  followed  by  the  Sermons  of  Dow,  Jun., 
who  takes  his  text  from  the  profane  classic  authors,  and  whoso 
three  volumes,  though  the  mannerism  tires  in  the  end,  are  re- 
plete with  good  feeling  and  many  nice  though  inverted  poeti- 
cal expressions. 


JOSEPH  DENOTE. 


563 


without  a  patron,  •without  an  auxiliary,  without 
popular  encouragement ;" — which  he  could  hardly 
mean  literally,  but  which  was  all  true  enough  of 
the  state  of  literature  at  the  time.  The  best 
talents  were  then  gratuitously  exercised  for  the 
public.  The  Farmer's  Museum  itself,  with  its 
brilliant  array,  was  suffered  to  decline,  while  poor 
Dennie  was  calling  on  the  public  to  subscribe  and 
authors  to  write  (for  fame),  as  if  both  were 
under  equal  obligation.  The  paying  days  of 
American  authorship  had  not  yet  dawned.  Books, 
even  small  duodecimos,  were  published  by  sub- 
scription with  humiliating  "  proposals  "  by  sensi- 
tive authors.  A  very  clever  resident  English 
author  in  the  country,  John  Davis,  writer  of  a 
lively  book  of  travels  in  the  United  States,  which 
he  dedicated  to  Jefferson,  offered,  by  an  advertise- 
ment, in  1801,  two  novels,  fruits  of  his  winter 
labors,  to  any  bookseller  in  the  country  who  would 
publish  them — on  the  condition  of  receiving  fifty 
copies.  The  booksellers  of  New  York,  where  he 
lived,  could  not,  he  said,  undertake  them,  for  they 
were  dead  of  the  fever.* 

A  notice  to  "  Readers  and  Correspondents  "  in 
the  Museum,  Dec.  4,  1797,  indicates  its  height  of 
popularity,  which  it  is  curious  to  contrast  with 
the  claims  of  publishers  fifty  years  later,  by  the 
million,  with  the  area  of  reading  enlarged  to 
Mexico  and  the  Pacific  : — 

"The  constant  swell  of  our  subscription  book 
suggests  a  theme  to  our  gratitude  and  a  motive 
to  our  industry.  The  Farmer's  Museum  is  read 
by  more  than  two  thousand  individuals,  and  has 
its  patrons  in  Europe  and  on  the  banks  of  the 
Ohio." 

Dennie  was  emploved  upon  the  Museum  from 
1795  to  1799,  when"  he  left  for  Philadelphia,  to 
edit  the  United  States  Gazette.  In  1800,  lie  com- 
menced with  the  bookseller,  Asbury  Dickens,  the 
publication  of  the  Port  Folio,  at  first  a  weekly 
miscellany  in  quarto,  in  which  form  it  remained 
for  five  years,  when  it  was  changed  to  an  octavo, 
monthly,  Dennie  continuing  the  editor  till  his 
deatht 

The  five  large  quarto  pages  of  prospectus  in 
which  Dennie  announces  to  the  world  the  hopes 


*  Davis  visited  anrl  resided  in  Georgia  and  Virginia  as  a    : 
teacher.    He  saw  pood  company  and  enjoyed  tin-  climate, 
looking  out  npon  the  beauties  of  nature  with  his  Horace  in 
his  hand.      He  wrote  an  Ode  to  the  Mocking  Bird,  and  poems 
•  on  the  Ashley  River  and  the  Natural  Bridge.     His  sketches  of 
the  literary  society  of  Philadelphia,  and  of  American  author-    j 
ship  generally,  in  his  Travels,  which  is  a  book  of  pleasant    ] 
exaggerations,  is  amusing.    This  is  one  of  his  notices  on  the 
Port  "Folio. 

"  The  editor  of  the  Aurora  calls  the  Port  Foli-o  the  Porta- 
ble Foolery ;  and  his  facetiousness  is  applauded  by  one  party, 
and  scorned  by  the  other.     But  a  better  quibble  on  the  word 
would  be,  to  name  it  the   Court  Olio;    for  it  mingles  the 
dresses  at  St.   James  with  speculations  on   literature.      It    I 
being  rumored  that  Mr.  Dennie  had  been  denominated  by  the 
British  Reviewer  ,  the  American  Addison,  the  following 
ludicrous  paragraph  appeared  in  the  Aurora  Gazette,     '  Ex-    i 
ult  ye  white  hills  of  New  Hampshire,  redoubtable  Monadnock 
and  Twckaway  1    Laugh  ye  waters  of  the  WimUeOpee  and    '. 
Vmhagoq  Lakes  I    Flow  Mnooth  in  heroic  ve.se  ye  streams    | 
of  Amoonoosuck  and  Androscoggin,  Cockhoko  and  Coritocook  I 
And  you  merry  Merrimack  be  how  more  merry  P  " 

t  The.  several  series  of  the  Port  Folio  embrace  in  all  forty- 
seven  volumes.  Its  succession  of  editors  was,  Dennie,  assist- 
ed  by  Paul  Allen;  Nicholas  Biddle  for  a  short  period;  Charles 
Caldwell,  M.D.,  April  1814  to  Dec.  1S15;  John  E.  Hall.  Jan. 
181fi  to  Dec.  1S27.  There  is  a  general  index,  in  the  volume 
closing  the  year  1S25,  to  Hall's  twenty  volumes  from  1816.  The 
work  was  continued  for  two  years  further,  with  diminished  vi- 
tality, when  it  finally  expired  in  1827. 


and  intentions  of  the  Fort  Folio,  are  a  model  of 
editorial  sanguine  faith  and  diligence.  "Pro- 
spectus of  a  new  weekly  paper,  submitted  to  men 
of  affluence,  men  of  liberality,  and  men  of  letters. 
A  young  man,  once  known  among  village  readers 
as  the  humble  historian  of  the  hour,  the  con- 
ductor of  a  Farmer's  Museum  and  a  Lay  Preach- 
er's Gazette,  again  offers  himself  to  the  public  as 
a  volunteer  editor.  Having,  as  he  conceives,  a 
right  to  vary  at  pleasure  his  fictitious  name,  he 
now,  for  higher  reasons  than  any  fickle  humor 
might  dictate,  assumes  the  appellation  of  Old 
Soiiool." 

Dennie  was  followed  to  the  Port  Folio  by  his 
friend  Tyler,  who  continued  his  contributions 
"  from  the  shop  of  Messrs.  Colon  and  Spondee" 
to  his  journal,  displaying  his  copious  and  refined 
stores  of  reading,  and  urging  many  a  point  of 
well  digested  criticism  and  observation. 

Dennie's  broken  health  compelled  him  to  retire 
for  a  while  from  the  editorship  of  the  Port  Folio 
in  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1811,  a  depression 
which  was  much  enhanced  by  the  death  of  his 
father ;  but  with  the  succeeding  year  he  returned 
to  the  work,  addressing  the  public  with  the  hope- 
fulness of  the  editor,  who  must  always  affect  that 
virtue  if  he  has  it  not.  He  did  not  long  survive. 
The  number  of  his  periodical  for  January  con- 
tained some  mournful  editorial  anticipations  from 
his  pen. 

TO  THE  PUBLIC 

During  the  autumnal  and  midsummer  months  of 
the  lust  year,  which  lias  forever  fled  away,  on  the 
pinions  of  Time,  the  Editor  of  this  Journal  was 
compelled  to  relinquish  its  duties,  and  to  be  regard- 
less of  its  delights,  in  consequence  of  the  furious  on- 
set of  three  potent  adversaries,  Sickness,  Sorrow, 
and  Adversity.  Under  the  ardency  of  the  summer 
solstice,  and  while  *  the  dor/  star's  unpropitious  ray 
wns  flaming,  he  was  confined  to  the  couch  of  Languor 
and  Anguish  ;  and,  in  the  decline  of  autumn,  he  was 
afflicted  by  one  of  the  most  tremendous  domestic  ca- 
lamities, which  can  agonize  the  Sensibility,  nourish 
the  Melancholy,  and  overpower  the  Fortitude  j-  of 
man.J  The  influence  of  infirm  health,  in  marring 
the  operations,  both  of  manual  and  mental  industry, 
is  familiar  to  every  patient,  as  well  as  to  every  phy- 
sician ;  and  when  to  corporeal  Pain  and  yawning 
Lassitude,  the  "Sickness  of  the  Soul"  is  superadded, 
from  such  an  abhorred  alliance  all  the  brilliant 
powers  of  Invention,  and  all  the  strong  body  guards 
of  Labour  keep  obstinately  aloof,  or  fly  timidly 
away.  The  pen  of  the  readiest  writer  corrodes  in 
the  standish  ;  his  papers  atid  projects  reposing,  in- 
gloi'iously,  on  the  shelves  of  dust,  or  in  the  pigeon 
holes  of  oblivion.  His  desk  is  overthrown,  his  ma- 
nuscripts are  mouldy,  and  his  vase  of  ink  is  as  dry 
as  the  vessel  of  the  gospel  outcast,  while  wandering 
in  the  parched  wilderness  of  Beersheba.  What 
Johnson  emphatically  calls  the  load  of  life,  is  then 
truly  wearisome.  Society  presents  nothing  to  glad- 
den, and  Solitude  nothing  to  soothe.  In  vain  do  we 
fly  to  the  sequestered  shades  of  the  country.  Let 
all  the  beauties  of  Nature  solicit  our  notice  § — let 
all  the  diversities  of  Pleasure  court  our  acceptance 
■ — let.  the  birds  carol  enehantingly  in  the  grove,  and 
the  flowers  bloom  odoriferously  in  the  meadow ;  let 
the  breeze  whisper  softly  in  the  wood,  and  the  sua 


*  Pope. 

t  The  death  of  his  father. 


t  Edmund  Burke. 
§  Dr.  Johnson. 


561 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN"  LITERATURE. 


dance  gaily  on  the  water ;  each  rural  sight,  each 
rural  sound  s  is  equally  lost  to  him,  who  is  under 
the  dominion  of  that  relentless  Power,  which  the 
poet  Gray  energetically  calls  vthe  Tamer  of  the  hu- 
man bkeast, 

Whose  iron  scourge,  and  torturing  hour 
The  bad  affright,  afflict  the  best. 

By  one,  who  was  himself  a  severe  sufferer,  it  has 
been  remarked,  with  truth  and  eloquence,  that  there 
are,  perhaps,  very  few  conditions  more  to  be  regret- 
ted than  that  of  an  active  mind,  labouring  under 
the  weight  of  a  distempered  body.  The  time  of 
such  a  man  is  always  spent  in  forming  schemes, 
which  a  change  of  wind  hinders  him  from  executing ; 
his  powers  fume  away  in  projects  and  in  hope,  and 
the  day  of  action  never  arrives.  He  lies  down,  de- 
lighted with  the  thoughts  of  to-morrow,  pleases  his 
Ambition  with  the  Fame  he  shall  acquire,  or  his 
benevolence  with  the  Good  he  shall  impart.  But  in 
the  night  the  skies  are  overcast,  the  temper  of  the 
air  is  changed,  lie  wakes  in  languor,  impatience  and 
distraction,  and  has  no  longer  any  wisli  but  for 
ease,  nor  any  attention  but  to  misery.  It  may  be 
said  that  Disease  generally  begins  that  equality, 
which  Death  completes  ;  the  distinctions,  which  set 
one  man  so  much  above  another,  are  very  little  per- 
ceived in  the  gloom  of  a  sick  chamber,  where  it  will 
be  vain  to  expect  entertainment  from  the  gay,  or  in- 
struction from  the  wise;  where  all  human  glory  is 
obliterated,  the  wit  is  clouded,  the  reasoner  per- 
plexed, and  the  hero  subdued;  where  the  highest 
and  brightest  of  mortal  beings  finds  nothing  left 
him  but  the  consciousness  of  innocence. 

On  the  seventh  of  the  month  in  which  this 
was  published,  lie  died  suddenly,  at  the  early  age 
of  forty-four.  The  obituary  in  the  next  issue  of 
the  journal  speaks  warmly,  in  a  style  of  elegance 
emulous  of  his  own,  of  his  literary  accomplish- 
ments and  personal  virtues.  "  So  pure  was  its 
texture,  so  delicate  its  conception-:,  that  his  mind 
seemed,  if  we  may  speak  so,  to  have  been  bathed 
at  its  birth  in  the  very  essence  of  literature — to 
be  daily  fed  with  the  celestial  dews  of  learning/' 
His  conversation  was  the  counterpart  of  his 
writings,  delighting  in  moral  topics,  and  graced 
by  his  fine  stores  of  poetical  reading.  He  was 
free  from  the  jealousies  of  the  literary  profession, 
a  happy  condition  for  the  editorial  life  he  was 
called  to  assume.  His  amiability  is  reflected  on 
every  page  of  his  writings,  though  occasionally 
tinged  by  a  tone  of  disappointment. 

Buckingham,  who  was  an  apprentice  to  the 
publisher  of  the  Museum,  and  carried  copy  from 
Dennie,  describes  his  personal  appearance  in  1796. 
He  was  rather  below  than  above  the  middling 
height,  and  was  of  slender  frame  ;  was  attentive 
to  fashion  in  his  dress,  appearing  one  May  morn- 
ning  at  the  office  "  in  a  pea-green  coat,  white 
vest,  nankin  small-clothes,  white  silk  stockings, 
and  pumps  fastened  with  silver  buckles,  which 
covered  at  least  half  the  foot  from  the  instep  to 
the  toe."  He  wrote  very  rapidly,  and  like  most 
persons  connected  with  the  press,  deferred  copy 
till  the  last  moment.  "  One  of  the  best  of  his 
lay-sermons,"  says  Buckingham,  "  was  written  at 
the  village  tavern,  directly  opposite  to  the  office, 
in  a  chamber  where  he  and  his  friends  were 
amusing  themselves  with  cards.  It  was  delivered 
to  me  by  piece-meal,   at  four  or  five  different 

*  Cowper. 


times.  If  he  happened  to  be  engaged  in  a  game, 
when  I  applied  for  copy,  he  would  ask  some  one 
to  play  his  hand  for  Mm,  while  he  would  give  the 
devil  his  due.  "When  I  called  for  the  closing  para- 
graph of  the  sermon,  he  said,  call  again  in  Jive 
minutes.  '  No,'  said  Tyler,  '  I'll  write  the  im- 
provement for  you.'  He  accordingly  wrote  a  con- 
cluding paragraph,  and  Dennie  never  saw  it  till 
it  was  in  print." 

Buckingham  speaks  of  his  being  "  a  premature 
victim  to  social  indulgence,"  and  Knapp*  thinks 
the  habit  was  increased  by  the  attic  nights  of  the 
Philadelphia  wits  when  the  poet  Moore  was  in 
their  company,  and  that  Dennie  acquired  a  dis- 
trust of  American  society,  quoting  Cliffton's  com- 
plaint of  "the  land  where  fancy  sickens,  and 
where  genius  dies."  There  was  doubtless  some 
cause  for  dissatisfaction ;  for  it  should  not  be  for- 
gotten that  Dennie  wrote  laboriously  and  well 
when  the  rewards  of  literature  were  scanty, 
and  the  position  of  the  writer  uncertain.  H'  he 
wavered  in  his  course,  his  sensibility  may  very 
naturally  have  led  him  astray.    • 

Dennie's  convivial  tastes  led  him  to  the  forma- 
tion of  a  social  gathering  which  was  known  in 
Philadelphia  as  the  Tuesday  Club.  It  included  a 
number  of  the  contributors  to  the  Port  Folio. 
Gen.  Thomas  Cadwallader  who  gave  translations 
from  Horace  in  the  Magazine,  Samuel  Ewing  a 
son  of  the  Provost,  who  wrote  with  the  signa- 
ture "Jacques,"  Thomas  Warton,  Philip  the  son 
of  General  Hamilton,  "Wood  the  actor,  Richard 
Rush,  and  Richard  Peters  author  of  the  Law 
Reports,  were  members.  John  Quincy  Adams, 
Gouv.  Morris,  Judge  Hopkinson,  Horace  Binney, 
Robert  Walsh,  the  Rev.  John  Blair  Linn,  Charles 
Brockden  Brown,  and  Charles  J.  Inger.-oll,  were 
also  contributors  to  the  Port  Folio,  which,  under 
the  efficient  management  of  the  publisher,  Har- 
rison Hall,  in  its  best  days,  largely  occupied  the' 
attention  of  the  reading  public  in  its  departments 
of  literature. 

As  an  Essayist,  Dennie's  influence  was  confined 
to  the  periodical  literature  of  his  day,  only  two 
scanty  collections  of  his  papers  having  been  pub- 
lished:—  The  Lay  Preacher  ;  or  Short  Sermons 
for  Idle  Headers,  printed  at  Walpole  in  179'6,  and 
a  volume  also  of  the  Lay  Preacher,  collected  and 
arranged  by  John  E.  Hall,  in  Philadelphia,  in 
1817. 

The  style  of  the  Lay  Preacher  in  which  Dennie,  as 
he  himself  tells  us,  aimed  to  unite  "  the  familiarity 
of  Franklin  with  the  simplicity  of  Sterne,"  does 
not  always  suggest  those  qualities.  Its  elegance  is 
occasionally  somewhat  plethoric  of  adjectives  and 
fine  phrases,  especially  in  the  earlier  series; 
while  it  has  a  vein  of  ingenuity  and  gentle  humor 
belonging  to  itself. 

ON  THE  PLEASURES  OF  STUDY. 

"Blessed  is  he  that  readeth." — Rev.  i.  1. 

"Whenever  I  reflect  upon  my  habitual  attachment 
to  books,  I  feel  a  new  glow  of  gratitude  towards  that 
Power,  who  gave  me  a  mind  thus  disposed,  and  to 
those  liberal  friends,  who  have  allowed  the  utmost 
latitude  of  indulgence  to  my  propensity.  Had  I  been 
born  on  a  barbarous  Bhore,  denied  the  glorious  pri- 
vileges of  education,  and  interdicted  an  approach  to 

*  American  Biography. 


JOSEPH  DENOTE. 


565 


the  rich  provinces  of  literature,  I  should  have  been 
the  most  miserable  of  niankini  With  a  tempera- 
ment of  sensibility,  with  the  nerves  of  a  valetudi- 
narian, with  an  ardent  thirst  for  knowledge,  and 
very  scanty  means  for  its  acquisition,  with  a  mind 
often  clouded  with  care,  and  depressed  by  dejection, 
I  should  have  resembled  the  shrinking  vegetable  of 
irritableness,  and  like  the  mimosa  of  the  gardens, 
have  been  doomed  to  be  at  once  stupid  and  sensi- 
tive. The  courses  of  nature  and  fortune  having  ta- 
ken a  different  direction,  parental  benignity  having 
furnished  me  with  the  keys,  and  discipline  and  habit 
having  conducted  me  through  the  portico  of  educa- 
tion, I  have  ever  found,  whether  walking  in  the 
vestibule  of  science,  or  meditating  in  the  groves  of 
philosophy,  or  hearkening  to  historians  and  poets, 
or  rambling  with  Rabelais,  such  excellent  compa- 
nions, that  life  has  been  beguiled  of  more  than  half 
its  irksomeness.  In  sickness,  in  sorrow,  in  the  most 
doleful  days  of  dejection,  or  in  the  most  gloomy  sea- 
eons  in  the  calendar,  study  is  the  sweetest  solace 
and  the  surest  refuge,  particularly  when  my  reading 
is  directed  to  that  immortal  book",  whence  the  theme 
of  this  essay  is  taken.  In  an  hour  of  adversity, 
when  I  have  caught  up  this  precious  volume,  I  have 
found,  instantly,  the  balm  of  Gilead  aud  the  medi- 
cine for  the  mind.  The  darkness  of  despair  has  been 
succeeded  by  the  brightest  rays  of  cheerfulness,  and 
in  place  of  grim  phantoms,  I  have  found  comfort, 
peace,  and  serenity. 

I  hope  that  this  style  of  speaking  occasionally  in 
the  first  person  will  be  forgiven,  even  by  the  most 
fastidious  reader,  when  he  adverts  to  the  custom  of 
my  predecessors.  A  periodical  writer  can  hardly 
avoid  this  sort  of  egotism,  and  it  is  surely  very 
harmless  when  its  employer  muffles  himself  in  the 
mantle  of  concealment,  and  in  the  guise,  whether  of 
a  shrewd  Spectator  or  a  simple  Lay  Preacher,  walks 
unobtrusively  abroad.  Mr.  Addison  and  Monsieur 
Montaigne  perpetually  indulge  this  habit ;  and  on  a 
very  careful  inspection  of  many  editions  of  their  es- 
says, I  have  always  found,  by  certain  infallible 
marks,  that  those  speculations  had  been  most  dili- 
gently perused,  which  abound  in  little  sketches  of 
the  manners,  humours,  and  habits  of  their  authors. 
We  are  naturally  curious  thus  to  peep  through  the 
keyhole  of  a  study,  to  see  a  writer  in  his  elbow- 
chair,  and  to  listen  to  his  story  with  the  fondness 
and  familiarity  of  friendship.  Anonymous  authors 
have  a  prescription  from  Parnassus  to  paint  them- 
selves; and  when  by  a  Tatler,  a  Spectator,  or  a 
Connoisseur,  nothing  but  good  colours  and  modest 
tinting  is  employed,  men  look  with  mingled  curi- 
osity and  complacency  at  the  picture.  In  a  specu- 
lation on  the  blessings  derived  from  a  studious  tem- 
per, if  a  miniature  of  a  lover  of  books  is  introduced, 
provided  it  be  a  tolerable  resemblance,  and  viewed 
in  a  proper  light,  it  will,  by  an  easy  association, 
lead  the  observer  to  reflect  more  intensely  upon  the 
value  of  literature. 

The  utility  and  delight  of  a  taste  for  books  are  as 
demonstrable  as  any  axiom  of  the  severest  science. 
The  most  prosperous  fortune  is  often  harassed  by 
various  vexations.  The  sturdiest  son  of  strength  is 
sometimes  the  victim  of  disease.  Melancholy  will 
sometimes  involve  the  merriest  in  her  shade,  and 
the  fairest  month  of  the  year  will  have  its  cloudy 
days.  In  these  dreary  seasons,  from  which  no  man 
may  hope  to  escape,  sensual  delights  will  not  fill 
scarcely  a  nook  in  the  gloomy  void  of  the  troubled 
time.  Brief  as  the  lightning  in  the  collied  night, 
this  sort  of  pleasure  may  flash  before  the  giddy  eyes, 
but  then  merely  for  a  moment,  and  the  twinkling 
radiance  is  still  surrounded  with  the  murkiest  gloom. 
Eating,  drinking,  aud  sleeping;    the  song  and  the 


dance,  the  tabret  and  viol,  the  hurry  of  dissipation, 
the  agitation  of  play,  these  resources,  however  hus- 
banded, are  inadequate  to  the  claims  of  life.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  studious  and  contemplative  man 
has  always  a  scheme  of  wisdom  by  which  he  can 
either  endure  or  forget  the  sorrows  of  the  heaviest 
day.  Though  he  may  be  cursed  with  care,  yet  he 
is  surely  blessed  when  he  readeth.  Stud}'  is  the 
dulce  lenimen  laborunt  of  the  Sabine  bard.  It  is  sor- 
row's sweet  assuagcr.  By  the  aid  of  a  book,  he  can 
transport  himself  to  the  vale  of  Tempe,  or  the  gar- 
dens of  Armida.  He  may  visit  Pliny  at  his  villa,  or 
Pope  at  Twickenham.  He  may  meet  Plato  on  the 
banks  of  Ilyssus,  or  Petrarch  among  the  groves  of 
Avignon.  He  may  make  philosophical  experiments 
with  Bacon,  or  enjoy  the  eloquence  of  Bolingbroke. 
He  may  speculate  with  Addison,  moralize  with  John- 
son, read  tragedies  and  comedies  with  Shakspearc, 
and  be  raptured  by  the  rhetoric  of  Burke. 

In  many  of  the  old  romances,  we  are  gravely  in- 
formed, that  the  unfortunate  knight  in  the  dungeon 
of  some  giant,  or  fascinated  by  some  witch  or  en- 
chanter, while  he  sees  nothing  but  hideousness  and 
horror  before  him,  if  haply  a  fairy,  or  some  other 
benignant  being,  impart  a  talisman  of  wondrous 
virtue,  on  a  sudden  our  disconsolate  prisoner  finds 
himself  in  a  magnificent  palace,  or  a  beautiful  gar- 
den, in  the  bower  of  beauty,  or  in  the  arms  of  love. 
This  wild  fable,  which  abounds  in  the  legends  of 
knight-errantry,  has  always  appeared  to  me  very 
finely  to  shadow  out  the  enchantment  of  study.  A 
book  produces  a  delightful  abstraction  from  the 
cares  and  sorrows  of  this  world.  They  may  press 
upon  us,  but  when  we  are  engrossed  by  study  we 
do  not  very  acutely  feel  them.  Nay,  by  the  magic 
illusion  of  a  fascinating  author,  we  are  transported 
from  the  couch  of  anguish,  or  the  gripe  of  indigence, 
to  Milton's  paradise,  or  the  elysium  of  Virgil. 

ON   MEDITATION. 

"Commune  with  your  own  heiu-t  upon  your  bed,  and  be 
still.1' — Psalms  iv.  4. 

Having,  in  my  last  speculation,  attempted  to  de- 
scribe some  of  the  delights  of  study,  in  this  paper  it 
is  proposed  to  consider  the  true  use  of  retirement. 
Between  them  there  should  be  a  perpetual  alliance: 
nay,  they  are  not  only  neighbouring  and  friendly 
powers,  but  they  are  familiar  connexions.  Amiable, 
interesting,  and  lovely  sisters !  if  your  worthy  ad- 
mirer be  attracted  by  the  riches  of  one,  he  will 
quickly  be  delighted  witli  the  pensiveness  'of  the 
other.  Study  will  give  him  all  her  books,  and  re- 
tirement conduct  him  to  all  her  bowers.  In  no 
ramble  will  he  experience  more  delight  than  when 
he  roves  through  the  healthful  wood,  or  saunters 
through  the  tranquil  cloister,  with  retirement  on  his 
right  hand,  and  study  on  his  left.  Though  their 
guise  is  exceedingly  modest,  though  their  conversa- 
tion has  no  resemblance  to  loquacity,  though  their 
best  attire  is  from  no  other  wardrobe  than  that  of 
sweet  simplicity,  still  they  will  always  gain  more 
regard  from  the  wiser  than  all  the  pageants  of  the 
pompous,  and  all  the  plumage  of  the  vain. 

The  royal  psalmist,  from  whose  divine  odes  I  have 
transcribed  my  text,  was  himself  a  memorable  ex- 
ample of  the  utility  of  retirement,  reflection,  and 
self-communion.  It  will  be  remembered  that  he 
was  a  warrior,  a  statesman,  a  man  of  business,  and 
a  man  of  the  world.  In  these  various  characters, 
though  he  often  acquitted  himself  excellently  well, 
yet  unfortunately,  in  some  flagrant  instances,  we 
perceive  how  much  he  was  tainted  by  the  infection 
of  the  world.  But  when  he  shuts  his  eyes  against 
the  glare  of  ambition,  and  the  gaze  of  beauty,  when 
he  ceases  to  touch  the  harp  of  fascination,  and  for- 


566 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


eakes  the  cabinet  and  the  camp,  then  we  recognise, 
at  once,  the  scholar,  the  philosopher,  and  the  poet. 
In  the  strong-holds  at  En-gedi,  he  is  a  mere  soldier; 
in  the  palace  of  Saul,  a  servile  musician  ;  in  the 
cave  of  Adullam,  a  skulking  fugitive ;  and  in  the 
forest  of  Hareth,  an  unhappy  exile.  But  when  he 
tore  himself  away  from  the  thraldom  of  care,  the 
bustle  of  business,  and  the  din  of  Jerusalem,  when 
he  wandered  away  by  the  brook  of  the  field,  or  the 
plains  of  the  wilderness,  when  he  retired  to  his 
chamber,  and  communed  with  his  heart,  then  he 
formed  those  noble  associations,  and  composed  those 
exquisite  performances,  which  will  transmit  his  name 
with  renown  to  the  remotest  posterity. 

My  Lord  Bacon,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  Erasmus, 
Grotius,  Mr.  Addison,  and  Mr.  Locke,  together  witli 
a  great  multitude  of  illustrious  men,  have  been 
deeply  involved  in  the  cares  of  public  business,  as 
well  as  engrossed  by  the  meditations  of  the  closet. 
But  for  the  fairest  portion  of  their  glorious  fame 
how  much  are  they  indebted  to  the  latter!  While 
the  chancery  decrees  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon  moulder 
away  in  the  hands  of  some  master  of  the  rolls,  the 
experiments  of  his  study,  and  the  essays  of  his  wit, 
like  certain  exquisite  paintings,  grow  brighter  by 
time.  While  we  peruse,  with  still  renewing  plea- 
sure, Raleigh's  history  of  the  world,  his  unlucky  po- 
litics are  scarcely  regarded.  Mr.  Addison  was  secre- 
tary of  state,  and  Grotius  an  ambassador;  but  who 
inquires  for  the  despatches  of  the  one,  or  is  interested 
in  the  negociations  of  the  other  ?  The  fame  of  Eras- 
mus, constantly  immersed  in  the  turmoil  of  his 
times,  and  engrossed  by  cares,  civil  and  ecclesiastic, 
would  have  perished  with  the  names  of  those  mise- 
rable monks  whom  lie  has  derided,  or  those  imperi- 
ous princes  whom  he  has  courted.  But  by  some- 
times wisely  withdrawing  himself  from  the  cabals 
of  a  court,  and  the  polemics  of  the  church,  by  medi- 
tating on  horseback  and  in  his  chamber,  by  avarice 
of  time,  by  intenseness  of  application  and  ardour  of 
genius,  he  has  filled  ten  folios,  composed  in  the 
purest  Latinity,  where  an  indolent  reader  can  find 
nothing  too  prolix,  and  where  a  critical  reader  can 
discover  nothing  to  reprehend.  The  foolish  polities 
of  Addison  are  scarcely  remembered  even  by  his 
faction.  The  character  of  Locke,  as  a  man  of  busi- 
ness, is  painted  with  no  other  pencils  than  those  of 
ridicule,  and  the  diplomacy  of  Grotius  and  of  Sir 
AVilliam  Temple  are  utterly  contemned;  but  their 
literary  and  philosophical  works,  the  beauteous  off- 
spring of  retirement  and  study,  will  continue  to 
charm, 

'Till  time,  like  him  of  Gaza,  in  his  wrath, 
Plucking  the  pillars  that  support  the  world, 
In  nature's  ample  ruins  lies  entombed, 
And  midnight,  universal  midnight,  reigns. 

Though  in  the  text  we  are  admonished  to  com- 
mune with  ourselves  in  our  chamber,  yet  it  woidd 
be  a  very  partial  and  narrow  interpretation,  if  it 
were  concluded  that  we  could  not  meditate  any 
where  else.  The  secresy  of  a  closet,  and  the  still- 
ness of  midnight,  are,  unquestionably,  propitious  to 
the  powers  of  reflection.  But  other  places  and 
other  seasons  may  be  selected  for  that  salutary  dis- 
cipline, which  the  Psalmist  recommends.  It  is  a 
vulgar  error  to  suppose  that  retirement  and  con- 
templation are  never  to  be  found  except  in  a  forest 
or  a  desert,  a  cell  or  a  cloister.  In  the  thronged 
mart,  and  in  the  blaze  of  day,  he  who  has  inured 
himself  to  habits  of  abstraction,  may  commune  with 
himself,  as  though  he  was  in  his  chamber.  Proofs 
of  this  abound  in  many  a  page  of  the  records  of  lite- 
rature. Some  of  the  fairest  displays  of  self-know- 
ledge] some  of  the  finest  results  of  meditation,  some 


of  the  sweetest  fruits  of  retirement,  owed  their  ap- 
pearance not  to  the  tranquillity  of  sylvan  groves. 
In  many  a  metropolis,  resounding  with  the  din  of 
commerce,  and  crowded  with  the  throng  of  nations, 
contemplation  has  had  her  fill.  Though  a  sublime 
poet,  in  a  fit  of  rural  enthusiasm,  has  exclaimed, 
Hide  me  from  daifs  garish  eye, 

yet  it  would  be  alike  dangerous  and  delusive  to  be- 
lieve, that  we  cannot  speculate  at  noon,  as  well  as 
at  night.  In  short,  the  choice  of  time  or  place  is  not 
essential  to  the  formation  of  habits  of  self-sequestra- 
tion, and  the  acquisition  of  the  precious  power  of 
withdrawing  the  mind  from  all  external  objects. 

As,  in  Dr.  Johnson's  phrase,  I  am  often  wakefully 
disturbed  at  midnight,  arid  as  I  have  not  wholly  for- 
gotten my  boyish  attachment  to  woods  and  mea- 
dows, I  acknowledge  that  I  often  commune  with 
myself  in  my  chamber ;  and,  in  genial  seasons,  by 
the  banks  of  a  romantic  river,  or  in  the  recesses  of  a 
lonely  forest.  I  have  already  speculated  twice  on 
the  profit  and  pleasure  producible  by  nocturnal 
hours  wisely  emplo3'ed,  and  rural  rambles  judi- 
ciously directed.  But  for  a  period  of  no  inconsider- 
able duration  I  have  often  retired  to  rest  at  a  vulgar 
hour,  and  have  wholly  exchanged  the  country  for 
the  city.  Change  of  circumstances  demanded  new 
habits.  Though  but  seldom  I  wind  slowly  o'er  the 
lea ;  though  the  glimmering  landscape  but  rarely 
fades  before  my  sight ;  and  my  ears  generally  listen 
to  other  sounds  than  the  drowsy  liriklings  of  a  shep- 
herd's bell,  yet  if.  is  my  duty  to  reflect  much  even 
in  the  midst  of  confusion.  Accordingly  I  commune 
with  my  own  heart  in  the  crowd,  and  can  be  still 
even  in  the  street.  I  sermonize  in  the  suburbs,  and 
find  apt  alliteration  in  an  alley.  I  start  a  topic  in 
High  street,  and  hunt  it  down  as  far  as  Southwark 
or  the  Northern  Liberties.  I  walk  through  the 
market-place,  as  I  once  wandered  in  a  wood ;  and 
while  one  is  talking  of  his  farm,  and  another  of  his 
merchandise,  I  listen  to  the  suggestions  of  fancy,  or 
invoke  the  cherub  contemplation. 

But,  to  return  to  a  more  rigorous  exposition  of 
the  text,  and  consider  it  merely  as  an  exhortation  to 
the  tranquil  exercise  of  our  mental  powers  in  the 
retirement  of  the  closet,  I  do  not  know  whether  in 
the  pages  of  any  philosopher  I  could  find  a  better 
lesson  of  salutary  discipline.  It  is  favourable  to  the 
culture  of  intellectual  as  well  as  moral  habits.  He 
who  accustoms  himself  to  closet  meditations  will 
not  only  purify  his  heart  but  correct  his  judgment, 
form  his  taste,  exercise  his  memory,  and  regulate  his 
imagination.  Moreover,  he  then  has  an  admirable 
opportunity  to  view  the  world  at  a  due  distance,  to  I 
form  a  deliberate  estimate  of  life,  to  calculate  with 
precision  the  proportion  of  his  own  powers,  com- 
bined with  those  of  other  men  ;  and  having  weighed 
himself,  as  it  were,  in  the  "  balance  of  the  sanc- 
tuary," to  find  new  causes  for  regret,  and  new  rea- 
sons for  reformation. 

To  multitudes,  solitude,  retirement,  and  reflec- 
tion appear  in  a  form  more  horrid  than  the  weird 
sisters  in  Shakspeare.  The  man  of  business,  the 
man  of  pleasure,  the  votary  of  vanity,  and  the  vic- 
tim of  lassitude,  all  sedulously  shun  those  hours 
wdiich  have  been  so  nobly  employed  by  philoso- 
phers, poets,  hermits,  and  saints.  Dr.  Young,  who 
has  immortalized  his  self-communion,  in  one  of  the 
most  original  poems  in  our  language,  a  poem  not 
only  of  gorgeous  metaphors,  but  of  the  most  ardent 
piety,  exclaims,  with  more  than  mortal  enthusiasm — 

Oh,  lost  to  virtue,  lost  to  manly  thought, 
Lost  to  th*  noblfst  sallies  of  the  soul  f 
"Who  think  it  solitude  to  be  alone, 
Communion  sweet  I  communion  large  and  high! 
Our  reason,  guardian  angel,  aad  our  God ! 


JOSEPH  DENNIE. 


567 


INGRATITUDE  OP  REPUBLICS. 

"  For  the  workman  is  worthy  of  his  meat." — Matt.  x.  10. 

If  there  be  such  a  personage  as  Truth,  this  asser- 
tion certainly  belongs  to  her  family,  for  what  can. 
be  more  just  than  that  a  vintager  should  eat  some, 
at  least,  of  those  grapes  which  he  had  planted  and 
watered. 

But  judging  from  the  practice  of  the  world,  at  the 
present  time,  one  would  think  my  text  was  grown 
obsolete,  and  that  its  principle  was  not  recognised. 
In  the  shambles  there  is  always  meat  enough,  but 
how  little  is  bestowed  upon  workmen.  Parasites, 
buffoons,  fiddlers,  equestrians,  French  philosophers, 
and  speculators  gormandize;  bat  I  see  Merit,  that 
excellent  workman,  that  needetli  not  to  be  ashamed, 
as  lank  and  as  lean  as  my  old  tabby-cat,  who  has  had 
nothing  to  eat  but  church  mice  for  a  year. 

Though  I  am  not  saluted  a  brother  by  any  legiti- 
mate parson,  and  belong  to  no  ministerial  associa- 
tion on  earth,  yet  I  cherish  great  respect,  and  feel  a 
cordial  regard  for  the  established  clergy.  I  con- 
sider them,  with  few  exceptions,  as  faithful  work- 
men; they  make  us  moral ;  they  instruct  our  youth; 
they  lead  sober  and  peaceable  lives. 

Along  the  cool,  Sequestered  vale  of  life, 
They  keep  the  noiseless  tenor  of  their  way. 

They  are  wise,  they  are  amiable  men,  though  thev 
are  ignorant  of  foolish  questions,  and  "strivings 
about  the  law;"  they  understand  perfectly  the  great 
rules  of  life.  Such  men,  therefore,  are  worthy  of 
their  meat,  and  should  be  liberally  provided.  They 
labour  much :  few  men  labour  more ;  they  are  com- 
pelled to  exercise  not  oidy  the  head  but  the  hands. 
The  pi'ivate  estate,  as  well  as  the  gospel  vineyard, 
claims  their  care.  When  the  drudgery  of  the  year 
is  done;  when  numerous  sermons  have  been  com- 
posed, and  numerous  sick-chambers  visited ;  when 
they  have  been  in  watchiugs  and  weariness  often, 
what  meat  will  the  benevolence  of  a  parish  bestow? 
Verily,  a  morsel.  A  beggarly  pittance,  called  a  sa- 
lary, and  that  pittance  scantily  and  grudgingly  paid. 
When  I  visit  a  village,  covered  with  stores  and 
shops,  and  cultivated  by  opulent  farmers ;  when  I 
hear  the  inhabitants  boast  of  their  flourishing  cir- 
cumstances, and  recount  how  many  bushels  of  wheat 
they  threshed  last  year,  and  how  well  it  sold ;  if  I 
should  be  informed  that  their  parson's  annual  sti- 

Eend  is  but  sixty  pounds,  in   despite   of  all  their 
oasted  riches  and  ostentation,  I  should  think  them 
unworthy  to  enter  a  church. 

If  I  should  repair  to  any  place  where  men  con- 
gregate, and  describe  to  them  one,  who,  in  an  hour 
of  jeopardy,  had  quitted  his  hearth,  travelled  many 
wearisome  miles,  been  exposed  to  sickly  air,  been 
shot  at  for  hours,  and  frequently  without  a  crust  or 
a  draught  to  supply  the  waste  of  nature.  If  I 
Bhould  add,  that  all  this  peril  was  sustained,  that 
we,  at  home,  might  live  in  security,  not  one  of  my 
audience,  provided  speculators  and  bloodsuckers 
were  not  of  the  number,  would  deny  that  the  old 
soldier,  was  a  worthy  workman.  But  where  is  his 
meat  ?  Oh,  my  good  sir,  do  not  propose  that  ques- 
tion in  a  republic,  you  know  that  a  republic  is  never 
bounteous.  Belisariuses  ask  for  their  obolus  here 
as  well  as  at  Rome.  But  here  the  business  ends. 
They  receive  in  Great  Britain  and  elsewhere.  You 
might  as  soon  expect  moderation  in  a  Frenchman, 
or  knowledge  of  the  belles-lettres  in  a  country  attor- 
ney, as  that  a  commonwealth  should  be  grateful 

on  cleanliness. 

"  Let  thy  garments  he  always  white ;  and  let  thy  head  lack  no 
ointment." — Eccl.  ix.  8. 

Though  much  occupied  in  preaching,  and  noted, 
S3  some  of  my  friends  say,  for  a  certain  poetical 


heedlessness  of  character,  yet,  if  not  oftener,  at  least 
every  Sunday,  I  copy  the  common  custom,  and  in- 
vest my  little  person  in  clean  array.  As,  from  a 
variety  of  motives,  and  none  of  them,  I  hope,  bad 
ones,  I  go  with  some  degree  of  constancy  to  church, 
I  choose  to  appear  there  decently  and  in  order. 
However  inattentive  through  the  week,  on  the  so- 
lemn day  I  brush  with  more  than  ordinary  pains 
my  best  coat,  am  watchful  of  the  purity  of  my  linen, 
and  adjust  my  cravat  with  an  old  bachelor's  nicety. 
While  I  was  lately  busied  at  1113'  toilet,  in  the  work 
of  persoTial  decoration,  it  popped  into  my  head  that 
a  sermon  in  praise  of  neatness  would  do  good  ser- 
vice, if  not  to  the  world  at  large,  at  least  to  many 
of  my  reading,  writing,  and  thinking  brethren,  who 
make  their  assiduous  homage  to  mind  a  pretext  for 
negligence  of  person. 

Among  the  minor  virtues,  cleanliness  ought  to  be 
conspicuously  ranked  ;  and,  in  the  common  topics 
of  praise,  we  generally  arrange  some  commendation 
of  neatness.  It  involves  much.  It  supposes  a  love 
of  order,  an  attention  to  the  laws  of  custom,  and  a 
decent  pride.  My  Lord  Bacon  says  that  a  good 
person  is  a  perpetual  letter  of  recommendation. 
This  idea  may  be  extended.  Of  a  well-dressed  man, 
it  may  be  affirmed,  that  he  has  a  sure  passport 
through  the  realms  of  civility.  In  first  interviews 
we  can  judge  of  no  one  except  from  appearances. 
He,  therefore,  whose  exterior  is  agreeable,  begins 
well  in  any  society.  Men  and  women  are  disposed 
to  augur  favourably,  rather  than  otherwise,  of  him 
who  manifests,  by  the  purity  and  propriety  of  his 
garb,  a  disposition  to  comply  and  to  please.  As,  in 
rhetoric,  a  judicious  exordium  is  of  admirable  use  to 
render  an  audience  docile,  attentive,  and  benevo- 
lent, so  at  your  introduction  into  good  company, 
clean  and  modish  apparel  is,  though  an  humble,  at 
least  a  serviceable  herald  of  our  exertions. 

As  these  are  very  obvious  truths,  and  as  literary 
men  are  generally  vain,  and  sometimes  proud,  it  is 
singular  that  one  of  the  easiest  modes  of  gratifying 
self-complacency  should,  by  them,  be,  for  the  most 
part,  neglected  ;  and  that  this  sort  of  carelessness  is 
so  adhesive  to  one  tribe  of  writers,  that  the  word3 
poet  and  sloven  are  regarded  as  synonymous  in  the 
world's  vocabulary. 

This  negligence  in  men  of  letters  sometimes  arises 
from  their  inordinate  application  to  book's  and  pa- 
pers, and  may  be  palliated  by  a  good-natured  man, 
as  the  natural  product  of  a  mind  too  intensely  en- 
gaged in  sublime  speculations  to  attend  to  the  black- 
ness of  a  shoe  or  the  whiteness  of  a  ruffle.  Mr.  Locke 
and  Sir  Isaac  Newton  might  be  forgiven  by  their 
candid  eotemporaries,  though  the  first  had  composed 
his  essay  with  "  unwashen  hands,"  and  the  second 
had  investigated  the  laws  of  nature  when  he  was 
clad  in  a  soiled  night-gown.  But  slovenliness  is 
often  affected  by  authors,  or  rather  pretenders  to 
authorship  ;  and  must  then  be  considered  as  highly 
culpable  ;  as  an  outrage  of  decorum,  as  a  defiance 
to  the  world,  and  as  a  pitiful  scheme  to  attract  no- 
tice by  means  which  are  equally  in  the  power  of 
the  drayman  and  chimneysweeper.  I  know  a  poet 
of  this  description,  who  anticipates  renown  no  less 
from  a  dirty  shirt  than  from  an  elegant  couplet, 
and  imagines  that  when  his  appearance  is  the  most 
sordid  the  world  must  conclude,  of  course,  that  his 
mind  is  splendid  and  fair.  In  his  opinion,  "  marvel- 
lous foul  linen"  is  a  token  of  wit.  and  inky  fingers 
indicate  humour ;  he  avers  that  a  slouched  hat  is 
demonstrative  of  a  well-stored  brain,  and  that  genius 
always  trudges  about  in  unbuckled  shoes.  He  looks 
for  invention  in  rumpled  ruffles,  and  finds  high- 
sounding  poetry  among  the  folds  of  a  loose  stocking. 
But  this  smirched  son  of  Apollo  may  be  assured 


568 


CYCLOPiEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


there  is  no  necessary  connexion  between  dirt  and 
ability.  It  is  not  necessary  to  consummate  such  a 
marriage  to  produce  the  fairest  offspring  of  the 
mind.  One  may  write  brilliantly,  and,  strange  as  it 
may  seem,  be  dressed  well.  If  negligence  be  the 
criterion  of  genius,  a  critic  will,  in  future,  inspect  a 
poet's  wardrobe  rather  than  his  works.  Slovenli- 
ness, 60  far  from  being  conimejidable  in  an  author, 
is  more  inexcusable  in  men  of  letters  than  in  many 
others,  the  nature  of  whose  employment  compels 
them  to  be  conversant  with  objeets  sordid  and  im- 
pure. A  smith  from  lii6  forge,  or  a  husbandman 
from  his  fields,  is  obliged  sometimes  to  appear  stained 
with  the  smut  of  the  one  or  the  dust  of  the  other. 
A  writer,  on  the  contrary,  sitting  in  an  easy  chair 
at  a  polished  desk,  and  leaning  on  white  paper,  or 
examining  the  pages  of  a  book,  is,  by  no  means, 
obliged  to  be  soiled  by  his  labours.  I  see  no  reason 
why  an  author  should  not  be  a  gentleman,  or  at 
least  as  clean  and  neat  as  a  Quaker.  Far  from 
thinking  that  filthy  dress  marks  a  liberal  mind,  I 
should  suspect  the  good  sense  and  talents  of  him 
who  affected  to  wear  a  tattered  coat  as  the  badge 
of  his  profession.  Should  I  see  a  reputed  genius  to- 
tally regardless  of  his  person,  I  should  immediately 
doubt  the  delicacy  of  his  taste  and  the  accuracy  of 
his  judgment.  I  should  conclude  there  was  some 
obliquity  in  his  mind,  a  dull  sense  of  decorum,  and 
a  disregard  of  order.  I  should  fancy  that  he  eon- 
sorted  with  low  society ;  and,  instead  of  claiming 
the  privilege  of  genius,  to  knock  and  be  admitted  at 
palaces,  that  he  chose  to  sneak  in  at  the  back  door 
of  hovels,  and  wallow  brutishly  in  the  sty  of  the 
vulgar. 

It  is  recorded  of  Somerville  and  Shenstone  that 
they  were  negligent,  and  of  Smith  that  he  was  a 
sloven.  But  disregard  of  dress  is  by  no  means  a 
constant  trait  in  the  literary  character.  Edmund 
Waller,  Prior,  Swift,  and  Bolingbroke,  were  re- 
markably neat  in  their  persons,  and  curious  in  the 
choice  of  apparel ;  and  of  David  Mallett,  Dr.  John- 
son observes  "  that  his  appearance  was  agreeable, 
and  he  suffered  it  to  want  no  recommendation  that 
dress  could  give." 

The  Orientals  are  careful  of  their  persons,  with 
much  care.  Their  frequent  ablutions  and  cliangeof 
garments  are  noticed  in  every  page  of  their  history. 
My  text  is  not  the  only  precept  of  neatness  that  can 
be  quoted  from  the  Bible.  The  wise  men  of  the 
East  supposed  there  was  some  analogy  between  the 
purity  of  the  body  and  the  mind  ;  nor  is  this  a  vain 
imagination. 

I  cannot  conclude  this  sermon  better  than  by  an 
extract  from  the  works  of  Count  Rumford,  who,  in 
few  and  strong  words,  has  fortified  my  doctrine : — 
"  "With  what  care  and  attention  do  the  feathered 
race  wash  themselves  and  put  their  plumage  in  or- 
der ;  and  how  perfectly  neat,  clean,  and  elegant  do 
they  ever  appear.  Among  the  beasts  of  the  field, 
we  find  that  those  which  are  the  most  cleanly  are 
generally  the  most  gay  and  cheerful,  or  are  distin- 
guished by  a  certain  air  of  tranquillity  and  content- 
ment; and  singing-birds  are  always  remarkable  for 
the  neatness  of  their  plumage.  So  great  is  the  effect 
of  cleanliness  upon  man  that  it  extends  even  to  his 
moral  character.  Virtue  never  dwelt  long  with 
filth  ;  nor  do  I  believe  there  ever  was  a  person  scru- 
pulously attentive  to  cleanliness  who  was  a  consum- 
mate villain." 


DAVID  EVERETT, 
Oite  of  the  band  of  accomplished  contributors  to 
the  Farmer's  Museum,  and  a  political  editor  him- 
self of  note,  was  born  in   1769  at  Princeton, 


Massachusetts.  He  fitted  himself  for  Dartmouth 
College,  and  is  on  the  list  of  graduates  for  the 
year  1795,  when  he  delivered  a  valedictory 
Poem,  with  this  generous  prophecy  of  the  growth 
of  the  country : — 

The  Muse  prophetic  views  the  coming  day, 
■When  federal  laws  beyond  the  line  shall  sway : 
Where  Spanish  indolence  inactive  lies, 
And  every  art  and  every  virtue  dies ; 
Where  pride  and  avarice  their  empire  hold, 
Ignobly  great,  and  poor  amid  their  gold, — 
Columbia's  genius  shall  the  mind  inspire, 
And  fill  each  breast  with  patriotic  fire. 
Nor  east  nor  western  oceans  shall  confine 
The  generous  flame  that  dignifies  the  mind; 
O'er  all  the  earth  shall  Freedom's  banner  wave, 
The  tyrant  blast  and  liberate  the  slave : 
Plenty  and  peace  shall  spread  from  pole  to  pole, 
Till  earth's  grand  family  possess  one  soul.* 

Previously  to  entering  college,  he  was  a  teach- 
er in  the  grammar-school  at-  New  Ipswich,  where 
he  wrote  the  famous  juvenile  schoolboy  recita- 
tion for  one  of  his  pupils,  Ephraim  Farrar,  which 
has  been  made  so  well  known  to  the  public  in 
Bingham'sf  Columbian  Orator : — 

LINES    BPOKES   AT    A    SCHOOL    EXHIBITION,  BY   A  LITTLE    BOY 
SEVEN   YEAES  OLD. 

You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age 

To  speak  in  public  on  the  stage  ; 

And  if  I  chance  to  fall  below 

Demosthenes  or  Cicero, 

Don't  view  me  with  a  critic's  eye, 

But  pass  my  imperfections  by. 

Large  streams  from  little  fountains  flow  ; 

Tall  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow ; 

And  though  I  now  am  small  and  young, 

Of  judgment  weak  and  feeble  to;igue, 

Yet  all  great  learned  men,  like  me, 

Once  learned  to  read  their  A,  B,  C. 

But  why  may  not  Columbia's  soil 

Bear  men  as  great  as  Britain's  isle  ? — 

Exceed  what  Greece  and  Rome  have  done? — 

Or  any  land  beneath  the  sun  ? 

Mayn't  Massachusetts  boast  as  great 

As  any  other  sister  State  ? 

Or  where's  the  town,  go  far  and  near, 

That  does  not  find  a  rival  here  ? 

Or  where's  the  boy  but  three  feet  high 

Who's  made  improvement  more  than  I  ? 

These  thoughts  inspire  my. youthful  mind 

To  be  the  greatest  of  mankind : 

Great,  not  like  Caesar,  stained  with  blood, 

But  only  great  as  I  am  good.}: 

Everett  studied  law  in  Boston,  and  wrote  for 
Russell's  Gazette  and  other  newspapers,  including 


*  Loring's  "  Hundred  Boston  Orators." 
■  +  Caleb  Bingham,  the  compiler  of  this  production,  almost  as 
well  known,  in  its  way,  as  Webster's  Spelling:  Book,  was  a 
school  teacher,  and  afterwards  a  bookseller  of  Boston,  and  had 
been  a  graduate  of  Dartmouth  in  17S2.  As  a  director  of  the 
State  prison,  he  interested  himself  in  tbe  instruction  of  the 
younger  criminals.  He  was  a  Jeffersonian  in  politics.  His 
school  books  were,  besides  the  Columbian  Orator,  the  Ameri- 
can Preceptor,  a  book  of  selections  for  reading,  Young  Lady's 
Accidence.  He  also  wrote  a  narrative  entitled  The  Hunters, 
tie  died  in  1S17,  at  the  age  of  sixty. — Allen's  Biog.  Diet. 

$  Mr.  Loring,  in  his  Boston  Orators,  gives  an  account  of  Far- 
rar, the  original  speaker  of  the  lines,  and  quotes  some  remarks 
by  Edward  Everett,  at  a  High  School  Examination,  at  Cam- 
bridge, July  23, 1S50,  in  which  he  alludes  to  this  '"favorite  lit- 
tle poem,  which  many  persons  have  done  me  the  honor  to 
ascribe  to  me,  but  which  was  in  reality  written  by  a  distant 
relative  and  namesake  of  mine,  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  before  I 
was  born." 


SAMUEL  MILLER. 


569 


the  Farmer's  Museum,  then  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Deunie,  where  his  prose  papers,  Common 
Sense  in  Dishabille,  became  quite  popular.  They 
were  of  an  epigrammatic  turn,  employed  chiefly 
with  utilitarian  remarks  on  frugality  and  tempe- 
rance, in  the  manner  of  Franklin,  and  were  col- 
lected in  1799  in  a  small  volume.  The  same 
year  was  also  published,  from  the  same  source, 
his  Farmer's  Monitor.  He  contributed  also  to  a 
literary  paper  called  the  Nightingale  in  1796. 

Everett  wrote  a  tragedy  called  Daranzel,  or 
the  Persian  Patriot,  which  was  acted  and  pub- 
lished at  Boston  in  1800.  It  is  called,  on  the  title- 
page,  "an  original  drama,"  and,  to  the  author's 
name,  i-i  added,  "  corrected  and  improved  by  a 
literary  friend."  Original  it  was,  in  reference  to 
the  productions  then,  as  now,  taken  from  foreign 
authors  for  the  American  stage ;  but  its  composi- 
tion belongs  to  a  large  class  of  English  produc- 
tions, happily  long  since  antiquated.  Any  one 
who  turns  over  the  dramatic  writings  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  will  meet  with  abundance  of 
such  Oroastos,  Indamoras,  and  Zaphiras  as  figure 
in  this  piece:  such  stratagems,  prisons,  and 
despair — 

Where  Melancholy  cannot  count  her  sighs, 
And  sorrow  keeps  no  calendar  but  tears. 

Act  v.  so.  i. 

Judged,  however,  by  its  own  literary  fashion,  it 
is  not  without  its  moderate  elegances  and  proprie- 
ties. A  few  lines  of  the  Prologue  will  show  its 
scope,  and  its  appeal  to  American  patriotism : — 

"While  in  the  court  the  supple  pander  shines, 
And  cheerless  virtue  in  the  dungeon  pines ; 
The  elder  world's  disasters  rise  to  view, 
To  foil  the  stubborn  virtues  of  the  new : 
While  these  in  contrast  on  the  stage  appear, — 
There  the  proud  despot — the  firm  patriot  here  ; 
That  rob'd  in  power,  this  arm'd  with  nature's  laws: 
From  scenes  like  these  the  bard  his  moral  draws.   ' 

In  the  Prologue  also,  the  author  himself  ap- 
pears, to  ask  that  indulgence  from  the  public,  and 
that  deprecation  of  the  critic's  eye  which  his  lit- 
tle pupils  and  their  descendants  have  so  often 
supplicated  from  more  indulgent  circles  of  family 
friends : — 

To  captious  critics,  versed  in  scenic  laws, 
He  dares  not  trust  the  merits  of  his  cause. 
View  then,  ye  lib'ral,  with  a  candid  eye, 
Kill  not  the  bird  that  first  attempts  to  fly  ; 
But  aid  his  efforts  with  parental  care, 
'Till  his  weak  pinions  learn  to  ply  the  air : 
'Till  the  young  pupil  dare  aloft  to  rise, 
And  soar,  with  bolder  flights,  his  native  skies. 

In  1801,  Everett  delivered  a  Fourth  of  July 
Oration  at  Amherst,  and  in  September,  a  Masonic 
Oration,  at  Washington,  N.  II.  In  1809  he 
edited  the  Boston  Patriot,  and  in  1812  The  Pilot, 
a  paper  in  the  interest  of  De  Witt  Clinton  for  the 
presidency.  He  wrote  a  series  of  papera  on  the 
Apocalypse,  which  were  published  in  a  pamphlet- 
He  left  Boston  in  1813  for  Marietta,  Ohio,  with 
the  purpose  of  establishing  a  newspaper,  but 
death  interrupted  his  plans  at  that  place,  Dec. 
21,  of  the  same  year.* 

*  Kartell's  American  Poetry,  ii.  113;  Buckingham's  News- 
paper Literature,  ii.  212;  Loiing's  Hundred  Boston  Orators. 
3ded.8«. 


SAMUEL  MILLEE, 
TnE  author  of  the  Retrospect  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century,  a  work  still  valued  for  its  taste,  j  udg- 
ment,  and  fidelity,  was  born  in  1769  in  the  town 
of  Dover  in  Delaware,  the  son  of  a  Scottish  cler- 
gyman, who  passed  forty-three  years  of  ministe- 
rial duty  in  that  place,  one  among  the  many  ex- 
amples of  sound  literary  and  family  influence  ra- 
diating from  the  old  American  pulpit. 


^yCoryu^ul yi/jMn^ 


The  life  of  Samuel  Miller  was  passed  in  pasto- 
ral duties  as  a  Presbyterian  clergyman  in  New 
York,  which  he  discharged  for  twenty  years  from 
1793,  and  as  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History 
and  Church  Government  in  the  Theological  Semi- 
nary of  Princeton,  to  which  he  was  called  in  1813, 
and  which  he  held  for  thirty-six  years,  till  his 
decease  Jan.  7, 1850.  During  this  period  of  edu- 
cational service  he  was  contemporary  in  the  insti- 
tution with  the  sincere  and  amiable  Alexander, 
wdiose  son,  in  the  recently  published  memoirs  of 
his  father,  has  paid  a  generous  tribute  to  his  me- 
mory. "  Dr.  Miller,"  says  he,  "  came  from  the 
training  of  city  life,  and  from  an  eminently 
polished  and  literary  circle.  Of  fine  person  and 
courtly  manners,  he  set  a  high  value  on  all  that 
makes  society  dignified  and  attractive.  He  was 
pre-eminently  a  man  of  system  and  method,  go- 
verning himself,  even  in  the  minutest  particulars, 
by  exact  rule.  His  daily  exercise  was  measured 
to  the  moment ;  and  for  half  a  century  he  wroto 
standing.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school, 
though  as  easy  as  he  was  noble  in  his  bearing; 
full  of  conversation,  brilliant  in  company,  rich  in 
anecdote,  and  universally  admired.  As  a  preacher 
he  was  clear  without  brilliancy,  accustomed  to 
laborious  and  critical  preparation,  relying  little  on 
the  excitement  of  the  occasion,  but  rapid  with 
his  pen,  and  gifted  with  a  tenacious  memory  and 
a  strong  sonorous  voice;  always  instructive,  al- 
ways calm,  always  accurate."* 

Miller's  Brief  Retrospect  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century,  containing  a  Sketch  of  the  Revolutions 
and  Improvements  in  Science,  Arts,  and  Literature 
during  that  period,  was  published  in  two  volumes 
in  1803.  It  was  executed  with  care  and  in  a  ju- 
dicious spirit,  enhanced  by  its  pleasing  style.  Its 
survey  of  the  progress  of  the  intellectual  elements 
of  society  was  full  and  fair  for  the  period,  and 
may  still  be  consulted  with  profit  and  pleasure. 
The  portion  devoted  to  the  early  American  litera- 
ture, the  scholars  and  men  of  letters  who  promot- 
ed the  education  of  the  infant  state,  is  in  a  spirit 
which  all  succeeding  writers  who  traverse  the 
ground  may  bo  emulous  of.  It  is  thoughtful,  pa- 
triotic, and  sincere.  This  work  originally  grew 
out  of  a  pastoral  discourse  delivered  by  the  author 
on  the  first  day  of  the  new  century,  and  was  dedi- 
cated to  John  Dickinson,  the  author  of  the  Far- 
mer's Letters.  It  includes  the  consideration  of 
the    mechanical   sciences,    chemistry,    medicine, 

*  Life  of  Archibald  Alexander,  p.  380. 


570 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


mathematics  and  some  of  its  applications,  the 
fine  arts,  and  a  liberal  discussion  of  literature  in 
its  several  departments  of  original  composition, 
and  in  the  advancement  and  study  of  the  ancient 
and  oriental  and  of  the  European  languages.  This 
formed  but  the  first  part  of  a  contemplated  work, 
the  other  three  portions  of  which  were  to  embrace 
Theology,  Morals,  and  Religion,  and  to  present 
"  the  great  events  in  the  Christian  Church,  in  the 
Moral  World,  and  in  Political  Principles  and  Esta- 
blishments during  the  century,"  a  comprehensive 
design  which  the  author  never  carried  out. 

From  1805  to  1814  Dr.  Millerwas  Correspond- 
ing Secretary  to  the  New  York  Historical  So- 
ciety. He  delivered  before  that  body,  A  Dis- 
course designed  to  Commemorate  the  Discovery 
of  New  Tori,  September  4,  18U9,  being  the  com- 
pletion of  the  second  century  since  that  event* 

In  1813  he  published  in  an  octavo  volume  of 
more  than  four  hundred  pages  the  Memoirs  of  his 
associate  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  Rodgers,  pastor  of 
the  Wall  street  and  Brick  Churches  in  New  York.t 
It  contains  a  narrative  of  the  growth  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  New  York,  with  much  histo- 
rical information  of  general  interest  expressed 
with  elegance  of  style.  Of  the  learning  of  the 
old  school  of  clergymen  in  the  country  he  says  : — 

Many  persons  are  apt  to  suppose  that  the  race  of 
divines  who  flourished  in  our  country  seventy  or 
eighty  years  ago,  though  pious  and  excellent  men, 
hnd  a  very  scanty'  supply  of  books,  and  in  many 
eases  a  still  more  scanty  education,  compared  with 
the  divines  of  later  years,  and  especially  of  the  pre- 
sent day.  This  opinion  i3  not  only  erroneous  but 
grossly  so.  Those  venerable  fathers  of  the  Ameri- 
can Church  were  more  deeply  learned  than  most  of 
their  sons.  They  read  more,  and  thought  more, 
than  we  are  ready  to  imagine.  The  greater  part  of 
the  books  of  ancient  learning  and  ponderous  erudi- 
tion, which  are  now  to  be  found  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  were  imported  and  studied  by  those  great 
and  good  men.  Original  works  are  actually  in  fewer 
hands,  in  our  day,  compared  with  the  number  of 
readers,  than  in  theirs.  They  read  solidly  and 
deeply :  we  hurry  over  eompends  and  indexes. 
They  studied  systematically  as  veil  as  extensively ; 
our  reading  is  more  desultory,  as  well  as  more  super- 
ficial. We  have  more  of  the  belles-lettres  polish, 
but  as  biblical  critics,  and  as  profound  theologians, 
we  must  undoubtedly  yield  to  them  the  palm  of  ex- 
cellence. 

This  is  well  said  in  reference  to  the  labors  of 
the  old  American  fathers.  It  should  be  remem- 
bered that  it  was  written  in  1813,  and  that  Dr. 
Miller  lived  to  -ee  a  new,  thorough,  and  profound 
course  of  theological  study  established  in  the 
country. 

In  1827  he  published  Letters  on  Clerical  Man- 
ners and  Habits ;  addressed  to  a  Student  in  the 


*  Colls.  N.  T.  Hist  Soc.  vol.  i. 

+  John  Eodgers,  "whose  name  is  remembered  with  great  re- 
spect in  New  York,  was  a  native  of  Boston.  Mass.,  born  in  1727, 
of  Irish  parentage.  He  was  a  disciple  of  Wbitefield  asayouth, 
and  was  educated  at  the  Academy  of  the  Eev.  Samuel  Blair 
at  Fog's  Manor  in  Chester  county,  Pa.  He  was  with  Davies 
the  preacher  (afterwards  President  of  Princeton)  in  Virginia. 
He  came  to  New  York  in  1765.  His  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divi- 
nity was  conferred  by  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  through 
the  agency  of  three  distinguished  persons.    Whitcfield  sug- 

fested  the  matter  to  Franklin,  who  obtained  the  favor  through 
)r.  Eobertson.  Iu  the  Eevolutionary  war  he  was  a  correspon- 
dent of  Washington.  He  died  in  New  York,  May  7, 1611,  in 
bis  eighty-fourth  year. 


Tlieological  Seminary  at  Princeton;  in  which 
he  reviews  the  various  positions  of  the  clergyman ; 
in  his  study,  in  society,  his  mode  of  writing, 
thinking,  and  conversation;  in  the  economy  of 
health,  usefulness,  reputation,  and  the  preserva- 
I  tion  of  a  sound,  judicious  piety. 

In  1840  Dr.  Miller  published  his  Memoir  of  the 
Item.  Charles  Nisbet*  the  first  President  of  Dick- 
inson College,  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made 
in  1791,  when  he  visited  him  at  Carlisle  to  seek 
the  opportunity  of  hearing  his  course  of  Theolo- 
gical Lectures,  a  genial  specimen  of  biography, 
with  much  interest  in  the  copious  and  interesting 
original  material. 

Edward  Miller,  the  brother  of  the  preceding, 
was  born  at  Dover  May  9, 1760.  He  was  educat- 
ed at  the  Academy  at  Newark  in  Delaware,  con- 
ducted with  eminent  ability  by  two  clergymen, 
Doctor  Francis  Allison  and  Alexander  McDowell. 
He  studied  medicine  at  Dover  with  Dr.  Charles 
Ridgely,  and  afterwards  in  1781-2  in  the  Military 
hospital  at  Baskingridge,  New  Jersey.  In  the 
last  year  he  embarked  as  surgeon  in  an  armed 
ship  bound  for  France,  and  in  a  year's  absence 
acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  French  language. 
He  returned  to  pursue  his  profession  in  Delaware, 
and  in  1796  became  a  practitioner  of  medicine  in 
New  York,  where  he  engaged  with  Dr.  Mitchill 
and  Dr.  Elihu  H.  Smith  in  the  publication  of  the 
first  journal  of  the  kind  ever  printed  in  the  coun- 
try, the  Medical  Repository,  commenced  in  1797. 
Its  conductors  were  members  of  a  "Friendly 
Club,"  which  was  a  nucleus  at  its  weekly  recep- 
tions for  the  intellect  of  the  city.  Dunlap,  who 
wrote  an  account  of  Miller,*  has  left  a  record  of 
tins  social  circle  in  New  York,  which  also  includ- 
ed, besides  himself  then  Manager  of  the  New 
York  Theatre,  James  Kent  then  Recorder  of  the 
city,  Anthony  Bleecker  the  lawyer  and  master  in 
chancery,  Charles  Brockden  Brown,  William 
Walton  Woolsey,  George  Muirson  Woolsey,  John 
Wells  the  lawyer,  William  Johnson  the  Supreme 
Court  reporter,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  Miller. 

Edward  Miller  died  March  17,  1812. 

His  writings  on  medical  topics,  including  his 
report  on  the  yellow  fever,  were  published  in  a 
volume.  His  medical  reputation  stood  high,  and 
his  literary  and  social  qualities  endeared  him  to 
his  friends. 

DE  WITT  CLINTON. 

TriE  name  of  Clinton  has  long  been  eminent  in 
the  annals  of  New  York.  George  Clinton  was 
the  governor  of  the  province  from  1743  to  1753, 
and  the  name  of  his  son,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  is 
familiar  to  every  reader  of  the  history  of  the 
American  Revolution. 

These  were,  however,  but  distantly  related  to 
the  family  with  whom  we  are  concerned.  The 
first  who  is  mentioned  of  the  direct  ancestors  of 
De  Witt  Clinton  was  William  Clinton,  an  officer 
in  the  army  of  Charles  the  First.  After  the  exe- 
cution of  that  monarch  he  took  refuge  in  the 
north  of  Ireland,  where  he  died,  leaving  an  orphan 
son,  James,  only  two  years  of  age. 


*  Memoir  of  the  Eev.  Charles  Nisbet,  D.D.,  late  President 
of  Dickinson  College,  Carlisle.  New  York :  Carter.  12mo. 
pp.  857. 

t  The  Monthly  Eecorder,  New  York,  April,  1818. 


BE  WITT  CLINTON. 


571 


His  son,  on  arriving  at  man's  estate,  visited 
England  for  the  purpose  of  endeavoring  to  re- 
cover his  patrimony,  which  had  been  confiscated. 
He  failed  in  this,  bat  was  successful  in  a  suit  of 
a  matrimonial  nature,  as  he  returned  home  with 
a  bride,  Elizabeth,  the  daughter  of  a  Captain 
Smith,  formerly  of  Cromwell's  army.  Their  son 
Charle-i,  born  in  1690,  organized  in  1729  a  large 
body  of  emigrants,  and  sailed  with  them  for  Ame- 
rica. They  landed  at  Cape  Cod.  In  1731  Clin- 
ton purchased  land  in  Ulster  county,  eight  miles 
west  of  the  Hudson,  and  built  a  house  surrounded 
by  a  palisade  to  protect  himself  from  the  Indians. 
Here  he  resided  until  his  death,  November  19, 
1773.  He  left  four  sons,  Alexander,  Charles, 
James,  a  brigadier-general  in  the  Revolutionary 
army,  who  died  in  1812,  and  George,  also  a  bri- 
gadier-general in  the  army,  and  Governor  of  the 
State  of  New  York,  from  the  formation  of  the 
constitution  in  1777  to  1795,  and  afterwards  from 
1801  to  1804.  He  wa^  elected  Vice-President 
of  the  United  States  in  1804,  and  died  in  that 
office,  1812. 

De  Witt  Clinton,  the  son  of  General  James  Clin- 
ton and  Mary  De  Witt,  was  born  March  2,  1769, 
at  his  fathers  residence  in  Orange  county,  N.  Y. 
He  was  prepared  for  college  at  the  academy  un- 
der the  charge  of  Mr.  John  Addison  at  Kingston, 
almost  the  only  school  of  eminence  open  in  the 
state  during  the  Revolution,  entered  the  junior 
class  of  Columbia  College  in  1784,  and  was  the 
first  student  received  by  that  institution  under  its 
new  organization  after  the  war.  He  was  one  of 
the  graduating  class  in  1786.  Clinton  studied 
law  with  Samuel  Jones,  and  was  admitted  to  the 
bar.  He  was  shortly  after  appointed  private  se- 
cretary of  his  uncle,  George  Clinton,  the  governor 
of  the  state,  and  retained  the  office  until  a  change 
of  administration  in  1795. 

In  1797  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  house 
of  assembly,  in  1798  a  state  senator,  and  in  1801 
a  Senator  of  the  United  States.  In  1S03  he  was 
chosen  Mayor  of  the  City  of  New  York,  and, 
with  a  single  exception,  annually  re-elected  until 
1S15.  In  1817  he  was  elected  Governor  of  the 
State  of  New  York,  and  re-elected  in  1820.  In 
1822  ho  declined  again  appearing  as  a  candidate. 

In  1823,  after  the  celebration  at  Albany  of  the 
completion-  of  the  great  work  with  which  his 
name  is  inseparably  identified,  ho  was  removed 
from  the  office  of  canal  commissioner.  This  un- 
just and  absurd  proceeding  aroused  the  feelings 
of  the  people  of  the  state  so  warmly  in  his  favor 
that  he  was  elected  governor  of  the  state  in  1824 
by  a  majority  of  20,000.  He  remained  in  office 
until  his  sudden  death,  February  11,  1828. 

Clinton  was  an  active  promoter  of  the  free- 
school  and  other  great  educational  movements  of 
the  state.  He  was  also  an  influential  member  of 
the  literary  and  scientific,  associations  of  his  time, 
and  a  liberal  promoter  of  the  charitable  institu- 
tions of  the  state  and  city.  His  occasional  ad- 
drosses  before  these  institutions  constitute  Ins 
chief  literary  labors. 

Clinton  was  Vice-President  of  the  New  York 
Historical  Society  from  1810  to  1817,  and  Presi- 
dent from  1817  to  1820.  He  was  always  a  great 
promoter  of  its  interests.  In  1811  he  delivered 
his  elaborate  Discourse  on  the  Iroquois,  at  an  an- 
hiversary  meeting  of  that  body.     In  1S14  he  drew 


I  up  a  memorial  to  the  legislature  in  its  behalf,  in 
which  he  classified  the  history  of  the  state  under 
four  periods:  of  the  aborigines,  the  Dutch  occu- 
pancy for  about  half  a  century,  the  English  rule 
for  more  than  a  century,  and  the  period  since  the 
Revolution,  showing  the  measures  necessary  to 
be  taken  at  each  stage  for  the  preservation  of  the 
national  records.  A  grant  was  received  in  con- 
sequence from  the  legislature,  which  secured  to 
the  society  means  for  the  purchase  of  a  large  por- 
tion of  its  valuable  library. 

In  the  same  year,  1814,  he  delivered  his  Intro- 
ductory Discourse  before  the  Literary  and  Philo- 
sophical Society  of  New  York,  of  which  he  was 
president.  It  is  an  exhaustive  scholar's  review  of 
the  pa-t  and  present  state  of  literature  and  science, 
describing  the  impediments  to  their  cultivation  in 
the  colony  of  New  York  under  the  general  provin- 
cial influences,  the  population  speaking  a  foreign 
language  for  a  time ;  the  confusion  of  the  Revo- 
lution; the  evils  of  party  spirit  afterwards,  with 
the  absence,  in  consequence  of  the  industrial  de- 
mands of  the  state,  of  a  literary  class  by  profes- 
sion :  while  he  finds  new  advantages  in  the  free- 
dom of  the  state,  the  growth  of  commerce,  and  a 
perpetual  incentive  to  the  excitement  of  genius  in 
the  pure  and  healthful  climate.  From  these  reflec- 
tions he  passes  to  the  consideration  of  the  pecu- 
liar objects  of  the  Society,  presenting  the  claims 
and  opportunities  of  the  studies  of  geology,  zo- 
ology, botany;  agriculture,  and  medicine.  The 
notes  and  illustrations,  which  constitute  three 
times  the  bulk  of  the  text,  are  a  repository  of  in- 
teresting and  profitable  reading  on  these  various 
themes.  In  these  matters  Clinton  was  in  earnest ; 
and  when  the  wags  of  the  day,  who  opposed  his 
politics,  mixed  up  his  literature  and  science  with 
their  ridicule,  he  showed  that  he  was  master  of 
these  lighter  weapons  as  well.  The  satirists,  who 
amused  themselves  with  his  grave,  philosophical 
pursuits,  were  made  to  feel  the  edge  of  his  wit 
and  pleasantry. 

In  1820  Clinton  sketched  the  incidents  of  a 
tour  to  the  west,  along  the  line  of  the  Erie  canal, 
in  a  series  of  letters  written  in  the  character  of 
an  Irish  gentleman  travelling  in  America,  which 
were  published  in  the  New  York  Statesman,  and 
afterwards  collected  in  a  volume,  in  1822,  with 
the  title,  letters  on  the  Natural  History  and  In- 
ternal Resources  of  the  State  of  New  York.  They 
present  a  curious  picture  of  the  novel  topics  of  in- 
terest at  this  recent  period,  in  what  is  now, 
thanks  to  such  laborers  as  Clinton,  so  well  de- 
veloped and  thoroughly  familiar  a  region.  The 
freshness  of  his  fancy,  and  activity  of  his  mind, 
give  a  zest  to  his  minute  observations  of  natural 
scenery,  climate,  and  productions,  constantly  en- 
livened by  his  ardent  nationality,  and  taste  for 
poetic  and  literary  cultivation.  The  Letters  of 
Ilibernicus  are  genial  and  animated  throughout, 
and  well  deserve  to  be  annotated,  and  find  a 
home,  which  would  have  been  a  consummation 
of  the  author's  literary  ambition,  in  the  thousands 
of  school-district  libraries  which  now  adorn  his 
native  state. 

The  Hon.  W.  W.  Campbell  has  reprinted,  in  the 
Life  and  Writings  of  Clinton,  his  private  journal 
of  his  exploration  in  1810,  in  company  with  other 
commissioners,  of  the  central  portion  of  the  state 
with  reference  to  the  proposed  Erie  canal.     It  is 


572 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


a  pleasant  off-hand  record,  and  gives  a  curious 
picture  of  the  primitive  days  of  Western  New 
York.  This  was  one  of  his  first  public  services 
in  reference  to  this  great  state  enterprise,  pro- 
nounced by  President  Madison  too  great  an  un- 
dertaking for  the  resources  of  the  entire  Union  to 
accomplish.  Clinton  had  faith  then  and  ever  in 
its  feasibility  and  advantages.  He  continued  its 
firmrand  active  promoter  and  friend  until  he 
passed  in  triumph  down  its  entire  length,  and 
poured  the  waters  of  Erie  into  the  Atlantic  ocean. 

Clinton  was  twice  married.  His  first  wife  was 
Maria,  eldest  daughter  of  Walter  Franklin ;  and 
his  second  Catharine,  daughter  of  Dr.  Thomas 
Jones,  "all  of  this  city."  In  1853  a  noble  colos- 
sal statue  of  bronze,  modelled  and  cast  by  II.  K. 
Browne,  was  placed  by  a  public  subscription  over 
his  remains  in  Greenwood  Cemetery. 

In  person  Governor  Clinton  was  over  six  feet 
in  height,  and  well  proportioned.  His  counte- 
nance displayed  an  ample  forehead,  regular  fea- 
tures, and  an  amiable  and  dignified  expression. 
As  a  public  speaker  he  was  impressive,  but  not 
animated.* 

PROVINCIAL  INFLUENCES  ON  LITERATURE — FROM  THE  DISCOURSE 
BEFORE  THE  LITERARY   AND   1'IIILOSOPHICAL  SOCIETY. 

There  is  something  in  the  nature  of  provincial 
government  which  tends  to  engender  faction,  and  to 
prevent  the  expansion  of  intellect.  It  inevitably 
creates  two  distinct  interests;  one  regarding  the 
colony  as  subservient  in  every  respect  to  the  mother 
country,  and  the  other  rising  up  in  opposition  to  this 
assumption.  The  governor  and  principal  magistrates 
who  derive  their  appointments  from  an  extrinsic 
source,  feel  independent  of  the  people  over  whom 
they  are  placed.  The  operation  of  this  principle  has 
been  powerfully  experienced  in  our  territorial  go- 
vernments, which  have  been  the  constant  theatre  of 
intestine  divisions;  and  when  the  human  mind  is 
called  away  from  the  interest  of  science,  to  aid,  by 
its  faculties,  the  agitations  of  party,  little  can  be  ex- 
pected from  energies  thus  perverted  and  abused.  The 
annals  of  our  colonial  state  present  a  continual  con- 
troversy between  the  ministers  of  the  crown,  and  the 
representatives  of  the  people.  What  did  the  governor 
and  judges  care  for  a  country  wdiere  they  were 
strangers?  where  their  continuance  wras  transient; 
and  to  which  they  were  attached  by  no  tie  that 
reaches  the  human  heart.  Their  offices  emanated 
from  another  country  ; — to  that  source  they  looked 
for  patronage  and  support,  to  that  alone  their  views 
extended  ;  and  having  got,  what  Archimedes  wanted, 
another  world  on  which  to  erect  their  engines,  they 
governed  this  at  pleasure. 

The  colonial  governors  were,  generally  speaking, 
little  entitled  to  respect.  They  were  delegated  to 
this  country  not  as  men  qualified  to  govern,  but  as 
men  whose  wants  drove  them  into  exile  ;  not  as  men 
entitled  by  merit  to  their  high  eminence,  but  as  men 
who  owed  it  to  the  solicitations  of  powerful  friends 
and  to  the  influence  of  court  intrigue.  Thus  circum- 
stanced and  thus  characterized,  is  it  wonderful  to 
find  them  sometimes  patrolling  the  city  disguised  in 
female  dress;  at  other  times  assailing  the  representa- 
tives of  the  people  with  the  most  virulent  abuse, 
and  defrauding  the  province  by  the  most  despicable 
acts  of  peculation ;  and  at  all  times  despising  know- 


*  Hosack's  Memoir  of  De  Witt  Clinton ;  James  Renwick's 
Life  of  Clinton ;  W.  W.  Campbell's  Life  and  Writings  of  Clin- 
ton ;  article  on  Clinton,  by  LL  T.  Tuckerman,  N.  A.  Review, 
Oct.,  1854. 


ledge,  and  overlooking  the  public  prosperity  ?  Justice, 
however,  requires  that  we  should  except  from  this 
censure  Hunter  and  Burnet.  Hunter  was  a  man  of 
wit,  a  correspondent  of  Swift,  and  a  friend  of 
Addison.  Burnet,  the  son  of  the  celebrated  Bishop 
of  Salisbury,  was  devoted  to  literature  ;  they  were 
the  best  governors  that  ever  presided  over  the 
colony. 

The  love  of  fame  is  the  most  active  principle  of  our 
nature.  To  be  honoured  when  living — to  be  vene- 
rated when  dead — is  the  parent  source  of  those 
writings  which  have  illuminated — of  those  actions 
Which  have  benefited  and  dazzled  mankind.  All 
that  poetry  has  created,  that  philosophy  has  dis- 
covered, that  heroism  has  performed,  may  be  princi- 
pally ascribed  to  this  exalted  passion.     True  it  is, 

When  fame's  loud  trump  hatb  blown  its  noblest  blast, 
Though  long  the  sound,  the  echo  sleeps  at  last; 
And  glory,  like  the  phoenix  'midst  her  fires, 
Exhales  her  odours,  blazes,  and  expires. 

Lord  Byeon. 

Yet,  as  long  as  man  is  susceptible  of  sublime 
emotions,  so  long  will  he  commit  himself  to  this 
master  feeling  of  a  noble  nature.  What  would 
have  become  of  the  sublime  work  of  Milton,  if  he 
had  written  for  the  fifteen  pounds  which  he  received 
from  the  bookseller;  and  where  would  have  been 
the  writings  of  Bacon,  if  he  had  not  aspired  to  im- 
mortal fame?  "  My  name  and  memory,"  said  this 
prince  of  philosophers,  in  his  will,  "  I  leave  to  foreign 
nations,  and  to  my  own  countrymen  after  some  time 
be  passed  over."  When  with  one  hand  he  demolished 
the  philosophy  of  the  schools,  and  with  the  other 
erected  a  magnificent  temple  dedicated  to  truth  and 
genuine  knowledge,  he  was  animated  in  his  pro- 
gress, and  cheered  in  his  exertions  by  the  persuasion 
that  after  ages  would  erect  an  imperishable  monu- 
ment to  his  fame. 

But  in  order  that  this  passion  may  have  its  full 
scope  and  complete  operation,  it  is  not  only  necessary 
that  there  should  be  a  proper  subject,  but  a  suitable 
place,  and  an  enlightened  public.  The  actor,  in 
order  to  act  well  his  part,  must  have  a  good  theatre 
and  a  respectable  audience.  Would  Demosthenes 
and  Cicero  have  astonished  mankind  by  their  oratory, 
if  they  had  spoken  in  Sparta  or  in  Carthage  ?  would 
Addison  have  written  his  Spectators  in  Kamtschatka, 
or  Locke  his  work  on  the  Understanding  at  Madrid? 
destroy  the  inducement  to  act,  take  awajr  the  capa- 
city to  judge,  and  annihilate  the  value  of  applause, 
and  poetry  sinks  into  dulness ;  philosophy  loses  its 
powers  of  research  ;  and  eloquence  evaporates  into 
froth  and  mummery. 

A  provincial  government,  like  ours  before  the 
revolution,  was  entirely  incompetent  to  call  into 
activity  this  ennobling  propensity  of  our  nature. 
A  small  population,  scattered  over  an  extensive 
country,  and  composed  almost  entirely  of  strangers 
to  literature  ;  a  government  derivative  and  depen- 
dent, without  patronage  and  influence,  ■  and  in 
hostility  to  the  public  sentiment ;  a  people  divided 
into  political  and  religious  parties,  and  a  parent 
country  watching  all  their  movements  with  a  step- 
mother's feelings,  and  keeping  down  their  prosperity 
with  the  arm  of  power,  could  not  be  expected  to 
produce  those  literary  worthies  who  have  illuminated 
the  other  hemisphere. 

History  justifies  the  remark  that  free  governments, 
although  happier  in  themselves,  are  as  oppressive  to 
their  provinces  as  despotic  ones.  It  was  a  common 
saying  in  Greece,  that  a  free  man  in  Sparta  was  the 
freest  man:  and  a  slave,  the  greatest  slave  in  the 
world.  This  remark  may  be  justly  applied  to  the 
ancient  republics  which  had  provinces  under  their 
control.      The  people  of  the  parent  country  were 


DE  WITT  CLINTON. 


573 


free,  and  those  remote  were  harassed  with  all  kinds 
of  exactions,  borne  down  by  the  high  hand  of  op- 
pression, and  under  the  subjection  of  a  military 
despotism.  The  colonial  system  of  modern  times  is 
equally  calculated  to  build  up  the  mother  country 
011  the  depression  of  its  colonies.  That  all  their  ex- 
ports shall  go  to,  and  all  their  imports  be  derived 
from  it,  is  the  fundamental  principle.  Admitting  oc- 
casional departures  from  this  system,  is  it  possible 
that  an  infant  country,  so  bandaged  and  cramped, 
could  attain  to  that  maturity  of  growth,  which  is 
essential  to  the  promotion  ami  encouragement  of 
literature?  Accordingly  we  do  not  find  in  an}7  colony 
of  modern  times  any  peculiar  devotion  to  letters,  or 
any  extraordinary  progress  in  the  cultivation  of  the 
human  mind.  The  most  fertile  soil — the  most  be- 
nign climate — all  that  nature  can  produce,  and  art 
can  perfect,  are  incompetent  to  remove  the  be- 
numbing effects  which  a  provincial  and  dependent 
position  operates  upon  the  efforts  of  genius. 

PARTIES — FROM    TnE  LETTERS  OF  mnERNTCtTS. 

Canandaigua,  June,  1820. 
My  Dear  Sir, 

In  every  country  or  village  inn,  the  bar-room  is 
the  coffee  room,  exchange,  or  place  of  intelligence, 
where  all  the  quidnuncs,  newsmongers,  and  politi- 
cians of  the  district  resort,  and  where  strangers  and 
travellers  make  their  first  entry.  Neither  my  taste, 
my  habits,  nor  my  convenience  will  admit  of  gorge- 
ous or  showy  equipments,  and  when  I  therefore  take 
my  seat  in  the  caravanseras,  there  is  nothing  in  my 
appearance  to  attract  particular  attention.  Many  a 
person  with  whom  I  have  held  conversations,  has 
undoubtedly  forgotten  the  subject,  as  well  as  the 
company.  In  the  desultory  and  rapid  manner  in 
which  such  conferences  are  generally  managed,  a 
stranger  is  liable  to  mistake  names  and  titles  of  office. 
I  have  no  doubt  but  this  has  been  my  case  fre- 
quently: I  may  have  styled  a  major  a  colonel,  and 
a  sheriff  a  judge,  and  if  so,  I  assure  you  without  the 
most  distant  idea  of  giving  offence. 

Curs'd  be  the  verse  however  sweet  they  flow, 
"Which  tends  to  make  one  worthy  man  my  foe, 
Give  virtue  scandal,  innocence  afear, 
Or  from  tho  meek-ey'd  virgin  draw  a  tear. 

Volney  told  me  in  Paris,  that  he  travelled  all  over 
the  west  on  foot.  My  countrymen,  Dr.  M'Nevin  and 
Dr.  Goldsmith,  perambulated  a  great  portion  of 
Europe;  and  Wilson,  the  father  of  American  Orni- 
thology, was  almost  always  a  pedestrian  traveller. 
How  cautious  ought  people  to  be  when  in  company 
with  strangers.  I  have  heard  folly  from  the  mouths 
of  lawgivers,  and  ribaldry  in  the  conversations  of 
the  notables  of  the  land.  Unnoticed,  unobserved, 
reclining  on  my  chair  in  the  bar-room,  I  have  seen 
human  nature  without  disguise — the  artificial  great 
man  exhibiting  his  importance — the  humble  under- 
strapper listening  like  a  blacksmith  to  a  tailor's  news 
— the  oracle  of  the  place  mounted  on  his  tripod,  and 
pronouncing  his  opinions  with  solemn  gravity.  O  ! 
if  I  had  been  recognised  as  a  traveller  from  the 
eastern  world — a  keen  observer  of  human  nature — 
and  a  recorder  of  what  I  saw,  I  humbly  hope  that 
much  nonsense  would  have  been  spared,  and  many 
improper  exhibitions  prevented ;  but  then  I  would 
have  seen  man  at  a  masquerade.  I  now  derive  light 
from  my  obscurity,  and  observe  thi3  world  as  it  is. 
My  plain  dress,  my  moderate  expenditures,  my  un- 
obtrusive behaviour,  avert  particular  remark.  It  is 
only  in  the  society  of  such  men  as  I  meet  with  in 
this  place,  that  I  am  considered  as  of  the  least  im- 
portance. The  prevalent  conversations  all  over  this 
federal  republic,  are  on  the  subjects  of  political  ex- 
citement. After  some  sage  remarks  on  the  weather, 
which  compose  the  exordium  of  all  conversations, 


the  man  of  America,  like  the  man  of  Athens,  asks, 
What  news  ?  It  is  needless  to  say,  that  I  have 
steered  entirely  clear  of  political  and  theological 
strife.  I  hardly  understand  the  nomenclature  of 
parties.  They  are  all  republicans,  and  yet  a  portion 
of  the  people  assume  the  title  of  republican,  as  an 
exclusive  right,  or  patent  monopoly.  They  are  all 
federalists,  that  is,  in  favor  of  a  general  government 
— and  yet  a  party  arrogate  to  themselves  this  ap- 
pellation to  the  disparagement  of  the  others.  It  is 
easy  to  see  that  the  difference  is  nominal — that  the 
whole  controversy  is  about  office,  and  that  the 
country  is  constantly  assailed  by  ambitious  dema- 
gogues, for  the  purpose  of  gratifying  their  cupidity. 
It  is  a  melancholy,  but  true  reflection  on  human 
nature,  that  the  smaller  the  difference  the  greater  the 
animosity.  Mole  hills  and  rivulets  become  moun- 
tains and  rivers.  The  Greek  empire  was  ruined  by 
two  most  inveterate  factions,  the  Prasini  and  Vineti, 
which  originated  in  the  color  of  livery  in  equestrian 
races.  The  parties  of  Guelphs  and  Gibbelines,  of 
Roundheads  and  Cavaliers,  of  Whigs  and  Tories,  con- 
tinued after  all  causes, of  difference  were  merged. 
I  have  often  asked  some  of  the  leading  politicians 
of  this  country,  what  constituted  the  real  points  of 
discrimination  between  the  Republicans  and  Fede- 
ralists, and  I  never  could  get  a  satisfactory  answer. 
An  artful  man  will  lay  hold  of  words  if  he  cannot 
of  things,  in  order  to  promote  his  views.  The  Jan- 
senists  and  the  Jesuits,  the  Nominalists  and  the 
Realists,  the  Sub-lapsarians,  and  the  Supra-lapsarians, 
were  in  polemics  what  the  party  controversies  of 
this  people  are  in  politics.  If  you  place  an  ass  at  an 
equal  distance  between  two  bundles  of  hay,  will 
he  not  remain  there  to  all  eternity?  was  a  question 
solemnly  propounded  and  gravely  debated  by  the 
schoolmen.  The  motive  to  eat  both,  some  contended, 
being  equal,  it  was  impossible  for  the  animal  to  come 
to  a  conclusion.  He  would  therefore  remain  in  a 
state  of  inaction,  for  ever  and  for  ever.  This  pro- 
blem, so  puzzling  to  scholastic  philosophers,  would  at 
once  be  decided  by  the  ass,  and  the  experimentum 
cruris  would  effectually  silence  every  doubt.  It  is 
impossible  for  a  man,  however  quietly  disposed,  to 
act  the  supposititious  part  of  the  scholastic  ass,  and 
remain  neutral  between  the  parties,  or  bundles  of 
hay.  He  must  in  truth  participate  in  one  or  in 
both,  and  as  it  respects  any  radical  difference  of 
principle,  it  is  very  immaterial  which  he  selects. 
There  are  some  pendulum  politicians  who  are  con- 
tinually oscillating  between  parties,  and  these  men, 
in  endeavoring  to  expiate  their  former  oppugnation 
by  fiery  zeal,  are  mere  firebrands  in  society.  In 
order  to  cover  their  turpitude,  they  assume  high- 
sounding  names,  and  are  in  verity  political  partizans, 
laying  claim  to  be  high-minded,  and  like  Jupiter  on 
Olympus,  elevated  above  the  atmosphere  of  common 
beings.  And  what  adds  infinitely  to  the  force  of 
these  pretensions,  is  to  find  the  most  of  these  gentry 
to  be  the  heroes  of  petty  strife,  and  the  leaders  of 
village  vexation,  the  fag  ends  of  the  learned  pro- 
fessions, and  the  outcasts  of  reputable  associations. 
I  often  think  of  the  observations  of  the  honest  old 
traveller,  Tournefort,  when  I  see  the  inordinate 
violence  of  these  high-minded  gentlemen.  "  The 
Turk  (says  he),  take  'em  one  with  another,  are  much 
honester  men  than  renegadoes ;  and  perhaps  it  is  out 
of  contempt  that  they  do  not  circumcise  renegadoes ; 
for  they  have  a  common  saying,  that  a  bad  Christian 
will  never  make  a  good  Turk." 

LITERARY  TASTE — FROM  TnE  LETTERS  OF    nrBEENICUS. 

Western  Region,  August,  1820. 
My  Dear  Sir, 

The  beauties  of  an  American  sky  are  frequently 


571 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


unparalleled,  and  there  is  a  peculiar  lustre  in  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  morning  star,  which  I  have  never 
seen  equalled  in  my  native  land.  This  planet,  on 
account  of  its  propinquity  to  the  earth,  is  only  ex- 
ceeded in  apparent  size  by  the  moon,  and  on  this 
account,  and  its  superior  effulgence,  it  has  very 
naturally  been  a  subject  of  poetical  description.  It 
may  relieve  the  monotony  of  my  former  communi- 
cations, to  refer  to  some  passages  in  the  most  dis- 
•        tinguished  poets  on  this  subject. 

Homer,  in  his  fifth  Iliad,  in  representing  Diomede 
under  the  influence  of  Pallas,  says, 

Fires  on  hi*  helmet,  and  his  shield  around 
She  kindled  bright  and  steady  as  the  star 
Autumnal,  which  in  ocean  newly  bath'd, 
Assumes  fresh  beauty. 

The  same  allusion  also  occurs  in  Horace — 

Merses  profundo,  pulchrior  evenit.    ' 

Virgil  in  his  8th  Eneid,  says — 

Qnalis  uhi  oceani  perfusus  Lucifer  unda. 
Quern  Venus  ante  alios  astrorum  diligit  ignes, 
Extulit  oa  sacrum  caelo  tenebrasquc  resolvit. 

Lastly   comes   Milton,  who1  thus  exclaims  in  his 

Lycidas : — 

So  sinks  the  day-star  in  the  ocean  bed, 

And  yet  aoon  repairs  his  drooping  head, 

And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  new-spangled  ore 

Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky. 

If  these  extracts  shall  be  considered  as  fair  speci- 
mens by  which  to  compare  poetic  merit,  in  what 
an  illustrious  light  does  Milton  appear  ? 

A  poet  as  well  ns  an  orator,  in  order  to  be  truly 
great,  ought  to  have  a  fertile  imagination,  under  the 
dominion  of  good  taste.  Those  faults  which  result 
from  undisciplined  genius,  are  however  more  tole- 
rable than  those  which  spring  from  sterility  of  mind. 
In  one  of  my  solitary  walks,  I  stopped  at  a  farm- 
house for  refreshment,  and  I  accidentally  found  an 
old  newspaper  which  contained  an  address  from  a 
ci-devant  governor  to  a  great  military  commander, 
on  the  presentation  of  a  sword.  The  writer  has 
evidently  put  his  mind  into  a  state  of  violent  ex- 
ertion, and  in  striving  to  be  sublime  and  magnifi- 
cent, has  shown  a  total  incapacity  in  thought  as 
well  as  language.  In  speaking  of  a  nocturnal  battle 
near  the  cataract  of  Niagara,  he  says  that  it  pro- 
duced a  midnight  rainbow,  whose  refulgence  out- 
shone the  iris  of  the  day. 

This  master-piece  of  the  great  orator  and  states- 
man who  wrote  it,  can  only  be  excelled  by  the  poet 
quoted  by  Dryden,  when  he  says — 

Now  when  the  winter's  keener  breath  began 
To  ehrystalize  the  Baltic  ocean, 
To  glaze  the  Lakes,  to  bridle  up  the  floods, 
And  periwig  with  snow  the  bald  pate  woods. . 

Or,  perhaps,  it  is  exceeded  by  the  following  eulo- 
gium  of  a  country  school-master  on  General  Wolfe. 

Great  General  "Wolfe,  without  any  fears, 
Led  on  his  brave  grenadiers, 
And  what  is  most  miraculous  and  particular, 
He  climb'd  up  rocks  that  were  perpendicular. 

And  yet  would  you  believe  that  the  man  who  pro- 
nounced that  farrago  of  bombastic  nonsense,  has 
been  a  governor,  a  vice-president,  and  God  knows 
what ;  and  that  he  is  passed  off  as  a  paragon  of  wis- 
dom, and  an  exemplar  of  greatness.  "With  intellect 
not  more  than  sufficient  to  preside  over  the  shop- 
board  of  a  tailor,  or  to  conduct  the  destinies  of  a 
village  school,  he  has,  by  the  force  of  fortuitous 
circumstances,  attained  to  ephemeral  consequence. 
DAlembert  has  justly  observed  that  "  the  apices  of 
the  loftiest  pyramids  in  church  and  state,  are  only 
attained  by  eagles  and  reptiles."  The  history  of 
democracies  continually  exhibits  the  rise  of  perni- 


cious demagogues  warring  against  wisdom  and  virtue, 
philosophy  and  patriotism — but  why  do  I  confine 
this  remark  to  any  particular  form  of  government? 
The  spirit  of  the  observation  will  apply  to  human 
nature  in  all  its. forms  and  varieties.  Even  in  the 
Augustan  age  of  Great  Britain,  Elkanah  Settle  was 
set  up  as  the  rival  of  Dryden — and  Stephen  Duck  was 
put  in  competition  with  Pope.  This  levelling  prin- 
ciple gratifies  two  unworthy  feelings ;  it  endeavors 
to  mortify  the  truly  great  by  its  flagrant  injustice, 
and  it  strives  to  lower  them  down  to  our  own  de- 
pression of  insignificance.  Posterity,  however,  will 
dispense  justice  with  unerring  hand,  and  with  im- 
partial distribution  ;  and  the  great  men  who  are  al- 
most always  assailed  by  calumny,  and  who  are  some- 
times borne  down  by  ingratitude,  may,  in  considering 
the  benefits  which  they  have  rendered  to  the  human 
race,  confidently  appeal  to  heaven  for  their  reward, 
and  to  posterity  for  their  justification. 

DAVID  HOSACK. 

Doctor  David  Hosack,  F.R.S.,  was  born  in  tha 
city  of  New  York,  August  31,  1769.  His  father, 
a  Scotchman,  came  to  America  with  Lord  Jeffrey 
Amherst,  upon  the  siege  of  Louisburg.  His  mo- 
ther was  the  daughter  of  Francis  Arden  of  New 
York.  He  was  educated  at  Columbia  College  and 
at  Princeton  ;  received  his  medical  degree  at  Phi- 
ladelphia in  1791 ;  visited  the  schools  of  Edinburgh 
and  London,  where  he  wrote  a  paper  on  Vision 
which  was  published  in  the  Transactions  of  the 
Royal  Society  in  1794,  and  on  his  return  to  New 
York  filled  the  Professorship  of  Botany  and  Ma- 
teria Medica  in  Columbia  College.  In  the  new 
College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons  he  taught  Phy- 
sic and  Clinical  Medicine,  and  was  engaged  in 
the  short-lived  Rutgers  Medical  College.  He  was 
eminent  as  a  clinical  instructor.  He  engaged  with 
Francis  in  the  publication  of  the  Medical  and  Phi- 
losophical Register.  His  Medical  Essays  were 
published  in  three  octavo  volumes,  1824-30.  His 
System  of  Practical  Nosology  was  published  in 
18'29,  and  in  an  improved  form  in  1821.  He 
wrote  discourses  on  Horticulture,  on  Temperance, 
biographical  notices  of  Rush  and  Wistar,  and  a 
memoir  in  quarto  of  De  Witt  Clinton.  The  style 
of  these  productions  is  full  and  elegant.  From 
1820  to  1828  he  was  President  of  the  New  York 
Historical  Society.  A  posthumous  publication  on 
The  Practice  of  Physic,  edited  by  Dr.  H.  W. 
Ducachet,  one  of  his  pupils,  appeared  in  1838. 


^7/« 


Hosack  was  for  more  than  thirty  years  a  pro- 
minent medical  practitioner  in  New  York,  and, 
fond  of  society,  exercised  a  strong  personal  influ- 
ence in  the  city.  The  Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar, 
in  his  travels  in  America  in  1825,  mentions  the 
social  importance  of  his  Saturday  evening  parties, 
where  the  professional  gentlemen  of  the  city  and 
distinguished  foreigners  were  liberall}-  enter- 
tained. In  all  prominent  movements  connected 
with  the  arts,  the  drama,  medical  and  other  local 
institutions,  and  the  state  policy  of  internal  im- 
provements, Hosack  bore  a  part. 


AMERICAN  PHILOSOPHICAL  SOCIETY. 


575 


He  was  twice  married  ;  in  the  first  instance  to 
a  sister  of  Thomas  Eddy,  the  benevolent  Quaker 
at  the  head  of  the  hospitals  and  charitable  insti- 
tutions of  the  city.  By  his  second  wife,  the 
widow  of  Henry  A.  Costar,  he  became  possessed 
of  a  large  income. 

Dr.  Hosack  died  of  an  attack  of  apoplexy  at  his 
residence  in  Chambers  Street,  New  York,  De- 
cember 23,  1835* 


FREDERICK  DALCHO, 


A  physician  and  clergyman  of  South  Carolina, 
was  born  in  London.  His  father  was  a  Polander 
by  birth,  and  an  officer  of  considerable  rank  in  one 
of  the  European  armies,  we  think  of  Hanover. 
Having  been  severely  wounded  he  went  over  to 
England  with  his  family,  and  lived  a  few  years  on 
his  pension.  At  his  death  his  brother  in  Mary- 
land invited  the  boy  Frederick  over  to  America, 
and  gave  him  an  excellent  education  in  Baltimore. 
He  studied  medicine  successfully,  became  a  skil- 
ful botanist,  and  obtained  a  commission  in  the 
medical  department  of  the  American  army.  He 
came  with  his  division  to  South  Carolina,  and  was 
stationed  with  them  at  Fort  Johnson  in  Charles- 
ton Harbor.  Hero  some  disagreement  occurred 
between  him  and  his  brother  officers,  under  which 
Dr.  Dalcho  resigned  his  commission,  and  became 
a  practitioner  of  medicine  in  Charleston.  In  1800 
he  was  associated  with  Dr.  Isaac 'Auld,  and  be- 
came a  member  of  the  Medical  Society  of  South 
Carolina.  He  was  active  in  establishing  the  Bo- 
tanic Garden,  and  continued  several  years  one  of 
the  Trustees  of  that  Institution. 

About  the  year  1810  Dr.  Dalcho  relinquished 
his  practice  and  became  associated  with  Mr.  A. 
S.  Willington  in  conducting  the  Courier,  a  daily 
Federal  newspaper.  About  the  year  1811  he  be- 
came more  than  usually  devoted  to  religions 
reflections  and  studies.  In  1812  he  became  Lay 
Reader  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Colleton,  and  was 
ordained  Deacon  on  the  loth  of  February,  1814, 
by  the  Right  Rev.  Theodore  Dehon.  Having 
been  admitted  to  priest's  orders  by  the  Right  Rev. 
W.  White  of  Pennsylvania,  he  was  elected  as- 
sistant minister  of  St.  Michael's  Church,  Charles- 
ton, by  a  majority  of  the  congregation  in  the  year 
1819.  He  continued  with  unabated  zeal  and  piety 
devoted  to  the  advancement  of  religion  in  his  pas- 
toral charge,  until  his  declining  health  called  for 
repose.  His  vestry  would  not  part  with  him,  but 
gave  leave  of  absence  on  a  continued  salary  for  an 
indefinite  time.  He  continued  to  decline  in  health, 
and  died  on  the  24th  November,  1836,  in  the 
67th  year  of  his  age,  and  the  seventeenth  of  his 
ministry  in  that  church. 

The  religious  publications  of  Dr.  Dalcho  were 
few.  One  was  on  the  Evidence  of  the  Divinity 
of  our  Saviour.     The  other  is  a  work  of  high  au- 


*  Memoir  by  Dr.  J.  W.  Francis,  in  "Williams's  American  Me- 
dical Biography. 


thority,  being  An  Historical  Account  of  the  Pro- 
testant Episcopal  Church  in  South  Carolina* 
and  the  early  history  of  the  State  unavoidably 
blended  with  that  of  the  Church.  This  work  is 
quoted  and  referred  to  frequently  by  writers  on 
different  questions  incidental  to  such  subjects. 

AMERICAN  PHILOSOPHICAL  SOCIETY. 

The  American  Philosophical  Society  was 
formed  at  Philadelphia  on  the  second  of  January, 
1769,  by  the  union  of  two  associations  of  a  simi- 
lar character,  the  American  Philosophical  Society, 
and  the  American  Society  for  promoting  and  pro- 
pagating Useful  Knowledge.  The  first  of  these  ori- 
ginated in  a  printed  circular  issued  by  Franklin, 
dated  May  14,  1743,  entitled,  A  Proposal  for 
Promoting  Useful  Knowledge  among  the  British 
Plantations  in  America.  The  society  seems  to 
have  gone  into  immediate  operation,  as  on  the  5th 
of  April,  1744,  Franklin  writes  to  Cadwallader 
Colden,  "  that  the  society,  as  far  as  it  relates  to 
Philadelphia,  is  actually  formed,  and  has  had  se- 
veral meetings  to  mutual  satisfaction."  Thomas 
Hopkinson  was  the  first  president.  The  minutes 
of  the  society  have  been  lost,  so  that  the  details 
of  its  early  history  are  unknown.  Its  meetings, 
after  having  been  kept  up  for  about  ten  years, 
were  discontinued. 

The  second  of  the  societies  named  was  founded 
in  the  year  1750.  It  was  originally  called  the 
Junto,  and  is  supposed  to  have  been  formed  by 
the  members  of  the  old  Junto,  who,  unwilling  to 
enlarge  their  own  circle  by  the  admission  of  new 
members,  were  desirous  of  perpetuating  its  name 
and  usefulness. 

In  December,  1766,  the  admission  of  corres- 
ponding members  was  decided  upon,  and  the 
name  of  the  society  changed  to.  "  The  American 
Society  for  Promoting  and  Propagating  Useful 
Knowledge,  held  at  Philadelphia.!'  In  1768, 
Charles  Thomson  (afterwards  Secretary  of  Con- 
gress), one  of  its  leading  members,  prepared  "  Pro- 
posals for  enlarging  this  society,  in  order  that  it 
may  the  better  answer  the  end  for  which  it  was 
instituted,  namely,  the  promoting  and  propagating 
useful  knowledge."  It  embraces  every  depart- 
ment of  science  in  the  scope  of  its  proposed  inqui- 
ries, prominence  being  given  to  those  of  an  imme- 
diate practical  character,  and  especially  to  agri- 
culture. The  paper  is  published  in  the  first 
volume  of  the  Transactions. 

Large  additions  of  members  were  made,  and  on 
the  23d  of  September  a  new  coda  of  laws  and  a 
new  title,  "  The  American  Society,  held  at  Phi- 
ladelphia, for  promoting  Useful  Knowledge," 
adopted.  On  the  fourth  of  November,  at  its  first 
election,  Benjamin  Franklin  was  chosen  presi- 
dent. 

Meanwhile  the  members  of  the  American  Phi- 
losophical Society,  reduced,  to  six  in  number,  re- 
solved, in  1707,  to  resuscitate  that  institution. 
They  elected  four  new  members  in  November  of 
that  year,  and  forty-four  in  the  January  following. 
John  Penn,  the  governor  of  the  province,  con- 
sented to  become  patron,  and  on  the  ninth  of 


*  Historical  Account  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in 
South  Carolina,  by  Frederick  Dalcho,  M.  L\  Charleston,  S.  C. 
1S20. 


576 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


February,  1768,  the  Hon.  James  Hamilton  was 
elected  president. 

On  the  22d  of  March  the  first  scientific  commu- 
nication was  made  in  "  A  Description  of  a  New 
Orrery,  planned  and  now  nearly  finished  by  Da- 
vid Rittenhouse,  A.M."  It  is  the  first  paper  in 
the  Transactions.  Preparations  were  made  in  the 
same  year  for  observing  the  approaching  Transit 
of  Venus,  which  was  to  occur  on  the  3d  of  June, 
1769.  The  society  voted  to  construct  an  observ- 
atory at  Philadelphia,  where,  and  also  at  Norri- 
ton,  observations  were  to  be  taken  under  its  aus- 
pices. Finding  their  means  insufficient  they,  in 
September,  sought  the  aid  of  the  legislature,  who 
voted  a  hundred  pounds  for  the  purchase  of  a 
reflecting  telescope. 

On  the  22d  of  January,  1769,  the  two  societies 
were  united.  An  exciting  contest  took  place«at 
the  first  presidential  election  between  Hamilton 
and  Franklin  as  the  candidates,  which  resulted  in 
the  election  of  the  latter. 

Additional  aid  being  obtained  from  the  legis- 
lature, temporary  observatories  were  soon  after 
erected  in  State-House  square,  Philadelphia,  and  I 
Rittenhouse's  residence  at  Norriton,  and  the  de- 
sired observations  made,  the  weather  proving  ex- 
tremely  favorable,  with  great  success  at  these 
stations  and  from  a  building  at  Cape  Henlopen. 

In  the  same  year  the  society  instructed  their 
committee  on  American  Improvements  to  inquire 
as  to  "  the  best  place  for  cutting  a  canal  to  join 
the  waters  of  the  Delaware  and  Chesapeake,  with 
the  probable  expense  that  would  attend  the  exe- 
cution of  it."  An  appeal  for  pecuniary  aid  in  the 
prosecution  of  the  surveys  was  made  to  the  mer- 
chants of  the  city,  and  liberally  responded  to. 
The  report,  recommending  what  is  known  as  the 
upper  route,  but  declining  to  make  an  estimate  of 
the  cost,  "judging  it  an  undertaking  beyond  the 
ability  of  the  country,"  appears  in  the  first  volume 
of  the  Transactions. 

Soon  after  the  consolidation  of  the  two  societies 
a  committee  was  appointed  to  prepare  a  volume 
for  the  jiress  from  papers  read  at  the  meetings. 
A  fist  was  reported  in  August,  1769,  and  on  the 
22d  of  February,  1771,  the  work  appeared. 

The  next  efforts  of  the  society  were  devoted  to 
the  manufacture  of  silk,  and  a  company  was 
formed  for  the  purpose  under  its  auspices.  En- 
deavors were  also  made  to  introduce  the  culture 
of  the  vine.  The  society  was,  like  every  insti- 
tution of  learning,  suspended  during  the  Revolu- 
tion. It,  however,  resumed  its  labors  before  the 
conclusion  of  the  contest,  re-as>embling  on  the 
5th  of  March,  1779.  It  was  incorporated  March 
15,  1780.  In  1785  a  lot  of  ground,  70  by  50  feet, 
in  State  House  square,  facing  Fifth  street,  was 
granted  to  the  society,  who  proceeded  to  erect  a 
hall,  which  was  completed  in  1791.  Some 
$3500  was  obtained  towards  defraying  the  ex- 
penses of  the  building*  $540  of  which  were  con- 
tributed by  Franklin.  The  society  derive  a  small 
revenue  from  the  rental  of  the  ground-floor  of 
this  building. 

The  laws  of  the  society  (passed  Feb.  3,  1769) 
direct  that  its  members  "  shall  be  classed  into 
one  or  more  of  the  following  committees — 

"1.  Geography,  Mathematics,  Natural  Philoso- 
phy, and  Astronomy. 

"2.  Medicine  and  Anatomy. 


"  3.  Natural  History  and  Chemistry. 

"  4.  Trade  and  Commerce. 

"  5.  Mechanics  and  Architecture. 

"6.  Husbandry  and  American  Improvements." 

The  number  of  members  is  not  limited.  The 
officers  are,  a  patron  (the  governor  of  the  state), 
a  president,  three  vice-presidents,  a  treasurer, 
four  secretaries,  three  curators,  and  twelve  coun- 
sellors. 

On  the  death  of  Franklin,  in  1791,  David  Rit- 
tenhouse was  elected  president. 


David  EitteDhonse. 

The  family  of  Rittenhouse,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  last  century,  emigrated  to  New 
York,  and  afterwards  removed  to  Germantown, 
Pennsylvania,  where  he  was  born,  April  8,  1732. 
His  parents  removed  during  his  childhood  to  a 
farm  at  Norriton,  Montgomery  county,  about 
twenty  miles  from  Philadelphia,  where  his  early 
years  were  passed  in  agricultural  pursuits.  "  It 
was  at  this  place,"  says  his  eulogist,  Rush,  "  his 
peculiar  genius  first  discovered  itself.  His 
plough,  the  fences,  and  even  the  stones  of  the 
field  in  which  he  worked,  were  frequently 
marked  with  figures,  which  denoted  a  talent 
for  mathematical  studies."  He  also  "made  him- 
self master"  of  Newton's  Principia,  and  devoted 
himself  to  the  science  of  fluxions,  "of  which 
sublime  invention  he  believed  himself  to  be  the 
author ;  nor  did  he  know  for  some  years  after- 
wards, that  a  contest  had  been  carried  on  be- 
tween Sir  Isaac  Newton  and  Leibnitz  for  the 
honor  of  that  great  and  useful  discovery." 

His  mechanical  ingenuity  was  also  early  de- 
veloped. At  the  age  of  seven  he  constructed  a 
complete  water-mill  in  miniature,  and  ten  years 
after,  having  in  the  meantime  received  no  instruc- 
tion in  the  arts,  made  a  wooden  clock.  Being 
permitted  by  his  parents  to  follow  his  own  inclina- 
tions in  the  choice  of  a  livelihood,  he  abandoned 
agriculture,  and  erecting  a  small  work-shop  by 
the  road-side  on  his  father's  land  at  Norriton, 
commenced  business  as  a  clock  and  mathematical 
instrument  maker,  many  of  his  tools  being  the 
work  of  his  own  hands.  The  astronomical  clock 
made  by  Rittenhouse,  and  used  in  his  Observa- 
tory, is  now  in  the  possession  of  the  Society. 

His  mental  development  was  much  aided  by  a 
friendship  formed  when  he  was  about  nineteen 
with  the  Rev.  William  Barton,  who  not  long 
after  married  his  sister.  Barton  was  a  young 
Irishman,  who  had  received  a  liberal  education, 
and  possessed  a  few  books.     Rittenhouse,  whose 


AMERICAN  PHILOSOPHICAL  SOCIETY. 


577 


early  education  had  been  limited,  seized  with 
avidity  the  advantages  thus  opened  to  him,  and 
devoted  himself  to  midnight  stud}'  after  his  daily 
labors  with  such  devotion,  as  to  seriously  impair 
his  health  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

It  was  while  thus  employed  that  he  construct- 
ed his  Orrery.  The  work  was  purchased  by  the 
College  of  New  Jersey  ;  and  a  second  one,  con- 
structed by  him  on  the  same  model,  is  now  in 
the  possession  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

Owing  to  the  interest  excited  by  this  produc- 
tion, he  was  induced  to  remove  to  Philadelphia 
in  1770,  where  he  continued  in  business  for  seve- 
ral years.  He  was  elected  a  member  of  the 
Philosophical  Society,  and  became  a  frequent 
contributor  to  its  Transactions.  We  find  him  in 
August,  1773,  making  a  report  as  chairman  of  a 
committee  appointed  to  examine  the  first  steam- 
engine  erected  in  this  country.  "  It  was  made 
by  Christopher  Colles,  for  the  purpose  of  pump- 
ing up  water  at  a  distillery."  The  report  states 
that  the  engine  "  performed  several  strokes,"  but 
in  consequence  of  its  execution  being  attempted 
at  a  very  low  expense,  it  did  not  continue  its 
motion  long.  A  favorable  opinion  is  expressed 
of  the  undertaking'.* 

In  1 775  he  delivered  the  annual  oration  before 
the  same  body.  The  subject  of  his  discourse 
was  Astronomy. 

In  1779  he  was  employed  by  the  State  of  Penn- 
sylvania as  one  of  the  commissioners  for  settling 
a  disputed  boundary  between  her  territory  and 
that  of  Virginia.  In  17S4,  he  performed  a  simi- 
lar service  on  the  western,  and,  in  1786,  on  the 
northern  boundary  of  his  native  state.  In  1789, 
he  was  employed  in  determining  the  boundary 
line  between  New  Jersey  and  New  York,  and,  in 
1787,  between  the  latter  state  and  Massachusetts. 
"In  his  excursions  through  the  wilderness,"  says 
Rush,  "he  carried  with  him  his  habits  of  inquiry 
and  observation.  Nothing  in  our  mountains,  soils, 
rivers,  and  springs,  escaped  his  notice.  It  is  to  be 
lamented  that  his  private  letters  and  the  memo- 
ries of  his  friends  are  the  only  records  of  what 
he  collected  upon  these  occasions." 

Soon  after  his  election  as  President  of  the  Phi- 
losophical Society,  he  gave  a  substantial  proof  of 
his  interest  in  the  institution  by  a  donation  of 
three  hundred  pounds. 

In  1792,  he  was  appointed  a  Director  of  the 
United  States  Mint,  an  office  from  which  he  re- 
tired three  years  after,  in  consequence  of  ill 
health. 

He  died  on  the  26th  of  June,  1796,  and,  in  ac- 
cordance with  his  expressed  wish,  was  buried 
beneath  the  pavement  of  his  observatory,  in  the 
garden  adjoining  his  residence.  Dr.  Ashbel 
Green,  whose  church  he  attended,  spoke  at  his 
grave.t  An  eulogium  upon  him  was  delivered  on 
the  17th  of  December  following,  before  the  Phi- 
losophical Society,  by  Dr.  Benjamin  Rush,  and 
his  life,  by  his  nephew,  William  Barton.!  pub- 
lished in  1813. 

*  E.  M.  Patterson's  Address,  p.  29. 
t  Life  of  Aslibcl  Green,  42; 

*  Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  David  Eittenhouse,  LL.D.,  F.E.S., 
late  President  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society,  &c. ;  in- 
terspersed with  various  notices  of  mnnv  distinguished  men, 
with  an  Appendix,  containing  sundry  philosophical  and  other 
papers,  most  of  which  have  riot  hitherto  been  published.  By 
William  Barton,  A.M.     Philadelphia,  1S13. 

VOL.    I. — 37 


The  best  eulogy  of  his  private  character,  when 
we  take  in  consideration  the  high  position  he  had 
gained  for  himself  by  his  own  exertions,  is  the 
simple  statement  of  his  friend,  Ashbel  Green, 
"He  was,  perhaps,  the  most  modest  man  I  ever 
knew." 

The  presidency  was  next  filled,  for  three  year?, 
by  Thomas  Jefferson.  On  his  retirement,  Dr. 
Wistar  became  his  successor. 

Caspar  Wistar  was  the  grandson  of  an  emigrant 
from  Germany  in  1717,  who  established  a  glass 
manufactory  in  New  Jersey.  His  parents  were 
Quakers,  residing  in  Philadelphia,  where  he  was 
born,  September  13,  1761.  In  1783,  he  visited 
England,  to  complete  his  medical  studies.  He 
returned  to  Philadelphia  in  January,  1787,  having 
in  the  meantime  inherited  a  large  fortune  by  the 
death  of  his  father,  and  commenced  practice.  In 
1789,  he  was  elected  Professor  of  Chemistry,  and, 
in  1808,  of  Anatomy,  in  the  University,  which 
acquired  a  high  reputation  as  a  medical  schooWrora 
his  exertions  and  distinguished  position,  he  being 
regarded  in  Europe,  as  well  as  in  his  own  country, 
as  one  of  the  first  medical  authorities  of  his  time. 
He  was  elected,  July  20,  1787,  a  member,  and, 
January  6,  1815,  President,  of  the  American 
Philosophical  Society,  and  so  continued  until  his 
death,  January  22,  1818,  contributing  several 
articles  to  the  Transactions, 

His  chief  production  is,  A  System  of  Anatomy, 
2  vols.  8vo.  1814.  He  enjoys  a  genial  reputation, 
in  addition  to  his  scientific  honors,  as  the  founder 
of  the  Wistar  parties,  which,  originally  gather- 
ings of  his  friends  every  Saturday  at  his  own 
residence,  have  since  his  death  been  continued 
on  the  same  evening  of  the  week  by  the  sur- 
vivors and  their  successors,  each  taking  his  turn 
as  host. 

Robert  Patterson,  the  next  president,  was  born 
in  the  north  of  Ireland,  May  30,  1743.  He> 
emigrated  to  Philadelphia  in  1768,  and  in  1774 
became  the  principal  of  the  Wilmington  Academy, 
Delaware.  He  served  as  brigade-major  in  the 
Revolutionary  war,  and  in  1779  was  appointed 
Professor  of  Mathematics  in  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania,  afterwards  becoming  Vice-Provost 
of  that  institution.  In  1805,  he  was  appointed 
Director  of  the  Mint.  Ho  was  chosen  President 
of  the  American  Philosophical  Society  in  1819, 
and  died  July  22,  1824.  He  is  the  author  of 
several  papers  in  the  Society's  Transactions. 

William  Tilghman,  elected  a  member  of  the 
Society  in  1805,  was  the  next  president. 

He  was  born,  August  12,  1756,  in  Talbot 
county,  Maryland,  lie  was  admitted  to  the  bar 
in  Maryland  in  1783,  but  in  1793  removed  to 
Philadelphia,  where  he  practised  his  profession 
until  his  appointment,  by  President  Adams,  as 
Chief  Judge  of  the  Circuit  Court  of  the  United 
States.  The  law  establishing  this  office  being 
repealed  in  about  a  year,  Mr.  Tilghman  returned 
to  practice.  In  July,  1805,  he  was  appointed 
President  of  the  Courts  of  Common  Pleas  in  the 
first  district,  and,  in  February,  1800,  Chief  Justice 
of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  state.  He  died 
April  30,  1827.  He  prepared,  in  1809,  by  di- 
rection of  the  Legislature,  a  report  of  the  Eng- 
lish statutes  in  force  within  the  state,  and  pub- 
lished in  1818  an  eulogium  on  Dr.  Wistar.  He 
was  succeeded  by  Peter  S.  Du  Ponceau. 


578 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


This  distinguished  philologist  was  born  in  Rhe, 
an  inland  on  the  western  coast  of  France,  where 
his  father  held  a  military  command,  June  3, 1760. 
He  displayed  at  an  early  age  a  great  aptitude  for 
the  study  of  languages,  and  acquired  a  knowledge 
of  English  and  Italian  from  intercourse  with  the 
officers  of  an  Irish  and  Italian  regiment  stationed 
in  his  vicinity.  He  was  educated  for  the  post  of 
a  military  engineer,  but  was  prevented  from  enter- 
ing the  army  on  account  of  being  short-sighted. 
He  was  in  consequence  sent,  in  1773,  to  a  Bene- 
dictine College  at  St.  Jean  d'Angely.  After  he 
had  remained  there  eighteen  months  his  father 
died,  and  at  the  solicitation  of  his  mother  and 
family  he  consented  to  heroine  a  priest.  He  was 
made  an  instructor  by  the  Bishop  of  Rochelle  in 
the  college  at  Bressuire  in  Poitou,  but  soon 
becoming  tired  of  the  place,  be  abandoned  it  in 
1775,  went  to  Paris,  and  for  some  time  earned  a 
frugal  subsistence  by  translating  English  works 
by  the  sheet,  English  letters  for  business  men, 
and  giving  lessons,  ne  next  formed  the  acquain- 
tance of  Count  de  Gebelin,  author  of  the  Monde 
Primitif,  who  made  him  his  private  secretary. 
"While  filling  this  office,  he  met  at  the  house  of 
Beaumarchais  with  Baron  Steuben,  who  per- 
suaded him  to  accompany  him  as  his  secretary 
and  aide-de-camp  to  America.  They  sailed  from 
Marseilles,  and  arrived  at  Portsmouth,  New 
Hampshire,  December  1,  1777.  At  the  request 
of  the  Baron,  Du  Ponceau  was  appointed  captain 
by  brevet  in  the  American  army,  February  18, 
1778.  He  accompanied  Steuben  in  his  move- 
ments until  the  winter  of  1780,  when  he  was 
attacked  at  Philadelphia  with  cough  and  spitting 
of  blood,  and  so  reduced  in  strength  that  he  was 
obliged  to  desist  from  further  military  service,  and 
retired  from  the  army.  He  became  a  citizen  of 
Pennsylvania,  and  in  October,  1781,  was  appoint- 
ed secretary  to  Robert  R.  Livingston,  then  in 
charge  of  the  department  of  Foreign  Affairs. 
After  filling  this  office  for  a  period  of  twenty 
months  he  commenced  the  study  of  the  law,  and 
was  admitted  an  attorney  in  Juno,  17S5.  He 
had  previously  been  appointed  a  notary  public. 
In  1778  ho  married,  and  in  17D1  was  appointed 
a  sworn  interpreter  of  foreign  languages.  The 
succeeding  years  were  closely  devoted  to  his  pro- 
fession, in  which  he  rose  to  such  eminence  as  to 
decline,  in  consequence  of  his  prospects  of  practice, 
an  appointment  by  Jefferson  as  Chief  Justice  of 
Louisiana.  During  his  legal  career  he  translated 
several  valuable  works  on  that  science,  and  pre- 
pared some  original  essays  on  the  same  subject. 
Having  gained  a  "  comfortable  competence"  by 
his  profession,  he  was  enabled  to  devote  himself 
to  the  less  remunerative,  but  to  him  most  agree- 
able labors  of  a  philologist.  He  was  much 
encouraged  in  this  pursuit  by  the  formation  in 
March,  1815,  by  the  American  Philosophical 
Society,  of  which  he  had  become  a  member  in 
1701, of  the  "committee  of  history,  moral  science, 
and  general  literature."  He  prepared  and  pre- 
sented in  behalf  of  this  committee  a  report  in 
1819  on  the  Structure  of  the  Indian  Lan- 
guages, which  was  printed  in  the  Transactions, 
and  gave  him  a  distinguished  position  in  his 
favorite  department  of  learning,  procuring  him 
among  other  honors  the  degree  of  LL.D.,  and  an 
election  on  the  20th  of  April,  1827,  as  member 


of  the  Academy  of  Inscriptions  of  the  French 
Institute.  In  May,  1835,  the  Linguistique  prize, 
founded  by  Volnej',  was  awarded  him  by  the 
same  body  for  his  memoir  on  the  Indian  Lan- 
guages of  North  America,  afterwards  published 
in  Paris.  Bis  next  and  last  work  was  a  Dis- 
sertation on  the  Chinese  Language,  published  in 
1838,  in  which  he  maintained  that  the  written 
language  of  that  people  was  hxigraphic,  that  is 
composed  of  characters  representing  sounds,  in 
opposition  to  the  general  opinion  that  it  is 
ideographic,  or  composed  of  characters  repre- 
senting ideas. 

Mr.  Du  Poncean  was  the  author  of  a  number 
of  memoirs  contributed  to  the  various  learned 
societies  of  which  he  was  a  member,  and  in  many 
instances  president;  of  addresses  delivered  on 
various  public  occasions,  and  of  several  essays. 
He  was  a  constant  reader  and  writer  throughout 
his  life  in  spite  of  the  defect  in  his  vision,  which 
in  his  latter  years  was  accompanied  by  cataract. 
He  is  said  to  have  been  remarkable  for  great 
absence  of  mind.  He  died  on  the  first  day  of 
April,  1844,  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty-four 
years. 

Dr.  Nathaniel  Chapman,  elected  President  of 
the  Society  in  1846,  was  a  native  of  Virginia, 
and  for  many  years  Professor  of  the  Theory  and 
Practice  of  Medicine  in  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania. He  occupied  a  distinguished  position 
as  a  practitioner  of  medicine,  and  contributed 
largely  to  the  medical  literature  of  the  country. 
He  died  at  Philadelphia,  July  1,  1853,  at  the  age 
of  seventy-four. 

Dr.  R.  M.  Patterson  was  elected  President  in 
1849.  He  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  and  was  the 
son  of  Robert  Patterson,  a  former  President. 

On  completing  his  education  as  a  chemist  under 
Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  he  returned  in  1812  to  his 
native  country,  and  soon  after  was  elected  Pro- 
fessor of  Natural  Philosophy,  Chemistry,  and 
Mathematics,  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

In  1828  he  accepted  a  Professorship  in  the 
University  of  Virginia,  where  he  remained  until 
1835,  when  he  was  appointed  Director  of  the 
United  States  Mint  at  Philadelphia,  which  office 
he  held  until  1853,  when  his  declining  health  in- 
duced him  to  resign. 

Dr.  Patterson  was  elected  a  member  of  the 
Society  in  1809,  in  his  twenty-second  year,  at 
an  earlier  age  than  any  person  previously  ad- 
mitted. He  was  a  most  active  participant  in  the 
labors  of  the  Society,  and  contributed  largely 
both  by  oral  and  written  communications  to  the 
interest  of  its  proceedings.  He  delivered,  May 
25,  1843,  while  Vice-President,  A  Discourse  on 
the  Early  History  of  the  American  Philosophic 
Society,  pronounced  by  appointment  of  the  So- 
ciety at  the  celebration  of  its  Hundredth  Anniver- 
sary, to  which  we  have  to  acknowledge  our  obli- 
gations. It  closes  with  the  reorganization  of  the 
association,  March  5,  1779.  He  died  in  Philadel- 
phia, September  5,  1854,  aged  68  years. 

On  the  resignation  of  Dr.  Patterson,  the  office 
of  President  was  conferred  in  1853  upon  Dr. 
Franklin  Bache,  a  great-grandson  of  the  illustrious 
founder  of  the  Society.  Dr.  Bache  has  been  for 
many  years  Professor  of  Chemistry  in  the  Jeffer- 
son Medical  College  of  Philadelphia,  and  has 
greatly  aided  in  elevating  that  school  to  its  pre- 


AMERICAN  PHILOSOPHICAL  SOCIETY. 


:o 


sent  eminent  position.  As  joint  author  with  Dr. 
Wood  of  the  "  United  States'  Dispensatory,"  he 
has  rendered  valuable  service  to  the  promotion 
of  medical  science. 

By  the  revised  laws  of  the  Society,  his  term 
of  office  having  expired  with  the  j'ear  185-t,  the 
dignity  of  President  of  the  Society  was  conferred 
at  the  election  in  January,  1855,  upon  his  cousin, 
Professor  Alexander  Dallas  Bache. 

Professor  A.  D.  Bache  is  a  native  of  Philadel- 
phia, and  after  having  filled  with  great  success 
the  positions  of  Professor  of  "Natural  Philosophy 
and  Chemistry  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania, 
Principal  of  the  High  School  of  Philadelphia,  and 
President  of  Grirard  College,  was  appointed  to 
succeed  Mr.  Hassler  as  Superintendent  of  the 
Coast  Survey  of  the  United  States,  and  has  since 
resided  in  "Washington. 

Under  the  rare  combination  of  high  scientific 
talent  with  great  administrative  faculties,  which 
were  also  possessed  by  his  great-grandfather 
Franklin,  Professor  Bache  has  been  enabled  to  ex- 
ercise a  personal  supervision,  as  well  over  the 
details  as  over  the  grander  generalizations  attained 
in  the  progress  of  the  gigantic  survey  under  his 
control.  And  it  is  especially  by  this  happy  com- 
bination of  power,  that  the  most  extensive  survey 
hitherto  undertaken  by  any  nation  has  now  been 
brought  to  the  high  state  of  perfection  which 
renders  it  one  of  the  proudest  triumphs  of  Ameri- 
can science. 

Am.ing  the  works  of  Professor  Bache,  of  special 
interest,  must  be  mentioned  the  admirable  report 
on  the  subject  of  Education  in  Europe,  founded 
upon  personal  investigations  made  by  him  under 
the  authority  of  the  Grirard  College,  with  a  view 
to  tlie  organization  of  that  institution. 

Anving  the  chief  contributors  to  the  early 
volumes  of  the  Transactions  we  meet  the  name 
of  Henry  Ernst  Muhlenberg.  He  was  born  in 
New  Providence,  Montgomery  County,  Penn- 
sylvania, November  17,  1753,  and  in  April,  1763, 
sent  with  his  two  elder  brothers  to  Halle,  to  com- 
plete his  general  education,  and  study  theology. 
He  returned  in  1770,  was  ordained  at  the  early 
ago  of  seventeen,  and  became  assistant  to  his 
father  in  the  Lutheran  Church  at  Philadelphia. 
During  the  occupation  of  the  city  by  the  British 
he  retired  to  the  country,  where  he  employed  his 
leisure  in  the  study  of  botany.  In  1780,  he 
accepted  a  call  to  Lancaster,  where  the  remainder 
of  his  life  was  passed  in  the  discharge  of  his 
pastoral  duties.     He  died  of  apoplexy,  May  23, 

Dr.  Muhlenberg  was  a  thorough  classical  and 
oriental  scholar.  He  also  paid  great  attention  to 
the  natural  sciences,  and  especially  to  botany. 
He  commenced  this  study  during  a  retirement  to 
the  country  and  suspension  of  his  clerical  duties 
in  1777,  during  the  occupation  of  Philadelphia  by 
the  British,  and  attained  to  eminence  in  his 
favorite  pursuit.  He  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  American  Philosophical  Society  in  1786,  and 
contributed  several  papers  to  the  Transactions. 
He  soon  after  became  a  member  of  the  leading 
associations  of  a  similar  character  in  Germany 
and  the  North  of  Europe,  and  his  letters  are  fre- 
quently referred  to  in  Wildenow's  edition  of  the 
Species  Plantarum.  His  chief  publications  are 
Catalogus  Plantarum  and  Bescriptio  uberior  gra- 


minum.  nis  Flora  Lancastriemis,  and  a  num- 
ber of  papers  on  botany,  theology,  and  ethics, 
remain  in  manuscript.  His  herbarium  was  pur- 
chased and  presented  to  the  American  Philoso- 
phical Society.* 

Benjamin  Smith  Barton  also  wrote  for  the  same 
work.  This  eminent  botanist  was  the  son  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Barton  of  Lancaster,  Pa.,  where  he  was 
born  February  10, 1766.  His  mother  was  a  sister 
of  Rittenhouse.  In  1786  he  visited  Europe  to 
complete  his  education,  and  after  passing  some 
time  at  Edinburgh  and  London  went  to  Gbttin- 
gen,  where  he.  received  his  medical  diploma.  He 
returned  to  Philadelphia,  and  commenced  practice 
in  1789,  and  in  1790  was  appointed  Professor  of 
Natural  History  and  Botany  in  the  University. 
He  afterwards  succeeded  Dr.  Griffiths  as  Pro- 
fessor of  Materia  Medica,  and  Dr.  Rush  as  Pro- 
fessor of  the  Theory  and  Practice  of  Medicine. 
In  1803  he  published  the  first  American  elemen- 
tary work  on  botany,  and  his  college  lectures  on 
the  same  subject  did  much  to  diffuse  a  taste  for 
the  science.  He  commenced  in  1804,  and  con- 
tinued for  several  years,  a  Medical  Physical  Jour- 
nal. He  also  wrote  New  Views  of  the  Indian 
Triles,  a  work  on  the  American  Materia  Medica, 
arid  a  paper  on  the  Pyrola  Umbellata,  in  the 
Medico-Chirurgical  Transactions  of  London.  He 
died,  December  19,1815. 

Dr.  Adam  Seybert,  the  chemist,  mineralogist, 
and  author  of  Statistical  Annals  of  the  United 
States  from  1789  to  1815,  4to.,  who  died  at 
Paris,  May  2,  1825,  and  Andrew  Ellicott,  Pro- 
fessor of  Mathematics  at  West  Point,  who  plan- 
ned the  city  of  Washington,  and  was  also 
employed  in  running  the  boundary  between  the 
United  States  and  the  Spanish  colonies,  appear 
as  contributors  with  Palisot  de  Beauvais  and 
James  Woodhouse.  Ellicott  died,  August  28, 1820, 
in  his  67th  year.  He  published  a  Journal,  with  a 
map  of  Ohio,  Mississippi,  and  part  of  Florida. 
Phila.  1803,  1814. 

Ambroise  Marie  Francois  Joseph  Palisot  de 
Beauvais  was  born  at  Arras,  in  1752.  He  was 
educated  at  the  college  of  Hareourt,  in  Paris,  and 
became  Receiver-General  of  Territorial  Imposts. 
On  the  abolition  of  that  office  in  1777,  he  devoted 
his  attention  exclusively  to  natural  history,  and  in 
1781  became  a  corresponding  member  of  the  Paris 
Academy  of  Sciences.  In  pursuit  of  his  favorite 
studies  he  sailed  to  the  coast  of  Guinea,  with  the 
intention  of  making  a  journey  across  Africa  to 
Egj'pt,  which  he  was  unable  to  undertake.  After 
passing  some  time  at  Owara  and  Benin,  he 
sailed  for  St.  Domingo,  and  arrived  at  Cap  Fran- 
cais  in  June,  1788.  He  remained  on  the  island 
in  various  positions  connected  with  the  govern- 
ment, until  the  overthrow  of  the  French  rule  by 
the  negroes.  Having  opposed  the  dominant 
party  he  was  obliged  to  fly,  and  escaping  with 
difficulty,  landed  at  Philadelphia  with  the  in- 
tention of  proceeding  to  France,  but  learning  that 
he  had  been  proscribed  as  an  emigrant,  remained 
in  this  country,  where  he  supported  himself  as 
a  teacher  of  languages  and  musician,  until  the 
arrival  of  the  French  minister,  Adet,  who,  him- 
self a  man  of  science,  enabled  the  botanist  to 


*  Encyc.  Amer.    Darlington's  Bartram.    Allen's  Am.  Biog. 
Diet 


580 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


resume  his  studies  in  the  new  and  inviting  field 
before  him.  He  made  several  scientific  tours 
among  and  beyond  the  Alleghanies,  and  was 
employed  to  arrange  the  collection  in  Peale's 
Museum.  On  the  receipt  of  permission  he  re- 
turned to  his  native  country,  taking  the  extensive 
collections  he  had  formed  with  him.  He  became 
a  member  of  the  Institute  in  1806,  and  died, 
January  21,  1820.  He  published  Flore  d' Oware 
et  de  Benin,  Paris.  1804-21,  2  vols,  fob;  In- 
seetes  recueillis  en  Afrxque  et  en  Amerxqxie,  1805- 
21,  fob ;  Fssai  d'urxe  nourelle  Agrostographie 
<m  Nouxeaux  Genres  des  Graminces,  1812,  4to. 
and  8vo.,  all  of  which  are  illustrated. 

James  "Woodhouse  was  born  in  Philadelphia, 
Nov.  17,  1770.  He  became  Professor  of  Chemis- 
try in  the  college  of  Philadelphia  in  1795,  and 
published  several  works  on  that  department  of 
science.     lie  died,  June  4,  1809. 

Several  of  the  other  authors  of  the  Transactions 
will  appear  at  a  later  date  as  the  founders  of  the 
Academy  of  Natural  Sciences  of  Philadelphia. 
The  chief  contributor  to  the  recent  volumes  issued 
by  the  Society,  is  Mr.  Isaac  C.  Lea.  Mr.  Lea,  a 
native  of  Pennsylvania,  has  been  long  known  as 
a  member  of  one  of  the  most  extensive  publishing 
houses  of  Philadelphia ;  and  after  a  most  success- 
ful career  in  business,  has  retired  in  favor  of  his 
son,  to  devote  the  remainder  of  his  lii'eto  a  study, 
the  pursuit  of  which  occupied  the  leisure  of  his 
earlier  years. 

His  papers  in  the  Transactions  are  very  ex- 
tensive, and  finely  illustrated ;  they  are  devoted 
to  the  description  of  the  fresh  water  and  land 
shells  chiefly  of  the  United  States,  to  the  history 
of  which  he  has  contributed  more  than  any  other 
person.  His  synopsis  of  Vnionida;  first  printed 
by  the  Society,  but  of  which  a  revised  edition 
was  published  by  the  author  in  1852,  is  at  present 
the  standard  work  for  the  classification  of  these 
objects,  and  has  elicited  many  warm  commenda- 
tions from  foreign  and  native  conehologists.  Other 
works  by  Mr.  Lea  are,  Contributions  to  Geology, 
Philadelphia,  1833,  and  various  papers  in  the 
Journal  and  Proceedings  of  the  Academy  of 
Natural  Sciences 


RUTGERS  COLLEGE. 
Tire  clergy  who  accompanied  the  early  Dutch 
emigrants  brought  with  them  the  same  love  of 
learning  which  the  Puritan  divines  had  derived 
from  the  Church  of  England.  Connected  with  an 
established  church,  within  whose  pale  they  were 
contented,  they  had  no  occasion  to  form  a  new 
organization  to  perpetuate  their  existence;  and  the 
recruits  to  their  numbers  were  drawn,  like  those 
of  the  Episcopal  clergy,  from  the  mother  coun- 
try. 

Like  the  Episcopalians,  they  soon  experienced 
the  inconvenience  of  waiting  the  arrival  of  acces- 
sions from  Europe,  or  sending  candidates  for  or- 
dination across  the  ocean.  A  party  soon  arose 
who  were  desirous  that  the  power  of  ordination 
should  be  conferred  by  the  church  in  Holland  on 
its  offspring  of  America.  This  party  was  known 
as  the  "Coetus;"  their  opponents,  who  wished 
the  old  order  of  arrangements  to  continue,  were 
known  as  the  "  Conference."  The  latter  were 
for  some  time  in  the  ascendant,  but  the  incon- 


venience, delay,  and  expense  of  the  voyage  to  and 
from  Europe,  finally  weighed  so  heavily  on  con- 
gregations as  well  as  clergy,  that  the  Coetus  party 
resolved  to  establish  a  school  of  theology  at  New 
Brunswick,  New  Jersey.  A  charter  was  obtained 
incorporating  the  institution  as  Queen's  College  in 
1770.  Its  Board  of  Trustees  met  near  the  court- 
house of  Bergen  county,  and  elected  the  Kev.  Dr. 
Jacobus  E.  Hardenbergh  the  President. 

While  this  matter  wasjn  progress  a  young  stu- 
dent of  divinity,  John  H.  Livingston,  was  pursuing 
his  studies  preparatory  to  ordination  in  Holland, 
and  obtained  from  the  Dutch  church  their  consent 
to  a  separate  organization  of  the  American  congre- 
gations on  condition  that  the}7  should  establish  a 
Theological  Professorate,"  as  the  Church  of  Hol- 
land could  not  and  would  not  acknowledge  and 
maintain  any  connexion  with  a  church  which  did 
not  provide  herself  with  an  educated  ministry."* 
Livingston  was  in  due  course  ordained,  and  on  his 
return  became  minister  of  the  Dutch  church  in 
New  York.  This  church,  which  had  never  been 
identified  with  either  of  the  contending  parties, 
at  his  suggestion  sent  forth  in  1771  a  circular 
proposing  a  general  convention  to  reconcile  the 
points  at  issue.  The  assembly  met,  the  desired 
union  was  effected,  and  Livingston  unanimously 
appointed  Professor  ot  Divinity. 

Dr.  Hardenbergh  remained  president  of  the  new 
institution,  which  flourished  under  his  care,  until 
his  death  in  1792.  The  college  then  suspended 
its  instructions  until  1807,  when  a  proposition 
was  made  and  adopted  that  the  Theological  Pro- 
fessorate should  be  united  with  the  college,  whose 
charter  provided  for  a  professorship  of  divinity' 
and  that  the  professor  should  be  appointed  presi- 
dent. The  union  was  effected,  twenty  thousand 
dollars  raised  to  endow  the  professorship  created, 
and  in  1810  Dr.  Livingston  removed  to  New 
Brunswick  and  entered  upon  his  new  duties.  The 
college  was  embarrassed  in  its  finances,  which 
were  barely  sufficient  to  sustain  "half  a  Pro- 
fessorship of  Mathematics  and  Natural  Philoso- 
phy." It  received  no  aid  from  the  state,  and  was 
frequently  compelled  during  the  presidency  of 
Livingston,  as  in  that  of  his  predecessor,  to  close 
its  doors.  Until  the  commencement  of  a  college 
building  in  1809,  its  instructions  had  been  given 
in  temporary  localities,  and  as  but  one  wing  of 
the  contemplated  edifice  was  completed  its  accom- 
modations were  limited.  Dr.  Livingston,  the 
new  president,  was  a  member  of  the  eminent  New 
York  family  of  that  name,  and  was  born  in  Pough- 
keepsie  in  1746,  and  a  graduate  of  Yale  in  1762. 
His  subsequent  history  has  ahead}'  been  given. 
He  struggled  manfully  and  hopefully  with  the 
difficulties  of  his  position,  maintaining  his  office 
as  president  with  honor  up  to  the  time  of  his 
death  in  January,  1825.  Dr.  Philip  Milledoler 
was  his  successor  in  the  presidency  and  chair  of 
theology. 

Philip  Milledoler  was  born  in  the  year  1775. 
His  parents  were  natives  of  Berne,  Switzerland, 
who  emigrated  to  this  country  in  early  life  and  set- 
tled in  New  York.  Their  son  was  graduated  at 
Columbia  College,  1792.  He  studied  theology, 
and  at  the  early  age  of  nineteen  was  called  to 
the  church  in  Nassau  between  Fulton  and  John 

*  The  Rev.  Abraham  Polhemus's  Alumni  Address,  1S52,  p.  6. 


JOHN  M.  MASON. 


581 


streets.  In  1800  lie  reTioved  to  Philadelphia, 
and  in  1805  returned  to  New  York  and  became 
pastor  of  a  newly  es  abl  shed  church  in  Rutgers 
street,  where  he  remained  until  1825.  On  the 
death  of  Dr.  Livingston  he  was  called  to  the  chair 
of  didactic  theology,  and  subse  ptcntly  to  the  Pre- 
sidency of  Rutgers  College. 

In  1835  he  resigned  his  post  in  consequence  of 
his  advancing  years,  and  the  remainder  of  his  life 
was  passed  in  retirement.  He  died  on  the  22d 
of  September,  1852,  and  on  the  following  day  his 
wire  die  I  also.  Undivided  in  death  as  in  life,  they 
were  buried  together. 

He  was  desirous  of  reviving  the  exercises  of  the 
college  which  had  been  for  some  time  suspended. 
From  the  want  of  endowment  it  was  of  course 
difficult  to  do  so.  The  difficulty  was  overcome 
in  an  ingenious  and  practical  manner.  A  second 
professorship  in  the  theological  school,  which,  al- 
though connected  with  the  college,  was  under  the 
control  of  the  General  Synod  of  the  Dutch  Re- 
formed church,  had  just  been  endowed.  Dr. 
Milledoler  proposed  that  a  similar  amount  should 
be  raised  for  a  third  professorship,  and  that  the 
three  incumbents  should  give  their  services  gra- 
tuitously to  the  college.  His  recently  appointed 
colleague,  Dr.  John  De  Witt,  warmly  seconded  the 
scheme,  a  subscription  was  started  and  the  requi- 
site means  obtained,  ten  thousand  dollars  being 
liberally  contributed  by  the  clergy  of  the  denomi- 
nation, many  of  them  the  recipients  of  but  small 
salaries.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Selah  S.  Woodhull  was 
elected  to  the  Professorship  of  Ecclesiastical  His- 
tory and  Church  Government;  but  dying  only 
thres  months  after  his  appointment,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Cannon  became  his  successor.  The  faculty  of  let- 
ters was  then  organized.  The  Professorship  of 
Moral  Philosophy  and  the  Evidences  of  Chris- 
tianity was  taken  by  the  President,  that  of  Belles 
Lettres  and  Rhetoric  by  Dr.  De  Witt,  and  that  of 
Metaphysics  and  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind 
by  Dr.  Cannon.  To  these  were  added  Robert 
Adrain,  LL.D.,  in  the  department  of  Mathematics, 
and  the  Rev.  Dr.  AV.  C.  Brownlee  in  the  Latin 
and  Greek  languages. 

The  name  of  the  college  was,  about  the  time  of 
this  reorganization,  changed  from  Queen's  to  Rut- 
gers. Dr.  Adrain  was  succeeded  in  1826  by 
The  idore  Strong,  LL.D.,  who  still  retains  the 
chair.  In  1827,  Dr.  Brownlee  accepting  a  call  to 
the  Collegiate  church  of  New  York,  was  suc- 
ceeded by  Joseph  Nelson,  LL.D.,  the  celebrated 
blind  teacher. 

"  The  last  named  Professor,"  says  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Polhemus,  "  was  at  the  time  of  his  appointment, 
and  bad  been  for  a  number  of  years,  totally  blind  ; 
but  with  great  powers  of  memory  and  thorough 
acquaintance  with  the  studies  of  his  department, 
he  conducted  the  exercises  of  his  room  to  the  very 
general  improvement  of  his  students  and  accept- 
ance of  the  Board.  I  remember  him  well ;  how 
he  would  sit,  with  his  thumb  upon  the  dial  of  his 
watch,  marking  the  minutes  as  they  passed,  allow- 
ing to  each  student  his  allotted  portion,  and  the 
facility  with  which  he  would  instantly  detect  the 
least  mistake  in  the  reading  of  the  "text  or  the 
translation.  And  I  remember,  too,  that  nice  ear 
by  which,  with  his  class  sitting  in  alphabetical 
order,  lie  would  detect  the  location  of  the  slightest 
whisper;  and  when   rebuking  an  individual  by 


name  for  the  annoyance,  it  was  rare  indeed  that 
the  person  charged  had  an  opportunity  of  entering 
a  protest  against  the  justice  of  his  suspicions."* 

On  Dr.  Nelson's  death  in  1830,  Dr.  McClelland 
succeeded  to  the  professorship;  and  in  1831,  on 
his  appointment  to  that  of  Dr.  De  Witt,  was 
succeeded  by  John  D.  Ogilby,  who  was  followed 
by  the  present  professor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Proudiit. 
On  the  resignation  of  Dr.  Milledoler  in  18-10,  the 
Hon.  A.  Brnyn  Ilasbrouck,  LL.D.,  was  made  pre- 
sident. Dr.  Ilasbrouck  resigning  in  1850,  was 
succeeded  by  the  present  head  of  the  college,  the 
Hon.  Theodore  Frelinghuysen,  LL.D. 

Theodore  Frelinghuysen  was  born  at  Millstone, 
Somerset  County,  New  Jersey,  March  28,  1787. 
He  is  the  son  of  Frederick  Frelinghuysen,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Continental  Congress,  who,  in  1777,  re~ 
I  signed  his  seat  to  join  the- army,  and  served  as 
captain  of  a  volunteer  corps  of  artillery  at  Mon- 
mouth and  Trenton,  and  during  the  remainder  of 
the  war  as  a  captain  of  militia.  In  1793  he  was 
chosen  a  Senator  of  the  United  States. 

The  son  completed  his  classical  education  at 
Princeton  in  1804,  and  then  studied  law  in  the 
office  cjjtm  elder  brother  until  he  became  of  age, 
when  he  was  admitted  to  practice.  He  followed 
the  profession  with  great  success,  and  in  1S17 
was  appointed  attorney-general  of  the  state.  He 
held  the  office  until  his  election  as  United  States 
Senator  in  1820.  He  remained  in  the  senato 
until  1835.  In  1S3S  he  was  chosen  Chancellor 
of  the  University  of  the  City  of  New  York.  In 
May,  1844,  he  was  nominated  by  the  Baltimore 
Convention  as  the  Whig  candidate  for  the  Vice- 
Presidency.  The  cry  of  Clay  and  Frelinghuysen 
will  be  long  remembered  in  the  history  of  the 
country  as  that  of  a  great  party  in  one  of  tho 
greatest  struggles  which  has  ever  preceded  a  pre- 
sidential election.  In  1850  Mr.  Frelinghuysen 
re-igned  the  chancellorship  of  the  University  in 
favor  of  the  presidency  of  Rutgers  College. 

Mr.  Frelinghuysen  is  also  at  the  head  of  the 
Board  of  Missions  and  the  Bible  Society,  esta- 
blished by  several  of  the  leading  denominations 
of  the  United  States,  and  has  throughout  his  lifo 
been  as  active  and  prominent  in  religious  and  phi- 
lanthropic as  in  political  and  academic  effort. 

The  college  has  recently  received  an  addition  to 
its  endowment  of  $28,000  from  various  donations. 
§25,000  have  also  been  contributed  to  the  samo 
ol  iject  by  the  Collegiate  church  of  the  city  of  New 
York. 

JOHN  M.  MASON. 

In  the  church  history  of  xVmcrica  there  are  few 
persons  who  have  excited  more  interest  in  their 
day  than  John  M.  Mason.     He  was  born  in  tho 

l/7  <^  i/£-  c^P^h^^^, 


city  of  New  York  March  19,  1770,  was  a  graduato 
of  Columbia  College,  and  instructed  in  theology 


*  Address  before  the  Aluumi  Association  of  Rutgers  College, 
July  27, 1S62. 


582 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


by  his  father,  a  minister  of  the  Scottish  church. 
He  continued  his  education  at  Edinburgh,  and  in 
1792  succeeded  his  father  as  preacher  in  his  church 
in  New  York.  During  his  ministerial  career  in 
the  city,  he  was  associated  from  1811  to  1816 
with  the  government  of  Columbia  College  with 
the  title  of  Provost.  The  college  statutes  adopted 
in  1811,  and  subsequently  during  his  administra- 
tion, and  the  report  in  1810  on  the  state  of  the 
college,  attributed  to  his  pen,  which  is  a  vigorous 
presentment  of  college  duties  and  discipline,  show 
his  high  qualifications  for  the  labors  of  this  office. 
He  visited  Europe  for  his  health  in  1816.  He 
suffered  after  his  return  from  paralytic  attacks, 
by  which  his  constitution  was  much  enfeebled. 
He  .was  President  of  Dickinson  College  for  three 
years  from  1821 ;  returned  to  New  York,  and  died 
December  27,  1829,  at  the  age  of  fifty -nine.  His 
reputation  for  a  certain  full,  robust  eloquence  was 
great.  He  was  powerful  as  a  preacher,  a  contro- 
versialist, and  in  his  practical  talent.  He  had  a 
controversy  with  Bishop  Hobart  in  the  "  Chris- 
tian Magazine,"  which  he  edited.  His  advocacy 
of  open  communion  gained  him  distinction  in  the 
religious  world.  His  orations  of  the  most  general 
interest  were  on  the  death  of  Washington  and  of 
Hamilton.  His  -writings,  consisting  chiefly  of  ser- 
mons, were  collected  in  four  octavo  volumes  by 
his  son.* 

Mason  meditated  a  life  of  Hamilton,  of  whose 
principles  and  character  he  was  a  great  admirer. 
Yerplanck  has  paid  a  handsome  tribute  to  his 
powers  in  a  college  oration  delivered  shortly  after 
his  death.  He  speaks  of  his  scholarship,  of  his 
"rare  union  of  intimate  acquaintance  with  books 
and  deep  learning  in  the  spirits  and  ways  of  men," 
of  his  eloquence,  "  powerful,  impressive,  peculiar, 
original,"  as'it  was  exhibited  in  his  unwritten  dis- 
courses from  the  pulpit,  where  "  he  was  wont  to 
pour  forth  the  overwhelming  opulence  of  his  mind 
in  irregular  but  magnificent  profusion,  laying  alike 
under  contribution  to  his  object,  theological  learn- 
ing, classic  lore,  and  the  literature  of  the  day; 
illustrating  the  conclusions  of  the  logician  by  acute 
observations  upon  life  and  manners ;  alternately 
convincing  the  reason,  and  searching  and  probing 
the  deep  recesses  of  the  conscience ;  now  drawing 
moral  lessons  from  the  history  of  the  long-buried 
past,  and  now  commenting  upon  the  events  or  the 
vices  of  the  day,  or  perhaps  the  follies  of  the 
hour  ;  now  lifting  aloft  the  blazing  torch  of  Chris- 
tian philosophy  to  guide  the  honest  seeker  after 
truth,  and  now  showering  his  withering  scorn 
upon  the  scoffer's  head ;  explaining,  defending, 
deducing,  enforcing  his  doctrines  or  precepts, 
sometimes  with  colloquial  familiarity,  and  then 
again  in  a  bold  and  swelling  eloquence,  which 
stirred  and  warmed  the  heart  like  the  sound  of  a 
trumpet.''t 

FROM  THE  TOTfEP.AT,  OBATTON  ON  WASHINGTON. 

The  name  of  Washington,  connected  with  all  that 
is  rnosfT brilliant  in  the  history  of  our  country  and  in 
human  character,  awakens  sensations  which  agitate 

*  The  Writings  of  the  late  John  M.  Mason,  D.D.,  consisting 
of  Sermons,  Essays,  and  Miscellanies,  including  Essays  already 
published  in  the  Christian  Magazine.  In  4  vols.,  selected  and 
arranged  by  the  Rev.  Ebenezer  Mason.  New  York.  Pub- 
lished by  the  Editor.    1832. 

t  Address  before  the  Philolexian  and  Peithologian  Societies, 
1830,  by  Gulian  C.  Yerplanck. 


the  fervors  of  youth,  and  warm  the  chill  bosom  of 
age.  Transported  to  the  times  when  America  rose 
to  repel  her  wrongs  and  to  claim  her  destinies,  a 
scene  of  boundless  grandeur  bursts  upon  our  view. 
Long  had  her  filial  duty  expostulated  with  parental 
injustice.  Long  did  she  deprecate  the  rupture  of 
those  ties  which  she  had  been  proud  of  preserving 
and  displaying.  But  her  humble  entreaty  spurned, 
aggression  fullowed  by  the  rod,  and  the  rod  by  scor- 
pions, having  changed  remonstrance  into  murmur, 
and  murmur  into  resistance,  she  transfers  her  grie- 
vances from  the  throne  of  earth  to  the  throne  of 
heaven,  and  precedes  by  an  appeal  to  the  God  of 
battles  her  appeal  to  the  sword  of  war.  At  issue 
now  with  the  mistress  of  the  seas — unfurnished  with 
equal  means  of  defence — the  convulsive  shock  ap- 
proaching— and  every  evil  omen  passing  before  her 
— one  step  of  rashness  or  of  folly  may  seal  her  doom. 
In  this  accumulation  of  trouble,  who  shall  command 
her  confidence,  and  face  her  dangers,  and  conduct 
her  cause?  God,  whose  kingdom  ruleth  over  all, 
prepares  from  afar  the  instruments  best  adapted  to 
his  purpose.  By  an  influence  which  it  would  be  as 
irrational  to  dispute  as  it  is  vain  to  scrutinize,  he 
stirs  up  the  spirit  of  the  statesman  and  the  soldier. 
Minds,  on  which  he  has  bestowed  the  elements  of 
greatness,  are  brought  by  his  providence  into  contact 
with  exigencies  which  rouse  them  into  action.  It  is 
in  the  season  of  effort  and  of  peril  that  impotence 
disappears  and  energy  arises.  The  whirlwind  which 
sweeps  away  the  glowworm,  uncovers  the  fire  of 
genius,  and  kindles  it  into  a  blaze  that  irradiates  at 
once  both  the  zenith  and  the  poles.  But  among  the 
heroes  who  sprung  from  obscurity  when  the  college, 
the  counting-house,  and  the  plough,  teemed  with 
"  thunderbolts  of  war,"  none  could,  in  all  respects, 
meet  the  wants  and  the  wishes  of  America.  She  re- 
quired, in  her  leader,  a.  man  reared  under  her  own 
eye ;  who  combined  with  distinguished  talent  a  cha- 
racter above  suspicion  ;  who  had  added  to  his  phy- 
sical and  moral  qualities  the  experience  of  difficult 
service;  a  man  who  should  concentrate  in  himself 
the  public  affections  and  confidences ;  who  should 
know  how  to  multiply  the  energies  of  every  other 
man  under  his  direction,  and  to  make  disaster  itself 
the  means  of  success — his  arm  a  fortress,  and  his 
name  a  host.  Such  a  man  it  were  almost  presump- 
tion to  expect ;  but  such  a  man  all-ruling  Heaven 
had  provided,  and  that  man  was  Washington. 

Pre-eminent  already  in  worth,  he  is  summoned  by 
his  country  to  the  pre-eminence  of  toil  and  of  danger. 
Unallured  by  the  charms  of  opulence — unappalled 
by  the  hazard  of  a  dubious  warfare — unmoved  by 
the  prospect  of  being,  in  the  event  of  failure,  the  first 
and  most  conspicuous  victim,  he  obeys  her  mandate 
because  he  loves  his  duty.  The  resolve  is  firm,  for 
the  probation  is  terrible.  His  theatre  is  a  world; 
his  charge,  a  family  of  nations;  the  interest  staked 
in  his  hands,  the  prosperity  of  millions  unborn  in 
ages  to  come.  His  means,  under  aid  from  on  high, 
the  resources  of  his  own  breast,  with  the  raw  recruits 
and  irregular  supplies  of  distracted  colonies.  0 
crisis  worthy  of  such  a  hero !  Followed  by  her  little 
bands,  her  prayers,  and  her  tears,  Washington  es- 
pouses the  quarrel  of  his  country.  As  he  moves  on 
to  the  conflict,  every  heart  palpitates  and  every  knee 
trembles.  The  foe,  alike  valiant  and  veteran,  pre- 
sents no  easy  conquest,  nor  aught  inviting  but  to 
those  who  had  consecrated  their  blood  to  the  public 
weal.  The  Omnipotent,  who  allots  great  enjoyment 
as  the  meed  of  great  exertion,  had  ordained  that 
America  should  be  free,  but  that  she  should  learn  to 
value  the  blessing  by  the  price  of  its  acquisition. 
She  shall  go  to  a  "  wealthy  place,"  but  her  way  is 
"  through  fire  and  through  water."     Many  a  gene- 


JOHN  M.  MASON. 


583 


rous  chief  must  bleed,  and  many  a  gallant  youth 
einlc,  at  his  side,  into  the  surprised  grave ;  the  field 
must  be  heaped  with  slain,  the  purple  torrent  must 
roll,  ere  tlie  angel  of  peace  descend  with  his  olive. 
It  is  here,  amid  devastation,  and  horror,  and  death, 
that  Washington  must  reap  his  laurels,  and  engrave 
his  trophies  on  the  shields  of  immortality.  Shall 
Delaware  and  Princeton?  Shall  Monmouth  and 
York  ? — But  I  may  not  particularize ;  far  less  repeat 
the  tale  which  babes  recite,  which  poets  sing,  and 
Fame  has  published  to  a  listening  world.  Every 
scene  of  his  action  was  a  scene  of  his  triumph.  Now 
he  saved  the  republic  by  more  than  Fabian  caution ; 
now  he  avenged  her  by  more  than  Carthaginian 
fierceness;  while  at  every  stroke  her  forests  and  her 
hills  re-echoed  to  her  shout,  "  The  sword  of  the  Lord 
and  of  Washington!"  Nor  was  this  the  vain  ap- 
plause of  partiality  and  enthusiasm.  The  blasted 
schemes  of  Britain,  her  broken  and  her  captive  hosts, 
proclaimed  the  terror  of  his  arms.  Skilled  were  her 
chiefs,  and  brave  her  legions  ;  but  bravery  and  skill 
rendered  them  a  conquest  more  worthy  of  Washing- 
ton. True,  he  suffered  in  his  turn  repulse,  and  even  de- 
feat. It  was  both  natural  and  needful.  Unchequered 
with  reverse,  his  story  would  have  resembled  rather 
the  fictions  of  romance  than  the  truth  of  narrative; 
and  had  he  been  neither  defeated  nor  repulsed,  we 
had  never  seen  all  the  grandeur  of  his  soul.  He  ar- 
rayed himself  in  fresh  honors  by  that  which  ruins 
even  the  great — vicissitude.  He  could  not  only 
subdue  an  enemy,  but,  what  is  infinitely  more,  he 
could  subdue  misfortune.  With  an  equanimity  which 
gave  temperance  to  victory,  and  cheerfulness  to  dis- 
aster, he  balanced  the  fortunes  of  the  state.  In  the 
face  of  hostile  prowess;  in  the  midst  of  mutiny  and 
treason  ;  surrounded  with  astonishment,  irresolution, 
and  despondence;  Washington  remained  erect,  un- 
moved, invincible.  Whatever  ills  America  might 
endure  in  maintaining  her  rights,  she  exulted  that 
she  had  nothing  to  fear  from  her  commander-in- 
chief.  The  event  justified  her  most  sanguine  pre- 
sages. That  invisible  hand  which  girded  him  at 
first,  continued  to  guard  and  to  guide  him  through 
the  successive  stages  of  the  revolution.  Nor  did  he 
account  it  a  weakness  to  bend  the  knee  in  homage 
to  its  supremacy,  and  prayer  for  its  direction.  This 
was  the  armor  of  Washington  ;  this  the  salvation  of 
bis  country. 
********  * 

It  must  ever  be  difficult  to  compare  the  merits  of 
Washington's  character,  because  he  always  ap- 
peared greatest  in  that  which  he  last  sustained. 
Yet  if  there  is  a  preference,  it  must  be  assigned  to 
the  Lieutenant-General  of  the  armies  of  America. 
Not  because  the  duties  of  that  station  were  more  ar- 
duous than  those  which  he  had  often  performed,  but 
because  it  more  full}'  displayed  his  magnanimity. 
While  others  become  great  by  elevation,  Washington 
becomes  greater  by  condescension.  Matchless  pa- 
triot! to  stoop,  on  public  motives,  to  an  inferior 
appointment*  after  possessing  and  dignifying  the 
highestorfices !  Thrice  favored  country,  which  boasts 
of  such  a  citizen  !  We  gaze  with  astonishment ;  we 
exult  that  we  are  Americans.  We  augur  every 
thing  great,  and  good,  and  happy.  But  whence  this 
sudden  horror  ?  What  means  that  cry  of  agony  ? 
Oh  !  'tis  the  shriek  of  America !  The  fairy  vision  is 
fled  :  Washington  is — no  more ! 

How  are  the  mighty  fallen,  and  the  weapons  of  war 
perished ! 

Daughters  of  America,  who  erst  prepared  the 
festal  bower  and  the  laurel  wreath,  plant  now  the 
cypress  grove,  and  water  it  with  tears. 

Horn  are  the  mighty  fallen,  and  the  weapons  of  war 
perished! 


The  death  of  Washington,  Americans,  has  revealed 
the  extent  of  our  loss.  It  has  given  us  the  final  proof 
that  we  never  mistook  him.  Take  his  affecting  tes- 
tament, and  read  the  secrets  of  his  soul.  Read  all 
the  power  of  domestic  virtue.  Read  his  strong  love 
of  letters  and  of  liberty.  Read  his  fidelity  to  repub- 
lican principle,  and  his  jealousy  of  national  character. 
Read  his  devotedness  to  you  in  his  military  bequests 
to  near  relations.  "These  swords,"  they  are  the 
words  of  Washington,  "  these  swords  are  accom- 
panied with  an  injunction  not  to  unsheathe  them  for 
the  purpose  of  shedding  blood,  except  it  be  for  self- 
defence,  or  in  defence  of  their  country  and  its  rights ; 
and  in  the  latter  case,  to  keep  them  unsheathed,  and 
prefer  falling  with  them  in  their  hands  to  the  relin- 
quishment thereof." 

In  his  acts,  Americans,  you  have  seen  the  man. 
In  the  complicated  excellence  of  character  he  stands 
alone.  Let  no  future  Plutarch  attempt  the  iniquity 
of  parallel.  Let  no  soldier  of  fortune ;  let  no  usurp- 
ing conqueror ;  let  not  Alexander  or  Csesar ;  let  not 
Cromwell  or  Bonaparte ;  let  none  among  the  dead 
or  the  living ;  appear  in  the  same  picture  with 
Washington  ;  or  let  them  appear  as  the  shade  to  his 
light. 

On  this  subject,  my  countrymen,  it  is  for  others  to 
speculate,  but  it  is  for  us  to  feel.  Yet-in  propor- 
tion to  the  severity  of  the  stroke  ought  to  be  our 
thankfulness  that  it  was  not  inflicted  sooner.  Through 
a  long  series  of  years  has  God  preserved  our  Wash- 
ington a  public  blessing ;  and  now  that  he  has  re- 
moved him  for  ever,  shall  we  presume  to  say,  Wliat 
doest  thou?  Never  did  the  tomb  preach  more  pow- 
erfully the  dependence  of  all  things  on  the  will  of 
the  Most  High.  The  greatest  of  mortals  crumble 
into  dust  the  moment  he  commands,  Return,  ye  chil- 
dren of  men.  Washington  was  but  the  instrument 
of  a  benignant  God.  He  sickens,  he  dies,  that  we 
may  learn  not  to  trust  in  men,  nor  to  make  flesh  our 
arm.  But  though  Washington  is  dead,  Jehovah 
lives.  God  of  our  fathers!  be  our  God,  and  the  God 
of  our  children  !  Thou  art  our  refuge  and  our  hope  ; 
the  pillar  of  our  strength ;  the  wall  of  our  defence, 
and  our  unfading  glory  ! 

Americans !  This  God,  who  raised  up  Washington 
and  gave  you  liberty,  exacts  from  you  the  duty  of 
cherishing  it  with  a  zeal  according  to  knowledge. 
Never  sully,  by  apathy  or  by  outrage,  your  fair  in- 
heritance. Risk  not,  for  one  moment,  on  visionary 
theories,  the  solid  blessings  of  your  lot.  To  you, 
particularly,  O  youth  of  America !  applies  the  so- 
lemn charge.  In  all  the  perils  of  your  country 
remember  Washington.  The  freedom  of  reason  and 
of  right  has  been  handed  down  to  you  on  the  point 
of  the  hero's  sword.  Guard  with  veneration  the 
sacred  deposit.  The  curse  of  ages  will  rest  upon 
you,  0  youth  of  America !  if  ever  you  surrender  to 
foreign  ambition,  or  domestic  lawlessness,  the  pre- 
cious liberties  for  which  Washington  fought,  and 
your  fathers  bled. 

I  cannot  part  with  you,  fellow-citizens,  without 
urging  the  long  remembrance  of  our  present  assem- 
bly. This  day  we  wipe  away  the  reproach  of  repub- 
lics, that  they  know  not  how  to  be  grateful.  In 
your  treatment  of  living  patriots,  recall  your  love 
and  your  regret  of  Washington.  Let  not  future  in- 
consistency charge  this  day  with  hypocrisy.  Happy 
America,  if  she  gives  an  instance  of  universal  prin- 
ciple in  her  sorrows  for  the  man,  "  first  in  war,  first 
in  peace,  and  first  in  the  affections  of  his  country !" 

JOSEPH  HOPKINSON, 
The  author  of  Hail  Columbia,  was  born  at  Phila- 
delphia, November  12,  1770.     He  was  the  son 


584 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMEEICAN  LITERATURE. 


of  Francis  Hopkinson,  of  whom  we  have  before 
spoken.  He  was  educated  at  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania,  and  studied  law  with  Judge  Wilson 
and  William  Pwawle.  He  commenced  the  practice 
of  his  profession  at  Enston;  but  soon  returned  to 
Philadelphia,  where  he  acquired  high  distinction 
as  a  lawyer.  He  was  counsel  for  Rush  in  his  li- 
bel suit  against  Cobbett;  and  for  Judge  Chase  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  on  the 
impeachment  of  that  officer  by  the  Senate.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representatives 
from  1815  to  181 9,  where  he  opposed  there-charter 
of  the  United  States  Bank,  and  maintained  a  high 
position  as  a  speaker. 


/ 


VZct^ 


After  a  three  years'  residence  at  Bordentown, 
New  Jersey,  at  the  conclusion  of  his  congressional 
career,  he  removed  again  to  Philadelphia,  where 
he  was  appointed  in  1828,  by  President  Adams, 
Judge  of  the  United  States  District  Court,  an  of- 
fice held  by  his  grandfather  under  the  British 
Crown,  and  to  which  his  father  bad  been  chosen 
on  the  organization  of  the  judiciary  in  1789.  He 
retained  this  office  until  his  death,  January  15, 
1842. 

In  addition  to  his  professional  duties,  Judge 
Hopkinson  filled  the  office  of  Vice-President  of 
the  American  Philosophical  Society  and  President 
of  the  Philadelphia  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts,  an 
institution  which  owes  its  foundation  to  Ins  exer- 
tions. He  was  a  warm  friend  of  education,  and 
delivered  several  addresses  before  literary  socie- 
ties. The  circumstances  under  which  his  famous 
national  song  was  written,  are  pleasantly  describ- 
ed by  its  author  in  answer  to  a  request  for  such 
information  made  several  years  after  its  composi- 
tion. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  SONG  OF  HAIL  COLUMBIA. 

This  Song  was  written  in  the  summer  of  1798, 
when  a  war  with  France  was  thought  to  be  inevita- 
ble, Congress  being  then  in  session  in  Philadelphia, 
deliberating  upon  that  important  subject,  and  acts 
of  hostility  having  actually  occurred.  The  contest 
between  England  and  France  was  raging,  and  the 
people  of  the  United  States  were  divided  into  par- 


ties for  the  one  side  or  the  other  ;  some  thinking  that 
policy  and  duty  required  us  to  take  part  with  re- 
publican France,  as  the  war  was  called  ;  others  were 
for  our  connecting  ourselves  with  England,  under 
the  belief  that  she  was  the  great  preservative  power 
of  good  principles  and  safe  government.  The  viola- 
tion of  our  rights  b}r  both  belligerents  was  forcing  us 
from  the  just  and  wise  policy  of  President  Washington, 
which  was  to  do  equal  justice  to  both,  to  take  part 
with  neither,  but  to  keep  a  strict  and  honest  neutra- 
lity between  them.  The  prospect  of  a  rupture  with 
France  was  exceedingly  offensive  to  the  portion  of 
the  people  which  espoused  her  cause,  and  the  vio- 
lence of  the  spirit  of  party  has  never  risen  higher, 
I  think  not  so  high,  :is  it  did  at  that  time  on  that 
question.  The  theatre  was  then  open  in  our  city: 
a  young  man  belonging  to  it,  whose  talent  was  as  a 
singer,  was  about  to  take  his  benefit.  I  had  known 
him  when  he  was  at  school.  On  this  acquaintance, 
he  called  on  me  on  Saturday  afternoon,  his  benefit 
being  announced  for  the  following  Monday.  He 
said  he  had  twenty  boxes  taken,  and  his  prospect 
was  that  he  should  suffer  a  loss  instead  of  receiving 
a  benefit  from  the  perfonnai.ee;  but  that  if  he  could 
get  a  patriotic  song  adapted  to  the  tune  of  the  "  Pre- 
sident's March,"  then  the  popular  air,  he  did  not 
doubt  of  a  full  house ;  that  the  poets  of  the  theatrical 
corps  had  been  trying  to  accomplish  it,  but  were 
satisfied  that  no  words  could  be  composed  to  suit 
the  music  of  that  march.  I  told  him  I  would  try 
for  him.  He  came  the  next  afternoon,  and  the  song, 
such  as  it  is,  was  ready  for  him.  It  was  announced 
on  Monday  morning,  and  the  theatre  was  crowded 
to  excess,  and  so  continued,  night  after  night,  for  the 
rest  of  the  whole  season,  the  song  being  encored  and 
repeated  many  times  each  night,  the  audience  joining 
in  the  chorus.  It  was  also  sung  at  night  in  the 
streets  by  large  assemblies  of  citizens,  including 
members  of  Coi  gross.  The  enthusiasm  was  general, 
and  the  song  was  heard,  I  may  say,  in  every  part  of 
the  United  States. 

The  object  of  the  author  was  to  get  up  an  Ameri- 
can spirit,  which  should  be  independent  of  and 
above  the  interests,  passions,  and  policy  of  both  bel- 
ligerents, and  look  and  feel  exclusively  for  our  own 
honour  and  rights.  Rot  an  allusion  is  made  either 
to  France  or  England,  or  the  quarrel  between  them, 
or  to  what  was  the  most  in  fault  in  their  treatment 
of  us.  Of  course  the  song  found  favour  with  both 
parties — at  least  neither  could 'disown  the  senti- 
ments it  inculcated.  It  was  truly  American  and 
nothing  eke,  a.;d  the  patriotic  feelings  of  every 
American  heart  responded  to  it. 

Such  is  the  history  of  the  soi  g,  which  has  endured 
infinitely  be\*ond  any  expectation  of  the  author,  and 
beyond  any  merit  it  can  boast  of,  except  that  of  be- 
ing truly  and  exclusively  patriotic  in  its  sentiments 
and  spirit. 

The  foregoing  was  written  (Aug.  24,  1840),  for  the 
"  Wyoming  Band"  at  Wilkesbarre,  who  had  request- 
ed the  author  to  give  them  an  account  of  the  occa- 
sion for  which  "  Hail  Columbia  "  was  composed. 

HAIL  COLUMBIA. 

Tune — "  President's  Jfarch." 
Hail,  Columbia!  happy  land  ! 
Hail,  ye  heroes!  heaven-born  band! 

Who  fought  and  bled  in  Freedom's  cause, 

Who  fought  and  bled  in  Freedom's  cause. 
And  when  the  storm  of  war  was  gone, 
Enjoy'd  the  peace  your  valour  won. 

Let  independence  be  our  boast, 

Ever  mindful  what  it  cost; 

Ever  grateful  for  the  prize, 

Let  its  altar  reach  the  slues. 


WILLIAM  MARTIN  JOHNSON. 


585 


Firm — united — let  us  be, 
Raiding  round  oar  Liberty; 
As  ii  band  ol  brothers  joiu'd, 
Peace  and  safety  we  shall  find. 

Immortal  patriots !  rise  once  more : 
Defe.id  your  rights,  defend  your  shore: 

Let  no  rude  foe,  with  impious  hand, 

Let  no  rude  foe,  with  impious  hand, 
|  Invade  the  shrine  where  sacred  lies 
Of  toil  and  blood  the  well-earu'd  prize. 

Wuile  offering  peace  sincere  and  just, 

In  Heaven  we  place  a  manly  trust, 

That  truth  and  justice  will  prevail, 

And  every  scheme  of  bondage  fail. 
Firm — united,  <fce. 

Sound,  sound,  the  trump  of  Fame! 

Let  Washington's  great  name 

Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applause, 
Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applause: 

Let  every  clime  to  Freedom  dear, 

Listen  with  a  joyful  ear. 

With  equal  skill,  and  godlike  power, 
He  goveru'd  in  the  fearful  hour 
Ol  horrid  war;  or  glides,  with  ease, 
The  happier  times  ot  honest  peace. 
Firm — united,  &a. 

Behold  the  chief  who  now  commands, 
Once  more  to  serve  his  country,  stands — 
The  mek  on  which  the  storm  will  beat; 
The  rock  on  which  the  storm  will  beat. 
But,  arnfd  in  virtue  firm  and  true, 
H.s  hopes  aie  fix'd  on  Heaven  and  you. 
When  hope  was  sinking  in  dismay, 
And  glooms  obscured  Columbia's  day, 
His  stea  ly  mind,  from  changes  free, 
Resolved  on  death  or  liberty. 
Firm — united,  ifee. 

WILLIAM  MARTIN  JOHXSON. 

In  the  village  of  Wrentham,  Mass.,  there  lived 
about  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolutionary  War  a 
sea-captain,  who  had  retired  on  a  moderate  in- 
come, by  the  name  of  Albee,  He  had  no  children 
of  his  own,  and  feeling  lonesome  in  his  isolation, 
proposed  to  a  vagabond  couple  who  were  oc- 
casionally beggars  at  his  door,  a-;  they  were  at 
the  doors  of  many  a  house  of  many  a  town  of 
Massachusetts  and  Connecticut,  to  adopt  a  bright 
looking  hoy  whom  they  carried  about  with  them, 
and  called  their  son.  The  worthy  couple  an- 
swered, in  the  intervals  when  they  were  sober 
enough  to  answer  anything,  to  the  name  of  John- 
eon.  They  accepted  the  captain's  proposal,  the 
father  with  great  joy,  the  mother  with  many 
tears,  visited  the  boy  occasionally  afterwards,  but 
finally  disappeared. 

The  captain  was  in  the  main  a  good  guardian, 
though  he  was  apt  also  to  get  drunk,  and  when 
drunk  apply  the  rope's  end  with  more  vigor  than 
discretion  about  the  person  of  young  Johnson. 
He,  however,  taught  him  all  he  knew  himself,  and 
sent  him  to  school  to  learn  more.  In  this  way  ho 
picked  up  some  Latin  and  Greek  before  his  six- 
teenth year,  when  he  was  placed  in  a  store  in 
Boston.  He  did  not  remain  long,  however,  be- 
hind the  counter,  but  commenced  business  on  his 
own  account  as  an  itinerant  schoolmaster,  now 
and  then  visiting  Wrentham,  on  one  occasion  in 
the  garb  of  a  sailor,  "  bearing,"  says  his  bio- 
grapher, "  both  in  his  dress  and  person,  marks  of 
ill-usage  at  sea."     The  following  scrap  of  verse 


found  among  his  papers,  in  his  early  hand-writing, 
probably  refers  to  this  venture. 

God's  miracles  I'll  praise  on  shore, 

And  there  his  blessings  reap; 
But  from  this  moment  seek  no  more 

His  wonders  on  the  deep. 

In  1790,  when  about  the  age  of  nineteen,  he 
was  at  the  head  of  the  village  school  of  Bridge- 
hainpton,  Long  Island.  lie  saved  a  little  money, 
and  finding  his  way  to  East  Hampton,  six:  miles 
distant,  commenced  the  study  of  medicine  with 
Dr.  Sage,  a  physician  of  that  place;  After  his 
funds  were  exhausted,  he  supported  himself  by 
working  for  a  cabinet-maker  two  days  in  the 
week,  in  payment  for  his  board  during  the  entire 
seven. 

After  two  years  at  East  Hampton,  a  good  por- 
tion of  which  seems  to  have  been  spent  in  verse 
and  love  as  well  as  cabinet-making,  Johnson  came 
to  New  York  to  seek  his  fortune.  He  continued 
the  study  of  medicine  after  his  arrival  with  Dr. 
Amasa  Dingley,  supporting  himself  as  well  as 
lie  could  as  a  writer  of  newspaper  paragraphs 
(which,  judging  from  the  meagreness  of  the  papers 
of  that  day,  must  have  afforded  equally  meagre 
means  of  sustenance),  and  as  a  teacher.  During 
this  period,  almost  of  destitution,  he  was  tempted 
by  a  publisher's  offer  to  translate  one  of  the  infi- 
del books  then  in  vogue  in  France,  the  "  Christian- 
isme  Dvoilie"  of  Bonlanger.  He  regretted  this 
act  afterwards.  "  I  do  not  believe,"  he  wrote  to 
a  friend,  "  that  Boulanger's  sentiments  c  inoernihg 
the  Christian  religion  are  just.  I  believe  the 
most  prominent  features  of  the  monster  in  ques- 
tion, are  sophistry  and  rancour."  "  Persuasion 
and  poverty,"  he  says  in  the  same  letter,  "in- 
duced me  to  translate  this  work  of  Bonlanger." 

Soon  after  this  having  in  the  meantime  nar- 
rowly escaped  death  from  an  attack  of  yellow 
fever,  he  received  a  proposal  from  Dr.  Robert 
Brownlield,  of  Georgetown,  S.  C,  to  enter  into 
a  medical  partnership  at  that  place.  He  accepted 
the  offer,  the  more  readily  as  he  was  desirous  of 
placing  himself  in  a  position  which  would  justify 
him,  by  providing  means  of  support,  in  asking 
the  hand  of  a  lady  to  whom  he  had  become  at- 
tached, and  arrived  at  the  place  in  February, 
1706.  He  was  successful  in  the  practice  of  his 
profe -si on,  and  seemed  on  the  point  of  securing 
Ids  wishes,  when  he  was  attacked  by  a  fever  in 
the  autumn  after  his  arrival.  His  constitution 
had  been  previously  impaired  by  illness,  and  lie 
remained  an  invalid  during  the  winter.  In  June 
he  was  again  seized,  and  at  last,  yielding  to  the 
entreaties  of  bis  friend  Dr.  Brownfield,  made  a 
visit  to  the  North  for  the  benefit  of  his  health. 
On  his  arrival  at  New  York  in  August,  he  went 
to  Jamaica,  Long  Island.  Here  his  old  friends 
soon  surrounded  him.  But  a  short  time  only 
remained  for  the  exercise  of  their  affection,  hii 
death  occurring  on  the  twenty-first  of  September 
following. 

Our  knowledge  of  Johnson  is  derived  from  two 
of  a  series  of  articles  by  John  Howard  Payne,  on 
"  Our  Neglected  Poets,"  to  which  we  are  also 
indebted  for  our  specimens  of  his  productions, 
few  of  which  appear  to  have  attained  the  honors 
of  newspaper,  much  less  collective  publication. 
They  deserve  a  better  fate  than  the  "  neglect" 


586 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


they  have  experienced,   for  they  display  many 
beauties  of  thought  and  expression. 

ON  A  8NOW-FLAKE  FALLING  ON  A  LADY'S  BBEAST. 

To  kiss  my  Celia's  fairer  breast, 

The  snow  forsakes  its  native  skies, 
But  proving  an  unwelcome  guest, 

It  grieves,  dissolves  in  tears,  and  dies. 

Its  touch,  like  mine,  but  serves  to  wake 
Through  all  her  frame  a  death-like  chill, — 

Its  tears,  like  those  I  shed,  to  make 
That  icy  bosom  colder  still. 

I  blame  her  not :  from  Celia's  eyes 

A  common  fate  beholders  proved — 
Each  swam,  each  fair  one,  weeps  and  dies. — 

With  envy  these,  and  those  with  love  ! 


Now  grim  amidst  his  gathering  glooms, 

Lo !  angry  AVinter  rushes  forth  : 
Destruction  with  the  despot  comes, 

And  all  the  tempests  of  the  north. 

What  time  he  thunders  o'er  the  heath, 
Each  scene,  that  charm'd,  in  terror  flies, 

Creation  feels  his  gelid  breath, 
Affrighted  nature  shrieks  and  dies. 

Perplex' d  and  sad,  these  scenes  among, 
The  pondering  soul,  with  fainting  steps. 

Quite  sick  of  being,  plods  along, 
And  o'er  the  mighty  ruin  weeps. 

Or  lifts  the  longing  eye,  and  sighs 
For  milder  climes  and  lovelier  meads, 

A  vernal  hour,  that  never  flies, 

And  flowers,  that  rear  immortal  heads; 

Where  ne'er,  unchain'd,  the  maniac  blast 

Scours  the  bleak  heavens,  with  hideous  scream  : 

Where  skies  of  sapphire,  ne'er  o'ercast, 
Incessant  pour  the  golden  beam. 


'Tis  May  !  no  more  the  huntsman  finds 

The  lingering  snow  behind  the  hill ; 
Her  swelling  bosom  pregnant  earth  unbinds, 

And  love  and  joycreation  fill. 

Over  the  glassy  streamlet's  brink, 

Young  verdures  peep,  themselves  to  view; 

At  noon  the  tipsied  insects  sit  and  drink 
From  flowery  cups  the  honeyed  dew. 

Deep  crimsoned  in  the  dyes  of  spring, 

On  every  side  broad  orchards  rise. 
Soft  waving  to  the  breeze's  balmy  wing, 

Like  dancing  lights  in  northern  skies. 

In  ditties  wild,  devoid  of  thought, 

The  robin  through  the  day  descants, 
The  pensive  whip-poor-will,  behind  the  cot 

Her  dirge,  at  evening,  sadly  ehaunts. 

Queen  of  the  months,  soft  blushing  May ! 

Forever  bright,  forever  dear, 
Oh,  let  our  prayers  prolong  thy  little  stay, 

And  exile  winter  from  the  year. 

Life,  love,  and  joy,  to  thee  belong, — 

Thee  fly  the  storm  and  lurid  cloud, 
Thou  givest  the  heavens  their  blue,  the  groves  their 
song, 

Thou  com'st,  and  nature  laughs  aloud. 

Let  prouder  swains  forsake  the  cell 

In  arms,  or  arts,  to  rise  and  shine, — 
I  blame  them  not — alas  !  I  wish  them  well — 

But  May  and  solitude  be  mine  ! 


Clad  with  the  moss  of  gathering  years, 
The  stone  of  fame  shall  moulder  down, 

Long  dried  from  soft  affection's  tears, 
Its  place  unheeded  and  unknown. 

Ah !  who  would  strive  for  fame  that  flies 
Like  forms  of  mist  before  the  gale? 

Renown  but  breathes  before  it  dies, — 
A  meteor's  path !  an  idiot's  tale  1 

Beneath  retirement's  sheltering  wing, 
From  mad  conflicting  crowds  remote, 

Beside  some  grove-encircled  spring, 
Let  wisdom  build  your  humble  cot : 

There  clasp  your  fair  one  to  your  breast, 
Your  eyes  impearl'd  with  transport's  tear, 

By  turns  caressing  and  carest, — 
Your  infant  prattlers  sporting  near. 

Content  your  humble  board  shall  dress, 
And  poverty  shall  guard  your  door, — 

Of  wealth  and  fame,  if  you  have  less 
Than  monarchs,  you  of  bliss  have  more. 

EPITAPH  ON  A  LADY. 

Here  sleep  in  dust,  and  wait  the  Almighty's  will, 
Then  rise  unehang'd,  and  be  an  angel  still. 

CHABLES  BEOCEDEN  BKOWN. 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  the  first  of  our 
novelists,  as  well  as  the  first  of  our  painters, 
should  have  sprung  from  a  sect,  which  in  princi- 
ple and  practice  manifests  a  repugnance  rather 
than  sympathy  with  the  products  of  the  imagi- 
nation. Charles  Brockden  Brown  was,  like  Ben- 
jamin West,  of  Quaker  lineage,  his  ancestors 
having  emigrated  to  Pennsylvania  in  the  same 
ship  which  brought  William  Penn  to  her  shores. 
He  was  born  in  Philadelphia  on  the  seventeenth 
of  January,  1771.  His  middle  name  was  derived 
from  his  uncle,  who  was  settled  in  this  country  at 
an  early  period,  under  somewhat  peculiar  circum- 
stances. This  relative  was  brought  up  in  Eng- 
land as  a  student  in  the  office  of  a  lawyer  who 
was  disaffected  to  the  government  of  the  reigning 
monarch,  Charles  II.  While  pursuing  his  studies 
he  accidentally  overheard  a  conversation  between 
his  employer  and  a  number  of  other  persons,  in 
which  a  plot  against  thegovernment  was  broached. 
At  the  close  of  the  conference  the  auditor  was 
discovered.  A  number  urged  that  he  should  be 
put  to  death,  but  his  life  was  spared  by  the  law- 
yer's assertion  that  the  youth  was  of  too  feeble 
intellectual  capacity  to  make  use  of  his  knowledge. 
It  was  then  decided  that  he  should  be  sent  out  of 
the  country,  but  the  project  was  not  executed 
until. some  time  after,  when  some  circumstances 
had  re-excited  the  fears  of  the  conspirators.  He 
was  shipped  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  rapidly 
rose  to  official  eminence.  He  was  the  "skilful 
conveyancer"  and  "great  scrivener"  who  drew 
up  the  articles  of  agreement  of  the  Philadelphia 
Librar}-  for  Benjamin  Franklin,  who  records  the 
fact,  in  1731. 

The  early  years  of  the  future  novelist  were 
marked  by  intellectual  precocity  and  physical 
weakness.  He  found  food  in  books  for  the  crav- 
ings caused  by  the  one,  and  a  solace  for  the  de- 
privations entailed  by  the  other.  When  but  an 
infant  he  could  be  safely  left  without  other  com- 
panion than  a  picture-book,  which  would  engross 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN. 


58T 


his  attention  so  completely  as  to  exclude  all  ideas 
of  mischief  and  apprehensions  of  danger.  A  few 
years  after  he  would  be  found  in  his  stockings 
(an  instance  of  cautious  neatness  characteristic  of 
Quaker  training)  mounted  on  a  table  in  order  to 
trace  out  the  courses  of  rivers  and  mountains,  on 
a  large  map  suspended  to  the  wall.  This  was  so 
favorite  a  study  with  him  that  at  the  age  of  ten 
he  could  answer  any  geographical  question  started 
in  the  family.  It  was  a  taste  which  continued 
through  life;  one  of  the  works  on  which  he 
was  employed  at  the  time  of  his  death  being  a 
treatise  on  this  same  subject.  General  literature 
was,  however,  equally  attractive,  as  he  devoured 
the  contents  of  every  book  he  could  lay  his 
hands  upon. 

A  characteristic  anecdote  is  related  of  him 
when  at  the  age  of  ten  years.  "  Why  does  he 
call  me  boy?"  said  he,  referring  to  a. visitor,  who 
had  just  left  the  room,  and  had  thus  addressed 
him  in  contemptuous  reproof  for  some  question  or 
remark;  "does  he  not  know  that  it  is  neither  size 
nor  age,  but  understanding,  that  makes  the  man? 
I  could  ask  him  an  hundred  questions,  none  of 
which  he  could  answer." 

At  the  age  of  eleven  he  entered  the  school  of 
Robert  Proud,  a  renowned  teacher  of  those  days. 
He  remained  here  five  years,  pursuing  classical 
studies  with  such  ardor  that  his  slight  physical 
frame  o  'ten  broke  down  under  his  exertions.  His 
periods  of  relaxation  were  not,  however,  passed  in 
inaction.  He  followed  the  good  advice  of  his 
instructor  to  turn  for  a  while  his  back  on  the  city 
as  well  as  the  school,  and  recruit  in  the  pure  coun- 
try air.  The  excursions  consequently  performed 
were  generally  pedestrian,  and  were  conducive  to 
mental  as  well  as  physical  strength ;  though,  as  he 
was  usually  without  i  companion,  they  served 
somewhat  to  confirm  bin]  in  a  reserved  habit  of 
mind.  A  passion  for  verse-making  succeeded  the 
regular  duties  of  school.  He  laid  Virgil  and 
Homer  on  the  shelf  only  to  endeavor  to  rival 
their  labors  by  his  own.  lie  had  three  historical 
poems  planned  out,  one  on  the  Discovery  of  Ame- 
rica, another  on  Oortez,  and  a  third  devoted  to 
Pizarro.  Epic  writing,  however,  happily  proved 
but  a  passing  fancy  with  him. 

One  of  his  early  poetical  attempts  met  with 
an  amusing  mishap.  It  was  an  Address  to 
Franklin,  hut  the  printer  of  the  periodical  in 
which  it  appeared  saw  fit  to  insert  through- 
out, in  place  of  the  author's  hero,  the  name 
of  Washington.  "  Washington,"  he  says  in  his 
journal,  "therefore  stands  arrayed  in  awkward 
colours.  Philosophy  smiles  to  behold  her  darling 
son;  she  turns  with  horror  and  disgust  from 
those  who  have  won  the  laurel  of  victory  in  the 
field  of  battle,  to  this,  her  favourite  candidate,  who 
had  never  participated  in  such  bloody  glory,  and 
whose  fame  was  derived  from  the  conquests  of 
philosophy  alone."  We  next  hear  of  Brown  as  a 
law  student  in  the  office  of  Alexander  Wilson,  a 
leading  member  of  the  Philadelphia  bar.  The 
study  was  as  discordant  with  his  mental  as  its 
practice  with  his  personal  habits.  He  appears, 
however,  to  have  at  first  taken  hold  of  the  pro- 
fession with  ardor  as  he  became  a  member  of  a 
law  society,  bore  a  leading  part  in  its  foren- 
sic debates,  and  was  elected  its  President.  This 
association,  however,  soon  had  a  rival  in  the  for- 


mation of  the  "  Belles  Lettres  Club,"  of  which 
Brown,  who  was  at  first  averse  to  the  project, 
soon  became  the  leader.  He  was  conscientiously 
active  in  both  of  these  associations,  and  his  deci- 
sions  in  the  cases  brought  before  the  first  named 
association  show  that  his  mind  waswell  fitted  for 
the  legal  profession.  But  directly  after  the  com- 
pletion of  one  of  these  decisions,  says  one  of  his 
friends,  "he  gave  vent  to  his  fancy  in  a  poetical 
effusion,  as  much  distinguished  by  its  wild  and 
eccentric  brilliancy  as  the  other  composition  was 
for  its  plain  sobriety  and  gravity  of  style."  This 
anecdote  shows  the  bias  of  his  tastes,  and  fore- 
shadows the  determination  arrived  at  on  the  con- 
clusion of  his  studies — the  abandonment  of  law 
for  literature. 

The  change  was  one  regretted  by  his  family, 
who  had  no  fortune  on  which  he  could  fall  back 
from  the  hazards  of  an  author's  career  for  sup- 
port; but  it  was  not  the  wilful  prosecution  of  a 
whim  on  the  part  of  Brown.  With  a  view  to 
the  improvement  of  his  style  he  had  for  some 
time  past  kept  a  daily  record  of  his  thoughts  and 
experiences,  in  which  he  copied  the  letters  he 
wrote  to  his  friends  and  those  which  he  received 
in  return — a  practice  somewhat  similar  to  that  of 
the  inveterate  journalizer,  Haydon,  the  painter, 
who  pasted  all  the  letters  addressed  to  him  in  the 
ample  pages  of  his  folio  records.  He  had  tested 
his  intellectual  powers  in  his  club  compositions, 
and  in  a  series  of  essays  under  the  appropriate 
title  of  The  Bhapsodist,  which  were  published  in 
1789  in  the  "  Columbus  Magazine."  Their  recep- 
tion had  given  him  confidence  in  his  intellectual 
resources.  A  distrust  of  his  qualifications  for  the 
more  active  legal  career  was  doubtless  an  equally 
or  more  exciting  cause  of  his  determination. 
The  decision  must,  however,  be  regarded,  as  it 
seems  to  have  afterwards  been  by  its  author,  as 
an  unfortunate  one.  The  demands  of  a  profession 
were  precisely  those  which  he  needed  to  cure  his 
shyness,  call  him  from  a  too  retired  mode  of  life, 
a  constant  habit  of  introspection  and  revery, 
which  he  indulged  to  an  injurious  extent,  and 
which  an  exclusively  literary  career  tended,  as 
I  his  works  prove,  to  foster  rather  than  combat. 

Hue  credit  must  at  the  same  time  be  given  to 
him  for  resolution  and  bravery.  He  was  not  only 
the  first  person  in  America  who  ventured  to  pur- 
sue literature  as  a  profession,  but  almost  the  first 
to  make  an  attempt  in  the  field  of  imaginative 
writing,  disconnected  with  the  advocacy  of  any 
question  of  national  or  local  interest. 

He  sought  relief  from  the  doubts  and  anxieties 
incident  to  this  change  of  his  plans  in  a  journey 
to  New  York  to  visit  his  intimate  friend  Dr. 
Elihu  Hubbard  Smith,  with  whom  he  had  become 
acquainted  while  the  latter  was  prosecuting  his 
medical  studies  at  Philadelphia.  He  was  intro- 
duced by  this  gentleman  to  William  Dunlap,  the 
painter  and  author,  and  to  most  of  the  leading 
literary  and  scientific  men  of  the  city,  many  of 
whom  met  at  a  weekly  reunion  under  the  pleasant 
title  of  the  "Friendly  Club,"*  of  which  Brown, 
who  seems  to  have  deserved  the  epithet  of  Dr. 
Johnson,  that  of  being  a  "  dutiable  man,"  soon 
became  a  member.  Owing,  doubtless,  to  the  at- 
tractiveness of  the  choice  literary  society  of  these 

Vide  ante,  p.  570. 


588 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


gentlemen,  our  author's  visits  to  New  York  were 
more  and  more  prolonged,  and  following  one  .ano- 
ther at  less  and  less  intervals,  he  virtually  became 
a  resident  of  the  city. 

A  letter  published  in  the  "  Literary  Magazine" 
written  about  this  time,  descriptive  of  a  journey 
to  Bockaway,  contains  a  pleasant  and  curious 
description  of  that  celebrated  watering-place, 
which  he  speaks  of  as  at  that  time  "a  place  of 
fashionable  resort." 

He  wrote  in  the  fall  and  winter  of  1797  a  work 
which  he  refers  to  in  his  journal  as  "  the  dialogue 
of  Alcuin,  in  which  the  topic  of  Marriage  is  dis- 
cussed with  some  degree  of  subtlety,  at  least." 
It  was  pnl  lished  in  the  same  year,  but  its  crude 
and  hazardous  theories  on  the  subject  of  divorce 
and  other  social  topics  excited  little  attention,  and 
were  abandoned  by  the  author  as  he  grew  wiser 
and  older.  He  also  speaks  in  his  journal  of 
having  commenced  a  novel  in  a  series  of  letters, 
which  was  never  completed. 

During  the  summer  of  1798  the  yellow  fever 
broke  out  in  New  York.  Brown,  unwilling  to 
lose  the  society  of  his  friend  Smith,  in  whose 
house  he  was  then  resident,  determined  to  remain 
in  the  city,  relying  for  security,  as  he  states  in  a 
letter  to  his  brother  James,  on  his  mode  of  living, 
"from  which  animal  food  and  spirituous  liquors 
are  wholly  excluded."  He  also  relied  on  the  re- 
moteness of  his  residence  from  the  infected  dis- 
trict. The  latter  advantage  was  neutralized  by 
the  humane  conduct  of  himself  and  Dr.  Smith  in 
removing  the  friend  of  the  latter,  Seandella,  an 
Italian  gentleman,  who  was  attacked  by  the  dis- 
ease, to  their  home,  where  he  soon  after  died. 
13oth  friends  caught  the  infection ;  but  Smith  fell, 
and  Drown  recovered. 

His  correspondence  bears  touching  evidence  of 
/lis  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  his  friend,  and  his  novel 
of  Arthur  Mervyn  gives  a  similar  testimony  of  the 
lasting  effect  which  his  experience  as  an  eye- 
witness of  and  sufferer  from  the  pestilence  here 
and  in  his  native  city  in  1793  made  upon  him. 

We  next  hear  of  a  magazine  projected  by 
Brown.  It  does  not  seem  to  have  got  out  of  the 
limbo  of  castle-building,  although  the  requisites 
to  insure  success  are  moderate.  They  are  thus 
stated  in  a  letter  to  bis  brother  Arnrit,  and  aro 
interesting  as  an  item  of  literary  history: 

"  Four  hundred  subscribers  will  repay  the  an- 
nual expense  of  sixteen  hundred  dollars.  As 
60on  as  this  number  is  obtained,  the  printers  will 
begin,  and  trust"  to  the  punctual  payment  of  these 
for  reimbursement.  All  above  four  hundred  will 
be  clear  profit  to  me;  one  thousand  subscribers 
will  produce  four  thousand  five  hundred  dollars, 
and  deducting  the  annual  expense  will  leave  two 
thousand  seven  hundred." 

We  find  him  in  1798  contributing  a  series  of 
papers  entitled  The  Man  at  Home  to  the  "Weekly 
Magazine,"*  a  miscellany  of  some  merit.  These 
papers  have  a  connecting  thread  of  story,  but  are 
for  the  most  part  occupied  with  reflections  on 
men  and  society.  They  extend  through  the  first 
volume,  and  are  followed  in  the  second  by  his 
novel  of  Arthur  Mervyn. 


*  The  Weekly  Magazine  of  Original  Essays.  Fndtive  Pieces, 
and  Interesting  Intelligence.  Phila. :  James  Walters.  8vo. 
pp.  82.    It  appears  to  have  been  continued  a  little  over  a  year. 


The  projected  magazine  gave  way  to  a  scries  of 
fiu'  greater  importance,  not  only  to  the  reputation 
of  the  author  but  to  that  of  the  literature  of  his 
country.  His  first  step,  however,  in  the  career 
which  was  to  make  him  famous  was  arrested  by 
an  annoying  mishap.  The  story  is  worth  relating 
as  it  shows  the  obstacles  with  which  authorship 
in  America  had  to  struggle  in  its  infancy.  Brown 
wrote  his  first  novel,  bearing  the  title  of  Sky 
Wall;  or  the  Man  Unknown  to  Himself*  The 
printer  who  had  engaged  to  print  the  work  and 
look  to  its  sale  for  his  pay,  died  when  his  ta^k 
was  nearly  completed.  His  executors  refused  to 
fulfil  the  contract  or  to  sell  the  printed  sheets  at 
the  price  the  author's  friends  offered  for  them, 
and  thus  "  Sky  Walk"  was  denied  a  terrestrial 
career.  The  f.ite  of  the  sheets  is  unknown. 
Brown,  who,  judging  from  the  number  of  his 
fragmentary  manuscripts  as  well  as  the  incom- 
plete nature  of  his  published  works,  wrote  quite 
as  much  to  please  himself  as  the  public,  did  not 
probably  take  the  matter  to  heart,  and  afterwards 
incorporated  portions  of  his  ill-fated  novel  in 
Edgar  Huntley. 


In  the  year  1798  his  Wieland  appeared.  It 
was  published  in  a  duodecimo  volume  of  some 
throe  hundred  pages  by  T.  &  J.  Swords  and  H. 
Caritat.  Its  success  was  immediate,  and  so  stimu- 
lating to  its  author  that  in  the  December  after  its 
publication  he  wrote  Ormond.  The  publication  of 
this  second  novel  in  New  York,  1799,  was  followed 
by  the  first  part  of  that  of  Arthur  Mervyn  during 
the  same  year  in  Philadelphia.  This  was  followed 
in  a  few  months  by  Edgar  Huntley,  in  1800  by 
the  second  part  of  Arthur  Mervyn,  and  in  the 
next  year  by  Olara  Howard  and  Jane  Talbot. 
His  literary  labors  at  this  period  seem  to  have 
been  interrupted  only  by  a  short  visit  to  some 
friends  at  Middletown,  Connecticut,  in  June, 
1799  ;  by  a  similar  excursion  to  Princeton,  New 
Jersey,  to  meet  his  eldest  brother,  whose  ordinary 
residence  was  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  and  a 


*  The  "  proposals"  for  publication  appear  on  the  cover  of  tho 
Weekly  Magazine,  published  in  Philadelphia  in  1798. 


CHAKLE3  BROCKDEN  BROWN. 


589 


tour  of  a  few  weeks  in  the  summer  of  1801,  up 
the  Hudson,  through  Massachusetts  to  Northamp- 
ton, and  thence  by  Hartford  and  New  Haven  to 
New  York. 

This  rapid  succession  of  fictitious  narratives  is 
almost  unexampled  in  literary  history,  but  does 
not  seem  to  have  satisfied  the  intellectual  activity 
of  their  author.  In  the  month  of  April,  1799, 
he  carried  out  his  favorite  plan  of  a  periodical  by 
the  issue  in  New  York  of  No.  1  of  the  Monthly 
Magazine  and  American  Review.  He  was  the 
chief  contributor  to  its  pages,  but  it  does  not 
seem  to  have  met  a  success  equal  to  his  novels,  as 
it  closed  with  the  century  in  1800.  A  second 
attempt  wis  more  permanent;  The  Literary 
Magazine  and  American  Register  started  in  Oc- 
tober, 1803,  in  Philadelphia,  where  its  projector 
was  again  a  resident,  having  been  continued  for 
five  years. 

In  1803  he  also  published  the  first  of  several 
political  essays,  that  on  the  Cession  of  Louisiana, 
to  France,  in  which  he  advocated  the  purchase 
of  that  region  by  the  United  States,  and  the  pro- 
gressive territorial  extension  of  the  Union,  in  ani- 
mated and  earnest  language.  In  November,  1804, 
ho  married  Miss  Elizabeth  Linn,  daughter  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  William  Linn,  of  New  York. 

Brown,  whose  mind  seenn  to  have  been  at  all 
times  clear  and  practical  with  regard  to  the 
duties  of  life,  aware,  perhaps,  of  the  limited  scope 
of  his  novels,  and  finding  himself  breaking  loose 
from  the  peculiarities  of  mental  existence  to 
wh'ich  they  owe  their  power  as  well  as  their  indi- 
viduality, applied  himself  to  graver  though  less 
ambitious  labor,  and  devoted  himself,  after  his 
marriage,  with  increased  energy  to  his  literary 
career.  He  projected,  and  by  the  aid  of  Mr.  Con- 
rad, the  active  publisher  of  his  Magazine,  issued 
in  1806  the  first  volume  of  the  "American  Regis- 
ter." This  was  the  first  publication  of  its  kind 
which  appeared  in  the  country.  It  contained 
European  and  American  annal  <,  Review  of  Lite- 
rature, Foreign  and  American  State  papers,  Mis- 
cellaneous articles,  an  American  Obituary,  and  a 
Chronicle,  consisting  of  a  large  number  of  brief 
articles.  The  narrative  portions  are  excellent. 
This  series  was  continued  in  semi-annual  volumes, 
interrupted  only  by  the  death  of  its  author  five 
years  afterwards. 

A  second  political  pamphlet  appeared  about 
this  time  on  the  Jay  Treaty,  rejected  by  Jefferson. 
A  third,  entitled  An  Address  to  the  Congress  of 
the  United  States  on  the  utility  and  justice  of 
restrictions  upon  Foreign  Commerce,  with  reflec- 
tions on  Foreign  Trade  in  general  and  thefalure 
prospects  of  America,  was  published  in  1809. 

He  also  planned  a. system  of  general  geography, 
which,  with  the  exception  of  the  part  relating  to 
the  United  States,  was  completed  at  the  time  of 
his  death.  It  has  never  been  published,  but  is 
said  by  hi3  biographers  to  have  been  admirably 
executed.  He  also  "  made  considerable  progress 
in  a  work  on  Rome  during  the  Age  of  the  Anto- 
nines,  similar  to  Anacharsis'  Travels  in  Greece."* 

In  addition  to  these  MSS.  he  left  behind  him 
a  number  of  elaborately  executed  architectural 
drawings,  a  study  which  was  always  a  favorite 
one  with  him. 

*  Life  prefixed  to  tho  edition  of  his  novels,  1S27. 


In  reading  of  such  a  constant  series  of  impor- 
tant intellectual  productions  we  are  in  danger  of 
forgetting  that  their  author  was  a  man  weak  in 
body  though  strong  in  mind.  It  was  doubtless 
solely  in  consequence  of  the  strict  regime*  of  his 
life  that  he  was  enabled  to  resist  the  attacks  of 
disease  which,  as  we  have  seen,  had  seized  upon 
him  almost  at  his  birth,  until  his  thirty-ninth 
year.  "  When,"  says  he,  in  a  letter  written  to  a 
friend  about  this  period,  "have  I  known  that 
lightness  and  vivacity  of  mind,  which  the  divine 
flow  of  health,  even  in  calamity,  produces  in  some 
men!  Never — scarcely  ever.  Not  longer  than 
half  an  hour  at  a  time,  since  I  have  called  myself 
man."  In  order  to  combat  the  now  rapidly  ad- 
vancing strides  of  consumption  he  was  induced 
to  lay  aside  his  books,  as  years  ago  in  his  school- 
boy days  he  had  been  forced  to  lay  aside  tho 
books  of  others,  for  a  journey  from  home.  He 
accordingly  made  a  brief  visit  to  New  York, 
stopping  at  several  points  in  the  state  of  New 
Jersey.  This  was  in  the  summer  of  1809.  On 
the  tenth  of  November  in  the  same  year  he  took 
to  his  bed  "  with  a  violent  pain  in  his  side  for 
which  he  was  bled" — -and  was  confined  to  his 
room  until  his  death  on  the  twentj'-second  of 
February  following.  The  gentleness  and  equa- 
nimity of  his  life  did  not  desert  him  at  its  close. 
Though  often  tortured  by  disease  he  conversed 
cheerfully  with  his  wife  and  friends,  and  retained 
full  possession  of  his  faculties  to  the  last. 

Brown  describes  himself  as  "  mute  among 
strangers."  Like  many  persons  of  reserved  habits 
he  took  intense  enjoyment  in  the  society  of  his 
intimate  friends.  His  stationary  mode  of  life 
shows  that  he  had  little  of  the  spirit  of  adven- 
ture. "  I  would  rather,"  he  says,  "  consort  for  ever 
with  a  ploughman  or  even  an  old  Bergen  market- 
woman,  than  expose  myself  to  an  hundredth  part 
of  the  perils  which  beset  the  heels  of  a  Ledyard 
or  a  Park."  He  was  careless  of  his  money,  and 
slovenly  in  dress.  His  description  of  Mervyn  has 
been  well  applied  by  his  biographer,  Dunlap,  to 
himself.  "  My  existence  is  a  series  of  thoughts, 
rather  than  of  motions.  Ratiocination  and  deduc- 
tion leave  my  senses  unemployed."  He  appears 
to  have  had  but  little  sympathy  with  the  Quakers. 
"  The  truth  is,"  he  says,  "  I  am  no  better  than  an 
outcast  of  that  unwarlike  sect."  His  religious 
views  were  unsettled  in  the  early  period-  of  his 
life,  but  in  tho  preface  to  his  Magazine  he  empha- 
tically professes  his  faith  in  Christianity.  His 
moral  character  was  unexceptionable.  He  was 
much  beloved  by  his  friends  and  relatives,  and 
was  liberal  notwithstanding  his  poverty,  receiv- 
ing his  sisters-in-law,  on  their  father's  death,  into 
his  own  family.  In  person,  Brown  was  tall  and 
strongly  framed,  but  extremely  thin.  His  com- 
plexion was  pale  and  sallow,  his  hair  straight  and 
black.  The  expression  of  his  face  was  strongly 
marked  with  melancholy.  "I  saw  him,"  says 
Sully,  the  painter,  "  a  little  before  his  death.  I 
had  never  known  him — never  heard  of  him — 
never  read  any  of  his  works.  He  was  in  a  deep 
decline.     It  was  in  the  month  of  November — our 


*  Brown  was  an  abstinent  from  spirituous  liquors  longbefore 
th  J  date  of  temperance  societies,  and  was  equally  simple  in  his 
diet.  In  one  of  his  magazines  he  has  written  papers  on  the 
deleterious  effect  of  intemperance,  and  of  the  uso  of  greasy 
articles  of  food. 


590 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Indian  summer — when  the  air  is  full  of  smoke. 
Passing  a  window  one  day,  I  was  caught  by  the 
sight  of  a  man,  with  a  remarkable  physiognomy, 
writing  at  a  table  in  a  dark  room.  The  sun 
shone  direotly  upon  his  head.  I  never  shall  for- 
get  it.  The  dead  leaves  were  falling  then — it 
was  Charles  Broekden  Brown."  "  Brown  lived 
in  Philadelphia,"  says  John  Neal,  who  furnishes 
this  anecdote,  "in  Eleventh,  between  Walnut 
and  Chesnut  streets,  in  a  low,  dirty,  two-story 
brick  house,  standing  a  little  in  from  the  street 
— with  never  a  tree  nor  a  shrub  near  it." 
His  novels,  though  successful,  probably  added 
little  to  his  financial  resources.  He  says  in  one 
of  his  letters  to  his  brother,  James  Brown,  dated 
New  York,  April,  1800,  "  Bookmaking,  as  you 
observe,  is  the  dullest  of  all  trades,  and  the  most 
that  any  American  can  look  for  in  his  native 
country  is  to  be  reimbursed  for  his  unavoidable 
expenses.  *  *  The  saleability  of  my  works  will 
much  depend  upon  their  popularity  in  England, 
whither  Caritat  has  carried  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  Wieland,  Ormond,  and  Mervyn." 

The  novels  were  reprinted  and  well  received  in 
England,  though  we  are  not  aware  that  the 
author  ever  derived  any  pecuniary  advantage 
from  their  success.  Arthur  Mervyn  and  Edgar 
Huntley  have  taken  a  place  in  Bentley's  Library 
of  Standard  Romance. 

Brown  entertained  a  moderate  estimate  of  his 
own  literary  powers.  In  the  prospectus  to  his 
"Literary  Magazine,"  issued  October,  1803,  he 
says — "  I  shall  take  no  pains  to  conceal  my  name. 
Anybody  may  know  it  who  chooses  to  ask  me  or 
my  publisher.  I  shall  not,  however,  put  it  at  the 
bottom  of  this  address.  My  diffidence,  as  my 
friends  would  call  it,  and  my  discretion,  as  my 
enemies  (if  I  have  any)  would  term  it,  hinders 
me  from  calling  out  my  name  in  a  crowd.  *  * 
I  am  far  from  wishing,  however,  that  my  readers 
should  judge  of  my  exertions  by  my  former  ones. 
I  have  written  much,  but  take  much  blame  to 
myself  for  something  which  I  have  written,  and 
take  no  praise  for  anything.  I  should  enjoy  a 
larger  share  of  my  own  respect,  at  the  present 
moment,  if  nothing  had  ever  flowed  from  my  pen, 
the  production  of  which  could  be  traced  to  me. 
A  variety  of  causes  induce  me  to  form  such  a 
wish,  but  I  am  principally  influenced  by  the  con- 
sideration that  time  can  scarcely  fail  of  enlarging 
and  refining  the  powers  of  a  man ;  while  the 
world  is  sure  to  judge  of  his  capacities  and  prin- 
ciples at  fifty  from  what  he  has  written  at  fifteen." 
He  was  not,  however,  insensible  to  the  pleasure 
of  success.  In  a  letter  to  his  brother,  dated  Feb. 
15,  1799,  almost  the  only  one  in  which  he  alludes 
to  the  success  of  his  literary  attempts,  he  says, 
"  I  add  somewhat,  though  not  so  much  as  I  might 
if  I  were  so  inclined,  to  the  number  of  my  friends. 
I  find  to  be  the  writer  of  Wieland  and  Ormond  is 
a  greater  recommendation  than  I  ever  imagined 
it  would  be." 

Caleb  Williams  was  published  in  1794.  Wie- 
land appeared  four  years  later.  There  is  an  un- 
doubted resemblance  between  this  and  Brown's 
other  novels  and  that  of  Godwin.  That  Brown 
admired  Caleb  Williams  is  amply  proved  by  his 
letter  to  his  brother,  in  which  he  speaks  of  its 
"transcendent  merits  as  compared  to  the  mass  of 
novels."     The  two  authors  were  alike  in  their 


earnestness  and  directness,  and  in  their  sombre 
views  of  society.  They  both  relied  more  on  the 
development  of  a  story,  the  working  out  of  an 
idea,  than  on  the  exhibition  of  character.  There 
is  also  some  similarity  of  style.  Here,  however, 
the  resemblance  ceases.  Caleb  Williams  is  writ- 
ten to  expose  the  evils  of  the  social  system  of 
England,  and  of  the  exaggerated  ideas  of  perso- 
nal honor  derived  from  the  times  of  chivalry 
working  on  a  noble  but  morbidly  sensitive  hero. 
Wieland  is  a  fanciful  attempt  to  illustrate  the 
effects  which  might  be  produced  by  the  compara- 
tively trifling  agency  of  ventriloquism.  One  deals, 
as  its  title  faithfully  promises,  with  "  things  as 
they  are" — the  other  tries  to  trick  us  into  a  belief 
in  the  supernatural,  though  not  actually  deserting 
the  regions  of  the  real — scenes,  incidents,  charac- 
ters, results,  are  all  different. 

In  writing  Wieland,  Brown  seems  to  have 
taken  a  lesson  from  the  laboratories  of  his  nume- 
rous medical  friends,  rather  than  from  any  literary 
model.  He  probably  derived  the  opening  inci- 
dent, the  destruction  of  the  elder  Wieland  by 
spontaneous  combustion,  from  the  doctors.  As 
he  continues  his  characters  are  passive  matter  in 
his  hands.  He  troubles  himself  little  if  any  to 
individualize.  They  are  nothing  apart  from  the 
circumstances  which  surround  them.  It  is  only 
when  brought  into  conjunction  in  the  lonety  coun- 
try-house, like  the  contents  of  the  crucible,  that 
they  show  their  latent  virtues,  and  like  these  too 
they  are  well  nigh  absorbed  in  the  result.  The 
incidents  of  the  tale  are  equally  faulty.  The 
supernatural  voice  whose  monitions  lead  Wieland 
to  immolate  wife  and  children,  turns  out  to  be 
the  miserable  trickery  of  the  "  biloquist"  Carwi.i, 
who,  commencing  the  purposeless  annoyance  of 
a  family  of  strangers,  has  not  the  courage  to 
avow  his  tricks  until  after  they  have  led  to  this 
bloody  catastrophe.  With  all  its  improbabilities, 
however,  the  tale  enforces  the  breathless  attention 
of  the  reader  from  beginning  to  end. 

Brown  was  sensible  of  the  abruptness  of  the 
introduction  of  Carwin,  and  to  mend  the  matter 
commenced  the  memoirs  of  the  early  career  of 
this  mysterious  and  disagreeable  personage  in  tho 
"Literary  Magazine."  He  abandoned  the  plan 
after  writing  a  few  chapters  which  have  no  con- 
nexion whatever  with  the  story  they  were  in- 
tended to  complete,  except  in  the  relation  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  "  biloquist"  becomes  sensi- 
ble of  his  peculiar  powers. 

The  other  novels  have  a  mere  real  though  not 
less  intense  interest.  They  introduce  us  to  a 
somewhat  wider  range  of  characters,  men  of 
mixed  and  complicated  natures,  not  the  blind 
slaves  and  passive  agents  of  a  single  idea.  They 
bring  us,  too,  to  the  city,  but  it  is  most  often 
to  the  city  in  its  plague-stricken  agonies,  when 
its  streets  are  almost  as  desolate  as  the  fron- 
tier settlement  and  wooded  fastnesses  in  which 
the  author  delights.  We  have  little  of  the 
domestic  life  either  of  city  or  country.  There  is 
scarcely  any  dialogue  to  stay  the  stern  progress 
of  events — the  characters  are  more  disposed  to 
soliloquize  than  to  talk.  We  have  few  glimpses 
of  indoor  comfort  in  mansion  or  cottage,  no 
peaceful  views  of  smiling  landscape.  Brown  can 
depict  natural  scenery,  and  does  it  too  with  a  firm 
and  bold  hand,  but  his  pictures  have  more  of  Sal- 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN. 


591 


vator  than  of  Claude.  In  the  -wild  scenery  of 
Pennsylvania,  in  the  then  wilderness  of  the  Forks 
of  the  Delaware,  he  is  as  much  at  home  as  among 
the  right  angles  of  his  native  city.  In  Edgar 
Huntley  ho  has  given  full  scope  to  his  love  of 
natural  scenery.  The  strange  wild  ramble  of  the 
somnambulist  through  cave,  forest,  and  river,  is 
full  of  fine  description,  though  the  varying  scene 
is  suggested  rather  than  portrayed.  The  adven- 
tures with  the  cougar  and  the  Indians  in  the  same 
story  are  wonderfully  animated  ;  anticipating  and 
foreshadowing  the  more  elaborate  efforts  of  the 
great  successor  of  the  first  American  novelist. 

FIEST  APPEARANCE  OP  CARWIN — FROM  WIELAND. 

One  sunny  afternoon,  I  was  standing  in  the  door 
of  my  house,  when  I  marked  a  person  passing  close 
to  the  edge  of  the  bank  that  was  in  front.  His  pace 
was  a  careless  and  lingering  one,  and  had  none  of 
that  gracefulness  and  case  which  distinguish  a  per- 
son with  certain  advantages  of  education  from  a 
clown.  His  gait  was  rustic  and  awkward.  His 
form  was  ungainly  and  disproportioned.  Shoulders 
broad  and  square,  breast  sunken,  his  head  drooping, 
his  bod}*  of  uniform  breadth,  supported  by  long  and 
lank  legs,  were  the  ingredients  of  his  frame.  His 
garb  was  not  ill  adapted  to  such  a  figure.  A 
slouched  hat,  tarnished  by  the  weather,  a  coat  of 
thick  grey  cloth,  cut  and  wrought,  as  it  seemed,  by 
a  country  tailor,  blue  worsted  stockings,  and  shoes 
fastened  by  thongs,  and  deeply  discolored  by  dust, 
which  brush  had  never  disturbed,  constituted  his 
dress. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  these  appear- 
ances ;  they  were  frequently  to  be  met  with  on  the 
road,  and  in  the  harvest  field.  I  cannot  tell  why  I 
gazed  upon  them,  on  this  occasion,  with  more  than 
ordinary  attention,  unless  it  were  that  such  figures 
were  seldom  seen  by  me,  except  on  the  road  or 
field.  This  lawn  was  only  traversedby  men  whoso 
views  were  directed  to  the  pleasures  of  the  walk,  or 
the  grandeur  of  the  scenery. 

He  passed  slowly  along,  frequently  pausing,  as  if 
to  examine  the  prospect  more  deliberately,  but  never 
turning  his  eye  towards  the  house,  so  as  to  allow 
me  a  view  of  his  countenance.  Presently,  he  entered 
a  copse  at  a  small  distance,  and  disappeared.  My 
eye  followed  him  while  he  remained  in  sight.  If 
his  image  remained  for  any  duration  in  my  fancy 
after  his  departure,  it  was  because  no  other  object 
occurred  sufficient  to  expel  it. 

I  continued  in  the  same  spot  for  half  an  hour, 
vaguely,  and  by  fits,  contemplating  the  image  of 
this  wanderer,  and  drawing,  from  outward  appear- 
ances, those  inferences,  with  respe  t  to  the  intellec- 
tual history  of  this  person,  which  experience  affords 
us.  I  reflected  on  the  alliance  which  commonly 
subsists  between  ignorance  and  the  practice  of  agri- 
culture, and  indulged  myself  in  airy  speculations  as 
to  the  influence  of  progressive  knowledge  in  dissolv- 
ing this  alliance,  and  embodying  the  dreams  of  the 
poets.  I  asked  why  the  plough  and  the  hoe  might 
not  become  the  trade  of  every  human  being,  and 
how  this  trade  might  be  made  conducive  to,  or,  at 
least,  consistent  with  the  acquisition  of  wisdom  and 
eloquence. 

Weary  with  these  reflections,  I  returned  to  the 
kitchen  to  perform  some  household  office.  I  had 
usually  but  one  servant,  and  she  was  a  girl  about 
my  own  age.  I  was  busy  near  the  chimuey, 
and  she  was  employed  near  the  door  of  the  apart- 
ment, when  some  one  knocked.  The  door  was 
opened  by  her,  and  she  was  immediately  addressed 
with — "  Pr'ythee,  good  girl,   canst  thou  supply  a 


thirsty  man  with  a  glass  of  buttermilk  V  She 
answered  that  there  was  none  in  the  house.  "Aye, 
but  there  is  some  in  the  dairy,  yonder.  Thou 
knowest  as  well  as  I,  though  Hermes  never  taught 
thee,  that  though  every  dairy  be  a  house,  every 
house  is  not  a  dairy."  To  this  speech,  though  she 
understood  only  a  part  of  it,  she  replied  by  repeat- 
ing her  assurances,  that  she  had  none  to  give. 
"  Well,  then,"  rejoined  the  stranger,  "  for  charity's 
sweet  sake,  hand  me  forth  a  cup  of  cold  water." 
The  girl  said  she  would  go  to  the  spring  and  fetch 
it.  ".  Nay,  give  me  the  cup,  and  suffer  me  to  help 
myself.  Neither  manacled  nor  lame,  I  should  merit 
burial  in  the  maw  of  carrion  crows,  if  I  laid  this 
task  upon  thee."  She  gave  him  the  cup,  and  he 
turned  to  go  to  the  spring. 

I  listened  to  this  dialogue  in  silence.  The  words 
uttered  by  the  person  without,  affected  me  as  some- 
what singular,  but  what  chiefly  rendered  them  re- 
markable, was  the  tone  that  accompanied  them.  It 
was  wholly  new.  My  brother's  voice  and  Pleyel's 
were  musical  and  energetic.  I  had  fondly  imagined, 
that,  in  this  respect,  they  were  surpassed  by  none. 
Now  my  mistake  was  detected.  I  cannot  pretend 
to  communicate  the  impression  that  was  made  upon 
me  by  these  accents,  or  to  depict  the  degree  in 
which  force  and  sweetness  were  blended  in  them. 
They  were  articulated  with  a  distinctness  that  was 
unexampled  in  my  experience.  But  this  was  not 
all.  The  voice  was  not  only  mellifluent  and  clear, 
but  the  emphasis  was  so  just,  and  the  modulation  so 
impassioned,  that  it  seemed  as  if  a  heart  of  stone 
could  not  fail  of  being  moved  by  it.  It  imparted  to 
me  an  emotion  altogether  involuntary  and  incon- 
trollable.  When  he  uttered  the  words,  "  for  charity's 
sweet  sake,"  I  dropped  the  cloth  that  I  held  in  my 
hand,  my  heart,  overflowed  with  sympathy,  and  my 
eyes  with  unbidden  tears. 

This  description  will  appear  to  you  trifling  or 
incredible.  The  importance  of  these  circumstances 
will  be  manifested  in  the  sequel.  The  manner  in 
which  I  was  affected  on  this  occasion,  was,  to  my 
own  apprehension,  a  subject  of  astonishment.  The 
tones  were  indeed  such  as  I  never  heard  before;  but 
that  they  should,  in  an  instant,  as  it  were,  dissolve 
me  in  tears,  will  not  easily  be  believed  by  others, 
and  can  scarcely  be  comprehended  by  myself. 

It  will  be  readily  supposed  that  I  was  somewhat 
inquisitive  as  to  the  person  and  demeanor  of  our 
visitant.  After  a  moment's  pause,  I  stepped  to  the 
door  and  looked  after  him.  Judge  my  surprise, 
when  I  beheld  the  self-same  figure  that  had  appeared 
a  half  hour  before  upon  the  bank.  My  fancy  had 
conjured  up  a  very  different  image.  A  form,  and 
attitude,  and  garb,  were  instantly  created  worthy 
to  accompany  such  elocution  ;  but  this  person  was, 
in  all  visible  respects,  the  reverse  of  this  phantom. 
Strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  could  not  speedily  recon- 
cile myself  to  this  disappointment.  Instead  of 
returning  to  my  employment,  I  threw  myself  in  a 
chair  that  was  placed  opposite  the  door,  and  sunk 
into  a  fit  of  musing. 

My  attention  was,  in  a  few  minutes,  recalled  by 
the  stranger,  who  returned  with  the  empty  cup  in 
his  hand.  I  had  not  thought  of  the  circumstance,  or 
should  certainly  have  chosen  a  different  seat.  Ho 
no  sooner  showed  himself,  than  a  confused  sense  of 
impropriety,  added  to  the  suddenness  of  the  inter- 
view, for  which,  not  having  foreseen  it,  I  had  made 
no  preparation,  threw  me  into  a  state  of  the  most 
painful  embarrassment.  He  brought  with  him  a 
placid  brow ;  but  no  sooner  had  he  cast  his  eyes  upon 
me  than  his  face  was  as  glowingly  suffused  as  my 
own.  He  placed  the  cup  upon  the  bench,  stammered 
out  thanks,  and  retired. 


592 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


It  was  6ome  time  before  I  could  recover  my 
■wonted  composure.  I  had  snatched  a  view  of  the 
stranger's  countenance.  The  impression  that  it 
made  was  vivid  and  indelible.  His  cheeks  were 
pallid  and  lank,  his  eyes  sunken,  his  forehead  over- 
shadowed by  coarse  straggling  hairs,  his  teeth  large 
and  irregular,  though  sound  and  brilliantly  while, 
and  his  chin  discolored  by  a  tetter.  His  skin  was  of 
coarse  grain,  and  sallow  hue.  Every  feature  was 
wide  of  beauty,  and  the  outline  of  his  face  reminded 
you  of  an  inverted  cone. 

And  yet  his  forehead,  so  far  as  shaggy  locks  would 
allow  it  to  be  seen,  his  eyes  lustrously  black,  and 
possessing,  in  the  midst  of  haggardness,  a  radiance 
inexpressibly  serene  and  potent,  and  something  in 
the  rest  of  his  features,  which  it  would  be  in  vain  to 
describe,  but  which  served  to  betoken  a  mind  of  the 
highest  order,  were  essential  ingredients  in  the  por- 
trait. This,  in  the  effects  which  immediately  flowed 
from  it,  I  count  among  the  most  extraordinary  in- 
cidents of  my  life.  This  face,  seen  for  a  moment, 
continued  for  hours  to  occupy  my  fancy,  to  the 
exclusion  of  almost  every  other  image.  I  had  pur- 
posed to  spend  the  evening  with  my  brother,  but  I 
could  not  resist  the  inclination  of  foi-ming  a  sketch 
upon  paper  of  this  memorable  visage.  Whether 
my  hand  was  aided  by  any  peculiar  inspiration,  or 
I  was  deceived  by  my  own  fond  conceptions,  this 
portrait,  though  hastily  executed,  appeared  unexcep- 
tionable to  my  own  taste. 

I  placed  it  at  all  distances,  and  in  all  lights ;  my 
eyes  were  riveted  upon  it.  Half  the  night  passed 
away  in  wakefulness  and  in  contemplation  of  this 
picture.  So  flexible,  and  yet  so  stubborn,  is  the 
human  mind.  So  obedient  to  impulses  the  most 
transient  and  brief,  and  yet  so  unalterably  ob- 
servant of  the  direction  which  is  given  to  it! 
How  little  did  I  then  foresee  the  termination  of 
that  chain,  of  which  this  may  be  regarded  as  the 
first  link  ? 

YELLOW  FEVEE  SCENES  IN  PHILADELPHIA,  1793 — FEOM  AETIIUR 
HF.EVYN. 

In  proportion  as  I  drew  near  the  city,  the  tokens 
of  its  calamitous  condition  became  more  apparent. 
Every  farm-house  was  filled  with  supernumerary 
tenants ;  fugitives  from  home ;  and  haunting  the 
skirts  of  the  road,  eager  to  detain  every  passenger 
with  inquiries  after  news.  The  passengers  were 
numerous;  for  the  tide  of  emigration  was  by  no 
means  exhausted.  Some  were  on  foot,  bearing  in 
their  countenances  the  tokens  of  their  recent  terror, 
and  filled  with  mournful  reflections  on  the  forlorn- 
ness  of  their  state.  Few  had  secured  to  themselves 
an  asylum ;  some  were  without  the  means  of  paying 
for  victuals  or  lodging  for  the  coming  night;  oihers, 
who  were  not  thus  destitute,  37et  knew  not  whither 
to  apply  for  entertainment,  every  house  being 
already  overstocked  with  inhabitants,  or  barring  its 
inhospitable  doors  at  their  approach. 

Families  of  weeping  mothers,  and  dismayed  chil- 
dren, attended  with  a  few  pieces  of  indispensable 
furniture,  were  carried  in  vehicles  of  every  form. 
The  parent  or  husband  had  perished;  and  the  price 
of  some  moveable,  or  the  pittance  handed  forth  by 
public  charity,  had  been  expended  to  purchase  the 
means  of  retiring  from  this  theatre  of  disasters; 
though  uncertain  and  hopeless  of  accommodation  in 
the  neighboring  districts. 

Between  these  and  the  fugitives  whom  curiosity 
had  led  to  the  road,  dialogues  frequently  took  place, 
to  which  I  was  suffered  to  listen.  From  every 
mouth  the  tale  of  sorrow  was  repeated  with  new 
aggravations.  Pictures  of  their  own  distress,  or  of 
tliat  of  their  neighbors,  were  exhibited  in  all  the 


hues  which  imagination  can  annex  to  pestilence  and 
poverty. 

My  preconceptions  of  the  evil  now  appeared  to 
have  fallen  short  of  the  truth.  The  dangers  into 
which  I  was  rushing,  seemed  more  numerous  and 
imminent  than  I  had  previously  imagined.  I  wavered 
not  in  my  purpose.  A  panic  crept  to  my  heart, 
which  more  vehement  exertions  were  necessary  to 
subdue  or  control;  but  I  hai bored  not  a  momentary 
doubt  that  the  course  which  1  had  taken  was  pre- 
scribed by  duty.  Theie  was  no  difficulty  or  reluc- 
tance in  proceeding.  All  for  which  my  efforts  were 
demanded,  was  to  walk  in  this  path  without  tumult 
or  alarm. 

Various  circumstances  had  hindered  me  from  set- 
ting out  upon  this  journey  as  early  as  was  proper. 
My  frequent  pauses  to  listen  to  the  narratives  of 
travellers,  contributed  likewise  to  procrastination. 
The  sun  had  nearly  set  before  I  reached  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  city.  I  pursued  the  track  which  I  had 
j  formerly  taken,  and  entered  High  street  after  night- 
|  fall.  Instead  of  equipages  and  a  Huong  of  passen- 
gers, the  voice  of  levity  and  glee,  which  I  had  for- 
merly observed,  and  which  the  mildness  of  the 
season  would,  at  other  times,  have  produced,  I 
found  nothing  but  a  dreary  solitude. 

The  market-place,  and  each  side  of  this  magnifi- 
cent avenue  were  illuminated,  as  before,  by  lamps; 
but  between  the  verge  of  Schuylkill  and  the  heart 
of  the  city,  I  met  not  more  than  a  dozen  figures; 
and  these  were  ghost-like,  wrapt  in  cloaks,  from 
behind  which  they  cast  upon  me  glances  of  wonder 
and  suspicion  ;  and,  as  I  approached,  changed  their 
course,  to  avoid  touching  me.  Their  clothes  were 
sprinkled  with  vinegar;  and  their  nostrils  defended 
from  contagion  by  some  powerful  perfume. 

I  cast  a  look  upon  the  houses,  which  I  recollected 
to  have  formerly  been,  at  this  hour,  brilliant  with 
lights,  resounding  with  lively  voices,  and  thronged 
with  busy  faces.  Now  they  were  closed,  above  and 
below;  dark,  and  without  tokens  of  being  inhabited. 
From  the  upper  windows  of  some,  a  gleam  some- 
times fell  upon  the  pavement  I  was  traversing,  and 
showed  that  their  tenants  had  not  fled,  but  were 
secluded  or  disabled. 

These  tokens  were  new,  and  awakened  all  my 
panics.  Death  seemed  to  hover  over  this  scene,  and 
1  dreaded  that  the  floating  pestilence  had  already 
lighted  on  my  frame.  1  had  scarcely  overcome 
these  tremors,  when  I  approached  a  house,  the  door 
of  which  was  opened,  and  before  which  stood  avehi- 
cle,  which  I  presently  recognised  to  be  a  hearse. 

The  driver  was  seated  on  it.  I  stood  still,  to 
mark  his  visage,  and  to  observe  the  course  which  he 
proposed  to  take.  Presently  a  coffin,  borne  by  two 
men,  issued  from  the  house.  The  driver  was  a 
negro,  but  his  companions  were  white.  Their  fea- 
tures were  marked  by  ferocious  indifference  to  dan- 
ger or  pity. 

One  of  them,  as  he  assisted  in  thrusting  the  coffin 
into  the  cavity  provided  for  it,  said,  "  I'll  be  damned 
if  I  think  the  poor  dog  was  quite  dead.  It  wasn't 
the  fever  that  ailed  him,  but  the  sight  of  the  girl 
and  her  mother  on  the  floor.  I  wonder  how  they  all 
got  into  that  room.     'What  carried  them  there?" 

The  other  surlily  muttered,  "  Their  legs,  to  be 
sure." 

"  But  what  should  they  hug  together  in  one  room 
for?" 

"  To  save  us  trouble,  to  be  sure." 

"  And  I  thank  them  with  all  my  heart ;  but 
damn  it,  it  wasn't  right  to  put  him  in  his  coffin 
before  the  breath  was  fairly  gone.  I  thought  the 
last  look  he  gave  me,  told  me  to  stay  a  few 
minutes." 


CHARLES  BUOCKDEN  BROWN. 


593 


"  Pshaw !  He  could  not  live.  The  sooner  dead 
the  better  for  him ;  as  well  as  for  ns.  Did  you 
mark  how  he  eyed  us,  when  we  carried  away  his 
wife  and  daughter?  I  never  cried  in  my  life,  since 
I  was  knee-high,  but  curse  me  if  I  ever  felt  in  better 
tune  for  the  business  than  just  then.  Hey  I"  con- 
tinued he,  looking  up,  and  observing  me  standing  a 
few  paces  distant,  and  listening  to  their  discourse, 
"  what's  wanted  ?     Anybody  dead  ?" 

I  stayed  not  to  answer  or  parley,  but  hurried  for- 
ward. My  joints  trembled,  and  cold  drops  stood  on 
my  forehead.  I  was  ashamed  of  my  own  infirmity ; 
and  by  vigorous  efforts  of  my  reason,  regained  some 
degree  of  composure.  The  evening  had  now  ad- 
vanced, and  it  behoved  me  to  procure  accommoda- 
tion at  some  of  the  inns. 

These  were  easily  distinguished  by  their  siij/is, 
but  many  were  without  inhabitants.  At  length,  I 
lighted  upon  one,  the  hall  of  which  was  open,  and 
the  windows  lifted.  After  knocking  for  some  time, 
a  young  girl  appeared,  with  many  marks  of  distress. 
In  answer  to  my  question,  she  answered  that  both 
her  parents  were  sick,  and  that  they  could  receive 
no  one.  1  inquired,  in  vain,  for  any  other  tavern  at 
which  strangers  might  be  accommodated.  She 
knew  of  no  ie  such ;  and  left  me,  on  some  one's  call- 
ing to  her  from  above,  in  tlie  midst  of  my  embarrass- 
ment. After  a  moment's  pause,  I  returned,  discom- 
forted and  perplexed,  to  the  street. 

I  proceeded,  in  a  considerable  degree,  at  random. 
At  length  I  reached  a  spacious  building  in  Fourth 
street,  which  the  sign-post  showed  me  to  be  an  inn. 
I  knocked  loudly  and  often  at  the  door.  At  length 
a  female  opened  the  window  of  the  second  story, 
and  in  a  tone  of  peevishness  demanded  what  I 
wanted?     I  told  her  that  I  wanted  lodging. 

"  Go  hunt  font  somewhere  else,"  said  she;  "you'll 
find  none  here."  I  began  to  expostulate ;  but  she 
shut  the  window  with  quickness,  and  left  me  to  my 
own  reflections. 

I  began  now  to  feel  some  regret  at  the  journey  I 
had  taken.  Never,  in  the  depth  of  caverns  or 
forests,  was  I  equally  conscious  of  loneliness.  I  was 
surrounded  by  the  habitations  of  men;  but  I  was 
destitute  of  associate  or  friend.  I  had  money,  but  a 
horse  shelter,  or  a  morsel  of  food,  could  not  be  pur- 
chased. I  came  for  the  purpose  of  relieving  others, 
but  stood  in  the  utmost  need  myself.  Even  in  health 
my  condition  was  helpless  and  forlorn  ;  but  what 
would  become  of  me,  should  this  fatal  malady  be 
contracted.  To  hope  that  an  asylum  would  be 
afforded  to  a  sick  man.  which  was  denied  to  me  in 
health,  was  unreasonable. 

The  first  impulse  which  flowed  from  these  reflec- 
tions, was  to  hasten  back  to  Mafaerton ;  which, 
with  sufficient  diligence,  I  might  hope  to  regain 
before  the  morning  light.  I  could  not,  methought, 
return  upon  my  steps  witli  too  much  speed.  I  was 
prompted  to  run,  as  if  the  pest  was  rushing  upon  me, 
and  could  be  eluded  only  by  the  most  precipitate 
flight 

This  impulse  was  quickly  counteracted  by  new 
ideas.  I  thought  with  indignation  and  shame  on 
the  imbecility  of  my  proceeding.  I  called  up  the 
images  of  Susan  Hadwin,  and  of  Wallace.  I  re- 
viewed the  motives  which  had  led  me  to  the  under- 
taking of  this  journey.  Time  had,  by  no  means, 
diminished  their  force.  I  hail,  indeed,  nearly  arrived 
at  the  accomplishment  of  what  I  had  intended.  A 
few  steps  would  carry  me  to  Thetford's  habitation. 
This  might  be  the  critical  moment,  when  succour 
was  most  needed,  and  would,  be  most  efficacious. 

I  had  previously  concluded  to  defer  goi  ;g  thither 
till  the  ensuing  morning;  but  why  should  I  allow 
myself  a  moment's  delay  ?     I  might  at  least  gain  an 

vol.  i. — 38 


external  view  of  the  house,  and  circumstances  might 
arise,  which  would  absolve  me  from  the  obligation 
of  remaining  an  hour  longer  in  the  city.  All  for 
which  I  came  might  be  performed  ;  the  destiny  of 
Wallace  be  ascertained  ;  and  1  be  once  more  safe 
within  the  precincts  of  Malverion  before  the  return 
of  day. 

I  immediately  directed  my  steps  towards  the  habi- 
tation of  Thetford.  Carriages  bearing  the  dead 
were  frequently  discovered.  A  few  passengers  like- 
wise occurred,  whose  hnsty  and  perturbed  steps 
denoted  their  participation  in  the  common  distress. 
The  house,  of  which  I  was  in  quest,  quickly  appeared. 
Light  from  an  upper  window  indicated  that  it  was 
still  inhabited. 

I  paused  a  moment  to  reflect  in  what  manner  it 
became  me  to  proceed.  To  ascertain  the  existence 
and  condition  of  Wallace  was  the  purpose  of  my 
journey.  He  had  inhabited  this  house ;  and  whether 
he  remained  in  it,  was  now  to  be  known.  I  felt 
repugnance  to  enter,  since  my  safety  might,  by 
entering,  be  unawares  and  uselessly  endangered. 
Most  of  the  neighboring  houses  were  apparently 
deserted.  In  some  there  were  various  tokens  of 
people  being  within.  Might  I  not  inquire,  at  one 
of  these,  respecting  the  condition  of  Thetford's 
family  ?  Yet  why  should  I  disturb  them  by  in- 
quiries so  impertinent,  at  this  unseasonable  hour? 
To  knock  at  Thetford's  door,  and  put  my  questions 
to  him  who  should  obey  the  signal,  was  the  obvious 
method. 

I  knocked  dubiously  and  lightly.  No  one  came. 
I  knocked  again,  and  more  loudly ;  I  likewise  drew 
the  bell.  I  distinctly  heard  its  distant  peals.  If 
any  were  within,  my  signal  could  not  fail  to  be 
noticed.  I  paused,  and  listened,  but  neither  voice 
nor  footsteps  could  be  heard.  The  light,  though 
obscured  by  window  curtains,  which  seemed  to  be 
drawn  close,  was  still  perceptible. 

I  ruminated  on  the  causes  that  might  hinder  my 
summons  from  being  obeyed.  I  figured  to  myself 
nothing  but  the  helplessness  of  disease,  or  the  insen- 
sibility of  death.  These  images  only  urged  me  to 
persist  in  endeavoring  to  obtain  admission.  With- 
out weighing  the  consequences  of  my  act,  I  involun- 
tarily lifted  the  latch.  The  door  yielded  to  my 
hand,  and  I  put  my  feet  within  the  passage. 

Once  more  I  paused.  The  passage  was  of  consi- 
derable extent,  and  at  the  end  of  it  I  perceived  light 
as  from  a  lamp  or  candle.  This  impelled  me  to  go 
forward,  till  I  reached  the  foot  of  a  staircase.  A 
candle  stood  upon  the  lowest  step. 

This  was  a  new  proof  that  the  house  was  not 
deserted.  I  struck  my  heel  against  the  floor  with 
some  violence ;  but  this,  like  my  former  signals,  was 
unnoticed.  Having  proceeded  thus  far,  it  would 
have  been  absurd  to  retire  with  my  purpose  un- 
effected.  Taking  the  candle  in  my  hand,  I  opened 
a  door  that  was  near.  It  led  into  a  spacious  parlor, 
furnished  with  profusion  and  splendor.  I  walked 
to  and  fro,  gazing  at  the  objects  which  presented 
themselves ;  and  involved  in  perplexity,  I  knocked 
with  my  heel  louder  than  ever ;  but  no  less  inef- 
fectually. 

Notwithstanding  the  lights  which  I  had  seen,  it 
was  possible  that  the  house  was  uninhabited.  This  1 
was  resolved  to  ascertain,  by  proceeding'  to  the 
chamber  which  I  had  observed,  from  without,  to  be 
illuminated.  This  chamber,  as  far  as  the  comparison 
of  circumstances  would  permit  me  to  decide,,  I  be- 
lieved to  be  the  same  in  which  I  had  passed  the 
first  night  of  my  late  abode  in  the  city.  Now  was 
I,  a  second  time,  in  almost  equal  ignorance  of  my 
situation,  and  of  the  coOscquences  which  impended, 
exploring  my  way  to  the  same  recess. 


594 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


I  mounted  the  stair.  As  I  approached  the  door 
of  which  I  was  in  search,  a  vapor,  infectious  and 
deadly,  assailed  my  senses.  It  resembled  nothing 
of  which  I  had  ever  before  been  sensible.  Many 
odors  had  been  met  with,  even  since  my  arrival  in 
the  city,  less  supportable  than  this.  I  seemed  not 
bo  much  to  smell  as  to  taste  the  element  that  now 
encompassed  me.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  inhaled  a  poison- 
ous and  subtle  fluid,  whose  power  instantly  bereft 
my  stomach  of  all  vigor.  Some  fatal  influence  ap- 
peared to  seize  upon  my  vitals ;  and  the  work  of 
corrosion  and  decomposition  to  be  busily  begun. 

For  a  moment,  I  doubted  whether  imagination 
had  not  some  share  in  producing  my  sensation ;  but 
I  had  not  been  previously  panic-struck;  and  even 
now  I  attended  to  my  own  sensations  without  men- 
tal discomposure.  That  I  had  imbibed  this  disease 
was  not  to  be  questioned.  So  far  the  chances  in 
my  favor  were  annihilated.  The  lot  of  sickness  was 
drawn. 

Whether  my  ease  would  be  lenient  or  malignant ; 
whether  I  should  recover  or  perish,  was  to  be  left 
to  the  decision  of  the  future.  This  incident,  instead 
of  appalling  me,  tended  rather  to  invigorate  my 
courage.  The  danger  which  I  feared  had  come.  I 
might  enter  with  indifference  on  this  theatre  of 
pestilence.  I  might  execute  without  faltering,  the 
duties  that  my  circumstances  might  create.  My 
state  was  no  longer  hazardous;  and  my  destiny 
would  be  totally  uninfluenced  by  my  future  con- 
duct. 

The  pang  with  which  I  was  first  seized,  and  the 
momentary  inclination  to  vomit,  which  it  produced, 
presently  subsided.  My  wholesome  feelings,  indeed, 
did  not  revisit  me,  but  strength  to  proceed  was 
restored  to  me.  The  effluvia  became  more  sensible 
as  I  approached  the  door  of  the  chamber.  The 
door  was  ajar ;  and  the  light  within  was  perceived. 
My  belief,  that  those  within  were  dead,  was  pre- 
sently confuted  by  a  sound,  which  I  first  supposed 
to  be  that  of  steps  moving  quickly  and  timorously 
across  the  floor.  This  ceased,  and  was  succeeded  by 
sounds  of  different,  but  inexplicable  import 

Having  entered  the  apartment,  I  saw  a  candle  on 
the  hearth.  A  table  was  covered  with  vials  and 
other  apparatus  <  f  a  sick  chamber.  A  bed  stood  on 
one  side,  the  curtain  of  which  was  dropped  at  the 
foot,  so  as  to  conceal,  any  one  within.  I  fixed  my 
eyes  upon  this  object.  There  were  sufficient  tokens 
that  some  one  lay  upon  the  bed.  Breath,  drawn  at 
long  intervals;  mutterings  scarcely  audible ;  and  a 
tremulous  motion  in  the  bedstead,  were  fearful  and 
intelligible  indications. 

If  my  heart  faltered,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that 
my  trepidations  arose  from  any  selfish  considera- 
tions. Wallace  only,  the  object  of  my  search,  was 
present  to  my  fancy.  Pervaded  with  remembrance 
of  the  Had  wins;  of  the  agonies  which  they  had 
already  endured  ;  of  the  despair  which  would  over- 
whelm the  unhappy  Susan,  when  the  death  of  her 
lover  should  be  ascertained  ;  observant  of  the  lonely 
condition  of  this  house,  whence  I  could  only  infer 
that  the  sick  had  been  denied  suitable  attendance ; 
and  reminded  by  the  symptoms  that  appeared,  that 
this  being  was  struggling  with  the  agonies  of  death ; 
a  sickness  of  the  heart,  more  insupportable  than 
that  which  I  h:id  just  experienced,  stole  upon  me. 

My  fancy  readily  depicted  the  progress  and  com- 
pletion of  this  tragedy.  Wallace  was  the  first  of 
the  family  on  whom  the  pestilence  had  seized. 
Thetford  had  fled  from  his  habitation.  Perhaps,  as 
a  father  and  husband,  to  shun  the  danger  attending 
his  stay,  was  the  injunction  of  his  duty.  It  was 
questionless  the  conduct  which  selfish  regards  would 
dictate.     Wallace  was  left  to  perish  alone;  or,  per- 


haps, which  indeed  was  a  supposition  somewhat  jus- 
tified by  appearances,  lie  had  been  left  to  the  ten- 
dence  of  mercenary  wretches ;  by  whom,  at  this 
desperate  moment  he  had  been  abandoned. 

I  was  not  mindless  of  the  possibility  that  these 
forebodings,  specious  as  they  were,  might  be  false. 
The  dying  person  might  be  some  other  than  Wallace. 
The  whispers  of  my  hope  were,  indeed,  faint;  but 
they,  at  least,  prompted  me  to  snatch  a  look  at  the 
expiring  man.  For  this  purpose,  I  advanced  and 
thrust  my  head  within  the  curtain. 

The  features  of  one  whom  I  had  seen  so  tran- 
siently as  Wallace,  may  be  imagined  to  be  i  ot  easily 
recognised,  especially  when  those  features  were 
tremulous  and  deathful.  Here,  however,  the  differ- 
ences were  too  conspicuous  to  mislead  me.  I  beheld 
one  in  whom  I  could  recollect  none  that  bore  resem- 
blance. Though  ghastly  and  livid,  the  traces  of 
intelligence  and  beauty  were  undefaced.  The  life 
of  Wallace  was  of  more  value  to  a  feeble  individual, 
but  surely  the  being  that  was  stretched  before  me, 
and  who  was  hastening  to  his  last  breath,  was  pre- 
cious to  thousands. 

Was  he  not  one  in  whose  place  I  would  willingly 
have  died?  The  offering  was  too  late.  His  ex- 
tremities were  already  cold.  A  vapor,  noisome  and 
contagious,  hovered  over  him.  The  flutterings  of 
his  pulse  had  ceased.  His  existence  was  about  to 
close  amidst  convulsion  and  paugs. 

I  withdrew  my  gaze  from  this  object,  and  walked 
to  a  table.  I  was  nearly  unconscious  of  my  move- 
ments. My  thoughts  were  occupied  with  contem- 
plations of  the  train  of  horrors  and  disasters  that 
pursue  the  race  of  man.  My  musings  were  quickly 
interrupted  by  the  sight  of  a  small  cabinet,  the 
hinges  of  which  were  broken  and  the  lid  half  raised. 
In  the  present  state  of  my  thoughts,  I  was  prone  to 
suspect  the  worst.  Here  were  traces  of  pillage. 
Some  casual  or  mercenary  attendant  had  not  only 
contributed  to  hasten  the  death  of  the  patient,  but 
had  rifled  his  property  and  fled. 

This  suspicion  would,  perhaps,  have  yielded  to 
mature  reflections,  if  I  had  been  suffered  to  reflect. 
A  moment  scarcely  elapsed,  when  some  appearance 
in  the  mirror,  which  hung  over  the  table,  called  my 
attention.  It  was  a  human  figure,  nothing  could  be 
briefer  than  the  glance  that  1  fixed  upon  this  appa- 
rition, yet  there  was  room  enongh  for  the  vague 
conception  to  suggest  itself,  that  the  dying  man  had 
started  from  his  bed  and  was  approaching  me. 
This  belief  was,  at  the  same  instant,  confuted,  by 
the  survey  of  his  form  and  garb.  One  eye,  a  scar 
upon  his  cheek,  a  tawny  skin,  a  form  grotesquely 
misproportioned,  brawny  as  Hercules,  and  habited 
in  livery,  composed,  as  it  were,  the  parts  of  one 
view. 

To  perceive,  to  fear,  and  to  confront  this  appari- 
tion were  blended  into  one  sentiment,  I  turned 
towards  him  with  the  swiftness  of  lightning,  but  my 
speed  was  useless  to  my  safety.  A  blow  upon  my 
temple  was  succeeded  by  an  utter,  oblivion  of 
thought  and  of  feeling.  I  sank  upon  the  floor  pros- 
trate and  senseless. 

My  insensibility  might  be  mistaken  by  observers 
for  death,  yet  some  part  of  this  interval  was  haunte-,* 
by  a  fearful  dream.  I  conceived  myself  lyinp;  on 
the  brink  of  a  pit,  whose  bottom  the  eye  could  not 
reach.  My  hands  and  legs  were  fettered,  so  as  to 
disable  me  from  resisting  two  grim  and  gigantic 
figures,  who  stooped  to  lift  me  from  the  earth. 
Their  purpose,  metl. ought,  was  to  cast  me  into  this 
abyss.  My  terrors  were  unspeakable,  and  I  strug- 
gled with  such  force,  that  my  bonds  snapped  and  I 
found  myself  at  libery.  At  this  moment  my  senses 
returned  and  I  opened  my  eyes. 


THOMAS  GREEN  FESSENDEN. 


50; 


The  memory  of  recent  events  was,  for  a  time, 
effaced  by  my  visionary  honors.  I  was  conscious 
of  transition  from  one  state  of  being  to  another,  but 
my  imagination  was  still  filled  witli  images  of  dan- 
ger. The  bottomless  gulf  and  my  gigantic  perse- 
cutors were  still  dreaded.  I  looked  up  with  eager- 
ness. Beside  me  I  discovered  three  figures,  whose 
character  or  office  were  explained  by  a  coffin  of  pine 
boards  which  lay  upon  the  floor.  One  stood  with 
hammer  and  nails  in  his  hand,  as  ready  to  replace  and 
fasten  the  lid  of  the  coffin,  as  soon  as  its  burthen 
should  be  received. 

I  attempted  to  rise  from  the  floor,  but  my  head 
was  dizzy  and  my  sight  confused.  Perceiving  me 
revive,  one  of  the  men  assisted  me  to  regain  my 
feet.  Tbe  mist  and  confusion  presently  vanished,  so 
as  to  allow  me  to  stand  unsupported  and  to  move. 
I  once  more  gazed  at  my  attendants,  and  recognised 
the  three  men,  whom  I  had  met  in  High  street,  and 
whose  conversation  I  have  mentione  1  that  I  over- 
heard. I  looked  again  upon  the  coffin,  A  waver- 
ing recollection  of  the  incidents  that  led  me  hither 
and  of  the  stunning  blow  which  I  had  received, 
occurred  to  me.  I  saw  into  what  error  appearances 
had  misled  these  men,  and  shuddered  to  reflect,  by 
what  hairbreadth  menus  I  had  escaped  being  buried 
alive. 

Before  the  men  had  time  to  interrogate  me,  or  to 
comment  upon  my  situation,  one  entered  the  apart- 
ment, whose  habit  and  mien  tended  to  encourage 
me.  The  stranger  was  characterized  by  an  aspect 
full  of  composure  and  benignity,  a  face  in  which  the 
serious  lines  of  age  were  blended  with  the  ruddiness 
and  smoothness  of  youth,  and  a  garb  that  bespoke 
that  religious  profession,  witli  whose  benevolent 
doctrines  the  example  of  Hadwiu  had  rendered  me 
familiar. 

On  observing  me  on  my  feet,  he  betrayed  marks 
of  surprise  and  satisfaction.  He  addressed  me  in  a 
tone  of  mildness. 

"  Young  man,"  said  he,  "what  is  thy  condition? 
Art  thou  sick?  If  thou  art,  thou  must  consent  to 
receive  the  best  treatment  which  the  times  will 
afford.  These  men  will  convey  thee  to  the  hospital 
at  Bush  Hill." 

The  mention  of  that  contagious  and  abhorred  re- 
ceptacle, inspired  me  with  some  degree  of  energy. 
"  Wo,"  said  I,  "  I  am  not  sick,  a  violent  blow  reduced 
me  to  this  situation.  I  shall  presently  recover 
strength  enough  to  leave  the  spot  without  assistance." 

He  looked  at  me,  with  an  incredulous  but  com- 
passionate air ;  "  I  fear  thou  dost  deceive  thyself  or 
me.  The  necessity  of  going  to  the  hospital  is  much 
to  be  regretted,  but  on  the  whole  it  is  best.  Per- 
haps, indeed,  thou  hast  kindred  or  friends  who  will 
take  care  of  thee." 

"No,"  said  I;  "neither  kindred  nor  friends.  I 
am  a  stranger  in  the  city.  I  do  not  even  know  a 
single  being." 

"Alas!"  returned  the  stranger,  with  a  sigh,  "  thy 
state  is  sorrowful — but  how  earnest  thou  hither?" 
continued  he,  looking  around  him,  "and  whence 
coinest  thou?" 

"  I  came  from  the  country.  I  reached  the  city  a 
few  hours  ago.  I  was  in  search  of  a  friend  who 
lived  in  this  house." 

"  Thy  undertaking  was  strangely  hazardous  and 
rash  ;  but  who  is  the  friend  thou  seckest  ?  Was  it 
he  who  died  in  that  bed,  and  whose  corpse  has  just 
been  removed  ?" 

The  men  now  betrayed  some  impatience  ;  and  in- 
quired of  the  last  comer,  whom  they  called  Mr. 
Estwick,  what  lliey  were  to  do.  He  turned  to  me, 
and  asked  if  I  were  willing  to  be  conducted  to  the 
hospital  ? 


I  assured  him  that  I  was  free  from  disease,  and 
6tood  in  no  need  of  assistance ;  adding,  that  my 
feebleness  was  owing  to  a  stunning  blow  received 
from  a  ruffian  on  my  temple.  The  marks  of  this 
blow  were  conspicuous,  and  after  some  hesitation  he 
dismissed  the  men  ;  who,  lifting  the  empty  coffin  on 
their  shoulders,  disappeared. 

He  now  invited  me  to  descend  into  the  parlor ; 
"  for,"  said  he,  "  the  air  of  this  room  is  deadly.  I 
feel  already  as  if  I  should  h^e  reason  to  repent  of 
having  entered  it." 

He  now  inquired  into  the  cause  of  those  appear- 
ances which  he  had  witnessed.  I  explained  my 
situation  as  clearly  and  succinctly  as  I  was  able. 

After  pondering,  in  silence,  on  my  story ; — "  I  see 
how  it  is,"  said  he  ;  "  the  person  whom  thou  sawest 
in  the  agonies  of  death  was  a  stranger.  He  was 
attended  by  his  servant  and  a  hired  nurse.  His 
master's  death  being  certain,  the  nurse  was  des- 
patched by  the  servant  to  procure  a  coffin.  He  pro- 
bably chose  that  opportunity  to  rifle  his  master's 
trunk,  that  stood  upon  the  table.  Thy  unseasonable 
entrance  interrupted  him ;  and  he  designed,  by  the 
blow  which  he  gave  thee,  to  secure  his  retreat 
before  the  arrival  of  a  hearse.  I  know  the  man, 
and  the  apparition  thou  hast  so  well  described,  was 
his.  Thou  sayest  that  a  friend  of  thine  lived  in  his 
house — thou  hast  come  too  late  to  be  of  service. 
The  whole  family  have  perished.  Not  one  was  suf- 
fered to  escape." 

THOMAS  GEEEN  FESSENDEN, 

Thojias  Gkekn,  the  son  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Fes- 
senden  of  that  place,  author  of  a  volume  entitled 
A  Theoretical  Explanation  of  the  Science  of  Sanc- 
tity, was  born  at  Walpole,  New  Hampshire,  April 
22,  1771.  He  completed  his  course  at  Dartmouth 
in  170G,  having  supported  himself  while  at  college 
by  teaching  psalmody  in  the  evenings,  and  keep- 
ing school  during  the  vacations,  and  afterwards 
studied  law  at  Rutland,  Vt.  While  thus  occupied, 
he  amused  his  leisure  hours  by  contributing  to 
the  Dartmouth  Eagle  and  the  Walpole  Farmer's 
Weekly  Museum,  a  number  of  humorous  poems 
similar  in  style  to  those  of  Royal  Tyler  and  the 
other  "  Walpole  Wits."  One  of  these,  "  The 
Country  Lovers,"  became  very  popular.  In  1801, 
he  visited  London  for  the  purpose  of  introducing 
a  new  hydraulic  machine,  in  which  he  had,  with 
a  number  of  friends,  become  interested ;  but  on 
subjecting  the  machine  to  a  more  thorough  test 
than  it  had  received  in  America,  it  w-as  found 
not  to  an-uver  the  purpose.  IIU  plans  thus  frus- 
trated, in  tlie  hope  of  still  turning  his  journey 
to  account,  he  embarked  in  a  project  set  on 
foot  by  a  fellow  countryman,  resident  in  Lon- 
don, of  constructing  a  water-mill  on  the  Thames. 
He  invested  his  means  in  the  purchase  of  one-fifth 
of  the  concern.  The  project  failed.  During  the 
season  of  anxiety  occasioned  by  this  disaster,  and 
while  a  portion  of  the  time  confined  to  his  bed 
by  sickness,  he  made  a  literary  venture,  which 


MVW*^ 


proved  as  successful  as  his  former  attempts  hat1 
disastrous. 


596 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN"  LITERATURE. 


The  Terrible  Tractoration*  was  composed  as  a 
satire  on  tha  medical  profession  in  general;  its 
special  subject  being  the  Metallic  Tractors  of 
Perkins,t  an  application  of  galvanism  to  the 
treatment  of  disease,  in  the  efficacy  of  which 
Fessenden  then  and  afterwards  professed  himself 
to  be  a  believer.!  It  professes  to  be  com- 
posed by  a  starving  garreteer  in  the  pay  of  the 
faculty,  to  write  down  the  new  invention.  A  i 
large  portion  of  the  volume  is  occupied  by  origi- 
nal notes,  satirizing  the  commentators,  which 
equal  in  humor  the  text  they  illustrate.  The  j 
poem  was  published  anonymously,  and  was  va-  ] 
riously  attributed  to  Gifford,  Wolcot,  the  author 
of  "  Peter  Pindar,"  and  Huddesford,  an  author  to 
whom  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  allude.§ 
Its  success  relieved  the  author's  embarrassments, 
which,  according  to  a  story  we  have  heard,  had 
confined  him  to  a  jail,  where  the  poem  was 
written. 

The  author  followed  up  this  hit  by  a  collec- 
tion of  newspaper  contributions,  with  the  title 
Original  Poems. 

In  1804  Fessenden  returned  to  America,  where 
both  of  his  volumes  had  been  reprinted  with  suc- 
cess, and  published  in  the  same  year  a  violent  at- 
tack, in  verse,  on  the  Jeffersunians,  entitled  Demo- 
cracy Unveiled,  or  Tyranny  stripped  of  the  garb 
of  Patriotism.  He  next  started  a  periodical,  The 
Weekly  Inspector,  in  New  York,  which  was  con- 
tinued about  two  years.  This  was  a  pleasant 
miscellany,  of  a  literary  rather  than  political  cha- 
racter, enlivened  by  Christopher  Caustic's  verses, 
as  well  as  his  lively  prose,  but  after  a  trial  of  two 
years  proved  unsuccessful.  The  editor  closes  the 
fifty-second  number  with  a  spirited  editorial,  from 
which  we  extract  a  few  passages : — 

"  The  inevitable  hour,"  which  speedily  overtakes, 
in  Columbia's  "  happy  land,"  every  publication 
which  aspires  to  any  character  for  literature,  sci- 
ence, or  general  information,  above  that  of  a  com- 
mon daily  advertising  newspaper,  has  put  a  period 
to  the  Weekly  Inspector. 

******** 

Our  good  men  think  that  an  editor  must  write — 
write — write  well  if  he  can,  but  :it  any  rate  write. 
They  measure  his  brains  by  the  yard.  He  that  will 
turn  out  the  greatest  quantity  of  matter  in  a  given 
time  is  the  greatest  man.  No  matter  whether  new 
or  old,  hut  something  which  the  majority  have  not 
seen.     *         *         *         * 

Horace's  poet,  who  could  write,  I  forget  how 
many  lines,  while  he  could  stand  on  one  leg,  would 


*  Terrible  Tractoration  ! !  A  Poetical  Petition  against  Galva- 
nising Trumpery,  and  the  Perkinistic  Institution,  in  four  can- 
tos, most  respectfully  addressed  to  the  P.oval  College  of  Phy- 
sicians, by  Christopher  Caustic.  MTD.,  LL.i).,  ASS.,  Fellow  of 
the  Eoyal  College  of  Physicians,  Aberdeen,  and  Honorary 
Member  of  no  less  than  nineteen  very  learned  societies.  First 
American,  from  the  second  London  edition,  revised  and  cor- 
rected by  the  author,  with  additional  notes.  New  York : 
Samuel  Stansbury.    1S04 

+  Perkins,  alter  practising  his  system  in  London,  came  to 
this  country  "armed  with  his  tractors,  and  fortified  by  the 
credentials  of  a  score  of  bishops  and  other  dignitaries  of  the 
Church  of  England,"  and  professed  to  cure  yellow  fever  by  his 
Tractors.  He  was  allowed,  in  consequence  of  the  sympathy 
of  the  Directors  of  the  New  York  Hospital,  to  introduce  his 
practice  into  that  institution.  He  died  himself  of  the  yellow 
fever  in  17911,  a  few  months  after  his  arrival,  and  was  buried 
in  the  Potter's  Field,  now  the  Washington  Parade  Ground. 
— Keminiscences  of  Christopher  Colics,  by  Dr.  J.  W.  Francis, 
in  Knickerbocker  Gallery. 

±  Preface  to  the  Modern  Philosopher,  1306,  p.  11. 

§  Ante.  p.  2(3. 


be  the  man,  of  all  men,  for  nn  editor  of  an  American 
newspaper.  Americans  look  at  the  quantity  and 
I  not  the  quality.  Give  us  so  much  of  something, 
and  we  will  call  you  a  great  man.  Write  us  sixteen 
pages  a  week  of  original  matter,  no  matter  how 
much  was  stolen,  and  we  will  set  you  on  the  top  of 
a  liberty  pole. 

In  1806  he  published  The  Minute  Philosopher, 
an  enlargement  of  the  Terrible  Tractoration.  A 
third  edition  was  published  towards  the  close  of 
his  life. 

We  next  hear  of  him  in  1812,  as  practising 
law  at  Bellows  Falls,  Vermont.  Here  he  married. 
In  1815  he  removSd  to  Brattleboro',  where  he 
edited  The  Reporter,  a  political  newspaper.  He 
returned  to  Bellows  Falls  in  thenext  year,  where 
he  edited  a  newspaper  called  The  Intelligencer,  a 
position  he  retained  until  1822,  publishing  in  the 
meantime  a  volume  in  verse,  The  Ladies'  Moni- 
tor. He  then  removed  to  Boston,  to  commence  the 
New  England  Farmer,  a  weekly  agricultural  jour- 
nal, which  attained  high  rank  in  its  department, 
in  his  hands.  While  conducting  this  journal,  he 
edited  two  other  periodicals  of  a  similar  charac- 
ter, Tlie  Horticultural  Register  and  The  Silk 
Manual,  and  also  prepared  a  number  of  treatises 
on  similar  subjects.  In  these  pursuits  the  remain- 
der of  his  life  was  passed.  He  died  of  apoplexy 
at  Boston,  November  11,  1837.  The  Massachu- 
setts Society  for  Promoting  Agriculture,  and  the 
Horticultural  Society,  erected  a  monument  over 
his  remains  at  Mount  Auburn*  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne, in  an  article  in  the  American  Monthly 
Magazine,  has  furnished  a  pleasant  picture  of  Fes- 
senden towards  the  close  of  his  career. 

In  January,  1836,  I  became,  and  continued  for  a 
few  months,  an  inmate  of  Mr.  Fessenden's  family.  It 
was  my  first  acquaintance  with  him.  His  image  is 
before  my  mind's  eye  at  this  moment ;  slowly  ap- 
proaching me  with  a  lamp  in  his  hand,  his  hair  grey, 
his  face  solemn  and  pale,  his  tall  and  portly  figure 
bent  with  heavier  infirmity  than  befitted  his  years. 
His  dress — thougli  he  had  improved  in  this  particu- 
lar since  middle  life — was  marked  by  a  truly  scho- 
lastic negligence.  He  greeted  me  kindly,  and  with 
plain,  old-fashioned  courtesy ;  though  I  fancied  that 
he  somewhat  regretted  the  interruption  of  his  eve- 
ning studies.  After  a  few  moments'  talk,  he  invited 
me  to  accompany  him  to  his  study,  and  give  my 
opinion  on  some  passages  of  satirical  verse,  which 
were  to  be  inserted  in  a  new  edition  of  "  Terrible 
Tractoration."  Years  before  I  had  lighted  on  an  il- 
lustrated copy  of  this  poem,  bestrewn  with  vene- 
rable dust,  ia  a  corner  of  a  college  library ;  and  it 
seemed  strange  and  whimsical  that  I  should  find  it 
still  in  progress  of  composition,  and  be  consulted 
about  it  by  Doctor  Caustic  himself.  While  Mr.  Fes- 
senden read,  I  had  leisure  to  glance  around  at  his 
study,  which  was  very  characteristic  of  the  man  and 
his  occupations.  The  table,  and  great  part  of  the 
floor,  was  covered  with  books  and  pamphlets  on 
agricultural  subjects,  newspapers  from  all  quarters, 
manuscript  articles  for  the  New  England  p'armer, 
and  manuscript  stanzas  for  "Terrible  Tractoration." 
There  was  such  a  litter  as  always  gathers  round  a 
literary  man.  It  bespoke,  at  once,  Mr.  Fesser  den's 
amiable  temper  and  Ins  abstracted  habits,  that  seve- 
ral members  of  the  family,  old  and  young,  were  sit- 


*  Buckingham's  Newspaper    Reminiscences,    ii.  218-220. 
Preface  to  the  reprint  of  Terrible  Tractoratior.. 


THOMAS  GREEN  FESSENDEN. 


r,o: 


ting  in  the  room,  and  engaged  in  conversation,  appa- 
rently without  giving  him  the  least  disturbance.  A 
specimen  of  Doctor  Caustic's  inventive  genius  was 
seen  in  the  "  Patent  Steam  and  Hot-water  Stove," 
which  heated  the  apartment,  and  kept  up  a  pleasant 
singing  sound,  like  that  of  a  tea-kettle, — thereby 
making  the  fireside  more  cheerful.  It  appears  to 
me,  that,  having  no  children  of  flesh  and  blood,  Mr. 
Fessenden  had  contracted  a  fatherly  fondness  for 
this  stove,  as  being  his  mental  progeny ;  and  it  must 
be  owned  that  the  stove  well  deserved  his  affection, 
and  repaid  it  with  much  warmth. 

THE 

COUNTRY  LOVERS ; 

OB, 

MR.    JONATHAN    JOLTHEAD'S 
Courtship  icith  Miss  Sally  Snapper  : 

AN  EXCELLENT 

NEW  SONG, 

SAID  TO  BE  WRITTEN  BY  ITS  AUTHOE  \ 
And  really  founded  on  fact. 


Tune—"  YANKEE  DOODLE." 

THE  COUNTRY   LOVERS,    ET0. 

A  merry  tale  I  will  rehearse, 

As  ever  you  did  hear,  sir, 
How  Jonathan  set  out,  so  fierce, 

To  see  his  dearest  dear,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,*  keep  it  up, 
Yankee  doodle  dandy, 

Mind  the  music — mind  the  step, 
And  with  the  girls  be  handy. 

His  father  gave  him  bran  new  suit, 

And  money,  sir,  in  plenty, 
Besides  a  prancing  nag  to  boot, 

When  he  was  one-and-twenty. 

Yankee  doodle,  <tc. 

Moreover,  sir,  I'd  have  you  know, 
That  he  had  got  some  knowledge, 

Enough  for  common  use,  I  trow, 
But  had  not  been  at  college. 

Yankee  doodle,  die. 

A  hundred  he  could  count,  'tis  said, 

And  in  the  bible  read,  sir, 
And  by  good  Christian  parents  bred, 

Could  even  say  the  creed,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

He'd  been  to  school  to  Master  Drawl, 

To  spell  a-bom-in-a-ble, 
And  when  he  miss'd,  he  had  to  crawl, 

Straight  under  master's  table. 

Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

One  day  his  mother  said  to  him, 

"  My  darling  son,  come  here, 
Come  fix  you  up,  so  neat  and  trim, 
And  go  a  courting,  dear." 

Yankee  doodle,  tfec. 
'  WTiy.  what  the  deuce  does  mother  want? 
I  snigs — I  daresn't  go  ; 
1  shall  get  funn'd — and  then — plague  on't 
Folks  will  laugh  at  me  so '."  ' 

Yankee  doodle,  <&e. 


*  Yankee  doodle,  a  ludicrous  musical  air,  which  I  believe 
was  first  invented  by  the  English,  in  derision  of  the  Americans, 
whom  they  styled  "  Yankees."  The  Americans  frequently 
wrote  ludicrous  songs  to  this  tune.  This  chorus  is  quoted 
£rom  a  song,  written,  I  believe,  in  Boston. 


"  Pho!  pho !  fix  up,  a  courting  go, 
To  see  the  deacon's  Sarah, 
Who'll  have  a  hundred  pound,  you  know, 
As  soon  as  she  does  marry." 

Yankee  doodle,  <fce. 

Then  Jonathan,  in  best  array, 
Mounted  his  dappled  nag,  sir ; 

But  trembled,  sadly,  all  the  way, 
Lest  he  should  get  the  bag,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

He  mutter'd  as  he  rode  along, 

Our  Jotham  overheard,  sir, 
And  if  'twill  jingle  in  my  song, 

Til  tell  you  every  word,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,  <fec. 

"  I  wonder  mother  '11  make  me  go, 
Since  girls  I  am  afraid  of; 
I  never  know'd,  nor  want  to  know, 
What  sort  of  stuff  they're  made  of. 
Yankee  doodle,  ifcc. 

"  A  wife  would  make  good  housen"  stuff. 
If  she  were  downright  clever, 
And  Sal  would  suit  me  well  enough, 
If  she  would  let  me  have  her. 

Yankee  doodle,  &e. 

"  But  then,  I  shan't  know  what  to  say,f 
When  we  are  left  together, 
I'd  rather  lie  in  stack  of  hay, 
In  coldest  winter  weather." 

Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

He  reach'd  the  house,  as  people  say, 
IN  ot  far  from  eight  o'clock,  sir ; 

And  Joel  hollow'd  "  in,  I  say," 
As  soon  as  he  did  knock,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,  i&c. 

He  made  of  bows,  'twixt  two  and  three. 
Just  as  his  mother  taught  him, 

All  which  were  droll  enough  to  see : 
You'd  think  the  cramp  had  caught  him. 
Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

At  length  came  in  the  deacon's  Sal 
From  milking  at  the  barn,  sir; 

And  faith  she  is  as  good  a  yal  \ 
As  ever  twisted  yarn,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,  &a. 

For  she  knows  all  about  affairs, 

Can  wash,  and  bake,  and  brew,§  sir, 
Sing  "  Now  I  lay  me,"  say  her  prayers, 

And  make  a  pudding  too,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,  <Sre. 
To  Boston  market  she  has  been 

On  horse,  and  in  a  wagon, 
And  many  pretty  things  has  seen, 

Which  every  one  can't  brag  on. 

Yankee  doodle,  &a. 

She's  courted  been,  by  many  a  lad, 
And  knows  hmv  sparking' s  done,  sir, 

With  Jonathan  she  was  right  glad, 
To  have  a  little  fun,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,  <fee. 


*  Uoitsen  is  a  corruption  for  household. 

t  u  A  courting  I  went  to  my  love, 

Who  is  fairer  than  roses  in  May; 
And  when  I  got  to  her,  by  Jove, 
The  devil  a  word  could  I  say." 

See  an  old  EnijlUh  Comedy. 
%  Gal  is,  in  New  England,  the    vulgar  pronunciation  of 
the  word  Girl. 

§  Most  of  the  householders  in  New  England  have  their 
washing,  baking,  and  brewing  done  within  theirown  precincts. 
A  young  lady  who  does  not  understand  these  branches  of 
business  is  considered  as  not  qualified  for  matrimony. 


598 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN"  LITERATURE. 


The  ladies  all,  as  I  should  guess, 

And  many  a  lady's  man,  sir, 
"Would  wish  to  know  about  her  dress  ; 

I'll  tell  them  all  I  can,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,  <fec. 

Her  wrapper,  grey,  was  not  so  bad, 
Her  apron  eheck'd  with  blue,  sir, 

One  stocking  on  one  foot  she  had, 
On  t'other  foot  a  shoe,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,  <fec. 

Now,  should  a  Boston  lady  read, 

Of  Sally's  shoe  and  stocking, 
She'd  say  a  "  monstrous  slut,  indeed, 

Oh  la! — she  is  quite  shocking !" 

Yankee  doodle,  &e. 

You  fine  Miss  Boston  lady,  gay, 
For  this  your  speech,  1  thank  ye, 

Call  on  me,  when  you  come  this  way, 
And  take  a  drachm  of  Yankee* 

Yankee  doodle,  <fec. 

Now  Jonathan  did  scratch  his  head, 
When  first  lie  saw  his  dearest; 

Got  up — sat  down — and  nothing  said, 
But  felt  about  the  queerest, 

Yankee  doodle,  &u. 

Then  talk'd  with  Sally's  brother  Joe 
'Bout  sheep,  and  cows,  and  oxen, 

How  wicked  folks  to  church  did  go, 
With  dirty  woollen  flocks  on. 

Yankee  doodle,  <to. 

And  how  a  witch,  in  shape  of  owl, 
Did  steal  her  neighbour's  geese,  sir, 

And  turkies  too,  and  other  fowl, 
When  people  did  not  please  her. 

Yankee  doodle-,  <fcc. 

And  how  a  man,  one  dismal  night, 
Shot  her  with  silver  bullet,-)-, 

And  then  she  flew  straight  out  of  sight, 
As  fast  as  she  could  pull  it. 

Yankee  doodle,  &e. 

How  Widow  Wunks  was  sick  next  day. 

The  parson  went  to  view  her, 
And  saw  the  very  place,  they  say, 

Where  foresaid  ball  went  through  her ! 
Yankee  doodle,  4c. 

And  now  the  people  went  to  bed : 
They  guess  d  for  what  he'd  come,  sir ; 

But  Jonathan  was  much  afraid, 
And  wish'd  himself  at  home,  sir. 

Yankee  doodle,  &e. 

At  length,  says  Sal, "  they're  gone,  you  Gee, 

And  we  are  left  together ;" 
Say  Jonathan,  "  indeed — they  be — 

'Tis  mighty  pleasant  weather!" 

Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

Sal  east  a  sheep's  eye  at  the  dunce, 
Then  turn'd  towards  the  fire  ; 

He  muster'd  courage,  all  at  once, 
And  hiteh'd  a  little  nigher. 

Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

Ye  young  men  all,  and  lads  so  smart, 
Who  chance  to  read  these  vasscs,^ 


*  A  glass  of  whiskey,  mixed  with  molasses,  is  so  called  in 
New  England,  and  is  a  common  beverage  with  the  peasantry. 

+  There  is  a  tale  among  the  ghost-hunters  in  New  England, 
that  silver  bullets  will  be  fatal  to  witches,  when  those  of  lead 
would  not  avail. 

$  Verses  are  thus  pronounced  by  the  rustics  in  New  Eng- 
laud. 


His  next  address  pray  learn  by  heart, 
To  whisper  to  the  lasses. 

Yankee  doodle,  <fcc. 

"  Miss  Sal,  I's  going  to  say,  as  how, 
We'll  spark  it  here  to-night, 
I  kind  of  love  you,  Sal,  I  vow, 
And  mother  said  1  might." 

Yankee  doodle,  &a. 

Then  Jonathan,  as  we  are  told, 
Did  even  think  to  smack  her ; 

Sal  cock'd  her  chin,  and  look'd  so  bold, 
He  did  not  dare  attack  her! 

Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

"  Well  done,  my  man,  you've  broke  the  ice, 

•  And  that  with  little  pother, 
Now,  Jonathan,  take  my  advice, 

And  always  mind  your  mother ! 

Yankee  doodle,  &a. 

"  This  courting  is  a  kind  of  job 
I  always  did  admire,  sir, 
And  these  two  brands,  with  one  dry  cob, 
Will  make  a  courting  fire,  sir." 

Yankee  doodle,  ecu. 

"  Miss  Sal,  you  are  the  very  she, 
If  you  will  love  me  now, 
That  I  will  marry — then  you  6ee, 
You'll  have  our  brindled  cow. 

Yankee  doodle,  &e. 

"  Then  we  will  live,  both  I  and  you, 
In  father's  t'other  room, 
For  that  will  sartain  hold  us  two, 
When  we've  mov'd  out  the  loom. 

Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

"  Next  Sabbath-day  we  will  be  cried, 
And  have  a  '  taring'  wedding, 
And  lads  and  hisses  take  a  ride, 
If  it  should  be  good  sledding. 

Yankee  doodle,  <fec. 

"  My  father  has  a  nice  bull  calf, 

Which  shall  be  your's,  my  sweet  one; 
'Twill  weigh  two  hundred  and  a  hah," 
Says  Sal,  "  well,  that's  a  neat  one." 
Yankee  doodle,  tic. 

"  Your  father's  full  of  fun,  d'ye  see, 
And  faith,  I  likes  his  sporting, 
To  6end  his  fav'rite  calf  to  me, 
His  nice  bull  calf  a  courting." 

Yankee  doodle,  <£e. 

"  Are  you  the  lad  who  went  to  town, 
Put  on  your  streaked  trowses,* 
Then  vow'd  you  could  not  see  the  town, 
There  were  so  many  houses?" 

Yankee  doodle,  <fec. 

Our  lover  hung  his  under  lip, 

He  thought  she  meant  to  joke  him  ; 

Like  heartless  hen  that  has  the  pip, 
His  courage  all  forsook  him. 

Yankee  doodle,  <fec. 

For  he  to  Boston  town  had  been, 

As  matters  here  are  stated ; 
Came  home  and  told  what  he  had  seen. 

As  Sally  has  related. 

Yankee  doodle,  &a. 

And  now  he  wish'd  he  could  retreat, 
But  dar'd  not  make  a  racket ; 

It  seem'd  as  if  his  heart  would  beat 
The  buttons  off  his  jacket! 

Yankee  doodle,  <fec. 

*  Vulgar  pronunciation  of  the  word  trowsera. 


HOSEA  BALLOU;  ELIHU  H.  SMITH. 


599 


Sal  ask'd  him  "  if  his  heart  was  whole?" 

His  chin  began  to  quiver ; 
He  saiil,  lie  felt  so  deuced  droll, 

He  guess'd  he'd  lost  his  liver ! 

Yankee  doodle,  &a. 

Now  Sal  was  scar'd  out  of  her  wits, 

To  see  his  trepidation, 
She  bawl'd  "  lie's  going  into  fits," 

And  seamper'd  like  the  nation! 

Yankee  doodle,  &e. 

A  pail  of  water  she  did  throw, 

All  on  her  trembling  lover,  ■ 
Which  wet  the  lad  from  top  to  toe, 

Like  drowned  rat  all  over. 

Yankee  doodle,  <fcc. 

Then  Jonathan  straight  hied  him  home, 
And  since  I've  heard  him  brag,  sir, 

That  though  the  jade  did  wet  him  some, 
He  didn't  get  the  bag,  sir ! 

Yankee  doodle,  keep  it  up, 

Yankee  doodle  dandy, 
Mind  the  music,  mind  the  step, 

And  with  the  girls  be  handy  I 

HOSEA  BALLOU. 

Hosea,  the  youngest  of  the  eleven  children  of  the 
Rev.  Maturin  Ballon,  was  born  April  30,  1771,  at 
Richmond,  New  Hampshire.  He  was  brought  up 
by  his  father,  a  Baptist  clergyman,  according  to 
the  tenets  of  that  sect,  but  received  few  of  the 
advantages  of  general  education,  there  being  no 
school  at  his  native  village,  and  his  time  being  so 
fully  occupied  by  the  labors  of  the  farm  as  to  give 
liim  but  few  leisure  moments  for  study.  These 
were,  however,  well  improved,  and  other  difficul- 
ties arising  from  the  meagreness  of  the  family 
means  were  also  bravely  mastered.  He  learned 
to  write  by  forming  letters  with  a  cinder  on  strips 
of  bark  by  the  light  of  the  fire;  pen,  paper,  ink, 
and  candle-light  being  all  too  expensive  luxuries 
to  be  obtained. 

At  the  age  of  nineteen  he  became  connected 
with  his  father's  congregation,  but  soon  after; 
adopting  the  views  of  the  Universalists,  was  ex- 
pelled from  membership.  After  some  instruction 
in  ordinary  English  branches  at  the  academy  at 
Chesterfield,  New  Hampshire,  he  commenced, 
about  the  age  of  twenty,  preaching  as  an  itinerant. 
The  novelty  of  his  views,  and  his  ability  as  an  ex- 
tempore speaker,  attracted  great  attention,  and  in 
1794  he  received  an  invitation  to  a  permanent 
congregation  at  Dana,  Massachusetts.  In  1796 
he  married,  and  five  years  later  accepted  a  call  to 
Barnard,  Vermont.  He  soon  after,  in  1804,  pub- 
lished Notes  on  the  Parables,  and  a  Treatise  on 
the  Atonement,  works  in  which  he  maintained  the 
doctrines  he  had  adopted  of  the  non-existence  of 
future  punishment,  limited  or  eternal,  after  death, 
and  of  the  non-e*istence  of  the  Trinity.  After 
residing  for  six  years  at  Barnard  he  removed  to 
Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,  where  he  remained 
for  the  same  period  and  then  resided  at  Salem, 
Massachusetts,  Here  he  published  a  series  of  let- 
ters addressed  to  Aimer  Kneeland  on  the  authen- 
ticity of  the  Scriptures,  On  the  fifteenth  of  De- 
cember, 1817,  he  was  installed  a  pastor  of  the 
Second  Universalis  Society  at  Boston,  a  recently 
formed  association,  who  had  erected  a  church  for 


his  reception.  In  1819  he  commenced  a  weekly 
journal,  the  Unieersalist  Magazine,  of  which  he- 
remained  editor  for  many  years.  Several  of  his 
hymns  appeared  in  its  columns.  In  1831  he  also 
commenced,  with  his  nephew,  the  Rev.  Hosea 
Ballou,  2d,  a  leading  clergyman  of  the  same  deno- 
mination, a  quarterly  publication  entitled  the 
Unwersalist  Expositor*  He  edited  this  periodi- 
cal for  two  years,  and  continued  to  contribute  to 
the  pages  of  this  and  the  first  named  journal  until 
his  death — an  event  which  occurred  after  an  unin- 
terrupted mini-try  at  Boston  of  thirty-five  years, 
on  the  seventh  of  June,  1852.  In  addition  to  the 
works  we  have  mentioned,  Ballou  published  se- 
veral collections  of  his  sermons  and  treatises  on 
the  doctrines  he  professed.  A  volume  of  his  fu- 
gitive verses  consists  mostly  of  hymns,  many 
of  which  are  included  in  the  Universalist  collec- 
tion, by  Adams  and  Chapin.t  Of  these  the  fol- 
lowing may  be  taken  as  a  specimen. 

BLESSINGS   OF  CHRIST'S   UNIVERSAL  REIGH. 

When  God  descends  with  men  to  dwell, 
And  all  creation  makes  anew, 
-  What  tongue  can  half  the  wonders  tell  ? 
What  eye  the  dazzling  glories  view? 

Zion,  the  desolate,  again 

Shall  see  her  lands  with  roses  bloom ; 
And  Carmel's  mount,  and  Sharon's  plain, 

Shall  yield  their  spices  and  perfume. 

Celestial  streams  shall  gently  flow; 

The  wilderness  shall  joyful  be; 
Lilies  on  parched  ground  shall  grow; 

And  gladness  spring  on  every  tree; 

The  weak  be  strong,  the  fearful  bold, 

The  deaf  shall  hear,  the  dumb  shall  sing, 

The  lame  shall  walk,  the  blind  behold; 
And  joy  through  all  the  earth  shall  ring 

Monarchs  and  slaves  shall  meet  in  love ; 

Old  pride  shall  die,  and  meekness  reign, — 
When  God  descends  from  worlds  above, 

To  dwell  with  men  on  earth  again. 

An  edition  of  Ballou's  collected  writings  has  been 
published. 

The  Rev.  Hosea  Ballou,  2d,  still  edits  the  Uni- 
versalist Quarterly  Review,  to  which  he  has  con- 
tributed many  valuable  articles.  He  is  also  the 
author  of  the  Ancient  History  of  Unhersalism,  in 
which  he  endeavors  to  trace  that  doctrine  to  the 
time  of  the  Primitive  Church. 

Moses,  the  son  of  Hosea  Ballon,  is  the  author  of 
77(6  Divine  Character  Vindicated,  a  reply  to 
Beecher's  Conflict  of  Ages.  Another  brother  is 
the  editor  of  Ballou's  Pictorial,  and  the  author  of 
several  popular  tales.  Another  member  of  the 
same  family,  the  Rev.  Adin  Ballou,  is  the  author 
of  several  pamphlets  on  the  Peace  movement,  of 
which  he  is  a  leading  advocate. 

ELIHU  H.  SMITH. 
Eliitu  Hubbard  Smith  was  born  at  Litchfield, 
Conn.,  Sept.  4,  1771.     He  was  educated  at  Yale 
College,  and  completed  his  course  at  so  early  an 


*  Now  the  Universalist  Quarterly  Review. 

t  Hymns  for  Christian  Devotion;  especially  adapted  to  the 
Universalist  i  enomination.  By  J.  G.  Adams  and  E.  II.  Cha- 
pin.    Boston:  Abel  Tompkins.    1&16. 


300 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


age  that  he  was  placed  hy  his  father  in  charge 
of  Dr.  Dwight,  at  Greenfield,  to  continue  his  lite- 
rary studies,  until  sufficiently  matured  to  com- 
mence the  study  of  medicine.  This  he  prose- 
cuted with  his  father,  a  physician  of  eminence, 
and  completed  at  Philadelphia,  where  he  became 
acquainted  with  Charles  Brockden  Brown.  He 
established  himself  in  New  York,  keeping  bache- 
lor's hall  with  his  friend  William  Johnson,  the 
lawyer,  in  genial  and  hospitable  style,  in  a  house 
in  Pine  street,  the  bead-quarters  of  the  Friendly 
Club.  He  wrote  a  play,  a  number  of  sonnets  and 
essays  for  the  magazines  of  the  day,  an  operatic 
version  of  the  ballad  of  Edwin  and  Angelina, 
played  with  indifferent  success  at  the  John  Street 
Theatre  in  17M,  and  established  in  connexion 
with  his  friends,  Doctors  Samuel  L.  Mitchill  and 
Edward  Miller,  a  professional  periodical  entitled 
the  Medical  Repository. 


Elihu  H.  Smith. 

In  1793  he  edited  the  first  collection  ever  made 
of  American  poetry.*  In  1798,  during  the  hor- 
rors of  the  yellow  fever,  he  was  unremitting  in 
the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  his  profession.  He 
escaped  the  infection  for  a  long  time,  but  finally 
fell  a  victim,  under  circumstances  which  do  honor 
to  his  humanity  as  well  as  intrepidity.  A  young 
Italian,  Joseph  B.  Scandella,  who  had  during  his 
brief  sojourn  in  America  endeared  himself  to  all 
whose  acquaintance  he  had  formed,  fell  sick  of  the 
fever,  and  was  removed  from  the  Tontine  Coffee- 
House  by  Smith  to  his  own  apartments.  The 
disease  speedily  proved  fatal,  not  only  to  the  pa- 
tient but  to  the  physician,  who  died  Sept.  21, 
1798. 

Smith  prefixed  to  the  American  edition  of  Dar- 
win's Works  an  Epistle  to  the  Author  of  the  Bo- 
tanic Garden,  and  also  wrote  an  irregular  poem, 
somewhat  after  the  manner  of  "Gray's  Bard," 
descriptive  of  Indian  character  and  manners.t  It 
was  never  printed,  and  accidentally  destroyed, 
with  the  author's  other  manuscripts,  after  his 
death.  It  was  pronounced  by  a  competent  judge 
to  be  the  author's  best  production. 


*  Ante,  p.  319,  note. 

t  Everest's  Poets  of  Connecticut,  p.  1C6. 


EPISTLE  TO  THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  BOTANIC  GAEOEN. 

For  unknown  ages,  'mid  his  wild  abode, 
Speechless  and  rude  the  human  savage  trode; 
By  slow  degrees  expressive  sounds  acquired, 
And  simple  thoughts  in  words  uncouth  attired. 
As  growing  wants  and  varying  climes  arise, 
Excite  desire  and  animate  surprise, 
Gradual  his  mind  a  wider  circuit  ranged, 
His  manners  softened,  and  his  language  changed; 
And  grey  experience,  wiser  than  of  yore, 
Bequeathed  its  strange  traditionary  lore. 

Again  long  ages  mark  the  flight  of  time, 
And  lingering  toil  evolves  the  Art  divine. 
Coarse  drawings  first  the  imperfect  thought  revealed; 
Next,  barbarous  forms  the  mystic  sense  concealed ; 
Capricious  signs  the  meaning  then  disclose ; 
And  last,  the  infant  alphabet  arose ; 
From  Kilus'  banks  adventurous  Caomus  errs, 
And  on  his  Thebes  the  peerless  boon  confers. 

Slow  spread  the  sacred  art,  its  use  was  slow : 
Whate'er  the  improvements  later  times  bestow, 
Still  how  restrained,  how  circumscribed  its  power! 
Years  raise  the  fruit  an  instant  may  devour. 
Fond  Science  wept;  the  uncertain  toil  she  viewed, 
And  in  the  evil,  half  forgot  the  good. 
What  though  the  sage,  and  though  the  bard  inspired, 
By  truth  illumined,  and  by  genius  fired, 
In  high  discourse  the  theme  divine  prolong, 
And  pour  the  glowing  tide  of  lofty  song ; 
To  princes  limited,  to  PujTt's'  sons, 
Tyrants  of  mines  and  heritors  of  thrones, 
The  theme,  the  song,  scarce  touched  the  genei-oi 

mind, 
Lost  or  secluded  from  oppressed  mankind. 
Fond  Science  wept ;  how  vain  her  cares  she  saw, 
Subject  to  fortune's  ever-varying  law. 
Month  after  month  a  single  transcript  claimed, 
The  style  perchance,  perchance  the  story  maimed : 
The  guides  to  truth  corrupted  or  destroyed, 
A  passage  fi  isted,  or  a  painful  void, 
The  work  of  ignorance,  or  of  fraud  more  bold, 
To  blast  a  rival,  or  a  scheme  uphold  ; 
Or  in  the  progress  of  the  long  review, 
Th'  original  perished  as  the  copy  grew  ; 
Or,  perfect  both,  while  pilgrim  bands  admire, 
The  instant  prey  of  accidental  fire. 
Fond  Science  wept ;  whate'er  of  costliest  use, 
The  gift  and  glory  of  each  favoring  Muse  ; 
From  every  land  what  genius  might  select; 
What   wealth   might    purchase,    and   what   power 

protect ; 
The  guides  of  youth,  the  comforters  of  age; 
Swept  by  the  besom  of  barbaric  rage, — 
Scarce  a  few  fragments  scattered  o'er  the  field 
Frantic  in  one  sad  moment  she  beheld. 
"  Nor  shall  such  toil  my  generous  sons  subdue  ; 
Nor  waste  like  this  again  distress  the  view  !" 
She  cries : — where  Harlem's  classic  groves 
Embowering  rise,  with  silent  flight  she  moves ; 
She  marks  Laurentius  carve  the  beet-hen  rind, 
And  darts  a  new  creation  on  his  mind  : 
A  sudden  rapture  thrills  the  conscious  shades ; 
The  gift  remains,  the  bounteous  vision  fades. 
Homeward,  entranced,  the  Belgic  sire  returns; 
New  hope  inspires  him  and  new-  ardor  burns; 
Secret  he  meditates  his  art  by  day  : 
By  night  fair  phantoms  o'er  his  fancy  stray; 
With  opening  morn  they  rush  upon  his  soul, 
Nor  cares  nor  duties  banish  nor  control ; 
Haunt  his  sequestered  path,  his  social  scene, 
And  in  his  prayers  seductive  intervene, 
Till  shaped  to  method,  simple,  and  complete. 
The  filial  ear  the  joyful  tidings  greet. 


STEPHEN  ELLIOTT. 


601 


First,  their  nice  hands  the  temper'd  letter  frame, 
Alike  in  height,  in  width,  in  depth,  the  same; 
Deep  in  the  matrices  secure  infold, 
And  fix  within,  and  justify,  the  mould; 
The  red  amalgam  from  the  cauldron  take, 
And  flaming  pour,  and  as  they  pour  it,  shake; 
On  the  hard  table  spread  the  type  congeal'd, 
And  smooth  and  polish  on  its  marble  field ; 
While,  as  his  busy  fingers  either  plies, 
The  eiubrion  parts  of  future  volumes  rise. 

Next,  with  wise  care,  the  slender  plate  they  choose, 
Of  shining  steel,  and  fit,  with  hardeu'd  screws, 
The  shifting  sliders,  which  the  varying  line 
Break  into  parts,  or  yet  as  one  confine  ; 
Whence,  firmly  bound,  and  fitted  for  the  chase, 
Imposed,  it  rests  upon  the  stony  base; 
Tiff,  hardly  driven,  the  many  figured  quoins 
Convert  to  forms  the  accumulated  lines. 

Then,  with  new  toil,  the  upright  frame  they  shape, 
And  strict  connect  it  b3*  the  solid  cap ; 
The  moving  head  still  more  the  frame  combines, 
The  guiding  shelf  its  humbler  tribute  joins  ; 
While  the  stout  winter  erring  change  restrains, 
And  bears  the  carriage,  and  the  press  sustains : 
The  platen  these,  and  spindle  well  connect, 
Four  slender  bars  support  it,  and  direct, 
As  the  high  handle  urging  from  above, 
Downwards  and  forceful  bids  its  pressure  move. 
Beneath,  with  plank  the  patent  carriage  spread, 
Lifts  the  smooth  marble  on  its  novel  bed, 
Rides  on  its  wheeled  spit  in  rapid  state, 
Nor  fears  to  meet  the  quick-descending  weight. 

Last,  the  wise  sire  the  ready  form  supplies, 
With  cautious  hands  and  scrutinizing  eyes; 
Fits  the  moist  tgmpan  (while  the  youth  intent, 
With  patting  balls,  applies  the  sable  paint), 
Then  lowers  the  frisket,  turns  the  flying  rounce, 
And  pulls  amain  the  forceful  bar  at  once ; 
A  second  turn,  a  second  pressure,  gives, 
And  on  the  sheet  the  fair  impression  lives. 
Raptured,  the  youth  and  reverend  sire  behold, 
Press  to  their  lips  and  to  their  bosoms  fold; 
Mingle  their  sighs,  ecstatic  tears  descend, 
And,  face  to  face,  in  silent  union  blend: 
Fond  Science  triumphs,  and  rejoicing  Fame, 
From  pole  to  pole,  resounds  Laurentius'  name. 

Hence,  doom'd  no  more  to  barbarous  zeal  a  prey, 
Genius  and  taste  their  treasured  stores  display  ; 
Nor  lords,  nor  monks,  alone,  the  sweets  procure, 
But  old  and  young,  the  humble  and  the  poor. 

Hence,  wide  diffused,  increasing  knowledge  flies, 
And  error's  shades  forsake  the  jaundiced  eyes. 
Man  knows  himself  for  man,  and  sees,  elate, 
The  kinder  promise  of  his  future  fate  ; 
Nations,  ashamed,  their  ancient  hate  forego, 
And  find  a  brother,  where  they  found  a  foe. 

Hence,  o'er  the  world  (what  else  perchance  con- 
ceal'd, 
Supprest  for  ages,  or  fore'er  withheld. 
To  one  small  town,  or  shire,  or  state,  confined, 
In  merit's  spite  to  long  neglect  consigned, 
The  sport  or  victim  of  some  envious  flame, 
Whence  care  nor  art  might  rescue  nor  reclaim), 
Flies  the  Botanic  Song ;  around 
Successive  nations  catch  the  enchanting  sound, 
Glow  as  they  listen,  wonder  as  they  gaze. 
And  pay  the  instructive  page  with  boundless  praise  : 
For  not  to  Britain's  parent  isle  alone, 
Or  what  the  East  encircles  with  her  zone, 
The  bounty  flows,  but  spreads  to  neighboring  realms, 


And  a  new  hemisphere  with  joy  o'erwhclms. 

Here,  read  witli  rapture,  studied  with  delight, 

Long  shall  it  charm  the  taste,  the  thought  excite, 

And  youths  and  maids,  the  parent  and  the  child, 

Their  minds  illumined,  and  their  griefs  beguiled, 

By  all  of  fancjT,  all  of  reason,  moved, 

Rise  from  the  work  invigor'd  and  improved. 

Nor  only  here,  nor  only  now,  enjoy'd  : 

Where  opes  the  interior  desolate  and  void ; 

Where  Mississippi's  turbid  waters  glide, 

And  white  Missouri  pours  its  rapid  tide ; 

Where  vast  Superior  spreads  its  inland  sea, 

And  the  pale  tribes  near  icy  confines  stray ; 

"  Where  now  Alaska  lifts  its  forests  rude, 

And  Nootka  rolls  her  solitary  flood  ;"* 

Where  the  fierce  sun  with  ray  severer  rains 

His  floods  of  light  o'er  Amazonian  plains; 

Where,  land  of  horrors  I  roam  the  giant  brood 

On  the  bleak  margin  of  the  antarctic  flood; 

In  future  years,  in  ages  long  to  come — 

When  radiant  justice  finds  again  her  home ; 

Known,  honor'd,  studied,  graced  with  nobler  fame, 

Its  charms  unfaded,  and  its  worth  tiie  same, 

To  vaster  schemes  shall  light  the  kindling  view, 

And  lift  to  heights  no  earlier  era  knew, 

Some  ardent  youth,  some  Fair  whose  beauties  shine, 

In  mind,  as  person,  only  not  divine  ; — 

In  halls  where  Montezuma  erst  sat  throned, 

Whom  thirty  princes  as  their  sovereign  own'd, 

In  bowers  where  Manco  labor'd  for  Peru, 

While  the  white  thread  his  blest  Oella  drew, — 

Where  Ataliba  met  a  tyrant's  rage, — 

Entranced,  shall  ponder  o'er  the  various  page; 

Or,  where  Oregon  foams  along  the  West, 

And  seeks  the  fond  Pacific's  tranquil  breast; 

With  kindred  spirit  strike  the  sacred  lyre, 

And  bid  the  nations  listen  and  admire. 

Hence  keen  incitement  prompts  the  prying  mind 
By  treacherous  fears,  nor  palsied,  nor  confined ; 
Ite  curious  search  embrace  the  sea,  and  shore, 
And  mine  and  ocean,  earth  and  air,  explore. 

Thus  shall  the  years  proceed — till  growing  time 
Unfold  the  treasures  of  eacli  differing  clime  ; 
Till  one  vast  brotherhood  mankind  unite 
In  equal  bands  of  knowledge  and  of  right. 
Then  the  proud  column,  to  the  smiling  skies, 
In  simple  majesty  sublime  shall  rise, 
O'er  Ignorance  foil'd,  their  triumph  loud  proclaim, 
And  bear  inscrib'd,  immortal  Darwin's  name. 

New  York,  March,  1798.  ' 


STEPHEN  ELLIOTT 

Was  born  at  Beaufort,  S.  C,  on  the  11th  Novem- 
ber, 1771.  He  was  the  son  of  William  Elliott, 
married  to  Miss  Mary  Barnwell  in  1760.  The 
father  died  wliile  Stephen  was  a  child,  but  his 
elder  brother  William  took  good  care  of  his  edu- 
cation. After  the  preliminary  studies  he  entered 
Yale  College  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  his  age, 
and  graduated  in  1791.  He  then  delivered  an 
English  Oration  on  "  the  Supposed  Degeneracy  of 
Animated  Nature,"  and  took  one  of  the  highest 
honors  in  his  class.  Among  his  college  com- 
panions were  Chancellor  Jones,  Samuel  Miles 
Hopkins  of  New  York,  and  Judge  Gould  of  Litch- 
field, Conn. 


*  This  couplet  is  from  an  unpublished  poem  of  my  friend, 
Mr.  Eicliard  Alsop;  a  poet  who.  Were  his  ambition  equal  to 
his.  talents,  would  appear  amoug  the  poets  of  his  time  velui 


inter  iynes  Itmu  miuores. 


602 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


In  1796  Stephen  Elliott  married   Miss  Esther 
Habersham,  of  Georgia,  and  was  elected  a  dele- 


gate to  the  State  Legislature,  in  which  he  con- 
tinued to  serve  until  the  establishment  of  the 
"  Bank  of  the  State"  in  1812,  of  which  he  was 
elected  President.  He  then  removed  with  his 
family  to  Charleston.  All  his  leisure  hours  had 
for  many  years  been  devoted  to  literary  pursuits, 
to  natural  science,  and  to  botany  in  particular. 
Mr.  Elliott  was  here  considered  the  leader  in  all 
associations  for  their  advancement.  He  was  the 
founder  of  the  Literary  and  Philosophical  Society 
in  1813,  and  commenced  it  by  inviting  to  his  own 
house,  at  stated  periods,  such  gentlemen  as  were 
most  likely  to  concur  in  this  his  favorite  object. 
In  1814  he  delivered  the  first  Anniversary  Ad- 
dress to  that  institution,  remarkable  alike  for  its 
elegance  of  diction,  and  the  capacity  of  his  mind, 
which  could  embrace  such  various  pursuits  of 
science.  His  object  was  not  only  to  explain  their 
relations  to  each  other  as  branches  of  literature, 
but  to  encourage  the  members  to  add  zeal  to 
knowledge,  and  perseverance  to  enterprise.  He 
took  the  lead  in  what  he  recommended,  and  de- 
livered a  course  of  lectures  on  botany  gratuitously, 
to  a  large  class  of  ladies  and  gentlemen.  He  like- 
wise, in  conjunction  with  Hugh  S.  Legare,  be- 
came editor  of  the  "  Southern  Review,"  and  him- 
self wrote  ten  of  its  articles,  viz.,  in  No.  1  on 
Napoleon  Bonaparte.  In  No.  2  on  the  Constitu- 
tion of  the  United  States.  In  No.  3,  three  papers, 
on  Irving'a  Columbus,  Travels  in  Russia,  and  Na- 
poleon Bonaparte.  In  No.  4  the  Views  of  Nature, 
and  Internal  Improvement.  In  No.  5  Walsh's 
Narrative.  In  No.  6  the  Manufacture  of  Sugar. 
In  No.  7  Education  in  German}-.  In  No.  8  Cuba, 
and  Classification  of  Plants.  In  No.  10  Bour- 
'rienne's  Memoirs. 

Mr.  Elliott  was  one  of  the  earlie-t  and  warmest 
advoca.es  for  the  establishment  of  the  Medical 
College  in  1S25,  and  was  elected  one  of  the 
Faculty,  and  Professor  of  Natund  History  and 
Botany.  His  most  elaborate  and  valuable  work, 
his  Botany  of  South  Carolina  and  Georgia,  was 
compiled  and  published  in  the  midst  of  these 
laborious  engagements,  financial  and  scientific;  the 
first  volume  appeared  in  the  year  1821,  and  the 
second  in  1821.*  This  accumulation  of  business, 
mental  and  bodily,  was  too  great  for  him  to  sus- 


*  In  the  preparation  of  this  work  on  Botany.  Elliott  was 
gTeatly  agisted  by  Dr.  James  M'Bride,  particularly  in  the 
notices  of  the  medicinal  properties  of  many  indigenous  plants. 
M'Bride  was  a  native  of  South  Carolina,  born  in  the  Williams- 
burg District.  April  17. 17S4.  Left  an  oiphan  at  an  early  aire, 
and  with  hnmble  means,  he  devoted  himself  earnestly  to  his 
college  studies  at  Yale,  at  a  time  when  Bishop  Giadsden, 
Grinike.  and  Calhoun  were  his  companions  there,  economizing 
his  resources  by  his  superior  industry  in  pa-  sirg  rapidly  through 
the  college  studies.  His  love  of  natural  science  led  him  to  the 
study  of  medicine,  which  he  pursued  with  the  same  ardor  and 
economy  of  time  and  money.  He  settled  as  a  physician  in 
Pineville,  S.  C.  aDd  communicated  artie'es  on  the  botany  of  the 
region  to  the  scientific  and  medical  societies  of  the  day.  He 
died  young,  September  21.  1S17.  from  fatisrue  and  exposure 
in  his  efforts  to  alleviate  the  yellow  fever  of  that  year  at 
Charleston. 


tain;  he  died  suddenly  in  1830,  struck  down  by 
apoplexy. 

Mr.  Elliott  has  left  a  family  emulous  in  good 
works.  Among  them,  his  oldest  son,  the  Rt.  Rev. 
Stephen  Elliott,  is  the  Bishop  of  Georgia;  his 
youngest,  James  H.  Elliott,  is  the  favorite  assist- 
ant minister  of  St.  Michael's,  Charleston;  and  his 
daughter  is  the  wife  of  Bishop  Boone,  the  dis- 
tinguished head  of  the  China  Mission. 

CHAEXES  CALDWELL, 

A  physician  of  Philadelphia,  whose  career  may 
be  traced  with  interest  through  the  pages  of  his 
autobiography,  was  a  writer  of  industry  and 
ability,  and  of  original  powers  of  reflection.  He 
was  the  son  of  an  Irish  lieutenant,  who,  on  his 
emigration  to  America,  settled  in  Delaware,  and 
6ubsei|uently  removed  to  North  Carolina,  and 
established  himself  "  in  a  region  which  but  a 
short  time  previously  had  been  the  home  of  the 
savage,  whose  haunts  and  hunting  grounds  were 
still  but  a  short  distance  remote  from  it,  in 
Orange,  now  Caswell  County,  on  Moon's  Creek, 
a  small  branch  of  Dan  River,  about  twenty  miles 
south  of  the  southern  border  of  Virginia."  There 
our  author  was  born,  May  14,  1772.  His  early 
education  in  that  ill-furnished  district  was  picked 
up  more  by  his  own  sagacity  and  perseverance, 
than  through  the  assistance  of  others.  In  his 
boyhood  he  assisted  in  building  a  small  log-bonse 
near  his  father's  crowded  home,  that  he  might 
have  an  opportunity  of  studying  by  himself.  His 
father  removing  to  the  southern  portion  of  the 
State,  he  there  fell  in  with  better  opportunities 
of  instruction,  being  taught  by  an  estimable 
schoolmaster  named  Harris,  "who  subsequently 
became  Tutor  in  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  and 
of  whose  eccentric  appearance  Caldwell  has  left 
an  account  in  his  autobiography.  With  some 
slight  additional  preparation  at  an  "academy," 
the  latter  became  himself  a  teacher,  taking  charge 
at  first  of  the  Snow  Creek  Seminary,  "  situated 
on  a  stream  of  that  name,  not  far  from  the  foot 
of  the  Bushy  Mountains  in  North  Carolina,"  and 
afterwards  of  the  Centre  Institute  in  the  same 
State.  Still  pursuing  his  own  studies,  his  taste  was 
directed  to  topics  of  scientific  study  by  meeting 
with  Samuel  Stanhope  Smith's  Essay  on  the 
Variety  of  Color  in  the  Human  Race,  to  the 
positions  of  which  he  became  thus  early  an  an- 
tagonist. 

In  the  choice  of  a  profession,  after  meditating 
the  Presbyterian  pulpit  and  the  law,  he  chose 
medicine,  and  pursued  the  study  for  a  time  with 
the  inefficient  aid  of  a  practitioner  at  Salisbury, 
in  his  native  state.  In  1792  he  arrived  at  Phila- 
delphia, and  engaged  witK  the  medical  classes  of 
the  University,  which  at  that  time  were  sustained 
by  Shippen  and  Wistar  in  Anatomy  and  Surgery, 
and  Rush  in  the  Institutes  of  Medicine.  He  en- 
gaged with  ardor  in  the  study,  aud  enjoyed  the 
personal  friendship  of  Rush  aud  others,  while 
he  devoted  himself  assiduously  to  his  profession 
during  the  arduous  yellow  fever  season  of  1793. 
On  the  breaking  out  of  the  Whiskey  Insurrection, 
he  received  the  appointment  of  surgeon  to  a 
brigade,  and  proceeded  with  the  forces  to  the 
neighborhood  of  Pittsburgh,  when  the  difficulty 
was  declared  to  be  terminated,  aud  the  troops 


CHARLES  CALDWELL. 


603 


retired.  In  the  military  banquet  which  followed, 
the  management  of  the  affair  was  assigned  to 
Caldwell,  whose  address  on  the  occasion  drew 
forth  a  liberal  compliment  from  Hamilton. 

In  1795,  he  commenced  his  literary  career  by 
translating  Blumenbach's  Elements  of  Physiology 
from  the  Latin,  followed  within  a  few  years  by  a 
number  of  medical  treatises,  on  the  Epidemic  of 
the  city,  the  vitality  of  the  blood,  physiognomy, 
quarantine?,  and  other  subjects  of  a  speculative 
and  practical  character.  \  In  1814-,  he  became  the 
editor  of  the  Port  Folio,  succeeding  Nicholas  Bid- 
die  in  the  management  of  the  work,  to  winch  he 
gave  new  efficiency  by  his  ready  pen  and  activity 
of  mind,  covering  a  great  variety  of  subjects  and 
securing  immediate  succes  j  by  the  introduction  of 
original  material  relating  to  the  conduct  and 
heroes  of  the  war  with  England,  which  had  then 
just  commenced.  He  secured  the  last  by  his  inti- 
macy and  correspondence  with  the  officers.  "  So 
earnest  and  determined,"  he  tells  us,  "  was  Gene- 
ral Brown  in  the  scheme,  that  he  asserted,  in  one 
of  his  letters,  that  ho  reported  himself  and  order- 
ed his  officers  to  report  themselves,  in  their  con- 
nexion with  all  interesting  events  of  the  army,  as 
regularly  to  the  editor  of  the  Port  Folio  as  they 
did  to  him,  or  as  he  did  to  the  Secretary  of  War.'- 
The  articles  in  the  Port  Folio  by  Caldwell  were 
chiefly  biographical,  or  reviews  of  the  prominent 
books  of  poetry  of  the  day.  In  1816,  at  the  sug- 
gestion of  Dr.  Chapman,  he  edited  Cnllen's  Prac- 
tice of  Physic,  and  the  same  year  wrote  most  of 
the  biography  in  Delaplaine's  Repository.  He 
was  also  at  this  time  professor  of  Natural  History 
in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania.  In  1819,  he 
published  his  Life  and  Campaigns  of  General 
Greene,  the  most  important  in  extent  of  his  bio- 
graphical studies.  In  1819,  he  removed  to  Ken- 
tucky, to  take  charge  of  a  medical  department  in 
the  Transylvania  University  at  Lexington.  His 
place  was  that  of  the  Institutes  of  Medicine  and 
Clinical  Practice.  Besides  the  immediate  duties 
of  instruction,  Dr.  Caldwell  had  to  interest  the 
state  legislature  in  the  school,  and  create  a  pres- 
tige for  Western  medical  education  throughout 
that  whole  region.  He  succeeded  in  securing 
funds  from  the  state,  and  by  his  journeys  a  fa- 
vorable public  opinion  towards  the  enterprise. 
In  1820,  be  set  out  on  an  eight  months'  tour  to 
Europe,  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  books  and 
materials  for  the  institution.  His  notices  of  the 
celebrities  of  London  and  Paris  on  this  tour 
sketched  in  his  autobiography,  include  among 
others  Sir  Astley  Cooper,  Abernethy  whose  oddi- 
ty he  fairly  mastered  by  his  decision  and  self- 
possession,  Mrs.  Somerville  whose  remarkable 
attainments  put  the  doctor's  universality  to  a  test . 
in  a  conversation  running  over  criticism  and  the 
sciences. 

After  eighteen  years'  devotion  to  the  Transyl- 
vania University,  rinding  a  new  site  for  the  school 
desirable  and  the  trustees  offering  to  make  a 
change  of  locality  which  had  been  contemplated, 
he  withdrew  from  that  institution  in  1837  to  es- 
tablish in  the  neighboring  city  the  "  Louisville 
Medical  Institute."  He  encountered  the  labors  of 
this  new  enterprise  with  resolution,  procuring 
funds  and  securing  professors.  After  six  years' 
devotion  to  this  arduous  work,  difficulties  aro-e 
between  Dr.  Caldwell  and  the  trustees,  and  in 


1849,  when  he  was  on  the  eve  of  closing  his  con- 
nexion with  the  institute,  he  was  removed  by  the 
Board.  The  remainder  of  his  life  was  passed  in 
retirement  at  Louisville  till  his  death  at  that  place 
July  9,  1853.  He  occupied  himself  during  these 
la  ;t  years  with  the  composition  of  his  Au'ohiogra- 
phy,  which  was  published  in  1855, with  a  brief  con- 
clusion by  the  editress,  Harriot  W.  Warner.  It 
affords  abundant  indication  of  the  abilities  of  the 
man,  and  of  the  sources  of  opposition  which  he 
frequently  encountered.  Of  bold,  vigorous  pow- 
ers, his  egotism  and  self-assertion  appear  constant- 
ly on  the  alert.  The  activity  and  energy  of  his 
mind  are  remarkable;  but  a  certain  uneasiness  of 
temper  lessens  the  force  of  bis  abilities.  The 
style  of  the  autobiography  is  diffuse  and  impeded 
by  cumbrous  expressions;  while  it  contains  much 
written  with  strength  and  insight  which  will  con- 
tinue to  be  of  interest,  both  for  the  idiosyncrasy  of 
tlu  author  and  the  important  people  with  whom  he 
was  brought  into  relation.  The  closing  chapter 
enumerating  the  author's  "  published  writings 
and  translations"  from  1794  to  1851,  embraces  a 
catalogue  of  more  than  two  hundred  items,  in- 
cluding magazine  articles  and  pamphlets,  but 
many  large  works  as  well.  Among  the  latter,  in 
addition  to  those  which  we  have  noticed,  may  be 
mentioned  a  volume  of  Memoirs  of  the  lieu.  Dr. 
Eornce  Holly  ;  B  ichtiir  Jfauteh,  or  the  Boyd 
Foundling,  a  Persian  Story,  translated  from  the 
Arabic  ;  and  various  publications  of  medical  and 
physical  memoirs,  growing  out  of  his  advocacy  of 
Phrenology,  with  which  he  was  greatly  identified, 
and  his  more  immediate  professional  pursuits. 

SKETCH   OF  THE   REV.   JAMES  HALL,   OF  NORTH   CAROLINA.* 

An  early  acquaintance,  of  whom  it  is  peculiarly 
pleasing  to  me  to  speak  (though  lie  was  advanced  in 
years  when  I  was  but  a  boy),  was  the  Rev.  James  Hall, 
D.D.,  of  Iredell  County.  In  piety  he  was  peculiarly 
signalized;  and  his  aspect  was  more  vegetable  and 
apostolic  than  that  of  any  other  man  I  have  ever 
beheld.  His  intellect  was  also  of  a  high  order,  espe- 
cially in  mathematics,  astronomy,  and  mechanics  ; 
and,  in  the  power  and  majesty  of  pulpit  eloquence, 
he  had  no  superior. 

In  mathematical  and  astronomical  science  he  gave 
me  my  earliest  and  most  instructive  lessons.  And 
lie  was  certainly  one  of  the  first,  if  not  himself  the 
very  first  constructor  of  a  steamboat.  And  the  inven- 
tion was  original  with  him,  not  derivative.  I  wit- 
nessed myself  the  movement  of  his  first  model  (a 
structure  five  or  six  feet  long),  over  a  small  pond 
on  his  own  plantation.  But  he  was  too  deeply  en- 
grossed by  his  clerical  labours  to  pursue  his  inven- 
tion to  any  useful  effect. 

I  have  said  that  Dr.  Hall  was  a  man  of  great  and 
moving  pulpit  eloquence.  Of  the  truth  of  this,  the 
following  occurrence  gives  ample  proof:  — 

On  a  sacramental  occasion,  in  Poplar-tent  congre- 
gation, in  Cabarrus  County,  the  assemblage  of  people 
was  far  too  great  to  be  contained  in  the  meeting- 
house. The  time  being  summer,  suitable  arrange- 
ments were  made,  and  the  multitude  were  seated 
beneath  the  shade  of  a  dense  forest  of  ancient  oaks; 
and  Dr.  Hall  addressed  them  from  a  temporary 
stage  erected  for  the  purpose.  In  the  course  of  his 
sermon,  which,  from  beginning  to  end,  was  bold  and 
fervent,  he  took  occasion  to  liken  the  condition  of  a 
heedless  and  reckless  sinner  to  that  of  a  wild  and 


*  From  tile  Autobiography. 


604 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAS"  LITERATURE. 


unthinking  youth,  crossing,  in  a  slight  batteau,  a 
deep  and  rapid  river,  a  short  distance  above  a  lofty 
and  frightful  waterfall. 

On  each  bank  of  the  stream  were  members  of  the 
famity  and  friends  of  the  young  man  eyeing,  in  wild 
distraction  and  horror,  the  perils  of  his  situation, 
and  loudly  calling  to  him,  in  screams  of  terror,  to 
ply  his  oars  and  press  for  the  shore.  But  he  either 
hears  them  not,  or  disregards  their  supplication ; 
and  in  perfect  negligence  and  apparent  security, 
giving  only  with  his  oars  an  occasional  stroke,  gazes 
on  the  beauties  of  the  landscape  around  him,  the 
azure  of  the  heavens,  the  birds  disporting  in  air 
above  him,  his  faithful,  but  terrified  dog,  crouching 
by  his  side,  and  looking  him  affectionately  and  im- 
ploringly in  the  face  ;  he  gazes,  in  fact,  upon  every- 
thing visible,  except  the  waterfall,  near  to  him,  and 
the  gulf  beneath  it,  towards  which,  with  fearful 
power  and  rapidity,  the  current  is  sweeping  him. 
But,  suddenly,  at  length  awakened  from  his  revery, 
he  hears  the  distracted  and  piercing  calls  of  his 
friends,  sees  their  bent  bodies  and  extended  arms,  as 
if  outstretched  to  save  him ;  beholds  the  cataract, 
over  whose  awful  brink  he  is  impending,  and,  horror- 
stricken  at  the  sight,  starting  up  and  convulsively 
reaching  out  his  wide-spread  hands,  as  if  imploring 
a  rescue,  and  uttering  an  unearthly  shriek  of 
despair,  is  headlong  plunged  and  swallowed  up  in 
the  boiling  gulf  that  awaits  him. 

So  completely  had  the  words  of  the  orator  ar- 
rested and  enthralled  the  minds  of  his  audience,  so 
vivid  and  engrossing  was  the  scene  he  had  pictured 
to  their  imaginations,  and  so  perfectly,  for  his  pur- 
pose, had  he  converted  fiction  into  reality,  that, 
when  he  brought  his  victim  to  shoot  the  cataract,  a 
scream  was  uttered  by  several  women,  two  or  three 
were  stricken  down  by  their  emotion,  and  a  large 
portion  of  the  assembled  multitude  made  an  involun- 
tary start,  as  if,  by  instinct,  impelled  to  an  effort  to 
redeem  the  lost  one,  and  restore  him  to  his  friends. 

Never  did  I,  in  any  other  instance,  except  one, 
witness  an  effort  of  oratory  so  powerful  and  bewitch- 
ing ;  and,  in  that  one,  I  myself  was  materially  con- 
cerned, and  in  it  a  two-fold  source  of  influence  was 
employed — impassioned  eloquence  and  scenic  show. 
It  occurred  very  many  years  ago,  in  the  Chestnut 
Street  Theatre,  in  Philadelphia,  during  the  perform- 
ance of  "Alexander  the  Great."  The  "  Rival 
Queens"  were  personated ;  Statira,  by  Mrs.  Wignel, 
afterwards,  by  another  marriage,  Sirs.  Warren,  and 
Roxana  by  Mrs.  Whitlock,  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Siddon3. 
In  the  murder  scene,  so  completely  successful  were 
those  two  accomplished  actresses,  that,  in  my  fasci- 
nated view  of  the  matter,  playful  fiction  had  given 
place  to  vindictive  reabty,  and,  when  Roxana  drew 
her  glittering  dagger,  preparatory  to  the  murderous 
act  she  meditated,  I  (being  seated  in  the  stage-box) 
sprang  to  my  feet,  and  would  have  disarmed  her  in 
a  moment,  had  I  not  been  prevented  by  a  gentleman 
in  the  box.  "Whether  any  person  but  myself  now 
remembers  the  event,  I  know  not;  but  its  effect  at 
that  time  was  memorable  and  ludicrous.  It  drew 
from  pit,  box,  and  gallery,  directed  towards  myself, 
a  round  or  two  of  hearty  laughter  and  applause,  and 
utterly  spoiled  the  after  part  of  the  play,  by  chang- 
ing it  from  tragedy  into  comedy  or  farce. 

Still  further  to  evince  the  versatility  and  value  of 
the  powers,  both  bodily  and  mental,  of  the  Rev.  Br. 
Hall,  at  the  most  unpromising  period  of  our  revo- 
lutionary war,  in  the  South,  when  thick  clouds  were 
gathering  on  the  horizon  of  freedom,  when  the  hopes 
of  the  most  sanguine  and  the  hearts  of  the  bravest 
seemed  ready  to  fail,  and  every  service  of  every 
patriot  was  called  for  in  the  contest — at  that  period 
of  gloom   and   incipient   despondency,  the   equally 


brave  and  venerable  Hall,  to  the  sword  of  the  Spirit, 
which  he  had  long  and  successfully  wielded,  added 
that  of  the  secular  arm,  by  soliciting  and  readily 
obtaining,  on  two  conditions,  proposed  by  himself,  a 
captaincy  in  a  regiment  of  volunteer  dragoons,  to 
continue  in  service  for  at  least  a  year,  unless  sooner 
disbanded  by  the  termination  of  the  war.  And  the 
conditions  were,  that  his  company  should  be  raised 
by  himself,  and  that  he  should  act  as  chaplain,  with- 
out pay,  to  the  regiment  to  which  he  might  belong. 
Whether  he  received  pav  as  captain  I  do  not  remem- 
ber, but  believe  he  did  not. 

On  these  terms,  he  was  soon  at  the  head  of  a  full 
and  noble-looking  company,  on  his  march  to  the  seat 
of  war,  where,  as  often  as  a  suitable  opportunity 
presented  itself,  lie  never  failed  to  distinguish  him- 
self by  his  gallantry  and  firmness.  An  excellent 
rider,  personally  almost  Herculean,  possessed  of  a 
very  long  and  flexible  arm,  and  taking,  as  he  did, 
daily  lessons  from  a  skilful  teacher  of  the  art,  he  be- 
came, in  a  short  time,  one  of  the  best  swordsmen  in 
the  cavalry  of  the  South.  Beii  g  found,  moreover, 
to  be  as  judicious  in  council  as  he  was  formidable  in 
action,  he  received  the  sobriquet  of  the  Ulysses  of 
his  regiment. 

On  the  capture  of  Lord  Cornwallis,  believing  the 
war  to  be  on  the  verge  of  its  termination,  and  per- 
suaded that  he  could  now  more  effectually  serve  his 
country  in  a  civil  than  in  a  military  capacity,  hav- 
ing declined  the  acceptance  of  a  proffered  majority 
in  a  regiment  of  select  cavalry  about  to  be  formed, 
he  resigned  his  commission,  and  returned  to  the 
duties  of  the  clerical  profession. 

It  was  long  after  this  that  I  became,  for  a  time, 
his  private  pupil  in  mathematics  and  astronomy. 
And,  notwithstanding  his  previous  stern  and  for- 
midable qualities  as  a  soldier,  he  was  now  one  of  the 
mildest  and  meekest  of  men.  After  a  Iap>se  of  more, 
perhaps,  than  twenty  years  from  the  period  of  my 
pupillage  under  him,  I  saw  him  for  the  last  time,  in 
the  city  of  Philadelphia,  as  a  delegate  to  the  General 
Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and  had  the 
high  gratification  of  affording  him  relief  from  a 
troublesome  complaint,  produced  by  fatigue  and 
exposure  in  travelling. 

From  the  superior  size  of  his  person,  the  form  and 
grandeur  of  his  head  and  countenance,  the  snowy 
whiteness  of  his  hair,  of  but  little  of  which  he  had 
been  shorn  by  the  hand  of  time,  and  from  the  sur- 
passing venerableness  of  his  whole  appearance,  he 
was  by  far  the  most  attractive  and  admired  person- 
age in  the  reverend  body  of  which  be  was  a  mem- 
ber. He  was  instinctively  regarded,  by  all  who 
beheld  him,  as  the  rightful  Nestor  and  ornament  of 
the  Assembly.  He  died,  not  long  afterward,  at  the 
advanced  age  of  about  ninety  years,  bequeathing  to 
posterity  a  reputation  rarely  equalled,  and  never, 
as  I  verily  believe,  surpassed,  in  moral  rectitude, 
pure,  fervent,  and  practical  piety,  and  usefulness  in 
the  wide  sphere  of  his  diversified  labors  in  the 
Christian  ministry,  by  any  individual  our  country 
has  produced. 

"WILLIAM  CLIFFTON, 

Ax  author  of  fine  poetical  powers,  among  the 
early  writers  of  the  country,  was  a  native  of 
Philadelphia,  born  in  1772.  He  was  of  a  Quaker 
family,  and  his  father  was  a  wealthy  mechanic. 
The  constitution  of  the  son  was  delicate,  with  a 
tendency  to  consumption,  which  excited  the  early 
exercise  of  his  faculties.  At  the  age  of  nineteen, 
the  rupture  of  a  blood-vessel  led  to  his  abandon- 
ment of  any  notions  he  may  have  entertained  of 
active  life ;  when  he  found  consolation  and  em- 


WILLIAM  CLIFFTON. 


G05 


ployment  in  literature.  His  tastes  soon  led  him 
to  relinquish  the  Quaker  dress,  and  he  became  a 
proficient  in  the  accomplishments  of  music  and 
drawing.  He  was  also  especially  fond  of  field 
sports.  When  Jay's  treaty  brought  out  much  un- 
worthy opposition  to  the  government,  Oliffton 
exercised  his  pen  in  support  of  the  administra- 
tion in  satires,  published  in  the  newspapers,  in 
prose  and  verse  on  the  demagogues.  The  longest 
of  these  satirical  productions  was  entitled  The 
Group,  in  which  various  mechanics  and  trades- 
men, Solon  Verges  a  carpenter,  Nat  Fnttoek  a 
shipwright,  Gobbo  Finis  a  coffin-maker,  John 
Stripe  a  schoolmaster,  with  others,  are  repre- 
sented as  meeting  for  discussion  on  topics  beyond 
their  reach,  respecting  politics  and  the  state. 
The  coarse  and  vulgar  material  of  low  Jacobinism, 
which  is  not  at  all  disguised  in  the  poem,  is  oc- 
casionally elevated  by  the  polish  of  the  author's 
verses.     This  is  the  melancholy  conclusion — 

The  hour  is  hastening,  when  on  equal  feet, 
Exalted  Virtue,  and  low  Vice  shall  meet ; 
When  Envy,  Faction,  Indolence  shall  rage, 
In  one  wild  tempest,  thro'  the  troubled  age; 
Then  human  dignity  shall  meet  its  doom  ; 
Devotion  perish,  Reason,  Worth,  a  tomb, 
In  the  rude  wastes  of  Ignorance,  shall  find, 
And  true  Equality  shall  bless  mankind. 
So  when  the  Kamsin  of  the  Desert  flies 
'Twixt  ardent  sands,  and  summer  kindled  skies. 
The  gasping  trav'ler  meets  the  arid  death, 
And,  prostrate  in  the  dust,  resigns  his  breath. 
Then  shall  no  pedant  priest,  with  learned  pride, 
Point  out  the  sacred  volume  for  our  guide  ; 
No  more  the  civil  law,  or  moral  page, 
The  arm  shall  fetter,  or  the  soul  encage ; 
But  pile  on  pile  the  File  of  Arts  shall  raise, 
And  all  the  knowledge  of  all  ages  blaze. 
As  when  the  gothic  conflagration  hurl'd, 
Its  smoky  volumes  round  the  sleeping  world : 
The  Fiend  of  Ruin,  with  demoniac  yell, 
Flits  round  the  flame,  directs  the  work  of  hell, 
With  sheets  of  sulphur  wing-  the  driving  gale, 
And  shakes  destruction  from  his  dragon  tnil. 
Yet,  not  as  then :  the  once  extinguished  ray 
Shall  ne'er  resuscitate  another  day; 
Here,  Science,  thy  last  stage  of  being  lies, 
No  other  Phoenix  from  thy  dust  shall  rise, 
And  no  sad  vestige  shall  remain  to  tell. 
The  temple's  basis,  where  thoulov'dst  to  dwell. 


•Mi 

ttJiCueff7S,SC 

William  Cliffton. 

.1  Rhapsody  on  the  Times  in  Hudihrastic  mea- 


sure, and  the  unfinished  poem  the  Chimeriad, 
give  vent  to  similar  complaints.  The  humor  of 
opposition  to  France,  and  the  cry  of  war,  are 
carried  to  an  extreme.  Cliffton  was  member  of 
an  association  called  the  Anchor  Club,  which  is 
described  in  the  preface  to  his  poems,  as  com- 
bining social  purposes  with  the  object  of  "  pro- 
ducing a  disposition  in  the  public  mind  towards 
war  with  France."  A  paper  in  both  prose  and 
verse,  which  he  read  to  this  circle,  is  one  of  the  best 
of  his  satirical  effusions.  It  appears  in  the  volume 
of  the  poems: — Some  Account  of  a  Manuscript 
found  among  the  papers  of  a  French  Emigrant 
in  London,  entitled  TalleyramVs  Descent  into 
Hell.  The  arch  French  intriguer,  in  imitation  of 
Ulysses  and  other  heroes  of  antiquity,  visits  the 
infernal  regions.  His  initiatory  interview  with 
Charou  is  thus  described — 

With  what  species  of  "  diplomatic  skill "  Talley- 
rand prevailed  on  Charon  to  ferry  him  over  the 
sable  waters,  is  not  known  ;  for,  where  the  letters 
again  begin  to  brighten  into  form,  we  find  the  Mi- 
nister and  Cerberus  about  to  commence  a  negotia- 
tion. This  part  seems  so  charmingly  managed  by 
the  poet  (for  here  he  is  a  poet),  that  we  shall  tran- 
scribe it  for  the  amusement  of  our  readers. 

The  triple  monster  from  his  hellish  bed, 
Rous'd  as  he  heard  the  limping  hero's  tread, 
Rush'd  to  his  kennel  door,  to  take  his  stand, 
Shook  his  three  heads,  and  growl'd  this  stern  de- 
mand: 
Whence  and  what  art  thou,  execrable  fool  ? 
What  boatman  brought  thee  o'er  the  Stygian  pool? 
Where  is  thy  passport?  where  thy  golden  bough  ? 
What  climate  breeds  such  crooked  things  as  thou  ?• 

To  these  interrogations  Talleyrand  could  not  listen 
without  emotion  ;  lie  felt  the  blood  withdraw  itself 
from  his  extremities,  and  flow  all  cold  aud  curling 
into  the  very  centre  of  his  heart.  Some  time  elapsed 
before  the  work  retrieved  its  locomotive  faculty  ; 
but  at  length  the  petrifaction  began  to  dissolve,  and 
his  tongue  was  again  loosened  from  its  fear-bound 
captivity.  His  "  diplomatic  skill,"  that  powerful 
charm  which  had  unnerved  so  many  nations,  he  had 
taken  care  to  bear  about  him,  and  now,  when  perils 
crowded  on  him,  he  began  to  shake  it  up  for  use.  He 
thus  addressed  the  Porter  of  Hell : — 

Ah  !  Cerberus,  I  love  thee  from  my  heart; 
So  kind  and  gentle  in  thy  way  thou  art! 
How  meek  thy  mien,  and  musical  thy  voice  1 
Thy  tail  'tis  true — but  then  a  tail's  thy  choice. 
It  kills  my  heart  to  see  a  beast  so  brave, 
Witli  many  heads,  and  every  one  a  slave. 
When  shall  I  see  your  lady-bitch,  good  now? 
(The  breed's  a  most  prodigious  breed  I  vow  ; 
And  e'er  to  t'other  world  I  journey  up, 
Methinks  I'll  ask  the  devil  for  a  pup. 
In  "  peace  and  safety"  might  my  masters  snore 
With  such  a  dog  to  guard  their  palace  door) — aside. 

He  is  treated  to  a  painful  view  of  the  acts  of 
his  revolutionary  coadjutors,  after  which  he  is 
carried  to  the  scenes  of  Elysium,  where  we  are 
presented  with  tins  pleasing  picture  of  old  France 
under  its  beloved  monarchical  rule. 

The  time  has  been,  ere  scribbling  knaves  began 
To  claim  more  rights  than  God  designed  for  man; 
To  teach  mankind  that  passion  never  strays; 
That  human  nature's  just  in  all  her  waj'S; 
That  Christian  laws  are  ludicrously  nice, 
And  sweet,  oh  !  sweet's  the  downy  bed  of  vice ; — 
Ere  convict  thieves,  at  their  own  fate  amazed, 


606 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Were  from  the  gallows  to  the  pulpit  raised ; 

Ere,  in  the  face  of  guilt-annoying  day, 

The  mother  play'd  to  show  her  child  the  way ; 

Ere  the  son  pluck'd  the  hoary  father's  beard, 

Ere  beggars  reign'd,  and  beggars'  trulls  were  fear'd; 

While  Paris,  yet,  could  plead  her  virtuous  ten, 

And  prayers  sincere  were  mutter'd  now  and  then; 

The  time  has  been,  that  gave  the  rustic  throng, 

Their  evening  ballet,  and  their  morning  sot.g, 

E'en  Paris,  then,  her  harmless  joys  could  boast; 

Who  was  most  upright,  then,  was  honor'd  most ; 

And  no  vile  blush  our  grateful  cheeks  o'erspread 

To  ask  a  blessing  on  our  monarch's  head. 

In  those  good  days  it  was  not  strange  to  bend, 

With  cordial  friendship,  o'er  a  bleeding  friend; 

To  see  a  foe  in  cureless  anguish  lay, 

And  smooth'd  his  pillow  as  he  passed  away. 

Then,  want  was  furnish'd  with  the  means  to  live, 

For  men  had  hearts  to  feel,  and  hands  to  give  ; 

Then  wealth  dispensed  what  happiness  it  could, 

To  taste  the  luxury  of  doing  good  ; 

Then  beauty  wept  at  sympathy's  command, 

And  love  was  then  no  stranger  in  the  land. 

Tell  me,  false  Autun,  what  lias  France  obtaiii'd 

In  lieu  of  these;  what  great  advantage  gaiu'd. 

With  all  your  new  illumination  fired. 

With  licence  bless'd,  with  sacrilege  inspired ; 

With  venerable  piles  in  ruin  laid. 

By  village  tales  the  wood  god's  dwellings  made ; 

With  all  the  hamlet's  sweet  delights  o'erthrown ; 

With  flocks  undone,  and  pious  pastors  flown  ; 

With  knaves  carousing  where  the  poor  were  fed, 

With  every  gen'rotis,  social  virtue  dead  ; 

Witli  all  these  blessings  added  to  your  store, — 

Say,  are  you  better,  happier  than  before  ? 

When  Gifford's  "  B.iviad  and  Mseviad"  was  re- 
published in  Philadelphia,  Cliifton  contributed  a 
prefatory  poetical  epistle  to  the  author,  which 
opens  with  his  complaint — 

In  these  coll  shades,  beneath  these  shifting  skies, 
Where  Fancy  sickens,  and  where  Genius  dies. 

His  death  occurred  in  December,  1799,  in  the 
twenty-seventh  year  of  his  age.  His  poems  were 
collected  in  a  volume,  published  in  New  York  the 
following  year.* 

These  "  occasional  poems"  display  the  poetic 
culture  of  the  scholar,  and  an  original  fancy 
which  had  marked  out  a  path  for  itself,  which  it 
is  to  be  regretted  was  closed  by  so  early  a  dis- 
solution. 

EPISTLE  TO  W.    GIFFOKD,  E8Q. 
Written  at  the  request  of  Mr.    Cobbett,  and  prefixed  to  his 
edition  of  that  genUematCe  elegant  poem,  "  T/tejSaviad  and 
Maviad" 

In  the-e  cold  shades,  beneath  these  shifting  skies, 
Where  Fancy  sickens,  and  where  Genius  dies; 


*  Poems,  chiefly  occasional,  by  the  late  Mr.  Cliffton.  To 
wiiicli  aie  prefixed,  Introductory  Notices  of  the  Lite.  Charac- 
ter, and  Writings  of  tlie  Author,  and  an  Engraved  Likeness. 

Quis  desiderio  sit  pudor  ant  modus 
Tarn  car]  capitis?   Precipe  lugubrca 
Cautus,  Melpomene,  cui  iiquidam  pater 

Vocem  cum  Cithara  dedit. 
Ergo  Qnintilinm  perpetuus  sopor 
Urget?  cui  Pudor,  et  Justitia*  soror 
Incorrupta  Fides,  uudaque  Veritas 

Quando  ullum  invenient  parem  ? 
Mujtis  ille  bonis  flebilis  oocidit  ? 
Null!  flcbilior  qnam  tibi,  Virgili. 
Durum  :  sed  levins  tit  patientia 

Quicqnid  corrigere  est  nefas. 

New  York :  Printed  for  J.  W.  Fenno,  by  G.  and  E.  Waite. 
1800. 


Where  few  and  feeble  are  the  Muse's  strains, 
And  no  fine  frenzy  riots  in  the  veins, 
There  still  are  found  a  few  to  whom  belong 
The  fire  of  virtue  and  the  soul  of  song ; 
Whose  kindling  ardour  still  can  wake  the  strings 
When  learning  triumphs,  and  when  Gilford  sings. 
To  thee  the  lowliest  bard  his  tribute  pays, 
His  little  wild-flower  to  thy  wreath  conveys; 
Pleas'd,  if  permitted  round  thy  name  to  bloom, 
To  boast  one  effort  resc.ed  from  the  tomb. 

While  this  delirious  age  enchanted  seems 
With  hectic  fancy  desultory  dreams  ; 
While  wearing  fast  away  is  every  trace 
Of  Grecian  vigour,  and  of  Roman  grace, 
With  fond  delight,  we  yet  one  bard  behold, 
As  Horace  polish'd,  and  as  Persius  bold, 
Reclaim  the  art,  assert  the  muse  divine, 
And  drive  obtrusive  dulness  from  the  shrine. 
Since  that  great  day  which  saw  the  tablet  rise, 
A  thinking  block,  and  whisper  to  the  eyes, 
No  time  lias  been  that  touch'd  the  muse  so  near, 
No  age  when  learning  had  so  much  to  fear, 
As  now,  when  love-lorn  ladies  light  verse  frame, 
And  every  rebus-weaver  talks  of  fame. 

When  truth  in  classic  majesty  appenr'd, 
And  Greece,  on  high,  the  dome  of  science  rear'd, 
Patience  and  perseverance,  care  and  pain 
Alone  the  steep,  the  rough  ascent  could  gain  : 
None  but  the  great  the  sun-clad  summit  sound ; 
The  weak  were  baffled,  and  the  strong  were  erown'd. 
The  tardy  transcript's  high-wrought  page  confin'd 
To  one  pursuit  the  undivided  mind. 
No  venal  critic  fatten'd  on  the  trade, 
Books  for  delight,  and  not  for  sale  were  made; 
Then  shone,  superior,  in  the  realms  of  thought, 
The  chief  who  govern'd,  and  the  sage  who  taught. 
The  drama  then  with  deathless  buj-s  was  wreath'd, 
The  statue  quicken'd,  and  the  canvass  bieath'd. 
The  poet,  then,  with  unresisted  art, 
Sway'd  every  impulse  of  the  captive  heart, 
Touch'd  with  a  beam  of  heaven's  creative  mind, 
His  spirit  kindled,  and  his  taste  refin'd ; 
Incessant  toil  inform'd  his  rising  youth  ; 
Thought  grew  to  thought,  and  truth  attracted  truth, 
Till,  all  complete,  his  perfect  soul  di- play'd 
Some  bloom  of  genius  which  could  never  fade. 
So  the  sage  oak,  to  nature's  mandate  true, 
Advauc'd  but  slow,  and  strengllien'd  as  it  grew  I 
But  when  at  lei  gih  (full  many  a  season  o'er), 
Its  virile  head,  in  pride,  aloft  it  bore ; 
When  steadfast  were  its  roots,  and  sound  its  heart, 
It  bade  defiance  to  the  insect's  art, 
And,  storm  and  time  resisting,  still  remains 
The  never  dying  glory  of  the  plains.     . 

Then,  if  some  thoughtless  Bavins  dared  appear, 
Short  was  his  date,  and  limited  his  spheie  ; 
He  could  but  please  the  changeling  mob  a  day, 
Then,  like  his  noxious  labours  pass  away  ; 
So  near  a  forest  tall,  some  worthless  flower, 
Enjoys  the  triumph  of  its  gaudy  hour, 
Scatters  its  little  poison  thro'  the  skies, 
Then  droops  its  empty,  hated  head,  and  dies. 

Still,  as  from  fam'd  Ilyssus'  classic  shore, 
To  Mincius'  banks,  the  muse  her  laurel  bore, 
The  sacred  plant  to  hands  divine  was  given, 
And  deathless  ilaro  nursed  the  boon  of  heaven. 
Exalted  bard !  to  hear  thy  gentler  voice, 
The  vallies  listen,  and  their  swains  rejoice; 
But  when,  on  some  wild  mountain's  awful  form, 
We  hear  thy  spirit  chaunting  to  the  storm, 
Of  battling  chiefs,  and  armies  laid  in  gore, 
We  rage,  we  sigh,  we  wonder  and  adore. 
Thus  Rome,  with  Greece,  in  rival  splendour  shone, 


WILLIAM  CLIFFTON. 


607 


But  claimed  immortal  satire  for  her  own  ; 
While  Horace  piere'J,  full  oft,  the  wanton  breast 
With  sportive  censure,  and  resistless  jest ; 
And  that  Etrurian,  whose  indignant  lay 
Thy  kindred  genius  can  so  well  display, 
With  many  a  well  aim'd  thought,  and  pointed  line, 
Drove  the  bold  villain  from  his  black  design. 
For,  as  those  mighty  masters  of  the  lyre, 
With  temper'd  dignity,  or  quenchless  ire, 
Through  all  the  various  paths  of  science  trod, 
Their  school  was  Nature,  a:id  their  teacher  God. 
Nor  did  the  muse  decline  till,  o'er  her  head. 
The  savage  tempest  of  the  north  was  spread ; 
Till  ai'm'd  with  desolation's  bolt  it  came, 
And  wrapp'd  her  temple  in  funereal  flame. 

But  soon  the  arts,  once  more,  a  dawn  diffuse, 
And  Dante  hail'd  it  with  his  morning  muse; 
Petrarch  and  Boccace  join'd  the  choral  lay, 
And  Arno  glisteu'd  with  returning  day. 
Thus  science  rose;  and  all  her  troubles  past: 
She  hop'd  a  steady,  tranquil  reign  at  last; 
But  Fanstus  came  (indulge  the  painful  thought) ; 
Were  not  his  countless  volumes  dearly  bought? 
For,  while  to  every  clime  and  class  they  flew, 
Their  worth  diminish'd  and  their  numbers  grew. 
Some  pressman,  rich  in  Homer's  glowing  page, 
Could  give  ten  epics  to  one  wondering  age  ; 
A  single  thought  supplied  the  great  design, 
And  clouds  of  Iliads  spread  from  every  line. 
Nor  Homer's  glowing  page,  nor  Virgil's  fire. 
Could  one  lone  breast,  with  equal  flame,  inspire, 
But  lost  in  books,  irregular  and  wild, 
Then  poet  wonder'd,  and  the  critic  smil'd: 
The  friendly  smile,  a  bulkier  work  repays; 
For  fools  will  print,  while  greater  fools  will  praise. 

Tonch'd  with  the  mania,  now,  what  millions  rage 
To  shine  the  laureat  blockheads  of  the  age. 
The  dire  contagion  creeps  thro'  every  grade, 
Girls,  coxcombs,  peers,  and  patriots  drive  the  trade : 
And  e'en  the  hind,  his  fruitful  fields  forgot, 
For  rhyme  and  misery  leave  his  wife  and  cot. 
Ere,  to  his  breast,  the  watchful  mischief  spread, 
Conte  it  and  plenty  eheer'd  his  little  shed' 
And  while  no  thoughts  of  state  perplex'd  his  mind, 
His  harvests  ripening,  and  Pastora  kind, 
He  laugh'd  at  toil,  with  health  and  vigour  bless'd; 
For  davs  of  labor  brought  their  nights  of  rest: 
But  now  in  rags,  ambitious  for  a  name, 
The  fool  of  faction,  and  the  dupe  of  fame, 
His  conscience  haunts  him  with  his  guilty  life, 
His  starving  children,  and  his  ruin'd  wife. 
Thus  swarming  wits,  of  all  materials  made. 
Their  Gothic  hands  on  social  quiet,  laid, 
And,  as  they  rave,  unmindful  of  the  storm, 
Call  lust  refinement,  anarchy  reform. 

No  love  to  foster,  no  dear  friend  to  wrong, 
Wild  as  the  mountain  flood,  they  drive  along, 
Anil  sweep,  remorseless,  every  social  bloom 
To  the  dark  level  of  an  endless  tomb. 

By  arms  nssail'd,  we  still  can  arms  oppose, 
And  rescue  learning  from  her  brutal  foes  ; 
But  when  those  foes  to  friendship  make  pretence, 
And  tempt  the  judgment  with  the  baits  of  sense, 
Carouse  with  passion,  laugh  at  God's  controul, 
And  sack  the  little  empire  of  the  soul, 
What  warning  voice  can  save  ?     Alas !  'tis  o'er, 
The  age  of  virtue  will  return  no  more  ; 
The  doating  world,  its  manly  vigor  flown. 
Wanders  in  mind,  and  dreams  on  folly's  throne. 
Come  then,  sweet  bard,  again  the  cause  defend, 
Be  still  the  muses'  and  religion's  friend  ; 
Again  the  banner  of  thy  wrath  display, 


And  save  the  world  from  Darwin's  tinsel  lay, 
A  soul  like  thine  no  listless  pause  should  know ; 
Truth  bids  thee  strike,  and  virtue  guides  the  blow. 
From  every  conquest  still  more  dreadful  come, 
Till  dulness  fly,  and  folly's  self  be  dumb. 
Philadelphia,  May  13,  1799. 


TO    A   ROCTN. 


From  winter  so  dreary  and  long, 

Escap'd,  ah !  how  welcome  the  day, 
Sweet  Bob  with  his  innocent  song, 

Is  return'd  to  his  favourite  spray. 
When  the  voice  of  the  tempest  was  heard, 

As  o'er  the  bleak  mountain  it  pass'd, 
He  hied  to  the  thicket,  poor  bird  I 

And  shrank  from  the  pitiless  blast. 
By  the  maid  of  the  valley  survey'd, 

Did  she  melt  at  thy  comfortless  lot? 
Her  hand,  was  it  stretcli'd  to  thy  aid, 

As  thou  pick'dst  at  the  door  of  her  cot? 
She  did  ;  and  the  wintry  wind, 

May  it  howl  not  around  her  green  grove; 
Be  a  bosom  so  gentle  and  kind, 

Only  fann'd  by  the  breathings  of  love. 
She  did  ;  and  the  kiss  of  her  swain, 

With  rapture,  the  deed  shall  requite, 
That  gave  to  my  window  again, 

Poor  Bob  and  his  song  of  delight. 

TO    FANCY. 

Airy  traveller,  Queen  of  Song, 
Sweetest  Fancy,  ever  young, 
I  to  thee  my  soul  resign ; 
All  my  future  life  be  thine  : 
Rich  or  beggar'd,  chaiu'd  or  free, 
Let  me  live  and  laugh  with  thee. 

'  Pride  perhaps  may  knock,  and  say, 
"  Rise  thou  slugg  ird,  come  away :" 
But  can  he  thy  joy  impart, 
Will  he  crown  my  leaping  heart? 
If  I  banish  hence  thy  smile, 
Will  he  make  it  worth  my  while  ? 

Is  my  lonely  pittance  past, 
Fleeting  good  too  light  to  last, 
Lifts  my  friend  the  latch  no  more, 
Fancy,  thou  canst  all  restore ; 
Thou  canst,  with  thy  airy  shell, 
To  a  palace  raise  my  cell. 

At  night  while  stretch'd  on  lowly  bed, 
When  tyrant  tempest  shakes  my  shed, 
And  pipes  aloud;  how  bless'd  am  I, 
All  cheerii  g  nymph,  if  thou  art  by, 
If  thou  art  by  to  snatch  my  soul 
Where  billows  rage  and  thunders  roll. 
From  cloud,  o'er-peering  mountain's  brow 
We'll  mark  the  mighty  coil  below, 
While  round  us  innocently  play 
The  light'ning's  flash,  and  meteor's  ray. 
And,  all  so  sad,  some  spectre  form, 
Is  heard  to  moan  amid  the  storm. 
With  thee  to  guide  my  steps  I'll  creep 
In  some  old  haunted  nook  to  sleep, 
Lull'd  by  the  dreary  night-bird's  scream, 
That  flits  along  the  wizard  stream, 
And  there,  till  morning  'gins  appear, 
The  tales  of  troubled  spirits  hear. 

Sweet's  the  dawn's  ambiguous  light, 
Quiet  pause  'tween  day  and  night, 
When,  afar,  the  mellow  horn, 
Chides  the  tardy  gdted  morn, 
And  asleep  is  yet  the  gale 
On  sea-beat  mount,  and  rivcr'd  vale. 


608 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


But  the  morn,  tho'  sweet  and  fair, 
Sweeter  is  when  thou  art  there; 
Hymning  stars  successive  fade, 
Fairies  hurtle  thro'  the  shade, 
Love-lorn  flowers  I  weeping  see, 
If  the  scene  is  touch'd  by  thee. 

When  unclouded  shines  the  day, 
When  my  spirits  dance  and  play, 
To  some  sunny  bank  we'll  go, 
"Where  the  fairest  roses  blow, 
And  in  gamesome  vein  prepare 
Chaplets  for  thy  spangled  hair. 

Thus  through  life  with  thee  111  glide, 
Happy  still  whate'er  betide, 
And  while  plodding  sots  complain, 
Of  ceaseless  toil  and  slender  gain, 
Every  passing  hour  shall  be 
Worth  a  golden  age  to  me. 

Then  lead  on,  delightful  power, 
Lead,  oh!  lead  me  to  thy  bower: 
I  to  thee  my  soul  resign, 
All  my  future  life  be  thine. 
Rich  or  beggar'd,  chain'd  or  free, 
Let  me  live  and  laugh  with  thee. 

IL   PENSEEOSO. 

I  hate  this  spungy  world,  with  all  its  6tore, 
Tliis  bustling,  noisy,  nothingness  of  life, 

This  treacherous  herd  of  friends  with  hollow  core, 
This  vale  of  sorrow,  and  this  field  of  strife. 

Me,  shall  some  little  tranquil  thatch  receive, 
Some  settled  low  content,  remote  from  care, 

There  will  I  pipe  away  the  sober  eve, 

And  laugh  all  day  at  Lady  Fortune  there. 

Why  should  I  mingle  in  the  mazy  ring, 
Of  drunken  folly  at  the  shrine  of  chance? 

Where  insect  pleasure  flits  on  burnished  wing, 
Eludes  our  wishes,  and  keeps  up  the  dance. 

When  in  the  quiet  of  an  humble  home, 
Beside  the  fountain,  or  upon  the  hill, 

Where  strife  and  care  and  sorrow  never  come, 
I  may  be  free  and  happy,  if  I  will. 

BONG. 

Boy,  shut  to  the  door,  and  bid  trouble  begone, 
If  sorrow  approach,  turn  the  key, 
Our  comfort  this  night  from  the  glass  shall  be  drawn, 
And  mirth  our  companion  shall  be. 

Who  would  not  with  pleasure  the  moments  prolong. 
When  tempted  with  Friendship,  Love,  Wine,  and  a 
Song. 

What  art  thou,  kind  power,  that  soft'nest  me  so, 
That  kindlest  this  love-boding  sigh, 
'that  bid'st  with  affection,  mv  bosom  o'erflow, 
And  send'st  the  fond  tear  to  my  eye. 

I  know  thee !  for  ever  thy  visit  prolong, 

Sweet  spirit  of  Friendship.  Love,  Wine,  and  a  Song. 

See  the  joy-waking  influence  rapidly  fly, 
And  spirit  with  spirit  entwine, 
The  effulgence  of  rapture  enamels  each  eye, 
Each  soul  rides  triumphant  like  mine. 

On  a  sea  of  good  humour  floats  gayly  along, 
Surrounded  with   Friendship,   Love,  Wine,   and  a 
Song. 

And  now  to  the  regions  of  Fancy  we  soar, 
Thro'  scenes  of  enchantment  we  stray, 
We  revel  in  transports  untasted  before, 
Or  loiter  with  love  on  the  way. 


Resolv'd  like  good  fellows  the  time  to  prolong, 
That  cheers  us  with  Friendship,  Love,  Wine,  and 
Song. 

For  Friendship,  the  solace  of  mortals  below, 
In  the  thicket  of  life,  loves  a  rose, 
Good  wine  can  content  on  misfortune  bestow, 
And  a  song's  not  amiss  I  suppose. 

Then  fill,  my  good  fellows,  the  moment  prolong, 
With  a  bumper  to  Friendship,  Love,  Wine,  and 
Song. 

A  FLIGHT  OF    FANCY. 

For  lonely  shades,  and  rustic  bed, 

Let  philosophic  spirits  sigh ; 
I  ask  no  melancholy  shed, 

No  hermit's  dreary  cave,  not  L 

But  where,  to  skirt  some  pleasant  vale, 
Ascends  the  rude  uncultur'd  hill, 

Where  'midst  its  cliffs  to  every  gale, 
Young  echo  mocks  the  passing  rill : 

Where  spring  thro'  every  merry  year, 
Delighted  trips  her  earliest  round ; 

Sees  all  her  varied  tints  appear, 
And  all  her  fragrant  soul  abound. 

There  let  my  little  villa  rise, 

In  beauty's  simple  plumage  drest, 

And  greet  with  songs  the  morning  skies, 
Sweet  bird  of  art,  in  nature's  nest ! 

Descending  there,  on  golden  wing, 
Shall  fancy,  with  her  bounties  roam  ; 

And  every  laurell'd  art  shall  bring 
An  offering  fair  to  deck  my  home. 

Green  beds  of  moss,  in  dusky  cells, 

When  twilight  sleeps  from  year  to  year. 

And  fringed  plats,  where  Flora  dwells, 
With  the  wild  wood  shall  neighbour  near. 

The  fairies  thro'  my  walks  shall  roam, 
And  sylphs  inhabit  every  tree; 

Come  Ariel,  subtlest  spirit,  come, 
I'll  find  a  blossom  there  for  thee. 

Extended  wide,  the  diverse  scene. 
My  happy  casement  shall  command, 

The  busy  farm,  the  pasture  green, 

And  tufts  where  shelter'd  hamlets  stand. 

Some  dingle  oft  shall  court  my  eye 
To  dance  among  the  flow'rets  there, 

And  here  a  lucid  lake  shall  lie, 
Eniboss'd  with  many  an  islet  fair. 

From  crag  to  crag,  with  devious  sweep, 
Some  frantic  flood  shall  headlong  go, 

And,  bursting  o'er  the  dizzy  steep, 
Shall  slumber  in  the  lake  below. 

In  breezy  isles  and  forests  near, 

The  sylvaus  oft  their  haunts  shall  leave, 

And  oft  the  torrent  pause  to  hear, 
The  lake-nymph's  song,  at  silent  eve. 

There  shall  the  moon  with  half-shut  eye, 
Delirious,  hear  her  vocal  beam, 

To  fingering  sounds,  responsive  sigh, 
And  bless  the  hermit's  midnight  dream. 

No  magic  weed  nor  poison  fell, 

Shall  tremble  there ;  nor  drug  uncouth. 

To  round  the  mutt' ring  wizard's  spell, 
Or  bathe  with  death  the  serpent's  tooth. 

No  crusted  ditch  nor  festering  fen, 

With  plagues  shall  teem,  a  deadly  brood 

No  monster  leave  his  nightly  den 
To  lap  the  'wilder'd  pilgrim's  blood. 


WILLIAM  RAY;  JOSIAH  QUINCY. 


609 


But  on  the  rose's  dewy  brink, 

Each  prismy  tear  shall  catch  the  gleam, 

And  give  the  infant  buds  to  drink, 
The  colours  of  the  morning  beam. 

The  waters  sweet,  from  whispering  wells, 
Shall  loiter  'neath  the  flowery  brake; 

Shall  visit  oft  the  Naiads'  cells, 
And  hie  them  to  the  silver  lake. 

The  muse  shall  hail,  at  peep  of  dawn, 

Melodiously,  the  coming  day  ; 
At  eve  her  song  shall  soothe  the  lawn, 

And  with  the  mountain  echoes  play. 

There  spring  shall  laugh  at  winter's  frown, 
There  summer  blush  for  gamesome  spring, 

And  autumn,  prauk'd  in  wheaten  crown, 
His  stores  to  hungry  winter  bring. 

Tis  mine !  'tis  mine !   this  sacred  grove, 
Where  truth  and  beauty  may  recline, 

The  sweet  resort  of  many  a  love  ; 
Monimia  come  and  make  it  thine. 

For  thee,  the  bursting  buds  are  ripe, 
The  whistling  robin  calls  thee  here, 

To  thee  complains  the  woodland  pipe ; 
Will  not  my  lov'd  Monimia  hear  ? 

A  fawn  I'll  bring  thee,  gentle  maid, 
To  gamble  round  thy  pleasant  door ; 

I'll  cull  thee  wreaths  that  ne'er  shall  fade, 
What  shall  1  say  to  tempt  thee  more  ? 

The  blush  that  warms  thy  maiden  cheek, 
Thy  morning  eye's  sequester'd  tear, 

For  me,  thy  kindling  passion  speak, 
And  chain  this  subtle  vision  here. 

Spots  of  delight,  and  many  a  day 
Of  summer  love  for  me  shall  shine  ; 

In  truth  my  beating  heart  is  gay, 
At  sight  of  that  fond  smile  of  thine. 

Come,  come  my  love  away  with  me, 
The  morn  of  life  is  hast'ning  by, 

To  this  dear  scene  we'll  gaily  flee, 
And  sport  us  'neath  the  peaceful  sky. 

And  when  that  awful  day  shall  rise, 

That  sees  thy  cheek  with  age  grow  pale, 

And  the  soul  fading  in  thine  eyes, 

We'll  sigh  and  quit  the  weeping  vale. 

WILLIAM  EAT. 

William  Rat,  one  of  the  "Algerine  Captives," 
was  born  in  Salisbury,  Connecticut,  about  1772. 
His  father  was  a  fanner  in  moderate  circum- 
stances, and  removing  soon  after  his  son's  birth  to 
a  then  unsettled  part  of  the  state  of  New  York, 
the  latter  had  few  advantages  of  early  education. 
After  experimenting  as  a  schoolmaster  and  coun- 
try shopkeeper,  and  getting  married,  having  lost, 
by  arriving  too  late  at  Philadelphia,  what  lie  calls 
"a  flattering  prospect  of  finding  a  situation  as  an 
editor,  at  thirty  dollars  a  month,"  he  shipped,  July 
3,  1803,  "in  a  low  capacity"  on  board  the  U.  S. 
frigate  Philadelphia,  Captain  Bainbridge.  On 
the  31st  of  October  the  vessel  ran  aground  off 
Tripoli,  was  attacked  by  a  single  gun-boat,  and 
struck  her  colors.  The  next  morning  the  ship 
was  afloat,  but  her  officers  and  crew  were  ashore 
as  prisoners.  They  were  treated  with  great  se- 
verity, badly  fed  and  lodged,  and  set  to  work  in 
December  at  raising  an  old  wreck  buried  in  the 
sand,  which  they  had  to  shovel  from  under  her 
and  carry  in  baskets  to  the  shore,  working  almost 
naked  with  the  water  up  to  their  armpits.  They 
vol.  i. — 39 


had  afterwards,  in  March,  to  drag  a  heavy  wagon 
"  five  or  six  miles  into  the  country  over  the  burn- 
ing sands,  barefoot  and  shirtless,  and  back  again 
loaded  with  timber,  before  they  had  anything  to 
eat,  except  perhaps  a  few  raw  carrots."  They 
were  imprisoned  until  June  3,  1805,  when  articles 
of  peace  were  signed  and  the  prisoners  shipped 
for  home  the  next  day.  Ray  was  made  captain's 
clerk  of  the  Essex,  and  laureate  for  the  next  fourth 
of  July,  when  the  following  song  by  him  "was 
sung  at  table  by  consul  Lear,  and  encored  three 
or  four  times." 

Hail  Independence !  hail  once  morel 
To  meet  thee  on  a  foreign  shore, 

Our  hearts  and  souls  rejoice ; 
To  see  thy  sons  assembled  here, 
Thy  name  is  rendered  doubly  dear — 

More  charming  is  thy  voice. 

A  host  of  heroes  bright  with  fame, 
A  Preble  and  Decatur's  name, 

Our  grateful  songs  demand; 
And  let  our  voices  loudly  rise, 
At  Eaton's  daring  enterprise, 

And  red  victorious  hand. 

That  recreant  horde  of  barb'rous  foe.!, 
Our  deathless  heroes  bled  t'  oppose, 

Can  never  stand  the  test, 
When  grappled  with  our  dauntless  tars. 
Their  crescent  wanes  beside  our  stars, 

And  quickly  sinks  to  reft. 

Thy  spirit,  born  in  darkest  times, 
Illumes  the  world's  remotest  climes, 

Where'er  thy  champions  tread 

Like  lightning  flash'd  on  Barb'ry's  plains — 
Dissolv'd  the  groaning  captive's  chains, 

And  struck  the  oppressor  dead. 

Hail  Independence !  glorious  day, 
Which  chased  the  clouds  of  night  away. 

That  o'er  our  country  hung  ; 
Re-tune  the  voice,  and  let  us  hear 
The  song  encore — a  louder  cheer 

Resound  from  every  tongue. 

Huzza!  may  freedom's  banners  wave, 
Those  banners  that  have  freed  the  slave 

With  new  all-conqu'ring  charms; 
Till  nature's  works  in  death  shall  rest 
And  never  may  the  Tar  be  press' d 

But  in  his  fair  ones  arms. 

The  Essex,  after  a  cruise  in  the  Mediterranean, 
reached  home  August,  1806.  Her  poet  published 
an  account  of  his  adventures  a  few  months  after. 
He  served  in  the  militia  at  Plattsburg  in  1812, 
and  after  several  removes  settled  down  with  his 
family  in  the  village  of  Onondaga  Court-House. 
In  1821  he  published  at  Auburn  a  small  volume 
of  "  Poems  on  various  subjects,  religious,  moral, 
sentimental,  and  humorous,"  with  a  sketch  of  his 
life. 

JOSIAH  QUINCY. 
The  will  of  Josiah  Quincy,  Jr.,  contained  the  fol- 
lowing bequest:  "I  give  to  my  son,  when  he 
shall  arrive  to  the  age  of  fifteen  years,  Algernon 
Sidney's  works,  John  Locke's  works,  Lord  Bacon's 
works,  Gordon's  Tacitus,  and  Cato's  Letters. 
May  the  spirit  of  liberty  rest  upon  him!"  The 
son  has  entered  upon  the  full  fruition  and  has 
made  good  use  of  this  legacy.  His  long  life  has 
been  devoted  to  the  dissemination  of  knowledge, 


610 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


to  the  instruction  of  others  in  the  good  doctrines 
those  pood  hooks  have  taught,  while  the  "  spirit  of 
liberty"  now  rests  like  a  sunset  halo  on  that  aged 
head.  "Whenever  we  read  of  an  assemblage  in 
his  native  city,  convened  by  the  rallying  call  of 
liberty,  we  find  a  portion  of  its  record  earnest 
words,  which  he  has  come  forth  from  his  retire- 
ment to  utter.  Even  those  who  differ  from  him 
widely  in  opinion,  as  in  domicile,  must,  or  should, 
respect  the  energy  and  good  intent  of  the  old 
statesman  and  scholar. 


Z7ZUZ/LJL 


C>i--4st<f11 


'1*0 


Josiah  Quincy  was  born  in  1772,  prepared  for 
college  at  the  Phillips  Academy  in  Andover,  and 
graduated  at  Harvard  in  1790.  His  Commence- 
ment oration  was  on  the  "  Ideal  Superiority  of  the 
present  age  in  Literature  and  Politics."  He  studied 
law  with  the  Hon.  Judge  Tudor,  and  in  1797 
married  Eliza,  daughter  of  John  Morton,  a  mer- 
chant of  New  York.  In  1804  he  was  elected  to 
the  State  Senate,  and  in  1805  to  Congress,  where 
he  remained  until  1813.  He  was  warmly  opposed 
to  the  purchase  of  Louisiana,  and  prophesied  •  a 
dissolution  of  the  Union  as  the  result  of  an  en- 
largement of  the  Confederacy  beyond  its  limits  at 
the  time  of  the  formation  of  the  Constitution, 
ne  was  also  an  opponent  of  the  Embargo.  One 
of  his  speeches  on  this  topic  contains  an  eloquent 
though  somewhat  ornate  passage. 

They  who  introduced  it  abjured  it.  They  who 
advocated  it  did  not  wish,  and  scarcely  knew,  its 
use.  And  now  that  it  is  said  to  be  extended  over  us, 
r.o  man  in  this  nation,  who  values  his  reputation, 
will  take  his  Bible  oath  that  it  is  in  effectual  and 
legal  operation.  There  is  an  old  riddle,  on  a  coffin, 
(said  Mr.  Quincy,)  which  I  presume  we  all  learnt 
when  we  were  boys,  that  is  as  perfect  a  representa- 
tion of  the  origin,  progress,  and  present  state  of  this 
thing  called  non-intercourse,  as  is  possible  to  be 
conceived: 

There  was  a  man  bespoke  a  thine-. 
Which,  when  the  maker  home  did  bring, 
That  same  maker  did  refuse  it, — 
The  man  that  spoke  for  it  did  not  use  it, — 
And  he  who  had  it  did  not  know 
Whether  he  had  it,  yea  or  DO. 

True  it  is,  that  if  this  non-intercourse  shall  ever  be, 
in  reality,  subtended  over  us,  the  similitude  will  fail, 
in  a  material  point.  The  poor  tenant  of  the  coffin 
is  ignorant  of  his  state.  But  the  poor  people  of  the 
United  States  will  be  literally  buried  alive  in  non- 
intercourse,  and  realize  the  grave  closing  on  them- 
selves and  their  hopes,  with  a  full  and  cruel  con- 
sciousness of  all  the  horrors  of  their  condition. 

His  speech  on  the  influence  of  government  pa- 
tronage, delivered  January  1,  1811,  attracted 
much  attention.  "It  ought,"  said  John  Quincy 
Adams,  "  to  be  hung  up  in  every  office  of  every 
office-holder  in  the  Union."  He  describes  the 
office  hunters. 

Let  now,  one  of  your  great  office-holders — a  col- 
lector of  the  customs,  a  marshal,  a  commissioner  of 
loans,  a  post-master  in  one  of  your  cities,  or  any  of- 
ficer, agent,  or  factor,  for  your  territories,  or  public 


lanc|s,  or  person  holding  a  place  of  minor  distinction, 
but  of  considerable  profit — be  called  upon  to  pay  the 
last  great  debt  of  nature,     'the  \  oor  man  shall  hardly 
,   be  dead, — he  shall   not  be  cold, — long  before  the 
corpse  is  in  the  coffin,  the  mail  shall  be  crowded  to 
!    repletion  with  letters,  certificates,  recommendations, 
and  representations,   and   every  species  of  sturdy, 
sycophantic  solicitation,  by   which  obtrusive  men- 
dicity seeks  charity  or  invites  compassion:     Why, 
sir,  we  hear  the  clamor  of  the  craving  animals  at  the 
treasury -trough  here  in  this  capitol.     Such  running, 
such  jostling,  such  wriggling,  such  clambering  over 
I   one  another's  backs,  such  squealing  because  the  tub 
I   is  so  narrow  and  the  company  so  crowded!    No,  sir; 
\   let  us  not  talk  of  stoical  apathy  towards  the  things 
;   of  the  national  treasury  either  in  this  people,  or  in 
the  representatives,  or  senators. 

****■**•*.»# 

Without  meaning,  in  this  place,  to  cast  any  par- 
ticular reflections   upon   this,   or   upon    any   other 
executive,   this   I   will   say,   that   if  r.o  additional 
guards  are  provided,  and  now,  after  the  spirit  of 
party  has  brought  into  so  full  activity  the  spirit  of 
;   patronage,  there  never  will  be  a  president  of  these 
United  states,  elected  by  means  now  in  use,  who,  if 
he  deals  honestly  with  himself,  will  not  be  able,  on 
quitting,  to  address  his  presidential  chair  as  John 
Falstaff  addressed  Prince  Hal:   "Before  I  knew  thee 
I  knew  nothii  g,  and  now  I  am  but  little  better  than 
one  of  the  wicked."     The  possession  of  that  station, 
|   under  the  reign  of  party,  will  make  a  man  so  ac- 
quainte  1  with  the  corrupt  principles  of  human  con- 
duct,— he  will  behold  our  nature  in  s'o  hu:  gry,  and 
|   shiverii  g,  and  craving  a  state,  and  be  compelled  so 
i   constantly  to  observe  the  solid  rewards  daily  de- 
|   manded  by  way  of  compensation  for  outrageous  pa- 
triotism,— that,  if  he  escape  out  of  that  atmosphere 
without  partaking  of  its  corruption,  he  must  be  below 
or  above  the  ordinary  condition  of  mortal  nature. 
Is  it  possible,  sir,  that  he  should  remain  altogether 
uninfected  ? 

Mr.  Quincy  was  an  opponent  of  the  war  of 
1812,  and  soon  after  his  election  to  the  Senate  of 
his  state,  June,  1813,  gave  a  decided  proof  of  his 
opposition  by  offering  the  following  preamble  and 
resolution  in  reference  to  the  gallant  conduct  of 
Captain  Lawrence  in  the  destruction  of  the  Bri- 
tish ship  of  war  Peacock  by  the  sloop  Hornet. 

Whereas,  It  has  been  found  that  former  resolu- 
tions of  this  kind,  passed  on  similar  occasions,  relative 
to  other  officers  engaged  in  similar  service,  have 
given  great  discontent  to  manvT  of  the  good  people 
of  this  commonwealth,  it  beii  g  considered  by  them 
I   as  an  encouragement  and  excitement  to  the  eounte- 
;   nance  of  the  present  unjust,  unnecessary,  and  ini- 
i   quitous  war;    and,  on  this  account,  the  Senate  of 
i   Massachusetts  have  deemed  it  their  duty  to  refrain 
|    from  acting  on  the  said  proposition.     And  whereas, 
]    this  detetunnation  of  the  Senate  may,  without  ex- 
planation, be  misconstrued  into  an  intentional  slight 
of  Capt.  Lawrence,  and  a  denial  of  his  particular 
merits,  the  Senate  therefore  deem  it  their  duty  to 
declare  that  they  have  a  high  sense  of  the  naval  skill 
and  military  and  civil  virtues  of  Capt.  James  Law- 
rence; and  they  have  been  withheld  from  acting  on 
said  pi-oposition  solely  from  considerations  relative 
to  the  nature  and  principle  of  the  present  war :  and, 
to  the  end  that  all  misapprehension  on  this  subject 
may  be  obviated,  Resolved,  as  the  sense  of  the  Senate 
of  Massachusetts,   that,  in  a  war  like  the  present, 
waged  without  justifiable  cause,  and  prosecuted  in  a 
manner  which  indicates  that  conquest  and  ambition 
are  its  real  motives,  it  is  not  becoming  a  moral  and 
religious  people  to  express  any  approbation  of  mili- 


JOHN  LATHEOP. 


611 


tary  or  naval  exploits  which  are  not  immediately 
connected  with  the  defence  of  our  sea-coast  and  soil. 

Both  were  afterwards,  January  23,  1824,  by  a 
vote  of  the  body  expunged  from  its  records. 

Mr.  Qui i icy  remained  in  the  Senate  until  1821, 
and  in  1822-3  was  a  member  of  the  House.  In 
1822  he  was  appointed  Judge  of  the  Municipal 
Court,  but  resigned  the  office  on  his  election  as 
Mayor  of  Boston  in  1823.  He  held  the  office 
until  he  declined  a  re-election  in  December,  1828. 
The  House  of  Industry,  the  House  for  the  Refor- 
mation of  Juvenile  Offenders,  the  admirable  mar- 
ket-house which  bears  his  name,  the  efficient  Fire 
Department  of  the  city,  and  numerous  important 
streets  and  avenues,  are  some  of  the  monuments 
o'  his  vigorous  administration.  He  was  to  be 
seen  throughout  his  mayoralty  traversing  the 
streets  and  lanes  at  daybreak  on  horseback,  per- 
sonally inspecting  their  condition,  and  in  every 
ot'ier  department  of  duty  was  equally  active. 

In  January,  182!),  Mr.  Quincy,  to  use  his  own 
expression,  was  called  from  the  "dust  and  clamor 
of  the  capitol"  to  the  presidency  of  Harvard  Uni- 
versity. He  was  as  much  surprised  at  the  a]  >point- 
meiit,  he  said,  "as  if  he  had  received  a  call  to  the 
pastoral  charge  of  the  Old  South  Church."  He 
delivered  his  inaugural  address  in  Latin  on  the 
second  of  June,  and  retained  the  office  until  his 
resignation  in  1845,  his  academic  rule  being 
marked  by  the  same  zeal  and  prosperity  which 
had  attended  his  civic  sway.  During  its  course 
debts  were  paid,  endowments  secured,  buildings 
renovated,  and  the  general,  efficiency  of  the  an- 
cient institution  largely  promoted. 

Since  his  retirement  from  Harvard  Mr.  Quincy 
lias  not  held  any  public  office.  He  is  often,  how- 
ever, called  upon  to  preside  at  assemblages  of  his 
fellow-citizens,  and  is  always  ready  to  lend  the 
great  influence  which  a  long  life  of  honorable 
public  service  has  added  to  the  ancestral  honors 
of  his  name  in  the  furtherance  of  measures  which 
lie  deems  of  national  benefit.  He  is  often  present 
on  occasions  of  public  festivity,  enjoying  a  well 
deserved  reputation  as  an  after  dinner  speaker  and 
wit.  One  of  bis  happy  epigrams  is  recorded  in 
the  diary  of  the  Rev.  Joseph  S.  Buckminster. 

President  Nott  preached  in  Brattle  Street  Church  ; 
the  fullest  audience  ever  known  Iherc,  except  on  or- 
dination-day.    Epigram  made  on  by  Josiali  Quincy. 

Delight  and  instruction  have  people,  I  wot, 
"Who  iu  seeing  nut  see,  and  iu  hearing  hear  not. 

At  a  dinner  given  soon  after  the  completion  of 
the  Quincy  market,  Judge  Story  gave  the  toast, 
"May  the  fame  of  our  honored  Mayor  prove  as 
durable  as  the  material  of  which  the  beautiful 
market-house  is  constructed."  Quincy  instantly 
responded,  "That  stupendous  monument  of  the 
wisdom  of  our  forefathers,  the  Supreme  Court  of 
the  United  States;  In  the  event  of  a  vacancy  may 
it  be  raised  one  Story  higher."  The  same  distin- 
guished name  was  used  iu  a  still  happier  maimer 
at  a  Phi  Beta  Kappa  dinner,  after  the  institution 
of  the  Story  Association,  when  Mr.  Quincy  pro- 
posed "The  Members  of  the  Bar;  Let  them  rise 
as  high  as  they  may  they  can  never  rise  higher 
than  one  Story."  He  once  remarked  of  his  college, 
"May  it,  like  the  royal  mail  packets,  distribute 
good  letters  over  our  laud." 


When  Wirt  visited  Boston  in  1829  he  was  re- 
ceived by  Quincy,  who,  in  the  course  of  conver- 
sation, asked  him  in  which  college  he  had  gradu- 
ated. Wirt  in  a  letter  at  the  time  tells  the 
sequel.  "  I  was  obliged  to  admit  that  I  had  never 
been  a  student  of  any  college.  A  shade  of  em- 
barrassment, scarcely  perceptible,  just  flitted  across 
his  countenance  ;  but  he  recovered  in  an  instant, 
and  added  most  gracefully,  '  upon  my  word  you 
furnish  a  very  strong  argument  against  the  utility 
of  a  college  education.'  Was  not  this  neatly  said, 
and  very  much  in  the  style  of  Bishop  Madison?"* 

Mr.  Quincy,  in  addition  to  bis  other  public  ser- 
vices, is  the  author  of  several  important  volumes. 
His  Memoir  of  Jo.-iah  Quincy,  Jr.,  published  in 
1825,  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  express  our 
obligations  to  in  writing  an  account  of  that  dis- 
tinguished patriot.  It  is  an  admirable  monument 
of  filial  reverence.  His  History  of  Harvard^ 
has  rendered  a  similar  service  to  our  article  on 
that  University.  His  Centennial  Address  on  the 
Two  Hundredth  Anniversary  of  the  Settlement 
of  Boston,  1830,  and  History  of  the  Boston  Athe- 
■na'urn,  with  Biographical  Notites  of  its  devoted 
Founders.X  are  equally  valuable  contributions  to 
civic  and  literary  history  .§ 

JOHN  LATHEOP, 
Trra  son  of  a  minister  at  Boston,  of  the  same 
name,  ||  was  born  in  that  city  in  January,  1772  ; 
was  a  graduate  of  Harvard  in  1783  ;  studied  law 
iu  the  office  of  Christopher  Gore ;  commenced 
the  practice  of  the  profession,  and  in  1797  re- 
moved to  Dedhain.  The  society  of  Fisher  Ames 
and  the  appointment  of  clerk  of  Norfolk  county 
did  not  long  retain  him  there.  He  returned  to 
Boston,  and  lived  among  the  wits,  Robert  Treat 
Paine,  Jr.,  Charles  Prentiss,1T  and  others,   con- 


*  Kennedy's  Memoirs  of  Wirt,  ii.  275. 

t  Cambridge,  1841). 

t  Cambridge,  1SB1. 

§  Loring's  Hundred  TSoston  Orators,  pp.  25S-278. 
I  John  Lathrnp,  174.'-1816,  was  born  in  Norwich,  Ct; 
studied  at  Princeton  ;  assisted  Wheelock  in  his  Indian  school, 
at  Lebanon;  was  ordained  and  became  pastor  of  the  Second 
Church  in  Boston.  He  published  a  number  of  ordination  aud 
occasional  discourses,  amongst  others  an  Historical  Discourse 
at  the  commencement  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  which  aro 
enumerated  bv  Allen.  .Joseph  Lathrop,  another  divine  of  the 
family,  1781-1821,  was  also  born  at  Norwich  ;  studied  at  Taio, 
anil  was  pastor  of  the  church  in  West  Springfield,  Mass.  His 
ministerial  life  extended  over  sixty-three  years.  His  pub- 
lished sermons  form  a  large  collection,  a  portion  of  which  were 
issued  in  seven  volumes;  one  of  them,  a  posthumous  publi- 
cation, containing  his  Autobiography,  "a  production,"  says 
Allen,  "  remarkable  for  its  simplicity  and  candor.'1 

^  Buckingham,  in  his  Newspaper  Reminiscences,  has  traced 
the  career  of  Prentiss  through  a  series  of  journals  with  which 
he  was  conmc  cd.  lie  was  born  in  1774,  the  son  of  the  P.ev. 
Caleb  Prentiss,  minister  of  Beading,  Mass.;  studied  at  Har- 
vard, and  upon  leaving  college,  edited,  in  1795,  the  Rural  Re- 
pository, at  Leominster,  Mass..  a  weekly  paper  of  a  literary 
character,  and  "short  lived."  One  of  his  sportive  effusions  iu 
tins  journal  was  a  ''will"  in  verse,  written  in  emulation  of  a 
similar  college  production  of  the  wit  Biglow.  The  humor 
turns  upon  ii  custom  of  Harvard,  of  the  transmission  of  a  jack- 
knife  from  the  uttliest  member  of  one  senior  class  to  the  ugli- 
est member  of  tiie  next.  The  verses  may  be  found  in  Buck- 
ingham, ii.  209.  A  Collection  of  Fugitive  Essays,  in.  Prose 
and  Verse,  was  published  bv  Prentiss  at  Leominster,  in  1797 
—a  pleasant  volume.  Whe'n  the  Repository  expired.  Prentiss 
published  The  Political  Fa.:u>i  at  the  same,  place;  afterwards, 
The  Washington  Federalist,  at  Georgetown,  D.C. ;  the  Anti- 
Democrat  at'  Baltimore,  and  in  the  same  city  a  literary  paper, 
The  Child  of  Pallas.  This  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  cen- 
tury. In  1S04  he  visited  England.  In  1809  he  published  Tits 
Thistle,  a  theatrical  paper  of  a  brief  existence.  After  1810  he  re- 
ported the  Congressional  proceedings  at  Washington,  and  edited 
the  Independent  American.  In  1818,  a  Life  or  General  Eaton 
from  his  pen  was  published  at  Brooktield.  In  1817  and  1818  he 
edited  the  Virginia  Patriot,  at  Richmond.    He  died  in  Brim- 


612 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


tributing,  with  them,  to  the  Federal  Boston  Ga- 
zette. Samuel  L.  Knapp,  who  was  subsequently 
connected  with  that  journal,  and  who  has  fur- 
nished a  genial  account  of  Lathrop,  says,  that  a 
difference  of  taste  led  to  an  encounter  between 
■  the  young  authors : — "  Lathrop  was  modest, 
learned,  and  poetical,  but  had  much  less  of  the 
ardor  of  genius  and  the  sparkling  of  wit  than 
Paine,  but  more  chastity  of  style  and  more  me- 
thod in  his  compositions  and  conversations.  Pren- 
tiss was  easy,  familiar,  good-natured,  and  poeti- 
cal, and  amused  himself  at  the  parade  of  learn- 
ing in  Paine,  and  laughed  at  the  sentimental  so- 
lemnity of  Lathrop."  Such  contests  might  en- 
liven the  Boston  newspapers,  but  they  would  not 
assist  to  wealth  and  eminence  at  the  bar.  Dis- 
couraged in  this  field,  Lathrop,  in  1799,  embarked 
to  try  his  fortunes  in  British  India,  where  he 
established  a  school  at  Calcutta.  Knapp  relates 
a  proposition  which  he  made  to  the  government 
there,  and  its  reception.  "  In  the  ardor  of  his 
zeal  for  instructing  the  rising  generation  of  Cal- 
cutta, he  presented  to  the  Governor-General,  the 
Marquis  of  Wellesley,  a  plan  of  an  institution  at 
which  the  youths  of  India  might  receive  an  edu- 
cation, without  going  to  England  for  that  pur- 
pose. In  an  interview  with  his  lordship,  Lathrop 
urged,  with  great  fervency  and  eloquence,  the 
advantages  that  he  believed  would  flow  from  a 
seminary  well  endowed  and  properly  patronized 
by  the  government,  on  such  a  plan  as  he  recom- 
mended ;  but  his  lordship  opposed  the  plan,  and 
in  his  decided  and  vehement  manner  replied  :  '  No, 
no,  sir,  India  is  and  ever  ought  to  be  a  colonj*  of 
Great  Britain';  the  seeds  of  independence  must 
not  be  sown  here.  Establishing  a  seminary  in 
New  England  at  so  early  a  period  of  time  has- 
tened your  revolution  half  a  century.' "  Besides 
his  occupations  as  a  teacher,  Lathrop  wrote  for 
the  Calcutta  papers  the  Hircnrrah  and  the  Post, 
but  he  found  the  newspaper  system  under  the 
government  censorship  as  restricted  as  the  edu- 
cational. 

He  returned  to  America  in  1819,  projected 
"  a  literary  journal  on  an  extensive  plan,"  but  did 
not  carry  it  into  execution.  He  then  brought  his 
stock  of  literary  resources  into  use  as  teacher  of 
a  school  in  Boston  ;"  "  wrote  in  the  papers  ;  deli- 
vered lectures  on  natural  philosophy,  and  gave  the 
public  several  songs  and  orations  for  festive  and 
masonic  purposes."  Tired  of  this  unsatisfactory 
career  he  passed  to  the  South,  where  he  took  up 
his  residence  in  the  District  of  Columbia,  pursuing 
his  old  occupations  as  a  teacher,  writer,  and  lec- 
turer, and  securing  an  employment  in  the  post- 
office.  He  died  at  Georgetown.  January  SO, 
1820. 

The  writings  of  Lathrop  have  never  been  col- 
lected. They  consist  of  his  philosophical  lectures, 
several  orations,  a  number  of  occasional  poems, 
and  one  of  greater  scope,  which  he  wrote  on  the 
voyage  to  India,  and  which  was  first  published  at 
Calcutta  in  1802,  and  reprinted  in  Boston  the 


field,  in  Hampden  County,  Mass.,  Oct.  20, 1820.  Buckingham 
adds  to  these  items  the  remark — "  Mr.  Prentiss  was  a  scholar, 
a  good,  writer,  a  judicious  critic;  he  studied  no  profession,  and 
relied  entirely  on  the  exercise  of  his  pen  for  support.  Had  he 
lived  half  a  century  later,  he  might  have  seen  his  literary  off- 
spring dressed  in  scarlet  and  gold,  and  died,  leaviDg  his  copy- 
right to  his  heirs." 


following  year.  This  was  entitled  the  Speech  of 
Caunonieus,  or  an  Indian  Tradition*  It  is  de- 
dicated "  to  his  Excellency  the  most  noble  Rich- 
ard, Marquis  Wellesley,  K.P."  The  author  fur- 
nishes the  "  argument "  of  the  poem.  "  Caunoni- 
eus, Sachem  of  the  Narraghansetts,  having  reached 
his  eighty-fourth  year  at  a  time  a  little  anterior 
to  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims,  and  finding  his 
infirmities  duly  increasing,  assembled  his  people 
round  the  council  fire,  and  previous  to  the  act  of 
resigning  his  authority  to  his  nephew,  delivered 
an  address,  in  which  he  informed  them  of  their 
nature,  origin,  and  approaching  fate."  The  hero 
is  introduced  with  dignity,  amidst  the  council  of 
chiefs,  at  the  senate  lire. 

At  length — serene,  Caunonieus  arose, 
The  patriot  Sachem  of  the  rude  domain. 

He  recounts  the  blessings  of  his  reign : — 
If  aught  my  years  have  added  to  your  store, 
Of  martial  prowess  or  of  useful  lore, 

******** 
If  mine  has  been  a  mild,  propitious  sway, 
And  light  your  task  to  follow  and  obey, 
Return  to  God  your  thanks !     My  time  is  past  ;— 
I  sink  before  the  cold  and  wintry  blast. 

******** 
To  fertile  realms  I  haste, 
Compared  with  which  your  gardens  are  a  waste: 
There,  in  full  bloom  eternal  Spring  abides, 
And  swarming  fishes  glide  through  azure  tides. 

The  origin  of  "  the  Pagan  Pantheon  "  is  thus 
disclosed,  how  a  spirit  was  placed  in  the  sun  and 
another  in  the  sea,  and  in  the  fire,  with  a  succes- 
sion of  river  gods,  when  beasts  and  fishes  were 
formed,  and  the  gigantic  mammoth,  with  whom 
the  primeval  deity  has  a  struggle. 

Creation  groan'd  when  with  laborious  birth, 
Mammoth  was  born  to  rule  his  parent  earth, — 
Mammoth !  I  tremble  while  my  voice  recounts, 
His  size  that  tower' d  o'er  all  our  misty  mounts, — 
His  weight  a  balance  for  yon  pine-crowned  hills, 
On  whose  broad  front  half  heaven  in  dew  distils  ; — 
His  motions  forced  the  starry  spheres  to  shake, 
The  sea  to  roar — the  solid  land  to  quake. 
His  breath  a  whirlwind.     From  his  angry  eye, 
Flash'd  flames  like  fires  that  light  the  northern  sky; 
The  noblest  river  scarce  supplied  him  drink, — 
Nor  food,  the  herds  that  giazed  along  its  brink ; — 
Trampling  through  forests  would  the  monster  pass, 
Breasting  the  stoutest  oaks  like  blades  of  grass ! 

Creation  finished,  God  a  Sabbath  kept, 
And  twice  two  hundred  moons  profoundly  slept; 
At  length  from  calm  and  undisturbed  repose, 
With  kind  intent  the  sire  of  nature  rose ; — 
Northward  he  bent  his  course,  with  parent  care, 
To  view  his  creatures  and  his  love  declare, 
To  bless  the  works  his  wisdom  erst  had  plann'd, 
And  with  fresh  bounties  fill  the  grateful  land. 
Hoar  Paumpagussit  swell'd  with  conscious  pride, 
And  bore  the  Almighty  o'er  each  looming  tide ; 
Sweet  flowering  bushes  sprang  where'er  he  trod, 
And  groves,  and  vales,  and  mountains,  hail'd  their 
'  God ; 

*  The  Speech  of  Caunonieus,  or  an  Indian  Tradition:  a 
Poem,  with  explanatory  notes. 

Hi  ceptis 
Adspirate  meis ;  primaqne  ah  origine  mnndi 
Ad  mea  perpetuum  deducite  tempora  carmen. — Ovtd. 

By  John  Lathrop,  A.M.     Calcutta:  Printed  by  Thomas  Hol- 
lingbery,  Hircarrah  Press.    1802.    4to.  pp.  42. 


JOHN  LATHROP. 


613 


With  more  effulgent  beams  Keesuekquand  shone, 
And  lent  to  night  a  splendor  like  his  own. 
Thus  moved  the  deity.     But  vengeful  wrath, 
Soon  gather'd  awful  glooms  around  his  path, 
Approaching  near  to  Mammoth's  wide  domain, 
He  view'd  the  ravage  of  the  tyrant's  reign. 
Not  the  gaunt  wolf,  nor  cougar  fierce  and  wild, 
Escaped  the  tusks  that  all  the  fields  despoil'd  , 
No  beast  that  ranged  the  valley,  plain  or  wood, 
Was  spared  by  earth's  fell  chief  and  his  insatiate 
brood. 

Nor  did  just  anger  rest.     Behold,  a  storm 
Of  sable  horrors  clothe  the  eternal's  form. 
Loud  thunders  burst  while  forked  lightnings  dart, 
And  each  red  bolt  transfix'd  a  Mammoth's  heart, 
Tall  cedars  crash'd  beneath  them  falling  prone, 
And  heaven  rebellow'd  with  their  dying  groan. 
So,  undermined  by  inward  fires,  or  time. 
Some  craggy  mount  that  long  has  tower'd  sublime, 
Tumbles  in  ruins  with  tremendous  sound. 
And  spreads  a  horrible  destruction  round  ; 
The  trembling  land  through  all  its  caverns  roars, 
And   ocean   hoarsely   draws  his    billows   from   the 
shores. 

Mammoth,  meanwhile,  opposed  his  maily  hide, 
And  shagged  front,  that  thunderbolts  defied  ; 
Celestial  arms  from  his  rough  head  he  shook, 
And  trampling  with  his  hoofs,  the  blunted  weapons 
broke. 

At  length,  one  shaft  discharged  with  happier  aim, 
Pierced   his   huge   side   and   wrapp'd   his   bulk  in 

flame. 
Mad  with  the  anguish  of  the  burning  wound, 
With  furious  speed  he  raged  along  the  ground, 
And  pass'd  Ohio's  billows  with  a  bound, — 
Thence,  o'er  Wabasli  and  Illinois  he  flew, — 
Deep  to  their  beds  the  river  gods  withdrew 
Affrighted  nature  trembled  as  he  fled, 
And  God  alone,  continued  free  from  dread. 
Mammoth  in  terrors — awfully  sublime, 
Like  sonic  vast  comet,  blazing  from  our  clime, 
Impetuous  rush'd.     O'er  Allegany's  brow 
He  leap'd,  and  howling  plung'd  to  wilds  below  ; 
There,  in  immortal  anguish  he  remains, 
No  peace  he  knows  ; — no  balm  can  ease  his  pains  ; 
And  oft  his  voice  appals  the  chieftain's  breast, 
Like  hollow  thunders  murmuring  from  the  west, — 
To  every  Sachem  dreadful  truths  reveals, 
And  monarchs  shudder  at  its  solemn  peals. 
Such  is  the  punishment,  by  righteous  fate, 
The  dread  avenger  of  each  injured  state, 
Reserved  for  tyrant  chiefs,  who  madly  dare 
Oppress  the  tribes  committed  to  their  care. 
Almighty  wrath  pursues  them  for  their  deeds, — 
They  stab  their  souls  in  every  wretch  that  bleeds, 
The  hideous  wound  eternal  shall  endure, — 
Remorse,  despair, — alas,  what  skill  can  cure ! 
******         ** 

Mammoth  being  thus  overpowered,  man  and 
woman  are  then  brought  on  the  scene : 

There  God  retired,  elate,  from  Mammoth's  death, 

Form'd  man  of  oak,  and  quickened  him  with  breath, 

Moulding  the  wood  according  to  his  will, 

Nine  moons  his  plastic  hands  employed  their  skill. 

Life's  vital  fount  within  the  breast  he  plac'd, 

And  Reason's  seat  the  brain's  nice  fabric  grae'd, 

Superior  wisdom  beaming  from  his  face, 

Proclaim'd  the  lord  of  earth  and  all  its  race. 

Erect  and  tall  the  new  Commander  strode, 

In  shape  and  motion  noble  as  a  god. 

His  eye  the  spirit  intellectual  fir'd, 

His  ample  heart  no  vulgar  joys  desir'd, 

For  there,  though  chief,  unrivall'd  and  alone, 

Had  emulation  fix'd  her  blazing  throne. 


Next  to  complete  th'  Eternal's  glorious  plan, 
Sweet  woman  rose,  the  sole  compeer  of  man, 
Her  voice  was  soft  as  Philomela's  note, 
When  Evening's  shades  o'er  flowery  vallies  float ; 
Her  lips  breath'd  fragrance,  like  the  breeze  of  morn, 
And  her  eyes  sparkled  as  the  spangled  thorn, 
Ere  glist'ning  dews,  by  heat  exhaled  away, 
Yield  their  mild  splendors  to  intenser  day  : — 
And  silken  skin  adoru'd  her  waving  form, 
Whose    glossing    texture    touch'd, — so    smooth,    so 

warm, 
Through   the   thrill'd    breast   diffused    a   rapt'rous 

glow, 
And  bade  the  blood  with  amorous  phrenzy  flow. 
She,  like  the  skies,  which  gazing  tribes  adore, 
Two  beauteous  orbs  upon  her  bosom  bore, 
Whose  charms  united,  bless'd  continual  view, 
While  heaven's  lights  singly  deck'd  the  expansive 

blue, 
Giving  all  seasons  of  man's  life  to  prove, 
The  bliss  of  constant  and  unfading  love  ; 
Perfect  she  shone,  the  fairest  and  the  best — 
Of  all  God's  works  the  paragon  contest. 
This  pair,  the  parents  of  our  race  design'd, 
The  solemn  rite6  of  holy  wedlock  joined ; 
From  their  embraces,  sprang  forth  at  a  birth, 
Of  different  sex,  two  more  to  people  earth, 
Thence,  still  proceeding,  num'rous  children  smil'd, 
And  gladden'd  with  their  sports  the  shady  wild. 
Till  Paugautemisk  held  paternal  reign, 
O'er  the  throng'd  forest  and  the  busy  plain. 

An  Indian  legend  of  Oswego  follows,  and  the 
poem  closes  with  a  prophecy  of  the  coming 
Empire. 

Lathrop's  several  addresses  and  orations  were : 
on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1796,  for  the  town  author- 
ities of  Boston;  on  the  same  anniversary,  in  1798, 
at  Dedham  ;  a  Masonic  Address  at  Charlestown, 
Mass.,  June  24,  1811;  an  Address  before  the 
Associated  Instructors  of  Youth,  in  Boston  and 
vicinity,  on  the  First  Anniversary  of  the  Institu- 
tion, August  19,  1813  ;  Monody  Sacred  to  the 
Memory  of  John  L.  Abbot,  who  died  Oct.  17, 
1814.  He  also  published  the  Pocket  Register 
and  Free  Mason's  Anthology,  in  1813.*  Of  his 
occasional  verses,  Knapp  quotes  the  following 

ODE  FOR  THE  TWENTIETH  ANNIVERSARY  OF  THE  MASSA- 
CHUSETTS  CHARITABLE    EIRE   SOCIETY. 

If  on  the  haughty  warrior's  brow, 

Is  plac'd  the  crown  of  deathless  fame ; 
And  earth's  applauding  lords  bestow, 

Their  proudest  titles  on  his  name  ; 
Oh  say,  shall  glory's  partial  hand, 

Withhold  the  meed  to  pity  due, 
When  plaintive  sorrow's  grateful  band 

For  wreaths  to  deck  their  patrons  sue. 

A  tear-enamelled  chaplet  weave, 

Round  Bowdoin's  venerated  urn, 
Where  all  the  patriot  virtues  grieve, 

And  votive  lamps  of  science  burn  ; 
Sweet  charity  on  Russell's  tomb, 

A  shower  of  vernal  ilow'rets  throws  ; — 
And  bays  of  fadeless  verdure  bloom 

O'er  classic  Minot's  calm  repose. 

New  England's  worthies  grace  the  pyre, 
Where  Belknap  soar'd  for  ever  blest  I 

Religion  lights  her  hallow'd  fire, 
Where  pious  Stillman's  relics  rest, — 


*  Knapp's  American  Bintrraphy.    LoriDg's  Boston  Orators, 
pp.  255-7.    Alloa's  Biog.  Diet. 


614 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


Why  mourns  the  Muse  with  tearful  eyes, 
While  pondering  o'er  the  roll  of  death  ! 

Afresh  her  keenest  sorrows  rise, 
With  Emerson's  departed  breath  ! 

All !  Heaven  again  demands  its  own, 

Another  fatrd  shaft  is  sped, 
And  genius,  friendship,  learning,  mourn 

Their  Buekminstcr  among  the  dead  ! 
To  Eliot's  tomb,  ye  Muses,  bring 

Fresh  roses  from  the  bieathi,  g  wild, 
Wet  with  the  tears  of  dewy  Spring, 

For  lie  was  virtue's  gentlest  ehiid  ! 

Ye  sainted  spirits  of  the  just. 

Departed  friends,  we  raise  our  eyes, 
From  humbler  scenes  of  mould'ring  dust, 

To  brighter  mansions  in  the  skies. — 
Where  faith  and  hope,  their  trials  past, 

Shall  smile  in  endless  joy  secure, 
And  charity's  blest  reign  shall  last, 

While  Heaven's  eternal  courts  endure. 

AECniBALD  ALEXAXDEE. 
This  head  of  a  family  eminent  for  its  theological 
services  in  the  professor's  chair  and  the  pulpit, 
was  born  in  Rockbridge  county,  Virginia,  April 
17,  1772.  His  grandfather,  an  emigrant  from 
Ireland  of  the  Scottish  race,  was  one  of  tin*  first 
settlers  in  that  region,  about  the  year  1 738 — a  man 
of  courage  and  mental  activity,  who  raised  a  com- 
pany of  men  for  military  duty  on  the  Kenhawa, 
and  gave  lessons  to  the  young  of  his  neighborhood 
at  home.  His  son  William  was  a  trader  and  farm- 
er. The  early  years  of  Archibald  Alexander  were 
passed  in  country  associations  with  such  educa- 
tion as  the  time  and  place  offered — asan  instance 
of  which,  we  may  note  that  the  future  eminent 
divine  was  taught  by  a  convict  from  London,  who 
had  been  bought  by  his  father  at  Baltimore,  and 
turned  to  account  in  this  way,  as  he  had  some 
Latin  and  Greek  education,  in  a  log  school-house 
set  up  for  that  purpose.  The  name  of  this  youth 
was  Reardon.  lie  enlisted  in  the  war,  and  was 
cut  down  in  a  skirmish  in  North  Carolina  by 
Tarleton's  men,  and  left  for  dead  upon  the  field, 
lie  survived,  however,  to  get  back  to  his  school- 
keeping. 

The  instructions  of  the  Rev.  William  Graham 
and  of  his  assistant,  James  Priestly,  in  the  school 
near  Lexington — names  to  be  held  in  respect  in  the 
early  annals  of  American  education — shaped  the 
studies  of  Alexander.  He  had  hardly,  at  the  age  of 
seventeen,  completed  them,  when  his  father  pro- 
cured him  an  engagement  as  a  tutor  in  the  family 
of  General  John  Posey,  of  the  Wilderness,  a  hun- 
dred and  forty  miles  from  his  home,  across  the 
Blue  Ridge  in  Spotsylvania  county,  where  he  pars- 
ed a  year  instructing  the  sons  and  a  daughter  in 
Latin,  and  educating  himself.  On  his  return  home, 
he  was  influenced  by  the  religious  movements  then 
taking  place  in  the  country,  to  think  seriously  of 
divinity — a  study  which  he  prosecuted  witli  Ids 
preceptor  Graham,  reading  the  works  of  Edwards 
and  Owen.  He  was  licensed  in  17'Jl  at  Winches- 
ter, after  which  he  made  a  missionary  tour 
through  the  southern  counties  of  the  state ;  his 
memoranda  of  which;  published  in  his  life  by  his 
son,  are  interesting  contributions  to  the  history  of 
the  times.  In  one  of  Ids  journeys  in  1794,  he 
heard  Patrick  Henry  on  a  jury  murder  case,  and 
his  testimony  of  his  eloquence  is  an  addition  to 


the  many  warm  and  seemingly  extravagant  eulo- 
logies  collected  by  Wirt.  In  1707,  Alexander 
was  called  to  the  presidency  of  Hampden  Sidney 
College,  an  institution  established  as  a  Presbyte- 
rian theological  seminary,  which  had  received  its 
charter  as  a  college  in  1783.  Samuel  Stanhope 
Smith  was  its  first  president.  Alexander  occupied 
this  office  till  1801,  when  he  visited  New  York 
and  New  England.  His  reminiscences  of  the  jour- 
ney and  of  the  chief  clergymen  of  the  day  possess 
distinctness  and  spirit.  He  was  at  Dartmouth 
College  when  Daniel  Web>ter  pronounced  his 
Commencementspeech.  On  his  arrival  at  Boston, 
the  geographer  Morse  was  mystified  by  his  intro- 
duction as  president  of  "  Camden"  Sidney  College, 
lie  had  never  heard  of  the  institution,  and  when 
the  error  was  corrected  it  was  hardly  more  com- 
plimentary, for  Morse  had  given  a  melancholy  ac- 
count in  his  book  of  the  veritable  Hampden  Sid- 
ney it- elf.  Alexander  met  on  this  tour  such 
celebrities  as  Samuel  Hopkins,  Emmons,  Pre  ident 
Wheelock,and  the  magnates  of  UnrvardandPrince- 
ton,  under  the  presidencies  of  Willard  and  Smith. 
On  his  return  to  Virginia  in  1802,  he  married 
Janetta  Waddell,  (he  dmght^r  of  the  eloquent 
blind  preacher,  celebrated  by  Wirt  in  the  British 
Spy — a  lady  whose  affections  he  had  engaged  on 
a  casual  visit  to  her  father  in  Louisa  county,  on 
his  horseback  journey  from  the  college  the  pre- 
vious year.  This  union,  a  very  happy  one,  la-ted 
during  his  life,  his  widow  surviving  him  a  short 
time.  In  1807,  he  took  charge  of  a  congregation 
in  Philadelphia,  where  he  remained  till  the  or- 
ganization of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Prince- 
ton by  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
church  in  1812,  when  he  became  its  first  professor, 
with  charge  of  the  various  branches  of  theologi- 
cal education,  a  range  of  duty  which  finally  settled 
down,  as  the  demands  and  resources  of  the  institu- 
tion increased,  and  he  was  relieved  by  the  labors 
of  others  into  a  distinct  professorship  of  pastoral 
and  polemic  theology.  Be  was  at  tins  time  forty 
years  old,  and  held  this  position  till  his  death, 
almost  as  long  a  period  after,  in  his  seventy-ninth 
year — an  event  which  occurred  at  Princeton,  Oc- 
tober 22,  1851. 

The  reputation  of  Dr.  Alexander  fur  learning 
and  authorship  dates  from  his  residence  at  Prince- 
ton. Be  was  a  thorough  and  accomplished  stu- 
dent, a  critic  and  interpreter  of  the  Greek  and 
Hebrew  scriptures  ;  in  the  latter  of  which  he  was 
one  of  the  earliest  American  proficients.  Through 
his  later  years  he  would  read  a  chapter  of  the 
Old  Testament  daily  in  the  original,  for  which  he 
had  a  reverential  regard,  and  could  be  heard  at 
times  chanting  to  himself  portions  of  the  Hebrew 
psalter.  He  held  the  German  and  Dutch  Pro- 
testant divines  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth 
centuries,  in  great  estimation  ;  and  brought  a  largo 
Collection  of  them  together  to  the  library  of  the 
seminary. 

Be  did  not  begin  to  publish,  if  we  except  seve- 
ral occasional  sermons,  till  Ins  fifty-second  year, 
when  his  Brief  Outline  of  the  Evidences  of ',  the 
Christian  Religion  appeared,  a  work  which  is 
held  in  regard  as  a  text-book  in  botli  England  and 
America.  Bis  contributions  to  the  Biblical  Re- 
pertory and  Princeton  Review  were  thereafter 
frequent  in  articles  in  wiiieh  he  guarded  and  de- 
fined the  principles  of  morals  and  theology.     His 


ARCHIBALD  ALEXANDER. 


G15 


edd&tmtfai 


Introductory  Lectures  on  the  opening  of  the  terms 
of  study,  seventeen  in  number,  which  are  still  in 
manuscript,  embrace  many  points  of  practical  and 
speculative  divinity — what  may  be  called  the 
moral  philosophy  of  Divinity.  One  of  these  dis- 
course-: had  for  its  subject,  The  Use  and  Abuse  of 
Books.  In  1816,  he  published  in  a  large  octavo 
volume,  a  History  of  Colonization  on  the  West- 
ern. Coast  of  Africa.  His  History  of  the  Israel- 
itish  Nation,  from  their  origin  to  their  dispersion 
at  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  hy  the  Romans, 
appeared  in  Philadelphia  in  1832.  He  also  wrote 
many  tracts  and  several  biographical  abridg- 
ments for  the  Presbyterian  Board  of  Publication 
and  the  American  Tract  Society. 

As  a  preacher,  Dr.  Alexander  was  greatly 
admired.  His  discourses  were  "experimental, 
casuistical,  practical,  consolatory,"  and  are  noticed 
as  having  but  little  of  the  mannerisms  and  phrases 
of  any  particular  school.  His  conversational  pow- 
ers were  very  happy,  and  were  freely  exercised 
among  his  family  and  friends.  His  habits  as  a 
student  kept  him  much  among  his  books,  so  that 
for  a  great  portion  of  his  life  his  only  exercise 
was  in  passing  the  few  steps  from  his  library  to 
his  lecture-room.  He  would  get  relief  from  one 
grave  study  in  another  as  grave  of  a  different  turn. 
His  personal  appearance,  in  a  piercing  eye,  a  high 
forehead  and  delicate  features,  with  a  transparent 
complexion,  was  expressive  of  the  refined  and 
penetrating  mind  within. 

Of  the  sons  of  Dr.  Alexander,  his  biographer, 
.  Dr.  James  W.  Alexander,  the  pastor  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  on  the  Fifth  Avenue,is  the  author  of 
several  works  of  value  and  intere-t.  One  of  the  ear- 
liest of  these  is  a  collection  of  essays,  entitled  the 
American  Mechanic  and  Workingman,  of  a  prac- 
tical ingenious  turn,  in  which, with  good  humorand 
good  sense,  the  moral  and  intellectual  capabilities 
of  the  calling  are  insisted  upon  and  enlarged.  He 
has  published  also  a  volume  of  sermons,  entitled 


Consolation;  in  Discourses  on  Select  Topics,  ad- 
dressed to  the  suffering  people  of  God  ;  Thoughts 
on  Family  Worship,  and  Plain  Words  to  a  Young 
Communicant.  His  love  of  literature,  and  activity 
as  a  thinker  and  student,  have  been  shown  in 
numerous  contributions  to  the  Biblical  Reper- 
tory, in  various  brief  essays  which  have  ap- 
peared in  the  Newark  Daily  Advertiser  and  The 
Literary  World,  under  the  title  of  Gesariensis, 
As  a  scholar,  he  is  one  of  the  most  exact  and 
finished  men  of  the  day. 

The  "  Biblical  Repertory  and  Princeton  Re- 
vie  w,"such  being  its  final  title,  is  the  ol, lest  of  exist- 
ing American  theological  quarterlies,  having  now 
reached  its  thirty-first  volume.  It  was  begun  by 
Professor  Hodge  in  1825,  and  has,  with  small  in- 
tervals, remained  under  bis  able  hand  till  the  pre- 
sent time.  It  lias  been  regarded  as  the  accredited 
organ  of  the  Westminster  Oalvinists  and  Presby- 
terians, and  has  exercised  a  formidable  influence; 
but  its  tone  in  regard  to  Slavery  has  made  it  espe- 
cially unsavory  to  the  abolitionists.  In  the  "  Bri- 
tish Foreign  Theological  Review,"  of  Edinburgh, 
for  1  So  1-2,  more  than  a  dozen  of  the  articles  re- 
published are  from  the  Princeton  Review.  For 
many  years  together  it  was  the  vehicle  for  the 
most  elaborate  dissertations  of  Miller,  Brecken- 
ridge,  Dod,  Hodge,  the  Alexanders,  and  other 
well  known  Presbyterians. 

The  Rev.  Albert  B.  Dod,  D.D.,  was  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  writers  for  this  work,  though  he 
did  not  live  to  accomplish  that  authorship  for 
which  be  was  so  well  prepared.  He  was  for  some 
years  professor  of  Mathematics  in  Princeton  Col- 
lege, where  he  shared  the  intimacy  and  the  fame 
of  such  men  as  Henry,  now  of  the  Smithsonian  In- 
stitution, andTorrey,  the  great  botanist  of  America. 
Dod  was  a  man  of  letters  as  well  as  science,  a  keen 
metaphysician,  pious  divine,  an  eloquent  preacher, 
a  captivating  converser.  and  a  writer  of  equal  argu- 
mentative and  sarcastic  power.  He  died  unex- 
pectedly in  the  spring-tide  of  a  great  reputation, 
in  the  year  184(5.  Some  of  Dr.  Dod's  admirable 
productions  have  been  collected  in  a  volume  enti- 
tled "Princeton  Essays." 

Professor  Joseph  A.  Alexander,  of  the  Theologi- 
cal Seminary  at  Princeton,  is  the  author  of  a  valua- 
ble Commentary  on  the  Psalms,  following  the  cx- 
positionofHangstenberg  ;*  a  Critical  Commentary 
on  the  Prophecies  of  Isaiah  ;  and  an  abridgment  of 
the  same,  with  a  volume  on  Primitive  Church  Go- 
vernment. 

NATUT.AL  SCENERY   SEEN   BY   TUB   YOUTFI  AND  TIIE  MAN. 

Whether  the  scenery  with  which  our  senses  are 
conversant  in  early  life  1ms  any  considerable  effect 
o:i  the  character  of  the  mind,  is  a  question  not  easily 
determined.  It  would  be  easy  to  theorize  on  the 
subject;  ami  formerly  I  indulged  in  many  lucubra 
tions,  which  at  the  time  seemed  plausible,  all  tend 
ing  to  the  conclusion  that  minds  developed  under  the 
constant  view  and  impression  of  grand  or  pictur- 
esque scenery  must  in  vigour  and  fertility  of  imagi- 
nation be  greatly  superior  to  those  who  spend  their 
youth  in  dark  alleys,  or  in  the  crowded  streets  of  a 
large  city,  where  the  only  objects  which  constantly 
meet  the  senses  are  stone  and  brick  walls,  and  dirty 
and  offensive  gutters.     The  child  of  the  mountains, 


*  The  Psalms.    Translated  and  Explained  by  J.  A.  AleAan- 
der,  DD.   3  vols.    Scribner,  1350-51. 


616 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


who  cannot  open  his  eyes  without  seeing  sublime 
peaks,  penetrating  beyond  the  clouds,  stupendous 
rocks,  and  deep  and  dark  caverns,  enclosed  by  fright- 
ful precipices,  thought  I,  must  possess  a  vivid  im- 
pression of  the  scenes  of  nature,  by  which  he  will  be 
distinguished  from  those  born  and  brought  up  in  the 
city,  or  in  the  dull,  monotonous  plain,  where  there 
is  neither  grandeur  nor  variety.  Perhaps  there  might 
be  a  little  vanity  mingled  with  these  speculations,  as 
it  was  my  lot  to  draw  the  first  breath  of  life  at  the 
foot  of  a  lofty  mountain,  and  on  the  bank  of  a  roar- 
ing mountain  torrent ;  where  the  startling  reveille 
was  often  the  hideous  howling  of  hungry  wolves. 
But  when  I  attempted  to  recollect  whether  I  had,  in 
the  days  of  childhood,  ever  experienced  any  sensible 
impression  from  the  grandeur  of  surrounding  objects, 
or  had  ever  been  led  to  contemplate  these  objects  of 
nature  with  any  strong  emotion,  I  could  not  satisfy 
myself  that  any  thing  of  this  sort  had  ever  occurred. 
The  only  reminiscence  was  of  impressions  made  by 
the  novelty  of  some  object,  not  before  seen  ;  or  some 
fancied  resemblance  to  something  with  which  I  was 
.  familiar.  Two  mountains,  somewhat  remarkable, 
were  frequently  surveyed  by  me  with  delight ;  the 
House  Mountain,  and  the  Jump  Mountain  ;  both  ap- 
pertaining to  a  ridge,  called  in  the  valley  the  North 
Mountain.  The  first  of  these  is  a  beautiful  mountain 
which  stands  out  at  some  distance  from  the  main 
ridge,  and  from  the  middle  of  the  valley  exhibits 
something  of  the  shape  and  appearance  of  a  house. 
From  Lexington  and  its  vicinity,  the  view  of  this 
mountain  is  pleasant  and  imposing.  The  idea  of  its 
resemblance  to  a  house  took  strong  hold  of  my  ima- 
gination ;  and  especially  because  at  the  western  end 
there  was  the  resemblance  of  a  shed,  which  corres- 
ponded with  such  an  appendage  to  the  house  in 
which  my  childhood  was  spent.  And  now,  when  I 
revisit  the  place  of  my  nativity,  whilst  almost  every 
thing  else  is  changed,  the  House  Mountain  remains 
the  same,  and  I  gaze  upon  it  with  that  peculiar  emo- 
tion which  attends  the  calling  up  in  a  lively  manner 
the  thoughts  and  impressions  of  infancy.  The  idea 
of  a  perfect  resemblance  to  a  house  was  so  deeply 
imprinted  on  my  mind,  in  relation  to  this  mountain, 
that  I  was  greatly  discomposed  and  disturbed  in  my 
thoughts,  when  a  boy,  by  having  occasion  to  travel 
a  few  miles  towards  the  east  end  of  the  mountain, 
and  finding  that  every  resemblance  of  a  house  was 
gone ;  and  when  instead  of  one  beautiful,  uniform 
mountain,  as  smooth  and  steep  as  the  roof  of  a  house, 
I  now  beheld  two  rough-looking  spurs,  separated  at 
a  considerable  distance  from  each  other.  This  obli- 
teration of  a  pleasing  idea  from  the  mind  was  pain- 
ful; and  whenever  I  was  in  a  situation  to  see  the 
mountain  under  this  aspect,  the  unpleasant  impres- 
sion was  renewed.  Every  traveller  among  moun- 
tains must  have  noticed  how  remarkably  they  vary 
their  appearances,  as  he  changes  his  position;  and 
not  only  so,  but  from  the  same  site  a  prominent 
mountain  exhibits  a  wonderful  variety  of  aspects  ac- 
cording to  the  state  of  the  atmosphere.  This  I  be- 
lieve is  what  is  called  looming,  and  was  much  noticed 
by  Mr.  Jefferson  from  Montieello,  particularly  in  re- 
lation to  that  remarkable  isolated  mountain,  called 
Willis's,  which  elevates  its  head  to  a  considerable 
height,  at  a  great  distance  from  any  other  mountain 
or  hill. 

But  to  return  to  my  favourite,  the  House  Moun- 
tain. In  the  days  of  my  childhood — and  perhaps  it 
is  still  the  case — this  mountain  was  commonly  burnt 
over  every  year;  that  is,  the  dry  leaves  on  the 
ground  were  burnt.  When  the  fire  extended  in  a 
long  crooked  string  along  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
and  especially  when  near  the  top,  the  appearance 
was  grand  and  beautiful  in  a  very  dark  night.     It 


had  all  the  appearance  of  a  zigzag  fire  in  the  sky  ; 
and  whenever  it  occurred,  greatly  attracted  and  de- 
lighted the  boys.  It  was  in  those  days  held  as  a 
maxim  among  boys,  that  no  one  ever  had  ascended, 
or  could  ascend  to  the  ridge  or  summit  of  the  House 
Mountain  ;  but  since  that  time  I  understand  that  not 
only  men,  but  women,  have  been  successful  in  reach- 
ing the  top  ;  and  have  thence  surveyed  the  varied 
and  delightful  landscape  of  the  valley,  with  its  vil- 
lages, and  its  farms,  its  rivers  and  smaller  streams. 
I  can  scarcely  conceive  of  a  pleasanter  prospect  than 
that  which  might  be  enjoyed  from  the  summit  of  the 
House  Mountain. 

As  to  the  Jump  Mountain,  it  was  only  occasionally 
that  I  got  a  view  of  it;  and  although  the  descent  is 
very  abrupt  on  the  north  side,  so  that  the  top  of  the 
mountain  actually  seems  to  project,  my  mind  would 
have  received  a  slighter  impression  from  it,  had  not 
the  first  view  of  it  been  associated  with  a  story  told 
me  by  an  older  boy,  that  the  reason  why  it  was  call- 
ed the  Jump  Mountain,  was  because,  at  a  certain 
time,  a  man  had  actually  jumped  off  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  and  fallen  dead  at  its  foot.  This  made  a 
deep  impression  on  my  mind,  and  although  I  have 
seen  the  mountain  hundreds  of  times  since,  I  believe 
I  never  saw  it  without  thinking  of  the  man  who  took 
such  an  awful  leap.  When  that  species  of  taste  is 
developed  which  delight:-  in  landscapes,  I  have  not 
been  able,  with  any  precision,  to  ascertain.  As  far 
as  my  own  experience  goes,  or  rather  as  far  as  me- 
mory furnishes  me  with  facts,.  I  think  that  while  a 
boy  at  school,  I  had  no  consciousness  of  the  exercise 
of  any  such  faculty.  The  love  of  novelty  is  almost 
coeval  with  our  existence ;  but  the  love  of  the  beau- 
ties of  nature  is  slow  in  its  development,  and  when 
there  is  no  culture,  it  is  often  scarcely  observable  in 
mature  age.  Some  men  cast  their  eye  over  a  lovely 
landscape  with  as  little  emotion  as  is  experienced  by 
the  horses  on  which  they  ride.  The  only  thought 
perhaps  is,  how  rich  the  land?  how  many  barrels  of 
corn,  or  hogsheads  of  tobacco,  or  bushels  of  wheat, 
might  be  raised  here  to  the  acre  ?  And  even  the 
horse  will  experience  an  emotion  as  elevated  as  his 
rider's,  if  there  Bhould  happen  to  be  a  good  clover 
field  in  sight.  As  it  relates  to  objects  of  sublimity, 
I  have  found  it,  except  in  a  few  cases,  difficult  to  dis- 
tinguish this  emotion  from  mere  wonder,  or  admira- 
tion. But  in  this  same  valley,  and  not  very  remote 
from  the  objects  of  which  I  have  spoken,  there  is  one 
which,  I  think,  produces  the  feeling  which  is  deno- 
minated the  sublime,  more  definitely  and  sensibly 
than  any  that  I  have  ever  seen.  I  refer  to  the  Na- 
tural Bridge,  from  which  the  county  takes  its  name. 
It  is  not  my  object  to  describe  this  extraordinary 
lusus  naturw,  as  it  may  be  ealled.  In  fact,  no  re- 
presentation which  can  be  given  by  the  pen  or  pen- 
cil can  convey  any  adequate  idea  of  the  object,  or 
one  that  will  have  the  least  tendency  to  produce  the 
emotion  excited  by  a  view  of  the  object  itself.  There 
are  some  things,  then,  which  the  traveller,  however 
eloquent,  cannot  communicate  to  his  readers.  All  I 
intend  is,  to  mention  the  effect  produced  by  a  sight 
of  the  Natural  Bridge  on  my  own  mind.  When  a 
boy  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  I  first  visited  this  curiosi- 
ty. Having  stood  on  the  top,  and  looked  down  into 
the  deep  chasm  above  and  below  the  bridge,  without 
any  new  or  very  strong  emotions,  as  the  scene  bore 
a  resemblance  to  many  which  are  common  to  tha^ 
country,  I  descended  by  the  usual  circuitous  path  to 
the  bottom,  and  came  upon  the  stream  or  brook  some 
distance  below  the  bridge.  The  first  view  which  I 
obtained  of  the  beautiful  and  elevated  blue  limestone 
arch,  springing  up  to  the  cloudB,  produced  an  emotion 
entirely  new  ;  the  feeling  was  as  though  something 
within  sprung  up  to  a  great  height  by  a  kindof  sudden 


WILLIAM  WIRT. 


617 


impulse.  That  was  the  animal  sensation  which  ac- 
companied the  genuine  emotion  of  the  sublime. 
Many  years  afterwards,  I  again  visited  the  bridge. 
I  entertained  the  belief,  that  I  had  preserved  in  my 
mind,  all  along,  the  idea  of  the  object, ;  and  that  now 
I  should  see  it  without  emotion.  But  the  fact  was 
not  so.  The  view,  at  this  time,  produced  a  revival 
of  the  original  emotion,  with  the  conscious  feeling 
that  the  idea  of  the  object  had  faded  away,  and  be- 
come both  obscure  and  diminutive,  but  was  now  re- 
stored, in  an  instant,  to  its  original  vividness  and 
magnitude.  The  emotion  produced  by  any  object  of 
true  sublimity,  as  it  is  very  vivid,  so  it  is  very  short 
in  its  continuance.  It  seems,  then,  that  novelty  must 
be  added  to  other  qualities  in  the  object,  to  produce 
this  emotion  distinctly.  A  person  living  near  the 
bridge,  who  should  see  it  every  day,  might  be  pleased 
with  the  object,  but  would  experience,  after  awhile, 
nothing  of  the  vivid  emotion  of  the  sublime.  Thus, 
I  think,  it  must  be  accounted  for,  that  the  starry 
heavens,  or  the  sun  shining  in  his  strength,  are  view- 
ed with  little  emotion  of  this  kind,  although  mucli 
the  sublimeit  objects  in  our  view ;  we  have  been  ac- 
customed to  view  them  daily,  from  our  infancy.  But 
a  bright  coloured  rainbow,  spanning  a  large  arch  in 
the  heavens,  strikes  all  classes  of  persons  with  a  min- 
gled emotion  of  the  sublime  and  beautiful ;  to  which 
a  sufficient  degree  of  novelty  is  added,  to  render  the 
impression  vivid,  as  often  as  it  occurs.  I  have  re- 
flected on  the  reason  why  the  Natural  Bridge  pro- 
duces the  emotion  of  the  sublime,  so  well  defined 
and  so  vivid  ;  but  I  have  arrived  at  nothing  satisfac- 
tory. It  must  be  resolved  into  an  ultimate  law  of 
our  nature,  that  a  novel  object  of  that  elevation  and 
form  will  produce  such  an  effect.  Any  attempt  at 
analysing  objects  of  beauty  and  sublimity  only  tends 
to  produce  confusion  in  our  ideas.  To  artists,  such 
analysis  may  be  useful ;  not  to  increase  the  emotion, 
but  to  enable  them  to  imitate  more  effectually  the 
objects  of  nature  by  which  it  is  produced.  Although 
I  have  conversed  with  many  thousands  who  had  seen 
the  Natural  Bridge ;  and  although  the  liveliness  of 
the  emotion  is  very  different  in  different  persons ; 
yet  I  never  saw  one,  of  any  class,  who  did  not  view 
the  object  with  considerable  emotion.  And  none 
have  ever  expressed  disappointment  from  having  had 
their  expectations  raised  too  high,  by  the  description 
previously  received.  Indeed,  no  previous  descrip- 
tion communicates  any  just  conception  of  the  object 
as  it  appears ;  and  the  attempts  to  represent  it  by 
the  pencil,  as  far  as  I  have  seen  them,  are  pitiful. 
Painters  would  show  their  wisdom  by  omitting  to 
represent  some  of  the  objects  of  nature,  such  as  a 
volcano  in  actual  ebullition,  the  sea  in  a  storm,  the 
conflagration  of  a  great  city,  or  the  scene  of  a  bat- 
tle-field. The  imitation  must  be  90  faint  and  feeble, 
that  the  attempt,  however  Bkilfully  executed,  is  apt 
to  produce  disgust,  instead  of  admiration." 

WILLIAM  WIHT. 

William  Wirt,  the  eloquent  lawyer  and  amiable 
biographer  of  Patrick  Henry,  was  born  at  Bla- 
deusburg  in  Maryland,  November  8,  1772,  in  the 
first  descent  from  a  European  parentage — his 
father  being  a  native  of  Switzerland  and  his 
mother  of  Germany.  His  father  was  an  inn- 
keeper of  the  place.  He  died  shortly  after  his 
son's  birth,  and  the  mother  did  not  long  survive. 
At  eight  years  of  age,  William  was  an  orphan 
under  the  care  of  his  uncle.  His  education  was 
well  provided  for  at  the  school  of  James  Hunt,  in 
Montgomery  county,  a  Presbyterian  clergyman, 
in  whose  house  his  pupil  resided,  and  where  a  well 


stored  library  was  kindly  seconded  in  its  influ- 
ences by  the  frank  maimers  and  instructions  of 
its  owner.  To  this  library  Wirt  owed  the  germ 
of  that  love  of  reading  which  bore  luxuriant  fruit 
in  his  later  writings.  Josephus,  Guy  of  Warwick, 
Peregrine  Pickle,  Pope,  and  Home's  Elements  of 
Criticism,  were  the  mixed  company  of  these  early 
literary  acquaintances.  When  he  became  an  adept 
in  the  rigorous  studies  of  the  law,  Wirt  looked 
back  with  dismay  upon  this  miscellaneous  reading 
as  injurious  to  the  training  of  his  faculties  ; 
though,  as  his  biographer  Kennedy  wisely  sug- 
gests, probably  without  cause.  If  gonitis  is  some- 
times oppressed  by  the  abundance  of  material,  it 
may  be  as  often  at  a  loss  for  its  own  proper  nutri- 
ment, which  a  wider  field  would  have  afforded. 
At  fifteen,  Wirt  had  qualified  himself  to  become 
a  private  tutor  in  the  family  of  his  schoolmate, 
Ninian  Edwards,  who,  on  his  return  home,  had 
sounded  the  praises  of  his  companion  to  his 
father.  This  gentleman,  Benjamin  Edwards,  was 
a  man  of  character,  education,  and  political  posi- 
tion, whose  society  and  personal  encouragement 
led  his  young  friend  onward  in  his  course  to  the 
bar,  which  he  finally  reached — after  preliminary 
studies  with  two  practitioners,  one  of  whom  was 
the  son  of  his  old  teacher  Hunt — in  1792,  his 
twentieth  year.  The  library  with  which  he  com- 
menced practice  consisted  of  "a  copy  of  Black- 
stone,  two  volumes  of  Don  Quixote,  and  a  volume 
of  Tristram  Shandy."  Three  years  after,  he  mar- 
ried the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  of  distinction  in 
Albemarle,  Virginia— Doctor  George  Gilmer,  a 
physician,  residing  at  Pen  Park,  near  Charlottes- 
ville, at  whose  well  furnished  house,  rich  in  books 
and  society,  Wirt,  again  fortunate  in  home  asso- 
ciations, took  up  his  residence.  His  happy  career 
at  this  place,  in  which  he  participated  freely  in  the 
hearty  life  of  old  Virginia,  was  terminated  by  the 
death  of  his  wife  in  1799,  when  he  removed  to 
Richmond.  He  entered  upon  public  life  as  Clerk 
to  the  House  of  Delegates,  and  passed  rapidly 
through  various  stages  of  legal  success,  discharg- 
ing for  a  while  the  duties  of  Chancellor  of  the 
eastern  shore  of  Virginia,  and  after  his  second 
marriage,  in  1802,  with  the  daughter  of  Colonel 
Robert  Gamble,  practising  law  during  a  residence 
at  Norfolk,  and  subsequently  establishing  himself 
in  Richmond,  till  in  1817,  in  the  Presidency  of 
Monroe,  he  became  Attorney-General  of  the 
United  States,  an  office  which  he  filled  for  twelve 
years.  His  practice  in  the  Supreme  Court  gained 
him  great  reputation,  where  he  frequently  met 
his  legal  antagonist  Pinkney.  His  speech  in  the 
prosecution  of  Burr  at  Richmond,  in  1807,  in 
which  he  sketched  in  glowing  colors  the  home  of 
Blennerhasset  on  the  Ohio,  will  always  be  asso- 
ciated with'  that  beautiful  locality.  It  has  been 
a  popular  recitation  with  schoolboys  as  one  of 
the  "  beauties"  of  American  eloquence. 

On  his  retirement  from  the  Attorney-General- 
ship in  1829,  Wirt  left  Washington  and  took  up 
his  permanent  residence  at  Baltimore,  where  he 
became  actively  engaged  for  the  few  remaining 
years  of  his  life  in  the  practice  of  the  law. 

Wirt  died  at  Washington,  whither  he  had  gone 
in  attendance  on  the  Supreme  Court,  of  an  at- 
tack of  erysipelas,  February  18, 1834.  His  health, 
which  had  been  for  some  time  enfeebled,  suddenly 
gave  way.     It  is  cheerful  to  see,  in  his  corres- 


618 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


pondence,  how  his  constitutional  vivacity  and 
hearty  .sensibility  kept  him  company  to  the  last. 
The  acuteness  of  mind  and  feeling'  which  gave 
poignancy  to  his  sufferings  in  the  loss  of  his 
famih —  ion  and  two  daughters — and  the  decline 
of  health,  enabled  him  also  at  times  to  rise  supe- 
rior to  these  woes,  and  from  the  moments  of  hap- 
piness to  extract  a  keener  and  purer  enjoyment 
than  is  known  to  those  who  get  through  life  with 
fewer  pains  and  duller  pleasures.  The  southern 
temperament  lives  in  Wirt's  writings;  luxuriant, 
prodigal,  self-reproachful  for  its  uncertain  pursuit 
of  advantages,  imperfect  because  its  own  standard 
is  high — but  colored  with  a  warm  flush  of  feeling. 
Of  these  literary  productions,  the  earliest  was 
his  Letters  of  the  British  Spy,  published  in  the 
autumn  of  1803  in  the  Argus,  a  daily  newspaper, 
at  Richmond.  They  were  ten  in  number,  written 
under  the  mask  of  papers  left  by  a  travelling 
member  of  the  British  Parliament  in  the  bed- 
chamber of  his  inn,  at  a  seaport  town  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  their  purpose  was  simply  literary 
recreation.  There  are  some  local  descriptions  and 
some  scientific  speculation  in  the  manner  of  Jef- 
Jerson's  Notes  on  Virginia,  but  the  papers  are 
mainly  occupied  with  the  writer's  studies  of  elo- 
quence and  observation  of  the  leading  public 
speakers  of  the  country.  The  sketch  of  the  ser- 
mon in  the  woods  by  the  blind  preacher,  James 
Waddell,  has  entered  into  the  common  currency 
of  American  literature.  The  book  was  very  suc- 
cessful on  its  publication,  deriving  its  interest 
from  its  notices  of  individuals  in  a  classical  form. 
It  passed  through  a  number  of  editions.* 


*  The  tenth  was  published  by  Harper  &  Brothers  in  1K4F, 
with,  a  Biographical  Sketch  of  the  Author,  by  his  friend  Peter 
Hoffman  Cruse,  of  Baltimore.  An  English  copy  before  us, 
published  in  London  in  1S12,  has  a  preface  which  shows  the 
general  estimation  in  which  American  literature  was  held  at 
that  recent  period,  in  the  Great  Metropolis.  It  says:  "The 
people  of  the  United  States  of  America  have  so  very  small  a 
claim  on  the  world  for  any  particular  mark  of  distinction  for 
honours  gained  in  the  field  of  literature,  that  it  is  feared  the 


In  1804,  "Wirt  further  gave  vent  to  his  literary 
inclinations  by  the  publication  of  some  essays  in 
the  Richmond  Enquirer,  with  the  title  of  The 
Rainbow,  which  were  afterwards  collected  into  a 
volume.  His  Old  Bachelor,  commenced  in  1810, 
was  an  undertaking  ot  a  similar  character,  a  series 
of  essays  on  the  model  of  the  Spectator,  which 
ran  through  thirty-three  numbers  of  the  same 
journal.  The  friends  who  contributed  to  this 
joint  affair,  which  sustained  something  <  f  a  dra- 
matic character,  were  Dabney  Carr,  whose  letter 
from  Squaretoes  was  much  admired  in  the  Vir- 
ginia circle;  Dr.  Frank  Carr,  the  Galen  ;  Richard 
E.  Parker,  the  Alfred  ;  Dr.  Girardin,  the  Mel- 
moth,  of  the  plan,  with  other  contributions  by 
Judge  Tucker,  David  Watson,  and  Mr.  George 
Tucker.  The  papers  were  published  in  two 
volumes  in  1812,  and  were  favorably  received, 
reaching  a  third  edition  in  1818.  In  the  scarcity 
of  American  productions  at  that  day,  a  work  of 
this  character  was  set  in  bolder  relief  than  it 
would  be  at  present. 

The  topics  discussed  are  the  old  grievances  of 
the  contemptuous  reports  of  English  travellers 
in  the  country,  and  the  unjust  criticism  thereupon 
in  the  foreign  reviews  ;  female  character  and  edu- 
cation, with  pleasant  glimpses  of  the  old  Bache- 
lor's niece,  Rosalie  ;  sketches  of  the  manners  and 
thoughts  of  Virginia,  and,  above  all,  a  discussion 
of  the  line  arts,  their  means  of  development  and 
influences,  particular))-  in  relation  to  oratory — 
always  a  favorite  topic  with  Wirt — of  the  bar,  the 
senate,  or  the  pulpit. 

The  Sketches  of  the  Life  and  Character  of 
Patrick  Henry,  the  most  important  in  its  sub- 
ject and  interest  of  Wirt's  literary  productions, 
had  been  commenced  in  1804,  under  the  stimulus 
of  the  praise  awarded  to  the  author's  personal 
sketches  in  the  British  Spy.  The  difficulties  of 
the  undertaking,  in  the  first  place,  to  get  the 
material,  and  in  the  next  to  master  it  in  a  sober, 
historical  style,  are  pleasantly  recounted  by  him 
in  a  letter  to  Judge  Carr  in  1815,  when  the  work 
was  nearly  completed.*  From  hearing  so  much 
of  the  speeches  of  Henry,  and  finding  so  few  of 
them  recorded,  he  thought  at  one  time  of  writing 
them  out  from  invention,  in  the  style  of  Iiottaand 
the  ancient  historians.  As  it  was  his  work  did 
not  pass  without  a  jest  from  his  friend  Jefferson, 
who  contributed  to  it. 

The  life  of  Henry  appeared  at  last  in  1817.  It 
took  at  once  its  position  as  one  of  the  most  ani- 
mated biographical  works  in  our  history,  though 
the  warmth  of  its  coloring  has  been  objected 
to,  not  without  some  reason,  by  the  critics. 
The  sober  narrative  of  the  historian  sometimes 
breaks  into  the  canter  of  the  jury-addressing 
lawyer  or  the  stump-speaking  politician.  There 
is  an  appearance  of  eking  out  the  somewhat 
scanty  material  by  rhetorical  effect.     It  is  not 


present  demand  on  the  "English  reader  may  be  considered  more 
as  a  call  on  British  courtesy  and  beuevolenee  than  one  of  right 
and  equity.  In  whatever  point  of  view  this  may  appear,  the 
Header  may  rely,  that  the  publishers  have  been  induced,  from 
a  conviction  of  the  merit  of  the  work,  to  furnish  an  impression 
of  the  British  Spy.  They  have  been  enabled  to  do  this  by  the 
recent  arrival  of  a  gentleman  from  Baltimore,  who  brought 
with  him  a  copy  of  ihe  work,  with  the  assurance,  that  no  ori- 
ginal  American  literary  production  had  ever  obtained  so  rapid 
and  extensive  a  circulation :  it  having,  in  a  very  short  space  of 
time,  passed  through  four  editions."  * 

*  Memoir  by  Kennedy,  i.  357-90. 


WILLIAM  WIRT. 


619 


likely,  however,  that  the  latter  has  injured  its 
popular  reception.  The  work  glows  with  the 
southern  heart  of  the  writer,  and  in  spite  of  all 
defects  continues  to  charm  the  reader;  It  has 
dramatic  power,  witli  insight  into  character;  and 
has  certainly  done  much  to  stamp  the  permanent 
impression  on  the  popular  heart  and  mind  of  its 
illustrious  subject.  Fortunately  for  the  writer's 
own  memory,  Ins  biography  has  found  a  congenial 
pen  in  the  ample  narrative  and  affectionate  zeal 
of  his  friend  Kennedy. 

In  1826,  on  the  nineteenth  of  October,  the 
anniversary  of  the  surrender  at  York  and  of  the 
birthday  of  Adams,  ho  delivered  in  the  Hall  of 
Representatives,  in  the  capitol,  his  Eulogy  on 
Adams  and  Jefferson,  which  was  characterized  by 
his  usual  fervor. 

In  1830,  Wirt  delivered  an  admirable  address 
before  the  literary  Societies  of  Rutgers  College, 
in  which  he  exhibited,  with  eloquence  and  feel- 
ing, the  final  absolute  condition  of  education  being 
a  work  of  self-culture,  and  urged  upon  his  young 
hearers  the  necessity  of  a  zealous  labor,  a  purpose 
and  disposition  in  harmony  with  the  country, 
decision  of  character,  and  a  manly,  high-toned 
ambition. 

In  the  same  year  he  pronounced  a  discourse  at 
Baltimore,  on  the  28th  October,  on  occasion  of  a 
public  celebration  of  the  French  Revolution  of 
that  date. 

At  one  time  Wir' — is  what  American  author 
has  not? — neditated  a  production  in  the  drama,  a 
sentimental  comedy,  which  lie  had  promised  to 
the  daughter  of  the  actor  Greene,  a  young  lady 
who  perished  at  the  burning  of  the  Richmond 
Theatre  in  1811.  The  play  was  written,  and  is 
still  in  manuscript,  entitled  The  Path  of  Pleasure 
In  doubt  whether  he  should  publish  it  or  not,  the 
author  onnsultad  his  friends.  A  letter  of  Judge 
Tucker  in  reply  is  preserved. 

It  would  lie  doing  injustice  to  Wirt's  literary 
activity  to  pass  over  the  extensive  series  of 
letters  preserved  in  the  Memoirs  of  Kennedy. 
He  wai  a  diligent  and  painstaking  correspondent; 
his  letters  containing  passages  of  description,  cri- 
ticism, humor,  and  sentiment  equal  to  the  best  in 
his  writings.  They  are  written  to  members  of 
his  family,  his  wife,  his  daughters,  and  his  old 
friends,  Francis  W.  Gilmer,  Dabney  Can*,  William 
Pope,  and  his  law  student  S.  Teackle  Wallis,  to 
whom  he  addressed  an  admirable  letter  on  read- 
ing and  habits  of  study.* 

Wirt  was  deeply  affected  by  the  death  of  his 
daughter  Agnes,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  in  1831, 
ami  gave  expression  to  Ids  feelings  in  a  memoir 
of  her,  of  which  Mr.  Kennedy,  bis  biographer, 
gives  this  most  tenderly  touched  passage  : — 
"  Young  as  she  was,  she  seemed  to  he  the  seal 
and  connecting  bond  of  the  whole  family.  Iler 
voice,  her  smile,  her  animated  graceful  move- 
ments, her  countless  little  acts  and  expressions  of 
kindness  and  of  love,  those  '  small  sweet  cour- 
tesies of  life,'  which  she  was  so'  continually  ren- 
dering to  all  around  her,  and  with  such  exquisite 
grace  of  manner,  had  made  her  neee  sary  to  the 
individual  happiness  of  every  member  of  the 
household.     When  she  was  lost  to  us,  it  was  as 


*  It  is  printed  in  Kennedy's  Memoirs,  ii.  O. 


if  the  keystone  of  the  arch  had  been  removed. 
There  was  a  healthfulness  in  the  glow  of  her 
fresh  and  young  affections,  which  animated  the 
rigid  nerves  of  age,  and  a  pleasantness  and  beauty 
in  the  play  of  her  innocent  thoughts  and  feelings, 
which  could  smoothe  the  brow  ot  care,  and  light 
up  a  sniiie  even  in  the  face  of  sorrow.  To  meshe 
was  not  oulj'  the  companion  of  my  studies,  but 
the  sweetener  of  my  toils.  The  painter,  it  is  said, 
relieved  his  aching  eyes  by  looking  on  a  curtain 
of  green.  My  mind,  in  its  hour  of  deepest  fatigue, 
required  no  other  refreshment  than  one  glance  at 
my  beloved  child  as  she  sat  beside  me."  Mr. 
Kenned}-  compares  this  expression  of  feeling  with 
a  similar  tribute  on  a  like  occasion  in  John 
Evelyn's  Diary. 

In  his  personal  qualities  Wirt  was  most  happily 
constituted  of  a  warm  genial  temperament,  sus- 
ceptible alike  to  humor  and  sentiment,  of  strong 
devotional  feeling,  devoted  to  his  friends  and 
family,  anil  with  the  orator's  gifts  for  the  public, 
of  a  manly  countenance,  a  fine  musical  voice,  and 
a  graceful  gesture.  He  was  a  good  classical 
scholar,  well  versed  in  English  literature,  a  hearty 
reader.  At  the  bar,  his  eminent  professional 
reputation  is  preserved  with  the  annals  of  our 
highest  courts,  and  in  some  of  their  most  impor- 
tant causes. 

JAMES  WADDELL,    THE    DLIND    PTTBACHEB — FROM  THE   BRITISH 
SPY. 

Richmond,  Oct.  10. 

I  have  been,   my  dear  P ,   on   an    excursion 

through  the  countries  which  lie  along  the  eastern 
side  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  A  general  description  of 
that  country  and  its  inhabitants  may  form  the  sub- 
ject of  a  future  letter.  For  the  present,  I  must 
entertain  you  with  an  aceou  .t  of  a  most  singular 
and  interesting  adventure,  which  I  met  with,  i.i  the 
course  of  the  tour. 

It  was  one  Sunday,  as  I  travelled  through  the 
county  of  Orange,  that  my  eye  was  caught  by  a 
cluster  of  horses  tied  near  a  ruinous,  oil,  wooden 
house,  in  the  forest,  not  far  from  the  road  side. 
Having  frequently  seen  such  objects  before,  in 
travelling  through  these  states,  I  had  no  difficulty 
in  understanding  that  this  was  a  place  of  religious 
worship. 

Devotion  alone  should  have  stopped  me,  to  join  in 
the  duties  of  the  congregation ;  but  I  must  confess, 
that  curiosity,  to  hear  the  preacher  of  such  a  wilder- 
ness, was  not  the  least  of  my  motives.  On  entering, 
I  was  struck  with  his  preternatural  appearance,  ho 
was  a  tall  and  very  spare  old  man  ;  his  head,  which 
was  covered  with  a  white  linen  cap,  his  shrivelled 
hands,  and  his  voice,  we  e  all  shaking  under  the  in- 
fluence of  a  palsy ;  and  a  few  moments  ascertained 
to  me  that  he  was  perfectly  blind. 

The  first  emotions  which  touched  my  breast,  were 
those  of  mi  gled  pity  and  veneration.  Rut  ah! 
sacred  God!  how  soon  were  all  my  feelings  changed! 
The  lips  of  Plato  were  never  more  worthy  of  a 
prognostic  swarm  of  bees,  than  were  the  lips  of  this 
holy  man  !  It  was  a  day  of  the  administration  of 
the  sacrament;  and  his  subject,  of  course,  was  the 


passion   or   our  Saviour. 


I  had  heard  the   s.b'ect 


handled  a  thousand  times:  I  had  thought  it  ex- 
hausted long  ago.  Little  did  I  suppose,  that  i:i  the 
wild  woods  of  America,  I  was  to  meet  with  a  man 
whose  eloquence  woul  1  give  to  this  topic  a  new  and 
more  sublime  pathos,  than  I  had  ever  before  wit- 
nessed. 
As  ho  descended  from  the  pulpit,  to  distribute  tb" 


620 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


mystic  symbols,  there  was  a  peculiar,  a  more  than 
human  solemnity  in  his  air  and  manner  which  made 
my  blood  run  cold,  and  my  whole  frame  shiver. 

He  then  drew  a  picture  of  the  sufferings  of  our 
Saviour ;  his  trial  before  Pilate ;  his  ascent  up  Cal- 
vary ;  his  crucifixion,  and  Ins  death.  I  knew  the 
whole  history ;  but  never,  until  then,  had  I  heard 
the  circumstances  so  selected,  so  arranged,  so  co- 
loured !  It  was  all  new :  and  I  seemed  to  have 
heard  it  for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  His  enuncia- 
tion was  so  deliberate,  that  his  voice  trembled  on 
every  syllable  ;  and  every  heart  in  the  assembly 
trembled  in  unison.  His  peculiar  phrases  had  that 
force  of  description  that  the  original  scene  appeared 
to  be,  at  that  moment,  acting  before  our  eyes.  We 
saw  the  very  faces  of  the  Jews  :  the  staring,  fright- 
ful distortions  of  malice  and  rage.  '  We  saw  the 
buffet ;  my  soul  kindled  with  a  flame  of  indignation ; 
and  my  hands  were  involuntarily  and  convulsively 
clinched. 

But  when  he  came  to  touch  on  the  patience,  the 
forgiving  meekness  of  our  Saviour ;  when  he  drew, 
to  the  life,  his  blessed  eyes  streaming  in  tears  to 
heaven ;  his  voice  breathing  to  Ood,  a  soft  and 
gentle  prayer  of  pardon  on  his  enemies,  "  Father, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do" — 
the  voice  of  the  preacher,  which  had  all  along  fal- 
tered, grew  fainter  and  fainter,  until  his  utterance 
being  entirely  obstructed  by  the  force  of  his  feel- 
ings, he  raised  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes,  and 
burst  into  a  loud  and  irrepressible  flood  of  grief. 
The  effect  is  inconceivable.  The  whole  house  re- 
sounded with  the  mingled  groans,  and  sobs,  and 
shrieks  of  the  congregation. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  tumult  had  sub- 
sided, so  far  as  to  permit  him  to  proceed.  Indeed, 
judging  by  the  usual,  but  fallacious  standard  of  my 
own  weakness,  I  began  to  be  very  uneasy  for  the 
situation  of  the  preacher.  For  I  could  not  conceive, 
how  he  would  be  able  to  let  his  audience  down 
from  the  height  to  which  he  had  wound  them, 
without  impairing  the  solemnity  and  dignity  of  his 
subject,  or  perhaps  shocking  them  by  the  abrupt- 
ness of  the  fall.  But — no ;  the  descent  was  as  beau- 
tiful and  sublime,  as  the  elevation  had  been  rapid 
and  enthusiastic. 

The  first  sentence,  with  which  he  broke  the  awful 
silence,  was  a  quotation  from  Rousseau,  "  Socrates 
died  like  a  philosopher,  but  Jesus  Christ,  like  a 
God  1" 

I  despair  of  giving  you  any  idea  of  the  effect  pro- 
duced by  this  short  sentence,  unless  you  could  per- 
fectly conceive  the  whole  manner  of  the  man,  as 
well  as  the  peculiar  crisis  in  the  discourse.  Never 
before  did  I  completely  understand  what  Demos- 
thenes meant  by  laying  such  stress  on  delivery. 
You  are  to  bring  before  you  the  venerable  figure  of 
the  preacher ;  his  blindness,  constantly  recalling  to 
your  recollection  old  Homer,  Ossian  and  Milton, 
and  associating  with  his  performance,  the  melan- 
choly grandeur  of  their  geniuses ;  you  are  to  ima- 
gine that  you  hear  his  slow,  solemn,  well-accented 
enunciation,  and  his  voice  of  affecting,  trembling 
melody ;  you  are  to  remember  the  pitch  of  passion 
and  enthusiasm  to  which  the  congregation  were 
raised ;  and  then,  the  few  minutes  of  portentous, 
death-like  silence  which  reigned  throughout  the 
house ;  the  preacher  removing  his  white  handker- 
chief from  his  aged  face,  (even  yet  wet  from  the 
recent  torrent  of  his  tears,)  and  slowly  stretching 
forth  the  palsied  hand  which  holds  it,  begins  the 
sentence,  "  Socrates  died  like  a  philosopher" — then 
pausing,  raising  his  other  hand,  pressing  .them  both 
clasped  together,  with  warmth  and  energy  to  his 
breast,  lifting  his   "  sightlesB  balls"  to  heaven,  and 


pouring  his  whole  soul  into  his  tremulous  voice — 
"  but  Jesus  Christ — like  a  God  I"  If  he  had  been 
indeed  and  in  truth  an  angel  of  light,  the  effect 
could  scarcely  have  been  more  divine. 

Whatever  I  had  been  able  to  conceive  of  the  sub- 
limity of  Massillon,  or  the  force  of  Bourdaloue,  had 
fallen  far  short  of  the  power  which  I  felt  from  the 
delivery  of  this  simple  sentence.  The  blood,  which 
just  before  had  rushed  in  a  hurricane  upon  my 
brain,  and,  in  the  violence  and  agony  of  my  feel- 
ings, had  held  my  whole  system  in  suspense,  now 
ran  back  into  my  heart,  with  a  sensation  which  I 
cannot  describe — a  kind  of  shuddering  delicious 
horror!  The  paroxysm  of  blended  pity  and  indig- 
nation, to  which  I  had  been  transported,  subsided 
into  the  deepest  self-abasement,  humility  and  adora- 
tion. I  had  just  been  lacerated  and  dissolved  by 
sympathy,  for  our  Saviour  as  a  fellow  creature  ;  but 
now,  with  fear  and  trembling,  I  adored  him  as — "  a 
God  !"  _ 

If  this  description  give  you  the  impression,  that 
this  incomparable  minister  had  anything  of  shallow, 
theatrical  trick  in  his  manner,  it  does  him  great  in- 
justice. I  have  never  seen,  in  any  other  orator, 
such  a  union  of  simplicity  and  majesty.  He  has  not 
a  gesture,  an  attitude  or  an  accent,  to  which  he  does 
not  seem  forced,  by  the  sentiment  which  he  is  ex- 
pressing. His  mind  is  too  serious,  too  earnest,  too 
solicitous,  and,  at  the  same  time,  too  dignified,  to 
stoop  to  artifice.  Although  as  far  removed  from 
ostentation  as  a  man  can  be,  yet  it  is  clear  from  the 
train,  the'  style  and  substance  of  his  thoughts,  that 
he  is  not  only  a  very  polite  scholar,  but  a  man  of 
extensive  and  profound  erudition.  I  was  forcibly 
struck  with  a  short,  yet  beautiful  character  which 
he  drew  of  our  learned  and  amiable  countryman,  Sir 
Robert  Boyle :  he  spoke  of  him,  as  if  "  his  noble 
mind  had,  even  before  death,  divested  herself  of  all 
influence  from  his  frail  tabernacle  of  flesh  ;"  and 
called  him,  in  his  peculiarly  emphatic  and  impres- 
sive manner,  "  a  pure  intelligence :  the  link  between 
men  and  angels." 

This  man  has  been  before  my  imagination  almost 
ever  since.  A  thousand  times,  as  1  rode  along,  I 
dropped  the  reins  of  my  bridle,  stretched  forth  my 
hand,  and  tried  to  imitate  his  quotation  from  Rous- 
seau ;  a  thousand  times  1  abandoned  the  attempt  in 
despair,  and  felt  persuaded  that  his  peculiar  manner 
and  power  arose  from  an  energy  of  soul,  which 
nature  could  give,  but  which  no  human  being  could 
justly  copy.  In  short,  he  seems  to  be  altogether  a 
being  of  a  former  age,  or  of  a  totally  different  nature 
from  the  rest  of  men.  As  I  recall,  at  this  moment, 
several  of  his  awfully  striking  attitudes,  the  chilling 
tide,  with  which  my  blood  begins  to  pour  along  my 
arteries,  reminds  me  of  the  emotions  produced  by 
the  first  sight  of  Gray's  introductory  picture  of  his 
bard: 

On  a  Tock,  whose  haughty  brow, 

FrownB  o'er  old  Conway's  foaming  flood, 
Eobed  in  the  sable  garb  of  wo, 

With  haggard  eyes  the  poet  stood  ; 
(Loose  his  beard  and  hoary  hair 

Streamed,  like  a  meteor,  to  the  troubled  air  :) 
And  witli  a  poet's  hand  and  prophet's  fire, 

Struck  the  deep  sorrows  of  his  lyre. 

Guess  my  surprise,  when,  on  my  arrival  at  Rich- 
mond, and  mentioning  the  name  of  this  man,  I  found 
not  one  person  who  had  ever  before  heard  of  James 
Waddell  it  Is  it  not  strange,  that  such  a  genius  as 
this,  so  accomplished  a  scholar,  so  divine  an  orator, 
should  be  permitted  to  languish  and  die  in  obscurity, 
within  eighty  miles  of  the  metropo  is  of  Yirginia  ? 
To  me  it  is  a  conclusive  argument,  either  that  the 
Virginians  have  no  taste  for  the  highest  strains  of 
the  most  sublime  oratory,  or  that  they  are  destitute 


WILLIAM  WIKT. 


621 


of  a  much  more  important  quality,  the  love  of 
genuine  and  exalted  religion. 

ELOQUENCE  OP  THE  PULPIT — FROM  TITE  OLD  BACHELOR. 

I  cannot  present  to  my  readers  any  instance  of  a 
happy  manner,  which  is  so  extensively  and  tami- 
liarly  known  as  that  of  Mr.  Cooper,  the  tragedian. 
Many  of  us  had  read  tlie  dagger  scene  in  Macbeth, 
a  hundred  times,  before  we  saw  that  inimitable 
actor,  and  had  supposed  that  we  had  perceived  all 
the  beauty  and  felt  all  the  force  of  the  passage. 
But,  as  for  myself,  when  I  came  to  see  Mr.  Cooper 
in  that  scene,  all  that  I  had  perceived  and  felt  be- 
fore, became,  in  the  comparison,  so  tame  and  insipid, 
that  I  seemed,  nay  I  did,  for  the  first  time,  under- 
stand the  image  which  was  in  Shakespeare's  mind. 
The  horror-struck  attitude  and  countenance — the 
deep,  low,  agitated  whisper — "  Is  that  a  dagger  that 
I  see  before  me!" — the  desperate  convulsive  attempt 
to  clutch  it — the  increased  amazement  and  frenzied 
consternation  at  the  failure — his  eyes  starting  wild 
with  horror  from  their  orbits,  and  slowly  following 
the  motion  of  the.  visionary  dagger  to  the  door  of 
Duncan's  chamber — "  thou  marshal'st  me  the  way 
that  I  was  going" — -altogether  had  such  an  effect  on 
me,  that  when  I  got  relief  by  the  momentary  disap- 
pearance of  the  dagger,  I  found  that  I  had  been  be- 
reaved of  my  breath — my  sinews  and  my  muscles 
had  been  strained  to  a  painful  extremity — and  I  felt 
my  hair  descending  and  setting  on  my  head,  for 
it  had  been  raised  by  sympathetic  horror — And, 
what  is  still  more  wonderful,  when  I  supposed  his 
power  of  action  exhausted  on  this  scene,  yet  when 
the  dagger  re-appears  at  the  door  of  Duncan's  cham- 
ber, 

And  on  its  blaoV  and  dudsreon  gouts  of  blood 
Which  was  not  so  before — 

it  was  clear  that  the  performer's  resources  of  action 
were  as  infinite  and  inexhaustible  as  the  wonderful 
genius  whose  effusions  he  was  painting  to  the  eye 
and  to  the  heart.  His  attitude !  His  look !  That 
whisper  !  Tenfold  horrors  surrounded  him  ! !  It 
was  the  most  blood-chilling,  the  most  petrifying 
spectacle  I  ever  beheld !  I  am  persuaded  that  hu- 
man nature  could  not  have  endured  the  agonizing 
stretch  of  the  nerves  to  which  this  master  of  his  art 
was  able  to  wind  his  audience !  And  all  this,  be  it 
remembered,  was  the  work  of  manner. 

I  shall  be  asked  whether  I  propose  the  manner  of 
the  theatre  as  a  model  of  our  public  speakers  ?  I 
answer,  not  the  vicious  manner  of  the  theatre — -not 
the  overloaded,  extravagant,  most  unnatural  gesticu- 
lation which  we  see  practised  on  the  stage.  But  let 
it  be  remembered,  that  this  mode  of  action  is  im- 
proper and  disgusting  even  on  the  stage  itself. 
Shakespeare  has  given  the  true  rule  of  action,  which 
is  universal  in  its  application — ■"  Suit  the  action  to 
the  word,  the  word  to  the  action ;  with  this  special 
observance,  that  you  overstep  not  the  modesty  of 
nature."  Now,  is  it  not  obvious  that  the  manner 
which  would  be  chaste  and  natural  on  the  stage, 
would,  in  the  expression  of  the  same  sentiment,  be 
equally  chaste  and  natural  everywhere?  The  rea- 
son why  there  is  more  gesture  on  the  stage  than 
elsewhere,  is  because  plays  consist  almost  entirely 
of  emotion  ;  in  the  pulpit,  senate,  and  bar,  argu- 
ment does  or  should  preponderate.  Now,  no  man, 
in  his  senses,  would  be  so  absurd  as  to  apply  the 
gesture  which  belongs  to  emotion,  to  the  delivery  of 
an  argument ;  for  that  would  not  be  to  "  suit  the  action 
to  the  word,  the  word  to  the  action" — -hence  the 
quantity  of  action  exhibited  on  the  stage  will  always 
naturally  and  properly  exceed  that  which  belongs  to 
ony  other  theatre  of  public  speaking.     But  the  sub- 


jects sometimes  coincide — arguments  are  found  in 
plays — and  the  passions  often  appear,  and  properly 
too,  in  the  pulpit,  senate,  and  bar — and  whereon  the 
subjects  do  coincide,  the  manner  should  be  the  same. 
Hence  it  is  that  the  manner  of  action  on  the  stage, 
as  exhibited  by  master  performers,  may  be  observed 
and  imitated  to  great  advantage.  Ministers  of  the 
gospel  may,  perhaps,  be  startled  at  a  proposition  so 
profane  as  that  they  should  attend  the  theatre ;  and 
disgusted  at  an  idea  so  absurd  as  that  they  should 
transfer  the  manner  of  the  theatre  to  the  pulpit. 
As  to  the  profanity  of  the  proposition,  their  acced- 
ing to  it  or  not  is  a  question  between  themselves 
and  their  sovereign  judge ;  I  am  not  afraid  of  the 
consequences  of  having  made  the  proposition.  I 
know  that  dramatic  composition  has  been  polluted 
by  the  most  shameful  licentiousness — on  the  exhibi- 
tion of  plays  of  that  character,  I,  who  am  no  divine, 
would  never  attend.  But  are  there  not,  on  the 
other  hand,  plays  which  inculcate  the  loftiest,  the 
most  heroic,  the  most  Christian  virtues  ?  What  sin 
would  be  committed  by  their  attending  the  repre- 
sentation of  such  ?  What  is  the.  purpose  of  play- 
ing? Let  Shakespeare  answer  the  question — 
"  whose  end  both  at  the  first  and  now,  was  and  is, 
to  hold,  as  'twere,  the  mirror  up  to  nature ;  to 
show  virtue  her  own  feature  ;  scorn  her  own  image, 
and  the  very  age  and  body  of  the  time,  his  form  and 
pressure."  *  I  ask  if  the  same  be  not  also  a  part  of 
the  duty  of  the  pulpit ;  and  when  the  dramatic 
writer  attains  this  purpose  purely,  I  cannot  discern 
what  possible  mischief  there  can  be  in  listening  to 
his  lectures.  Do  not  those  who  from  an  idea  of  its 
sinfulness  refuse  to  attend  the  theatre,  nevertheless 
read,  and  with  rapture  too,  the  plays  of  Shake- 
speare? If  they  do,  where  is  the  difference  in  point 
of  guilt  between  reading  the  plays  one's  self,  and 
hearing  them  read  or  recited  by  others  ?  It  is  from 
my  purpose  to  pursue  this  disquisition  further.  As 
to  the  other  branch  of  the  supposed  objection,  trans- 
ferring the  manner  of  the  theatre  to  the  pulpit,  I 
will  take  the  liberty  to  say  that  the  transfer  of  all 
that  is  chaste  and  natural  would  give  to  the  pulpit, 
an  ease,  a  dignity,  an  animation,  and  an  interest  of 
which  at  present  it  stands  in  the  most  direful  need. 
Who  is  not  disgusted  with  the  stiffness,  the  for- 
mality, the  slow,  mechanically  measured  enunci- 
ation, the  nasal  melody,  the  affected  mouthings  or 
the  coarse  rusticity,  the  ear-crucifying  sing-song, 
and  the  delirious  raving  and  shrieking,  which  too 
often  degrade  the  pulpit  and  defeat  the  very  pur- 
pose of  tlie  institution  ?  Has  it  never  been  the  mis- 
fortune of  the  reader  to  observe  in  what  an  infinite 
variety  of  ways  ministers  contrive  to  murder  that 
beautiful  and  sublime  exclamation  of  the  Psalmist — 
"  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  of  Sabaoth !  Heaven 
and  Karth  are  full  of  the  majesty  of  thy  glory  1" 
One  will  recite  it  in  the  same  time  and  tone  that  he 
would  read  an  advertisement  in  a  newspaper;  ano- 
ther will  whine  over  it,  so  as  to  excite  just  as  much 
interest  as  a  schoolboy  excites  in  whining  over  his 
lesson  ;  another,  with  a  smirk,  will  yelp  over  it, 
"  holy — holy — holy,"  as  if  he  had  just  started  the 
game,  to  the  great  amusement  of  his  congregation, 
who  feel  no  other  impulse  than  to  cry  "  hark  for- 
ward." I  have  no  patience  with  men  who  thus  in- 
dolently and  shamefully  neglect  the  cultivation  of  a 
correct  manner,  and  ascend  the  pulpit  only  to  mar, 
deform,  by  their  hideous  manner,  the  work  of  in- 
spiration— How  different  from  all  this  was  the  man- 
ner of  the  celebrated  Duche,  the  chaplain  of  the  old 
Congress!  He  had  studied  the  language  of  nature 
j  in  the  cartoons  of  Raphael,  and  learned  from  them 
that  the  evangelic  character  loses  nothing  of  its 
dignity  by  the  boldest  attitude  and  most  impressive 


622 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


east  of  features,  when  they  comport  with  the  subject 
and  the  occasion.  He  had  read  the  sacred  scrip- 
tures, too,  with  the  eye  of  genius,  as  well  as  that  of 
faith ;  and  in  the  exclamation  just  referred  to,  it  was 
.impossible  for  him  not  to  imagine  the  train  of  re- 
flection which  probably  led  to  it,  and  the  holy  yet 
enraptured  manner  in  which  it  broke  from  the  in- 
spired poet.  To  recite  this  language  of  the  psalmist 
correctly,  it  was  necessary  to  recite  it  in  the  very 
6pirit  in  which  it  was  first  conceived  ;  and  in  doing 
so,  there  was  no  danger  that  a  man  of  taste  and 
judgment  would  overstep  the  modesty  of  nature. 
There  are  probably  some  yet  alive,  beside  myself, 
who  will  remember  Ditches  mode  of  reciting  it. 
It  was  preceded  by  a  pause  in  which  his  eyes  were 
raised  with  fearful  awe,  as  if  contemplating  those 
glories  of  the  firmament  which  David  has  so  sub- 
limely depicted  in  the  19th  psalm — his  hands  were 
clasped  on  the  pulpit  before  him — the  admiration 
depicted  on  his  countenance,  gradually  swelled  with 
the  truth  of  nature  into  a  bolder  expression,  as  the 
wonders  of  the  creation  seemed  to  pass  in  review 
before  him,  at  the  same  time  his  clasped  hands  were 
slowly  and  touchingly  removed  from  the  pulpit  to 
his  breast — his  heart,  itself,  seemed  to  expand  with 
the  augmenting  tide  of  his  sensations — no  sound  was 
heard,  but  that  of  the  throbbing  heart  and  convulsed 
breath — the  recitation  was  begun  slowly — and  in  a 
low  and  tremulous  voice,  as  if  repressed  by  the 
awfid  presence  of  the  Deity,  himself,  "  Holy  !  Holy ! 
Holy!  Lord  God  of  Sabaoth!"  then  his  hands  un- 
clasped,  his  arms  a  little  opened,  and  raised 

"Heaven!" then   his   arms  wide  extended,,  his 

face  beaming  with  a  smile  of  rapturous  gratitude 
and  admiration,  and  his  brilliant  voice  liberated,  and 
swelling  to  the  end  of  the  sentence,  in  its  fullest 
richest  tone — "  and  earth  are  full  of  the  majesty 
of  thy  glory."  There  was  no  one  who  did  not 
clearly  perceive  and  deeply  feel  the  whole  beauty 
of  the  apostrophe  :  There  were  few  who  did  not  in- 
voluntarily start  from  their  scats,  with  sympathetic 
rapture.  Yet  among  the  drones  of  the  present  day, 
this  manner  would  be  called  theatrical,  unworthy 
of  the  pulpit,  unworthy  of  imitation.  It  is  the 
common  policy  of  dunces  to  decry  that  excellence 
which  they  cannot  reach.  But  it  is  not  for  the 
mind,  however  good,  to  pass  sentence  oa  appeals 
made  to  the  heart.  Those  arc  the  best  judges  of 
Mr.  Dvehc's  manner,  who  had  the  happiness  to  hear 
him;  and  they  will  support  me  in  the  assertion, 
that  his  manner,  so  far  from  lowering  the  dignity 
and  solemnity  of  the  service,  gave  them  a  hundred 
fold  force  and  power.  I  will  venture  to  say  that  if 
Mr.  Ditches  were  the  manner  of  the  present  day, 
our  country  would  not,  in  every  quarter  of  it,  ex- 
hibit that  spectacle  so  painful  to  the  Christian's 
heart,  of  churches  neglected,  tumbling  in  ruins,  and 
become  almost  the  exclusive  residence  of  the  beasts 
of  the  field  and  birds  of  the  air.  Our  regular  mi- 
nisters may  rail  on,  if  they  please,  against  the  pre- 
valence of  fanaticism  and  superstition.  The  fault  is 
in  themselves.  People  go  to  church,  not  to  doze, 
but  to  worship;  and  it  is  not  wonderful  that  they 
6hould  prefer  the  man  who  makes  them  feel,  to  him 
who  makes  them  sleep. 

Let  it  apt  be  understood  that  I  am  vindicating  those 
fops  and  petit  maitres  whom  we  sometimes  see  in  the 
pulpit ;  whose  frivolous  gesticulations  would  dis- 
grace even  the  theatre  itself.  No:  I  speak  of  that 
majesty  of  action  by  which  St.  Paul  made  Felix 
tremble ;  and  which  is  in  the  happiest  harmony  with 
the  sublime  composition  of  the  Bible  itself.  It  is 
this  which  I  would  have  our  ministers  to  cultivate  ; 
this,  by  which  they  might  shake  the  souls  of  their 
hearers,  instead  of  standing  like  automata  in  the 


sacred  desk,  and  pouring  through  lips  of  wood,  the 
productions  of  others ;  productions,  which  they  do 
not  feel  themselves,  and  consequently  cannot  make 
others  feel. 

Yet  these  gentlemen  who  are  so  much  afraid  to 
stir  an  arm  or  raise  an  eye,  imagine  the  manner  in 
which  Bossuet  delivered  his  discourses.  Are  they 
not  satisfied  that  Bossuet.  sustained,  by  the  grandeur 
of  his  manner,  the  boldest  flights  of  his  genius ; 
that  his  action  partook  of  that  fervid  spirit  which  in- 
spired his  orations  ;  that  it  kept  pace  with  it,  ascend- 
ing with  it,  and  kindled  in  its  noblest  conflagration  I 
— Yes ;  Bossuet's  was  a  soul  of  empyrean  flame : 
and  pervaded  his  system  with  a  force  too  strong  to 
permit  any  portion  of  it  to  remain  indifferent,  while 
she  was  exhibiting  her  wondrous  powers  to  others; 
Bossuet's  was  a  soul  firm  and  intrepid  in  her  own 
strength  ;  she  walked  abroad  at  her  ease,  and  pro- 
duced, on  every  occasion,  that  consentaneous  gran- 
deur of  movement,  which  consummated  her  power, 
and  made  her  irresistible. 

If  any  one  of  our  regular  ministers  should  answer, 
"  Give  me  Bossuet's  genius  and  I  will  give  you  his 
action," — I  reply,  this  is  the  very  objection  ;  that 
you  do  give  us  the  works  of  his  and  other  great  ge- 
niuses without  their  appropriate  action.  The  ser- 
mons which  wc  hear  from  the  pulpit  are  frequently 
eloquent  in  themselves ;  yet  from  the  cold  com- 
posure with  which  they  are  recited,  it  is  evident 
that  they  are  the  offspring  of  other  minds:  had  they 
been  the  proper  children  of  those  who  exhibit  them, 
there  would  have  been  a  parental  warmth  which 
would  infallibly  have  shown  itself  in  their  action. 

1  pray  that  our  ministers  may  reflect  upon  this  » 
subject  ere  it  be  too  late.  If  they  will  not  be  con- 
vinced by  abstract  argument,  let  them  attend  to  the 
facts  which  are  passing  before  their  eyes  ;  their  own 
discourses  are  composed  with  the  utmost  pur  t/  and 
elegance;  the  reasomi  g  good;  the  style,  not  only 
correct,  but  adorned  with  the  most  beautiful  figures 
of  speech  : — what  is  it  that  carries  away  the  people 
from  their  discourses,  at  once  chaste,  strong,  and 
embellished,  to  the  meeting-houses  of  dissenting  mi- 
nisters? On  the  one  hand,  indolence  or  vanity,  un- 
willing to  acknowledge  the  mortifying  truth,  may 
impute  it  to  a  popular  fit  of  fanaticism :  on  the 
other  hand,  vanity  or  delusion  may  impute  it  to 
the  superior  truth  of  the  doctrines  which  are  taught 
by  the  dissent  ers ;  but  the  fact  is,  that  it  proceeds 
almost  entirely  from  manner,  and  the  mysterious 
hold  which  this  takes  on  human  sympathy.  The  in- 
teresting warmth,  the  anxious  earnestness  with 
which  the  dissenter  pours  out  his  unpremeditated 
effusions  (however  coarse),  seize  the  human  heart 
with  almost  inextricable  grasp,  and  enable  him  to 
lead  it  whithersoever  he  will.  You  may  say  that 
his  action  is  redundant,  ungraceful,  vulgar,  that  it 
violates  all  rule ;  no  matter ;  let  it  be  as  distorted  and 
frantic  as  you  please,  as  that  of  the  Pythian  priest- 
ess :  it  is  earnest ;  it  comes  accompanied  with  a 
voice  choked  with  tears,  and  shows  that  the  man's 
whole  soul  is  engaged  for  our  good;  he  moves  us; 
alarms  us ;  melts  us  ;  and  sends  us  home  agitated  on 
a  subject  of  eternal  importance.  We  find,  too,  that 
these  men  discover  a  deep  and  accurate  knowledge 
of  the  human  heart ;  they  anticipate  the  topics  of 
peace  and  consolation  which  the  arch  enemy  of  man- 
kind will  suggest  to  the  alarmed  soul,  and  by  show- 
ing us  their  origin  they  forbid  us  to  repose  upon 
them.  How  different,  how  superior  in  point  of  at- 
traction is  all  this  to  the  soporific  doses  which  are 
administered  from  velvet  cushions ! — If  it  should  still 
be  urged  that  all  this  is  fanaticism — I  desire  that 
any  sermon  of  Massillon's  may  be  compared  with 
the  most  impassioned  of  those  which  are  delivered 


WILLIAM  WIRT. 


G23 


from  the  dissenter's  desk.  You  "will  find  in  Massil- 
lon,  indeed,  the  rarest  beauties  of  cultivated  genius, 
the  most  powerful  eloquence  ;  but  it  is  eloquence 
entirely  void  of  ostentation  ;  it  seems,  indeed,  to 
burst  from  the  man's  heart  in  spite  of  himself,  and 
to  come  Accompanied  with  showers  of  tears  just  as 
irrepressible.  But  you  will  find  Mnssillou's  sermons 
marked  with  exactly  the  same  strong  characters 
which  distinguished  the  dissenter ;  the  same  passion- 
ate importunity  addressed  to  sinners;  tiie  same 
shuddering  predictions  of  the  fate  which  awaits  the 
impenitent;  the  same  necessity  for  the  regeneration 
of  the  soul ;  the  same  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
human  heart,  the  same  power  of  chasing  a  sin 
through  every  fold  and  euve'.opemeut,  and  pursuing 
and  driving  the  sinner  himself  from  every  corner 
and  recess  of  his  own  deceitful  breast ;  the  same 
warnings  against  the  arts  of  the  devil  in  resisting 
the  work  of  grace  in  the  soul;  in  short  you  will 
find  in  Massillon,  blended  witli  a  personal  meekness 
and  humility  (which  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
affect,  and  which  is  in  itself  captivating  in  the  high- 
est degree)  ami  with  an  eloquence,  almost  super- 
human, all  the  dissenter's  earnestness,  tears,  en- 
treaties, supplications;  all  his  cries,  his  adjurations; 
all  his  topics  of  persuasion  and  of  alarm,  all  his  en- 
thusiasm, all  his  terror,  all  his  raptures,  and  all 
that  the  dealers  in  opiates  now  choose  to  cull  fana- 
ticism ;  yet  no  one  ever  dared  to  call  Massillon  a 
fanatic.  Now  the  great  doctrines  which  are 
preached  by  the  Human  Catholic,  the  Protestant, 
and  the  Dissenter,  are  the  same,  viz.  the  fall  of  man 
— the  mediation — and  salvation  by  faith  in  the  Re- 
deemer. The  subject  being  the  same,  it  can  be 
only  the  diiferent  manner  of  presenting  it,  which 
constitutes  the  difference  of  effect;  yet  that  differ- 
ence we  see  is  vast;  and  so  it  will  ever  continue, 
while  human  nature  remains  the  same  and  the  Pro- 
testant clergy  refuse  to  be  instructed  by  experience. 

JEFFEESON    AT    MONTICE1.LO — FC.OM    TIIE    ECT.OGIUM    OF   ADAMS 
AND   JEFFKHSON. 

The  Mansion  House  at  Monticcllo  was  built  and 
furuishe  I  ia  the  days  of  his  prosperity.  In  its  di- 
mensions, its  architecture,  its  arrangements  and  or- 
nament*, it  is  such  a  one  as  became  the  character 
and  fortune  of  the  man.  It  stands  upon  an  elliptic 
plain,  formed  by  cutting  down  the  apex  of  a  moun- 
tain ;  and,  on  the  west,  stretching  away  to  the  north 
and  the  south,  it  commands  a  view  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  and  bri:  gs  under 
the  eye  one  of  the  bol  lest  and  most  beautiful  horizons 
in  the  world:  while,  o  i  the  east,  it  presents  an  ex- 
tent of  prospect  bounded  only  by  the  spherical  form 
of  the  earth,  in  which  nature  seems  to  sleep  in 
eternal .  repose,  as  if  to  form  one  of  her  finest  con- 
trasts with  the  rude  and  rolling  grandeur  on  the 
west.  In  the  wide  prospect,  and  scattered  to  the 
north  and  south,  are  several  detached  mountains, 
which  contribute  to  animate  and  diversify  this  en- 
chanting landscape  ;  and  among  them,  to  the  south, 
Willis's  Mountain,  which  is  so  interestingly  depicted 
in  his  Notes.  From  this  summit,  the  Philosopher 
was  wont  to  enjoy  that  spectacle,  among  the  sub- 
limest  of  Nature's  operations,  the  looming  of  the 
distant  mountains;  and  to  watch  the  motions  of  the 
planets,  and  the  greater  revolution  of  the  celestial 
sphere.  From  this  summit,  ton,  the  patriot  could 
look  down,  with  uninterrupted  vision,  upon  the 
wide  expanse  of  the  world  around,  for  which  he 
considered  himself  born ;  and  upward,  to  the  open 
and  vaulted  heavens  which  he  seemed  to  approach 
as  if  to  keep  him  continually  in  mind  of  his  high 
responsibility.  It  is  indeed  a  prospect  in  which  you 
see  and  feel,   at  once,  that  nothing  mean  or  little 


could  live.  It  is  a  scene  fit  to  nourish  those  great 
and  high-souled  principles  which  formed  the  ele- 
ments of  his  character,  and  was  a  most  noble  and 
appropriate  post  for  such  a  sentinel  over  the  rights 
and  liberties  of  man. 

Approaching  the  house  on  the  east,  the  visiter 
instinctively  paused,  to  cast  around  one  thrilling 
glance  at  this  magnificent  panorama ;  and  then 
passed  to  the  vestibule,  where,  if  be  hod  not  been 
previously  informed,  he  would  immediately  perceive 
that  lie  was  entering  the  house  of  no  common  man. 
In  the  spacious  and  lofty  hall  which  opens  before 
him,  he  marks  no  tawdry  and  unmeaning  ornaments: 
but  before,  on  the  right,  on  the  left,  all  around,  the 
eye  is  struck  and  gratified  with  objects  of  science 
and  taste,  so  classed  and  arranged  as  to  produce  their 
finest  effect.  On  one  side,  specimens  of  sculpture 
set  out  in,  such  order  as  to  exhibit  at  a  coup  d'ceil, 
the  historical  progress  of  that  art;  from  the  first 
rude  attempts  of  the  aborigines  of  our  country,  up 
to  that  exquisite  and  finished  bust  of  the  great 
patriot  himself,  from  the  master  hand  of  Caracci. 
On  the  other  side,  the  visiter  sees  displayed  a  vast 
collection  of  specimens  of  Indian  art,  their  paintings, 
weapons,  ornaments,  and  manufactures  ;  on  another, 
an  array  of  the  fossil  productions  of  our  country, 
mineral  and  animal;  the  polished  remains  of  those 
colossal  monsters  that  once  trod  our  forests,  and  are 
no  more;  and  a  variegated  display  of  the  branching 
honours  of  those  "  monnrchs  of  the  waste,"  that 
still  people  the  wilds  of  the  American  Continent. 

From  this  hall  he  was  ushered  into  a  noble  saloon, 
from  which  the  glorious  landscape  of  the  west  again 
bursts  upon  his  view ;  and  which  within  is  hung 
thick  around  with  the  finest  pro  motions  of  the  pen- 
cil— historical  paintings  of  the  most  striking  sub- 
jects from  all  countries,  and  all  ages;  the  portraits 
of  distinguished  men  and  patriots,  both  of  Europe 
and  America,  and  medallions  and  engravings  in  end- 
less profusion. 

While  the  visiter  was  yet  lost  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  these  treasures  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  he 
was  startled  by  the  approach  of  a  strong  and 
sprightly  step,  and  turning  with  instinctive  reverence 
to  the  door  of  entrance,  he  was  met  by  the  tall,  and 
animated,  and  stately  figure  of  the  patriot  himself — 
his  countenance  beaming  with  intelligence  and  be- 
nignity, and  his  outstretched  hand,  with  its  strong 
and  cordial  pressare,  confirming  the  courteous  wel- 
come of  his  lips.  And  then  came  that  charm  of 
manner  and  conversation  that  passes  all  description 
— so  cheerful — so  unassuming — so  free,  and  easy, 
and  frank,  and  kind,  and  gay — that  even  the  young, 
and  overawed,  and  embarrasse  1  visiter  at  once  for- 
got his  fears,  and  felt  himself  by  the  side  of  an  old 
and  familiar  friend. 

PATRICK.  nEXKT — FEOM  TnE  6KETCnES. 

The  following  is  the  fullest  description  which  the 
author  has  been  able  to  procure  of  Mr.  Henry's 
person.  He  was  nearly  six  feet  high  ;  spare,  and 
what  may  be  called  raw-bone  1,  witli  a  slight  stoop 
of  the  shoulders — his  complexion  was  dark,  sun- 
burnt, and  sallow,  without  any  appearance  of  blood 
in  his  cheeks — his  countenance  grave,  thoughtful, 
penetrating,  and  strongly  marked  with  the  linea- 
ments of  deep  reflection — the  earnestness  of  his 
manner,  united  with  an  habitual  contraction  or 
knitting  of  his  brows,  and  those  lines  of  thought 
with  which  his  face  was  profusely  furrowed,  gave  to 
his  countenance,  at  some  times,  the  appearance  of 
seventy — yet  such  was  the  power  which  he  had 
over  its  expression,  that  he  could  shake  off  from  it 
in  an  instant  all  the  sternness  of  winter,  and  robe  it 
in  the  brightest  smiles  of  spring.     His  forehead  was 


624 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


high  and  Etraight,  yet  forming  a  sufficient  angle 
with  the  lower  part  of  his  face — his  nose  somewhat 
of  the  Roman  stamp,  though  like  that  which  we  see 
in  the  bust  of  Cicero,  it  was  rather  long,  than 
remarkable  for  its  Caesarean  form — of  the  colour  of 
his  eyes,  the  accounts  are  almost  as  various  as  those 
which  we  have  of  the  colour  of  the  ehamelion — they 
are  said  to  have  been  blue,  grey,  what  Lavater  calls 
green,  hazel,  brown,  and  black— the  fact  seems  to 
have  been,  that  they  were  of  a  bluish  grejT,  not 
large ;  and  being  deeply  fixed  in  his  head,  overhung 
by  dark,  long,  aud  full  eye-brows,  and  farther 
shaded  by  lashes  that  were  both  long  and  black, 
their  apparent  colour  was  as  variable  as  the  lights 
in  which  they  were  seen — but  all  concur  in  saying 
that  they  were,  unquestionably,  the  finest  feature  in 
his  face — brilliant — full  of  spirit,  and  capable  of  the 
most  rapidly  shifting  and  powerful  expression — at 
one  time  piercing  and  terrible  as  those  of  liars,  and 
then  again  soft  and  tender  as  those  of  pity  herself — 
his  cheeks  were  hollow — his  chin  long,  but  well 
formed,  and  rounded  at  the  end,  so  as  to  form  a 
proper  counterpart  to  the  upper  part  of  his  face. 
"  I  find  it  difficult,"  says  the  correspondent  from 
whom  I  have  borrowed  this  portrait,  "  to  describe 
his  mouth  ;  in  which  there  was  nothing  remarkable, 
except  when  about  to  express  a  modest  dissent  from 
some  opinion  on  which  lie  was  commenting — he 
then  had  a  sort  of  half  smile,  in  which  the  want  of 
conviction  was  perhaps  more  strongly  expressed, 
than  the  satirical  emotion,  which  probably  prompted 
it.  His  manner  and  address  to  the  court  and  jury 
might  he  deemed  the  excess  of  humility,  diffidence, 
and  modesty.  If,  as  rarely  happened,  he  had  occa- 
sion to  answer  any  remark  from  the  bench,  it  was 
impossible  for  meekness  herself  to  assume  a  manner 
less  presumptuous — but  in  the  smile  of  which  I  have 
been  speaking,  you  might  anticipate  the  want  of 
conviction,  expressed  in  his  answer,  at  the  moment 
that  he  submitted  to  the  superior  wisdom  of  the 
court,  with  a  grace  that  would  have  done  honour 
to  Westminster  Hall.  In  his  reply  to  counsel,  his 
remarks  on  the  evidence,  and  on  the  conduct  of 
the  parties,  he  preserved  the  same  distinguished 
deference  and  politeness,  still  accompanied,  however, 
by  the  never  failing  index  of  this  sceptical  smile, 
where  the  occasion  prompted."  In  6hort,  his  fea- 
tures were  manly,  bold,  and  well  proportioned,  full 
of  intelligence,  and  adapting  themselves  intuitively 
to  every  sentiment  of  his  mind,  and  every  feeling  of 
his  heart.  His  voice  was  not  remarkable  for  its 
sweetness;  but  it  was  firm,  full  of  volume,  and 
rather  melodious  than  otherwise.  Its  charms  con- 
sisted in  the  mellowness  and  fulness  of  its  note,  the 
ease  and  variety  of  its  inflections,  the  distinctness 
of  its  articulation,  the  fine  effect  of  its  emphasis,  the 
felicity  with  which  it  attuned  itself  to  every  emo- 
tion, and  the  vast  compass  which  enabled  it  to 
range  through  the  whole  empire  of  human  passion, 
from  the  deep  and  tragic  half  whisper  of  horror,  to 
the  wildest  exclamation  of  overwhelming  rage.  In 
mild  persuasion  it  was  as  soft  and  gentle  as  the 
zephyr  of  spring ;  while  in  rousing  his  countrymen 
to  arms,  the  winter  storm  that  mars  along  the 
troubled  Baltic,  was  not  more  awfully  sublime.  It 
was  at  all  times  perfectly  under  his  command  ;  or 
rather,  indeed,  it  seemed  to  command  itself,  and  to 
modulate  its  notes,  most  happily,  to  the  sentiment 
he  was  uttering.  It  never  exceeded,  or  fell  short  of 
the  occasion.  There  was  none  of  that  long  con- 
tinued and  deafening  vociferation,  which  always 
takes  place  when  an  ardent  speaker  has  lost  posses- 
sion of  himself — no  monotonous  clangour,  no  dis- 
cordant shriek.  Without  being  strained,  it  had  that 
body  and  enunciation  which  filled  the  most  distant 


ear,  without  distressing  those  which  were  nearest 
him :  hence  it  never  became  cracked  or  hoarse,  even 
in  his  longest  speeches,  but  retained  to  the  last  all 
its  clearness  and  fulness  of  intonation,  all  the  deli- 
cacy of  its  inflection,  all  the  charms  of  its  emphasis, 
and  enchanting  variety  of  its  cadence. 

His  delivery  was  perfectly  natural  and  well  timed. 
It  has  indeed  been  said,  that,  on  his  first  rising,  there 
was  a  species  of  sub-cantus  very  observable  by  a 
stranger,  and  rather  disagreeable  to  him ;  but  that 
in  a  very  few  moments  even  this  itself  became 
agreeable,  and  seemed,  indeed,  indispensable  to  the 
full  effect  of  his  peculiar  diction  and  conceptions. 
In  point  of  time,  he  was  very  happy:  there  was  no 
slow  and  heavy  dragging,  no  quaint  and  measured 
drawling,  with  equidistant  pace,  no  stumbling  and 
floundering  among  the  fractured  members  of  de- 
ranged and  broken  periods,  no  undignified  hurry 
and  trepidation,  no  recalling  and  recasting  of  sen- 
tences as  he  went  along,  no  retraction  of  one  word 
and  substitution  of  another  not  better,  and  none  of 
those  affected  bursts  of  almost  inarticulate  impetu- 
osity, which  betray  the  rhetorician  rather  than  dis- 
play the  orator.  On  the  contrary,  ever  self-col- 
lected, deliberate,  and  dignified,  he  seemed  to  have 
looked  through  the  whole  period  before  he  com- 
menced its  delivery ;  and  hence  his  delivery  was 
smooth,  and  firm,  and  well  accented  ;  slow  enough 
to  take  along  with  him  the  dullest  hearer,  and  yet 
so  commanding  that  the  quick  had  neither  the 
power  nor  the  disposition  to  get  the  start  of  him. 
Thus  he  gave  to  every  thought  its  full  and  appro- 
priate force;  and  to  every  image  all  its  radiance  and 
beauty. 

No  speaker  ever  understood  better  than  Mr. 
Henry,  the  true  use  and  power  of  the  pause ;  and 
no  one  ever  practised  it  with  happier  effect.  His 
pauses  were  never  resorted  to,  for  the  purpose  of 
investing  an  insignificant  thought  with  false  im- 
portance; much  less  were  they  ever  resorted  to  as 
sl  finesse,  to  gain  time  for  thinking.  The  hearer  was 
never  disposed  to  ask,  "  why  that  pause  ?"  nor  to 
measure  its  duration  by  a  reference  to  his  watch. 
On  the  contrary,  it  always  came  at  the  very  moment 
when  he  would  himself  have  wished  it,  in  order  to 
weigh  the  striking  and  important  thought  which 
had  just  been  uttered  ;  and  the  interval  was  always 
filled  by  the  speaker  with  a  matchless  energy  of 
look,  which  drove  the  thought  home  through  the 
mind  and  through  the  heart. 

His  gesture,  and  this  varying  play  of  his  features 
and  voice,  were  so  excellent,  so  exquisite,  that  many 
have  referred  his  power  as  an  orator  principally  to 
that  cause ;  yet  this  was  all  his  own,  and  his  ges- 
ture, particularly,  of  so  peculiar  a  cast,  that  it  is 
said  it  would  have  become  no  other  man.  I  do  not 
learn  that  it  was  very  abundant ;  for  there  was  no 
trash  about  it ;  none  of  those  false  motions  to  which 
undisciplined  speakers  are  so  generally  addicted  ; 
no  chopping  nor  sawing  of  the  air ;  no  thumping  of 
the  bar  to  express  an  earnestness,  which  was  much 
more  powerfully,  as  well  as  more  elegantly,  ex- 
pressed by  his  eye  and  his  countenance.  Whenever 
he  moved  his  arm,  or  his  hand,  or  even  his  finger,  or 
changed  the  position  of  his  body,  it  was  always  to 
some  purpose;  nothing  was  inefficient ;  every  thing 
told;  every  gesture,  every  attitude,  every  look,  was 
emphatic  ;  all  was  animation,  energjr,  and  dignity. 
Its  great  advantage  consisted  in  this — that  various, 
bold,  and  original  as  it  was,  it  never  appeared  to  be 
studied,  affected,  or  theatrical,  <*r  "  to  overstep,"  in 
the  smallest  degree,  "  the  modesty  of  nature ;"  for 
he  never  made  a  gesture  or  assumed  an  attitude, 
which  did  not  seem  imperiously  demanded  by  the 
occasion.     Every  look,  every  motion,  every  pause, 


JOHN  PICKERING. 


625 


every  start,  -was  completely  filled  and  dilated  by 
the  thought  which  he  was  uttering,  and  seemed  in- 
deed to  form  a  part  of  the  thought  itself.  His 
action,  however  strong,  was  never  vehement.  He 
was  never  seen  rushing  forward,  shoulder  foremost, 
fury  in  Ins  countenance,  and  frenzy  in  his  voice,  as 
if  to  overturn  the  bar,  and  charge  his  audience 
sword  in  hand.  His  judgment  was  too  manly  and 
too  solid,  and  his  taste  too  true,  to  permit  him  to 
indulge  in  any  such  extravagance.  His  good  sense 
and  his  self-possession  never  deserted  him.  In  the 
loudest  storm  of  declamation,  in  the  fiercest  blaze  of 
passion,  there  was  a  dignity  and  temperance  which 
gave  it  seeming.  He  had  the  rare  faculty  of  impart- 
ing to  his  hearers  all  the  excess  of  his  own  feelings, 
and  all  the  violence  and  tumult  of  his  emotions,  all 
the  dauntless  spirit  of  his  resolution,  and  all  the 
energy  of  his  soul,  without  any  sacrifice  of  his  own 
personal  dignity,  and  withoit  treating  his  hearers 
otherwise  than  as  rational  beings.  He  was  not  the 
orator  of  a  day;  and  therefore  sought  not  to  build 
his  fame  on  the  sandy  basis  of  a  false  taste,  fostered, 
if  not  created,  by  himself.  He  spoke  for  immor- 
tality ;  and  therefore  raised  the  pillars  of  his  glory 
on  the  only  solid  foundation — the  rock  of  nature. 

JOHN  PICKERING, 

TnE  distinguished  jurist  and  philologist,  was  the 
son  of  Ool.  Timothy  Pickering,  the  early  Whig 
leader  of  Salem,  his  native  place,  the  fellow-sol- 
dier of  Washington,  and  his  Secretary  of  State 
from  1795  until  his  removal  in  the  administration 
of  Adams  in  1800 ;  subsequently  a  member  of  Con- 
gress, a  member  of  the  board  of  war  in  1812,  as 
he  had  discharged  numerous  similar  duties  in  the 
Revolution,  again  member  of  Congress  from  1814 
to  1817,  when  he  retired  at  that  period  to  private 
life,  employing  himself  in  agriculture.  After  the 
war  of  the"  Revolution,  he  lived  in  Pennsylvania, 
and  was  delegated  by  that  state  to  visit  the 
Western  settlement",  and  adjust  a  controversy 
which  had  been  excited  by  the  claims,  of  Con- 
necticut emigrants.  While  residing  near  Wilkes- 
barre,  in  the  discharge' of  this  duty,  he  was 
seized  in  his  bed  at  night  by  a  band  of  ruffians, 
carried  off  to  the  forest,  and  exposed  to  various 
outrages  and  privations,  with  the  design  of  inti- 
midation. After  twenty  days  of  this  abduction, 
he  reappeared  before  his  family.  "  So  much,"  it 
is  said,  "  was  lie  altered  by  the  sufferings  and 
hardships  he  had  endured,  that  his  children  fled 
from  his  presence  affrighted  by  h;s  haggard,  un- 
shaven appearance,  and  his  wife  looked  upon  him 
with  consternation  as  upon  an  apparition."* 

He  died  Jan.  '39,  1829,  in  his  eighty-fourth 
year.  He  was  always  active  in  public  life.  His 
writings  were  numerous,  and  consist  of  political 
pamphlets,  on  questions  of  national  policy,  or  of 
a  controversial  character  growing  out  of  his 
vigorous  partisanship  on  the  Federal  side,  occa- 
sional addresses  and  orations,  agricultural  and 
Other  papers.  His  biting  Review  of  the  Corres- 
pondence between  the  Hon.  John,  Adams  and  the 
late  William  Cunningham,  Esq.,  beginning  in 
1803  and  ending  in  1812,  one  of  the  most  cele- 
brated of  his  compositions,  was  published  in 
1824.t 


*  National  Portrait  Gallery,  ed.  1834,  vol.  i. 

t  It  is  in  this  production  he  Dairies  the  personal  att:ick  of 
John  Adams,  who  had  charged  him  in  one  of  the  Letters  with 
ambitious  views,  in  these  terms : — "  Under  the  simple  appear- 
VOL.  I. — 10 


John  Pickering  was  born  at  Salem,  Feb.  7, 
1772.  He  was  educated  at  Harvard,  and  was 
then  for  some  time  abroad  as  Secretary  to  the 

United  States  Minister  W.  L.  Smith  at  Portugal, 
and  afterwards  from  1799  to  1801  as  Secretary  to 
Rufus  King  in  London.  At  that  date  he  returned 
to  America,  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar  at 
Salem.  In  182  he  removed  to  Boston,  and  in 
1829  was  made  City  Solicitor,  continuing  to  hold 
the  office  till  within  a  short  time  of  his  death, 
May  5,  1846.  His  intellectual  life  was  divided 
between  his  legal  profession  and  his  pursuits  as  a 
scholar.  His  philological  inquiries  took  a  wida 
range,  including  the  extremes  of  Greek  literature, 
and  of  our  native  Indian  languages.  Of  the 
extent  of  his  attainments  in  tiiese  studies,  his 
eulogist,  Charles  Sumner,  has  given  this  animated 
sketch  : — "  Unless,"  he  says,  "  some  memorandum 
should  be  found  among  his  papers,  as  was  the 
case  with  Sir  William  Jones,  specifying  the  lan- 
guages to  which  he  had  been  devoted,  it  may  bo 
difficult  to  frame  a  list  with  entire  accuracy.  It 
is  certain  that  he  was  familiar  with  at  least 
|  nine, — the  English,  French,  Portuguese,  Italian, 
Spanish,  German,  Romaic,  Greek,  and  Latin;  of 
these  he  spoke  the  first  five.  He  was  less  fami- 
I  liar,  though  well  acquainted,  with  the  Dutch, 
i  Swedish,  Danish,  and  Hebrew;  and  had  explored, 
j  with  various  degrees  of  care,  the  Arabic,  Turkish, 
j  Syriac,  Persian,  Coptic,  Sanscrit,  Chinese,  Cochin- 
■  Chinese,  Russian,  Egyptian  hieroglyphics,  the 
Malay  in  several  dialects,  and  particularly  the 
Indian  languages  of  America  and  of  the  Poly- 
nesian islands.  His  labors  span  immeasurable 
spaces  in  the  world's  history, — embracing  the 
distant,  primeval  Sanscrit ;  the  hieroglyphics  of 
Egypt,  now  awakening  from  their  mute  sleep  of 
centuries  ;  the  polite  and  learned  tongues  of 
ancient  and  modern  Europe ;  the  languages  of 
Mohammedanism;  the  various  dialects  of  tho 
forests  of  North  America,  and  of  the  sandal- 
groves  of  the  Pacific ;  only  closing  with  a  lingua 
franca,  from  an  unlettered  tribe  on  the  coast  of 
Africa,  to  which  his  attention  had  been  called 
even  after  the  illness  which  ended  in  his  death."* 
In  1810  he  published  A  Vocabulary,  or  Collec- 
tion of  Words  and  Phrases  which  hare  been  sup- 
posed to  be  peculiar  to  the  United  Stales  of  Ame- 
rica. His  Greek  and  English  Lexicon  on  the 
basis  of  Schrevelius  appeared  in  1826.  For  an 
enumeration  of  his  other  writings,  we  are  indebted 
to  an  article  in  the  Encijclopcedia  Americana.^ 


'    ance  of  a  bald  head  and  straight  hair,  and  under  professions  of 

1    profound  republicanism,  he  conceals  an  ardent  ambition,  en- 
vious of  every  superior,  and  impatient  of  obscurity."    This 

,    was  Pickering's  reply  : — "  My  'bald  head  and  straight  hair'  aro 

;    what  nature  has  given  me;  and  I  have  been  content  with  her 
arrangements;  they  are  not  a  fit  subject  for  reproach.    Mr. 

■    Adams's  friend  Cunningham  reminds  him,  that  it  was  rather 
unfortunate  for  him  to  attempt  to  degrade  Hamilton,  by  calling. 

;    him  'the  little  man;'  seeing,  though  with  less  flesh,  ho  but- 

I    passed  in  stature  both  him  and  his  son." 

*  Sumner's  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Address,  1S46. 
t  Supplementary  vol.  xiv.  Art.  Pickering. 


626 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


To  the  Memoirs  of  the  American  Academy  ho 
contributed  articles  On  the  Adoption  of  a  Uni- 
form Orthography  for  the  Indian  Languages  of 
North  America;  on  the  Pronunciation  of  the 
Greek  Language;  on  Father  Basle  and  on  Lord 
North's  Island.  In  the  North  American  Review- 
are  to  he  found  his  Observations  on  the  Impor- 
tance of  Greek  Literature  (1820),  a  review  of 
Du  Ponceau's  Dissertation  on  the  Chinese  System 
of  Writing,  in  volume  forty-eight,  and  a  paper  on 
the  Cochin-Chinese  language,  in  volume  fifty-two. 
To  the  Encyclopaedia  Americana  he  contributed 
an  article  On  the  Indian  Languages  of  America. 
He  was  a  contributor  to  The  Collections  of  the 
Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  the  New  York 
Review,  the  American  Quarterly  Review,  and  the 
American  Jurist.  His  chief  legal  publications 
are  an  article  on  The  Agrarian  Laws  in  the 
Encyclopaedia  Americana,  an  article  on.  Egyptian 
Jurisprudence  in  the  fifty-first  volume  of  the 
North  American  Review,  a  Lecture  on  the  Alleged 
Uncertainty  of  the  Law,  and  a  Review  of  the  In- 
ternational McLeod  Question.  He  also  delivered 
a  eulogy  on  Dr.  Bowditch,  and  an  address  before 
the  American  Oriental  Society. 

The  prominent  traits  of  Pickering's  moral  life 
are  alluded  to  by  Sumner  in  his  mention  of  "  his 
modesty,  his  sweetness  of  temper,  his  simplicity 
of  life,  his  kindness  to  the  young,  his  sympathy 
with  studies  of  all  kinds.  Ids  sensibility  to  beauty, 
his  conscientious  character,  his  passionless  mind."* 

NATHANIEL  BOWDITCH. 
Nathaniel,  the  fourth  son  of  Habakkulc  and 
Mary  Ingersoll  Bowditch,  was  born  at  Salem, 
Massachusetts,  March  26,  1773.  His  father,  after 
following,  as  a  shipmaster,  the  calling  of  his 
ancestors  for  several  generations,  retired  from  the 
sea,  and  engaged  in  the  business  of  a  cooper.  He 
could  not  afford  to  bestow  upon  any  of  his  family 
of  seven  children  any  advantages  of  education 
beyond  those  afforded  by  the  common  schools  of 
the  town,  and  these  they  enjoyed  for  a  few  years 
only,  ,is  Nathaniel  was  summoned  at  the  early 
age  of  ten  to  work  in  his  shop.  He  was  soon 
afterwards  apprenticed  to  a  ship-chandler,  and 
while  serving  his  time,  gave  significant  evidence 
of  his  mathematical  talents,  by  devoting  to  the 
slate  every  spare  moment  which  was  not  occu- 
pied in  the  perusal  of  some  book.  He  was  so  in- 
defatigable a  reader,  that  at  an  early  age  he  went 
through  an  entire  encyclopaedia  letter  by  letter. 
On'thc  11th  of  January,  1795,  Bowditch  sailed 


from  Salem  as  clerk  to  Captain  Henry  Prince,  of 
the  ship  Henry,  for  the  Lie  of  Bourbon.  The 
vessel  returned  after  a  year's  absence,  and  he 
sailed  a  second  time,  as  supercargo,  in  the  Astrasa, 
to  Lisbon,  Madeira,  and  Manilla.  A  third  voyage 
followed  to  the  Mediterranean,  and  a  fourth  to  the 
East  Indies,  succeeded  by  others  in  the  same 
direction,  until  the  year  180±,  when  he  left  the 


*  Address,  p.  8. 


sea  and  became  president  of  a  Marine  Insurance 
Company  in  his  native  city. 

During  his  seafaring  life  he  took  a  deep  interest 
in  the  instruction  of  sailors  in  navigation,  and 
with  such  success,  that  the  fact  of  having  sailed 
with  him  became  a  strong  recommendation  to 
seamen  who  had  enjoyed  that  privilege,  and  was 
often  the  cause  of  their  promotion.  He  was  at 
the  same  time  a  thorough  student,  acquiring 
Latin  in  order  to  master  Newton's  Principia; 
French,  to  obtain  access  to  the  valuable  mathe- 
matical works  in  that  language;  and  Spanish, 
German,  and  Italian,  for  general  literary  pur- 
poses. 

In  1800  he  published  his  New  American  Prac- 
tical Navigator,  a  work  which  originated  in  a 
series  of  corrections  wdiich  he  commenced  of  John 
Hamilton  Moore's  book  on  the  same  subject. 
These  grew  so  numerous,  that  he  wisely  judged  it 
best  to  publish  an  independent  work.  It  became 
widely  successful,  and  is  the  universally  adopted 
guide  in  the  American  marine,  and  to  a  great 
extent  in  the  naval  service  of  England  and 
France. 

Happening,  in  1802,  to  be  detained  in  Boston 
by  a  contrary  witid  on  the  Commencement  day 
of  Harvard,  he  strolled  to  the  church  in  which 
the  exercises  were  held,  and  had  the  surprise  and 
gratification  of  hearing  his  name  called  as  a  reci- 
pient of  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts.  It  was  the 
first  and  most  welcome  of  a  long  series  of  similar 
public  recognitions  of  his  services. 

In  1806  he  published  an  extremely  valuable 
chart  of  the  harbors  of  Salem,  Beverly,  Marble- 
head,  and  Manchester,  and  in  1823  removed  to 
Boston,  to  take  charge  as  Actuary  of  the  newly 
formed  Massachusetts  Hospital  Life  Insurance 
Company,  an  office  which  he  retained  for  the 
remainder  of  his  life.  "While  thus  occupied,  he  was 
complimented  by  the.  offer  of  the  Hollis  Professor- 
ship of  Harvard  College,  of  the  Professorship  of 
Mathematics  in  the  Univer-ity  of  Virginia,  and  of 
the  Professorship  of  Mathematics  at  West  Point : 
so  that  his  ability  was  substantially  recognised  by 
the  whole  country.  Meanwhile  he  wrote  papers 
on  astronomy  for  the  transactions  of  the  Ameri- 
can Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  contributed 
to  the  Analyst  and  Mathematical  Diary  edited 
by  Dr.  Adrain,  wrote  articles  for  the  American 
edition  of  Rees's  Cyclopaedia,  the  article  on  Mo- 
dern Astronomy  in  the  twentieth  volume  of  the 
North  American  Review,  and  an  account  of  the 
comet  of  1806  in  the  fourth  volume  of  the  Month- 
ly Anthology. 

In  1829,  the  first  volume  of  his  great  work,  the 
translation  and  amplification  of  La  Place's  Mecha- 
nique  Celeste,  appeared.  In  studying  the  original 
work,  Bowditch  had  frequently  been  arrested  by 
the  want  of  demonstration  of  the  means  by  which 
results  had  been  arrived  at,  the  author  presup- 
posing a  greater  familiarity  with  the  subject  on 
the  part  of  his  reader  than  could  reasonably  be 
predicated  of  any  but  himself.  In  Bowditch's  own 
words,  "I  never  come  across  one  of  La  Place's 
'  Thus  it  plainly  appears,'  without  feeling  sure  that 
I  have  got  hours  of  hard  study  before  me  to  fill  up 
the  chasm,  and  find  out  and  show  how  it  plainly 
appears."  In  the  task  of  filling  up  these  chasms, 
and  presenting  the  whole  in  a  form  for  English 
readers,  he  succeeded  so  well,  that  La  Place  is 


JOHN  RANDOLPH. 


627 


said  to  have  remarked,  "  I  am  sure  that  Dr.  Bow- 
ditch  comprehends  my  work,  for  he  has  not  only 
detected  my  errors,  but  has  shown  me  how  I 
came  to  fall  into  them."  He  commenced  the 
work  in  1815,  and  it  formed  the  constant  occupa- 
tion of  his  laborious  life  up  to  the  time  of  his 
decease.  The  second  volume  appeared  in  1832, 
and  the  third  in  1834.  Each  of  the  three  con- 
tains about  a  thousand  quarto  pages.  He  was 
attacked,  while  engaged  in  correcting  the  proof 
sheets  of  the  fourth,  by  a  disease  which  proved 
fatal,  but  continued  his  occupation  in  the  inter- 
vals of  relief  from  pain  almost  until  the  time  of 
his  death.  He  refused  to  allow  its  publication  by 
subscription,  waiting  until  his  means  would  allow 
him  to  bear  the  expense  of  the  issue  of  five 
volumes  of  about  a  thousand  pages  each,  say- 
ing that  he  would  rather  spend  a  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year  for  such  an  object  than  in  keeping  a 
carriage.  The  wjrk  met  with  a  better  sale  than 
he  anticipated,  but  was  still  a  source  of  pecuniary 
losf  to  him. 

Dr.  B  iwditch  was  an  eminently  practical  busi- 
'  ness  man,  and  executed  the  important  moneyed 
trusts  co  nmitted  to  him  by  his  official  position 
with  great  success.  He  ace  >m  dished  the  great 
results  of  his  life  by  untiring  and  systematic  in- 
dustry. He  rose  early,  in  winter  two  hours 
before  dawn,  and  when  not  occupied  in  his  office, 
was  almjst  always  to  be  found  in  his  library, 
where  it  was  his  delight  to  be  surrounded  by  his 
family,  an  affectionate  disposition  forming  one  of 
tb.3  many  fine  traits  of  his  character.  He  went 
out  but  little,  but  w.is  always  glad  to  see  his 
friends,  taking  great  delight  in  social  intercourse 
anl  lively  onversation.  He  was  universally 
esteemed  for  the  purity  of  his  life,  his  integrity, 
and  cousistent  course.  He  was  familiarly  known, 
in  allusion  perhaps  to  his  moral  as  well  as  scien- 
tific career,  as  "  the  Great  Pilot."  His  last  disease 
was  a  scirrhus  of  the  stomach,  which  for  four 
we.'ks  before  his  death  rendered  it  impossible  for 
him  to  swallow  solid  food  or  scarcely  any  liquid. 
He  suffered  little  from  hunger,  hut  continually 
from  thirst,  which  was  partially  relieved  by 
m  listening  his  lips  with  cold  water.  His  frame 
wasted  away,  but  his  mental  faculties  remained 
unclouded,  and  his  last  act  on  the  morning  of  his 
death  was  to  recognise  and  address  with  the 
feeble  powers  of  sight  and  voice  which  remained 
'  to  him,  each  member  of  his  family  gathered 
around  his  couch.  "  You  see,"  he  said,  "  I  can 
distinguish  you  all,  and  I  now  give  you  my  part- 
ing blessing.  The  time  is  come;  Lord,  now 
lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  accord- 
ing to  thy  word."  This  was  on  Friday,  March 
16th,  1838.  He  was  buried  on  the  following 
Sunday  morning,  beneath  Trinity  Church,  Bos- 
ton. 

The  merits  of  Bowditch  entitle  him  to  a  high 
rank  among  the  mathematicians  of  the  world. 
They  have  been  carefully  stated  by  Pickering  in 
his  Eulogy  before  the  Academy  of  Arts  and 
Sciences.*  His  commentary  was  an  original 
work,  and  he  made  many  discoveries  of  his  own. 

Notices  of  Bowditch's  Life  and  Character  ap- 
peared  shortly  after   his   death,    in  the  Eulogy 


*  May  29, 1S3S. 


j  delivered  at  the  request  of  the  Corporation  of 
'  Salem,  by  Judge  Daniel  Appleton  White,  and  in 
-  the  discourse  of  the  Rev.  Alexander  Young. 
These  celebrate  the  sincerity,  simplieit}7,  and 
modesty  of  his  character.  His  vivacity  is  re- 
corded in  an  anecdote  preserved  by  Judge  White: 
— "  A  late  venerable  lady,  as  remarkable  for  her 
sagacity  as  for  her  love  of  goodness,  after  her 
first  interview  with  Dr.  Bowditch,  observed,  '  I 
admire  that  man,  for  he  is  a  live  man.'  He  was 
truly  a  live  man  in  his  whole  nature  and  consti- 
tution, in  his  mind,  conscience,  soul,  and  body. 
Life  was  in  his  every  thought,  feeling,  and  action. 
So  rapid  were  his  thoughts  on  all  subjects,  that 
his  judgment  would  often  appear  intuitive  to 
those  who  c  >uld  not  follow  his  mind  in  its  logical 
process,  or  perceive  the  steps  to  its  conclusions. 
An  instantaneous  spring  of  hearty  glee  or  mental 
delight,  would  sometimes,  notwithstanding  his 
natural  and  delicate  sense  of  decorum,  set  all 
rules  of  etiquette  at  defiance,  and  exhibit  itself 
in  the  same  open  and  joyous  manner,  whether  he 
were  at  the  fireside  of  a  friend,  or  at  the  gover- 
nor's council-board."* 

JOHN  RANDOLPH. 
JonM  Randolph  was  born  at  Oawsons,  the  estate 
of  Col.  Theodorick  Bland,  his  maternal  grand- 
father, Prince  George  County,  Virginia,  June  2, 
1773.  He  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  planter,  and 
descended  in  the  seventh  degree  from  Pocahontas. 
When  a  little  over  two  years  old  he  lost  his 
father.  He  was,  however,  tenderly  reared  by  his 
mother,  who  in  1778  was  married  to  St.  George 
Tucker.  His  delicate  constitution  prevented  his 
engaging  in  the  usual  athletic  sports  of  childhood, 
and  at  a  very  early  age  he  acquired  a  taste  for 
books,  his  first  favorites  being  the  Fairy  Tales, 
the  stories  in  the  Spectator,  Shakespeare,  and 
Voltaire's  Charles  XII.  In  1781  the  family  were 
obliged  to  leave  their  residence  at  Matoax,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  invasion  of  Virginia  by  Arnold. 
Randolph  was  soon  after  placed  at  the  school  of 
Walker  Maury  at  Orange  County,  and  on  the 
removal  of  the  establishment  to  Williamsburg, 
followed  his  teacher  to  that  place.  After  passing 
a  few  months  at  Princeton  and  Columbia  Colleges, 
he  completed  his  course  at  William  and  Mary,  and 
studied  law  with  his  uncle,  Edmund  Randolph,  at 
Philadelphia.  In  1794  he  returned  to  Virginia, 
and  on  coming  of  age  in  the  same  year  entered  on 
the  personal  management  of  his  large  estate.  In 
1799  he  became  a  candidate  of  the  Republican 
party  for  Congress,  in  the  Charlotte  district.  His 
first  speech  was  made  upon  the  hustings  at  the 
March  court,  and  was  an  answer  to  an  address  on 
the  Federal  side  by  Patrick  Henry,  who  had  been 
induced  to  overcome  his  early  objections  to  the 
recently  adopted  constitution,  and  run  as  a  candi- 
date for  the  Legislature.  The  occasion  felt  to  be 
the  last  on  which  Henry  could  ever  appear  before 
the  public,  by  whom  he  was  idolized,  attracted  a 
great  concourse,  who  listened  with  interest  to  the 
young  man  as  well  as  the  veteran.  Both,  though 
representing  opposite  opinions,  were  elected. 

Randolph,    with   the   exception   of  the   three 
intervals  of  two  year?  each,  retained  his  scat  in 


*  Eulogy  on  the  Life  anrl  Character  of  >iathaniol  Bowditch, 
Salem.     Encyclopaedia  Americana,  Supplt. 


628 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  House  of  Representatives  for  thirty  years. 
He  was  a  thorough-going  advocate  of  the  doctrine 
of  state  rights.     His  first  speech  was  in  support 


&/Z/*sL 


-ft^£t 


of  a  hill  to  reduce  the  army,  in  which  some  un- 
guarded expressions  respecting  the  military  pro- 
fession led  to  a  scene  a  short  time  after  at  the 
theatre,  where  some  officers  of  the  army  took 
occasion  of  points  in  the  play  to  make  remarks 
offensive  to  Randolph,  who  communicated  a  state- 
ment of  the  affair  to  Adams,  who  brought  it 
before  Congress,  where  a  report  was  made  that 
no  "  breach  of  the  privileges  of  the  House  had 
been  committed  by  the  offenders."  This  was 
rejected,  but  no  further  action  taken. 

In  the  question  of  the  purchase  of  Louisiana, 
Randolph  sided  with  Jefferson.  He  opposed  the 
embargo,  the  war  of  1812,  the  re-charter  of  the 
United  States  Bank,  and  the  Missouri  Com- 
promise. One  of  his  most  marked  efforts  was  his 
speech  in  1 8-22  against  a  resolution  which  had 
been  offered  expressing  the  sympathy  for  the 
Greeks  then  struggling  for  independence.  A 
similar  movement  was  at  the  same  time  in  pro- 
gress in  South  America.  In  1826,  after  the 
appointment  by  Adams  of  Clay  as  Secretary  of 
State,  Randolph  referred  to  the  affair  as  "the 
coalition  of  Blifil  and  Black  George — the  com- 
bination, unheard  of  till  then,  of  the  puritan  with 
the  blackleg."  This  led  to  a  challenge  from  Clay. 
The  celebrated  duel  which  followed  is  described 
by  Randolph's  biographer. 

"  The  night  before  the  duel,"  says  General  James 
Hamilton,  of  South  Carolina,  "  Mr.  Randolph  sent 
for  me.  I  found  him  calm,  but  in  a  singularly  kind 
and  confiding  mood.  He  told  me  that  he  had  some- 
thing on  his  mind  to  tell  me.  He  then  remarked, 
'Hamilton,  I  have  determined  to  receive,  without 
returning,  Clay's  fire ;  nothing  shall  induce  me  to 
harm  a  hair  of  his  head ;  I  will  not  make  his  wife  a 
widow,  or  his  children  orphans.  Their  tears  would 
be  shed  over  his  grave ;  hut  when  the  sod  of  Virginia 
rests  on  my  bosom,  there  is  not  in  this  wide  world 
one  individual  to  pay  this  tribute  upon  mine.'  His 
eyes  filled,  and  resting  his  head  upon  his  hand,  we 
remained  some  moments  silent.  I  replied,  '  My  dear 
friend  (for  ours  was  a  sort  of  posthumous  friendship, 
bequeathed  by  our  mothers),  I  deepty  regret  that 
you  have  mentioned  this  subject  to  me  ;  for  you  call 
upon  me  to  go  to  the  field  and  to  see  you  shot  down, 
or  to  assume  the  responsibility,  in  regard  to  your 
own  life,  in  sustaining  your  determination  to  throw 
it  away.  But  on  this  subject,  a  man's  own  con- 
science and  his  own  bosoui  are  his  best  monitors.  I 
will  not  advise,  but  under  the  enormous  and  unpro- 
voked personal  insult  you  have  offered  Mr.  Clay,  I 
cannot  dissuade.  I  feel  bound,  however,  to  com- 
municate to  Colonel  Tattnall  your  decision.'  He 
begged  me  not  to  do  so,  and  said,  '  he  was  very 
much  afraid  that  Tattnall  would  take  the  studs  and 
refuse  to  go  out  with  him.'  I,  however,  sought 
Colonel  Tattnall,  and  we  repaired  about  mid- 
Eight  to  Mr.  Randolph's  lodgings,  whom  we  found 
reading  Milton's  great  poem.  For  some  moments  he 
did  not  permit  us  to  say  one  word  in  relation  to  the 
approaching  duel ;  and  he  at  once  commenced  one 
of  those  delightful  criticisms  on  a  passage  of  this 


poet,  in  which  he  was  wont  so  enthusiastically  to 
indulge.  After  a  pause,  Colonel  Tattnall  remarked, 
'  Mr.  Randolph,  I  am  told  you  have  determined  not 
to  return  Mr.  Clay's  fire;  I  must  say  to  you,  my  dear 
sir,  if  I  am  only  to  go  out  to  see  you  shot  down,  you 
must  find  some  other  friend.'  Mr.  Randolph  re- 
marked that  it  was  his  determination.  After  much 
conversation  on  the  subject,  I  induced  Colonel  Tatt- 
nall to  allow  Mr.  Randolph  to  take  his  own  course, 
as  his  withdrawal,  as  one  of  his  friends,  might  lead 
to  very  injurious  misconstructions.  At  last,  Mr. 
Randolph,  smiling,  said,  '  Well,  Tattnall,  I  promise 
you  one  thing,  if  I  see  the  devil  in  Clay's  eye,  and 
that  with  malice  prepense  he  means  to  take  my  life, 
I  may  change  my  mind.'  A  remark  I  knew  he  made 
merely  to  propitiate  the  anxieties  of  his  friend. 

"  Mr.  Clay  and  himself  met  at  4  o'clock  the  suc- 
ceeding evening,  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac.  But 
he  saw  '  no  devil  in  Clay's  eye,'  but  a  man  fearless, 
and  expressing  the  mingled  sensibility  and  firmness 
which  belonged  to  the  occasion. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  this  scene,  as  long  as  I  live. 
It  has  been  my  misfortune  to  witness  several  duels, 
but  I  never  saw  one,  at  least  in  its  sequel,  so  deeply 
affecting.  The  sun  was  just  setting  behind  the  blue 
hills  of  Randolph's  own  Arirginia.  Here  were  two 
of  the  most  extraordinary  men  our  country  in  its 
prodigality  had  produced,  about  to  meet  in  mortal 
combat.  Whilst  Tattnall  was  loading  Randolph's 
pistols  I  approached  my  friend,  I  believed,  for  the 
last  time;  I  took  his  hand;  there  was  not  in  its 
touch  the  quivering  of  one  pulsation.  He  turned  to 
me  and  said,  'Clay  is  calm,  but  not  vindictive — I 
hold  my  purpose,  Hamilton,  in  any  event ;  remember 
this.'  On  handing  him  his  pistol,  Colonel  Tattnall 
sprung  the  hair-trigger.  Mr.  Randolph  said,  '  Tatt- 
nall, although  I  am  one  of  the  best  shots  in  Virginia, 
with  either  a  pistol  or  gun,  yet  I  never  fire  with  the 
hair-trigger ;  besides,  I  have  a  thick  buckskin  glove 
on,  winch  will  destroy  the  delicacy  of  my  touch, 
and  the  trigger  may  fly  before  I  know  where  I  am.' 
But,  from  his  great  solicitude  for  his  friend,  Tattnall 
insisted  upon  hairing  the  trigger.  On  taking  their 
position,  the  fact  turned  out  as  Mr.  Randolph  anti- 
cipated ;  his  pistol  went  off  before  the  word,  with 
the  muzzle  down. 

"The  moment  this  event  took  place,  General 
Jesup,  Mr.  Clay's  friend,  called  out  that  he  would 
instantly  leave  the  ground  with  his  friend,  if  that 
occurred  again.  Mr.  Clay  at  once  exclaimed,  it  was 
entirely  an  accident,  and  begged  that  the  gentleman 
might  be  allowed  to  go  on.  On  the  word  being 
given,  Mr.  Clay  fired  without  effect,  Mr.  Randolph 
discharging  his  pistol  in  the  air.  The  moment  Mr. 
Clay  saw  that  Mr.  Randolph  had  thrown  away  his 
fire,  with  a  gush  of  sensibility,  he  instantly  ap- 
proached Mr.  Randolph,  and  said  with  an  emotion  I 
never  can  forget: — '  I  trust  in  God,  my  dear  sir,  you 
are  untouched ;  after  what  has  occurred,  I  would 
not  have  harmed  you  for  a  thousand  worlds.'  "* 

In.  1829,  declining  a  re-election,  he  retired  from 
Congress.  He  was  soon  after  chosen  a  member 
of  the  convention  for  the  revision  of  the  constitu- 
tion of  his  state,  and  distinguished  himself  in  that 
body  by  his  opposition  to  change.  One  of  his 
most  celebrated  speeches  was  called  forth  in  this 
convention  on  a  proposal  to  provide  the  mode  in 
which  future  amendments  should  be  made  in  the 
new  instrument.  This  is  one  of  its  marked  pas- 
sages : — 


*  Benton  has  also  given  a  history  of  this  affair. — Thirty  Tears1 
View,  i.  TO. 


DAVID  HITCHCOCK 


629 


Doctor  Franklin,  who,  in  shrewdness,  especially  in 
all  that  related  to  domestic  life,  was  never  excelled, 
used  to  say  that  two  movings  were  equal  to  one  fire. 
And  gentlemen,  as  if  they  were  afraid  that  this 
besetting  sin  of  republican  governments,  this  rerum 
novaruin  labido  (to  us  a  very  homely  phrase,  but  one 
that  comes  pat  to  the  purpose),  this  maggot  of  inno- 
vation, would  cease  to  bite,  are  here  gravely  making 
provision  that  this  Constitution,  which  we  should 
consider  as  a  remedy  for  all  the  ills  of  the  body 
politic,  may  itself  be  amended  or  modified  at  any 
future  time.  Sir,  I  am  against  any  such  provision. 
I  should  as  soon  think  of  introducing  into  a  marriage 
contract  a  provision  for  divorce,  and  thus  poisoning 
the  greatest  blessing  of  mankind  at  its  very  source— 
at  its  fountain  head.  He  has  seen  little,  and  has 
reflected  less,  who  does  not  know  that  "  necessity"  is 
the  great,  powerful,  governing  principle  of  affairs 
here.  Sir,  I  am  not  going  into  that  question,  which 
puzzled  Pandemonium— the  question  of  liberty  and 
necessity : 

Free  will,  fixed  fate,  foreknowledge  absolute ; 

but  I  do  contend  that  necessity  is  one  principal  instru- 
ment of  all  the  good  that  man  enjoys.  The  hap- 
piness of  the  connubial  union  itself  depends  greatly 
on  necessity ;  and  when  you  touch  this,  you 
touch  the  arch,  the  key-stone  of  the  arch,  on  which 
the  happiness  and  well-being  of  society  is  founded. 
Look  at  the  relation  of  mister  and  slave  (that  oppro- 
brium, in  the  opinion  of  some  gentlemen,  to  all 
civilized  society  and  all  free  government).  Sir, 
there  are  few  situations  in  life  where  friendships  so 
6trong  and  so  lasting  are  formed,  as  in  that  very 
relation.  The  slave  knows  that'he  is  bound  indisso- 
lubly  to  his  master,  and  must,  from  necessity,  remain 
always  under  his  control.  The  master  knows  that 
he  is  bound  to  maintain  and  provide  for  his  slave  so 
long  as  he  retains  him  in  his  possession.  And  each 
party  accommodates  himself  to  his  situation.  I 
have  seen  the  dissolution  of  many  friendships — such, 
at  least,  as  were  so  called ;  but  I  have  seen  that  of 
master  and  slave  endure  so  long  as  there  remained  a 
drop  of  the  blood  of  the  master  to  which  the  slave 
could  cleave.  Where  is  the  necessity  of  this  provi- 
sion in  the  Constitution  ?  Where  is  the  use  of  it  ? 
Sir,  what  are  we  about  ?  Have  we  not  been  undoing 
what  the  wiser  heads — I  must  be  permitted  to  say 
so — yes,  sir,  what  the  wiser  heads  of  our  ancestors 
did  more  than  half  a  century  ago  ?  Can  any  one 
believe  that  we,  by  any  amendments  of  ours,  by  any 
of  our  scribbling  on  that  parchment,  by  any  amulet, 
any  legerdemain — charm — Abracadabra — of  ours 
can  prevent  our  sons  from  doing  the  same  thing — 
that  is,  from  doing  as  they  please,  just  as  we  are 
doing  as  we  please?  It  is  impossible.  Who  can 
bind  posterity  ?  When  I  hear  of  gentlemen  talk  of 
making  a  Constitution  for  "  all  time,"  and  intro- 
ducing provisions  into  it  for  "  nil  time,"  and  yet  see 
men  here  that  are  older  than  the  Constitution  we 
are  about  to  destroy — (I  am  older  myself  than  the 
present  Constitution — it  was  established  when  I  was 
a  boy) — it  reminds  me  of  the  truces  and  the  peaces 
of  Europe.  They  always  begin:  "In  the  name  of 
the  most  holy  and  undivided  Trinity,"  and  go  on  to 
declare,  "  there  shall  be  perfect  and  perpetual  peace 
and  unity  between  the  subjects  of  such  and  such 
potentates  for  all  time  to  come  ;"  and  in  less  than 
seven  years  they  are  at  war  again. 

A  short  time  previous  to  this  Genera!  Jackson, 
on  his  accession  to  office,  tendered  Randolph  the 
mission  to  Russia.  The  office  was  accepted,  and 
in  August,  1830,  the  new  minister  arrived  at  his 
post.     He  left  St.  Petersburgh  soon  after  in  conse- 


quence of  ill  health,  and  in  October,  1831,  return- 
ed home.  His  last  political  act  was  to  speak  to 
popular  assemblies  throughout  his  state iH opposi- 
tion to  the  proclamation  of  General  Jackson 
against  nullification,  when  almost  too  feeble  to 
stand.  He  determined  on  another  voyage  to 
Europe  for  the  benefit  of  his  health,  and  left  home 
to  embark  at  Philadelphia.  He  sto]  ped  at  Wash- 
ington, where  he  had  an  interesting  interview 
with  1  lis  old  antagonist  Clay.  He  was  exposed 
on  his  arrival  in  Philadelphia,  on  a  stormy  evening, 
to  the  cold  and  rain,  his  disease  increased,  and 
on  the  nineteenth  of  May  reached  its  fatal  termi- 
nation. 

Randolph's  mental,  like  his  physical  organiza- 
tion, was  of  the  most  sensitive  nature.  Though 
an  active  public  man,  he  was  morbidly  fond  of 
retirement.  Thoroughly  honest,  he  scorned  low 
means  to  attain  high  position,  and  his  great 
sarcastic  powers  did  not  tend  to  increase  the 
number  of  his  friends.  He  was  powerful  in  invec- 
tive, and  not  sparing  in  its  use.  His  speeches 
were  always  direct,  and  produced  great  effect. 
Some  of  his  pointed  phrases,  like  that  of  "  mas- 
terly inactivity,"  by  which  he  indicated  the  course 
of  passive  resistance  he  deemed  proper  to  be  pur- 
sued by  the  opposition  to  the  Adams  administra- 
tion, have  already  passed  into  proverbs,  as  his 
eccentricities,  doubtless  in  an  exaggerated  form, 
have  furnished  material  for  collectors  of  anecdote. 
His  temper  was  quick,  his  antipathies  strong,  but 
his  disposition  was  kindly,  and  he  was  a  thorough- 
going friend.  Some  of  the  most  pleasant  portions 
of  his  biography  are  these  which  admit  us  into 
his  intimacies.  He  became  deeply  impressed  by 
the  truths  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  was  a 
devout  member  of  the  Ancient  Church  of  the  Old 
Dominion,  and  of  the  England  he  so  much 
admired.  He  greatly  enjoyed  his  visits  to  London 
from  his  sympathy  with  the  associations  of  the 
great  historic  city,  and  we  have  heard  a  story  of 
his  walking  through  the  Strand  with  his  arms 
crossed  on  his  breast  in  token  of  the  reverence  of 
a  pilgrim. 

By  his  will  he  manumitted  his  slaves,  three 
hundred  in  number,  and  provided  for  their  sup- 
port. The  validity  of  the  instrument  was  dis- 
puted by  the  family  on  the  ground  of  insanity  in 
the  testator,  but  was  sustained  by  the  court. 
That  Randolph  was  at  times  insane  there  appears 
little  reason  to  doubt.  He  felt  his  liability  to 
attacks  of  this  kind  deeply.  "I  have  lived,"  he 
said  to  Col.  Benton,  "in  dread  of  insanity." 
The  remark  may  be  taken  as  a  key  to  much  that 
is  strange  in  his  career. 

His  letters,  interspersed  through  Garland's  Life, 
present  the  man  for  the  most  part  in  his  genial 
moments.  A  separate  selection  "from  among 
several  hundred"  as  the  preface  informs  us, 
Letters  of  John  Randolph,  to  a  Young  Relative  : 
embracing  a  Scries  of  Years,  from  Early  Youth, 
to  Mature  Manhood,  was  published  in  1834.* 

DATED  HITdlCOCK. 
A  volume  of  the  Poetical  Works  of  Darid Hitch- 
cock was  published  at  Boston  in  1806,  with  a 


*  Philadelphia  :  Carey,  Lea,  and  Blancliard.  8vo.  pp.  254. 
Benton's  Thirty  Years'  View,  i.  473.  Party  Leaders;  by  Jo.  G. 
Baldwin,  pp.  135.    Hugh  A.  Garland's  Life  of  Randolph. 


630 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


prefatory  memoir  which,  in  connexion  with  the 
merits  of  the  verses,  furnishes  mutter  for  a  pass- 
ing notice.  The  chief  poem  of  the  volume,  oc- 
tosyllabic measure,  is  in  four  parts,  and  entitled, 
The  Shade  of  Plato:  or  a  Defence  of  Religion, 
Morality,  and  Government.  It  is  written  with 
remarkable  ease  and  smoothness.  The  Shade  of 
Plato  appears,  to  clear  up  objections  to  the  moral 
government  of  the  world,  in  the  question  of  fate 
and  free-will,  and  "  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to 
man,"  closing  with  some  shrewd  and  sober  ex- 
postulations on  the  tendency  to  revolutionary 
principles  in  vogue  with  the  Jacobinical  doctrines 
at  the  beginning  of  the  century.  There  were 
many  lessons  at  that  time  from  pulpit  and  editor's 
desk  from  the  following  text. — 

At  this,  I  ask'd,  is  injury  done, 

To  say  there's  twenty  gods  or  One  ? 

What  matter,  if  men  are  sincere, 

How  many  deities  they  fear? 

Whether  they  rev'rence  Three  in  One, 

Or  pay  their  homage  to  the  sun  ; 

Or  worship  Apis,  Jove,  or  Baal, 

Or  own  no  deity  at  all? 

Of  what  avail  religious  creeds, 

If  men  are  honest  in  their  deeds? 

If  they'll  not  lie,  nor  cheat,  nor  steal? 

Nor  interrupt  the  public  weal? 

If  they  the  gen'ral  good  pursue, 

What  more  have  mortals  here  to  do? 

Why  stick  at  falsehood,  theft,  or  fraud  ? 
If  men  may  disbelieve  a  God, 
And  their  professions  be  sincere, 
Pray  tell  me  what  they  have  to  fear  ? 
If  this  belief  be  rooted  firm, 
Duty  must  seem  a  senseless  term  ; 
And  men,  with  passions  to  entice, 
May  range  the  crooked  maze  of  vice, 
Till  life's  contingent  scene  is  clos'd, 
Like  tapers  to  the  wind  expos'd. 

Tis  faith  in  one  All-Seeing  Eye, 
That  makes  mankind  themselves  deny: 
That  does  licentiousness  control ; 
That  curbs  the  proud,  rebellious  soul ; 
And  did  your  race  this  thought  forego, 
No  bounds  to  violence  below  ; 
Kot  conscience,  nor  the  world's  applause, 
Nor  magistrates,  nor  civil  laws  ; 
Nor  monarchs,  with  despotic  frown, 
Could  keep  the  tide  of  folly  down. 
******* 

Yet  plain  as  is  the  sacred  truth, 
It  seems  in  modern  days  uncouth  ; 
And  now  in  reason's  boasted  school, 
Is  lash'd  with  boundless  ridicule  ; 
Now  human  wisdom  fain  would  prove, 
That  there's  no  God  who  rules  above; 
That  all  this  boundless  universe, 
Was  once  a  huge  ungovern'd  mass ; 
A  vast,  stupendous  whirligig, 
Dancing  to  one  Eternal  jig, 
Till  by  an  accident,  outright, 
Matter  on  matter  chane'd  to  light ; 
Substance,  from  one  confused  storm. 
All  rush'd  to  embryotic  form, 
And  chaos,  once  convuls'd  with  jars, 
Produc'd  the  sun,  and  moon,  and  stars. 
And  this  terraqueous  planet  here, 
Without  a  God  to  interfere. 

And  are  these  philosophic  rules  ? 
Then  tell  me,  ye  enlighten'd  fools, 
Whether  an  accidental  case, 
Could  balance  worlds  in  empty  space 


And  bound  their  course  thro'  ether's  realm. 
Without  a  pilot  or  a  helm. 

"The  Knight  and  Quack:  or  a  Looking-glass 
for  Impostors  in  Physic,  Philosophy,  or  Govern- 
ment ;  an  Allegorical  Poem,"  illustrates  the 
same  views  of  the  world ;  while  the  remaining 
poem,  "  The  Subtlety  of  Foxes,"  is  a  well  drawn 
fable,  exhibiting  the  logic  of  might  over  right. 

The  author  of  these  verses  was  born  at  Beth- 
lem,  Litchfield  County,  Ct.,  in  1773,  the  son  of  a 
poor  and  honest  shoemaker,  who  managed,  we 
are  told,  in  a  "sketch  of  the  author's  life"  pre- 
fixed to  his  volume,  to  send  the  son  to  school 
"  when  want  of  money  or  clothing  did  not  pre- 
vent." The  father  died  in  1790.  His  bedside 
w;is  tended  by  his  affectionate  and  serious-minded 
son,  who  wrote  some  of  his  earliest  verses,  para- 
phrases of  one  of  the  Psalms,  and  of  a  portion  of 
Luke,  "  principally  in  the  night,  while  watching 
with  his  father  in  his  last  sickness."  Having  lost 
that  protector,  he  worked  at  farming  with  one  of 
the  select  men  of  the  town  for  five  months,  and 
was  then  bound  apprentice  to  a  shoemaker,  re- 
maining under  the  direction  of  a  guardian  whom 
he  chose.  That  he  chafed  a  little  under  this  course 
of  life  among  these  overseersis  not  to  he  wondered 
at,  yet,  as  the  sketch  naively  says,  "though  ho 
might  by  ignorance  or  inadvertence  sometimes 
deserve  their  displeasure,  still,  as  he  never  received 
the  average  sum  of  one  dollar  per  month  (ex- 
clusive of  board)  for  thirty-four  months'  work, 
he  could  not  acense  himself,  on  the  whole,  of 
being  in  the  least  degree  prejudicial  to  their  in- 
terests." At  the  age  of  twenty  he  practised  his 
calling  for  himself  at  West  Stockbridge,  and  Great" 
Harrington  in  Mass. ;  his  first  earnings  of  three 
or  four  dollars  a  month  being  "laid  out  in  pur- 
chasing clothing  to  supply  the  place  of  a  few  rags, 
which,  at  that  time,  had  become  very  unfashion- 
able apparel  for  persons  of  his  age."  At  twenty- 
six  he  married,  and  at  thirty-two  reports  himself, 
in  the  preface  to  his  book,  as  poor  and  laborious, 
but  enjoying  "  peace  and  contentment,  with  the 
addition  of  three  children  to  his  family,  upon 
whom  he  dotes  almost  as  much  as  the  opulent  do 
upon  their  riches."  This  is  all  we  know  of  David 
Hitchcock.  The  Shade  of  Plato  is  certainly  a 
remarkable  production  under  the  circumstances, 
to  have  been  hammered  out  between  the  blows 
on  the  lapstone. 

■WILLIAM  B1GLLVW. 

William  Biglow  was  born  in  Natick,  Mass., 
September  22,  1773.  In  an  account  of  his  early 
years,  published  in  one  of  the  numerous  periodi- 
cals, the  Federal  Orrery,  to  which  he  contributed, 
he  says : — 

I  was  born  in  a  small  country  village,  of  reputa- 
ble industrious  parents,  at  a  time  when  they  were 
as  poor  as  poverty  herself.  Nothing  remarkable 
was  at  that  time  observed  in  me,  except  that  I  was, 
in  the  phrase  of  the  hamlet,  "  a  desperate  cross 
body."  This,  however,  must  have  been  owing  to 
some  indisposition  of  body  ;  for  I  naturally  possess  a 
very  peaceable  temper. 

At  a  proper  age  I  was  sent  to  school — five  weeks, 
in  winter,  to  a  master,  who  cotild  read;  and  as  long, 
in  summer,  to  an  old  maid,  who  could  knit.  Possess- 
ing a  strong  attachment  to  books,  I  soon  passed 
from  my  primer  to  my  psalter,  and  thence  in  a  short 


WILLIAM  BIGLOW. 


631 


time  to  my  Bible,  which  were  the  only  books  we 
■used.  At  this  early  period  of  life,  I  perused  all  the 
neighboring  libraries,  which  contained  "Pilgrim's 
Progress,"  "  Day  of  Doom,"  and  many  other  compo- 
sitions equally  elegant  and  entertaining. 

Among  my  schoolfellows,  I  was  so  peaceful  and 
condescending,  that  I  was  generally  denominated  a 
coward.  But  that,  which  was  attributed  to  pusil- 
lanimity, was  rather  the  effect  of  good  nature. 
However  violently  enraged,  one  smile  from  my 
adversary  would  instantaneously  assuage  my  anger, 
and  determine  me  to  become  his  faithful  friend. 

Though  this  complaisance  led  my  schoolmates  to 
practise  man}'  impositions  upon  me,  yet  I  esteemed 
this  inconvenience  sufficiently  compensate  1,  as  it 
caused  me  to  be.-ome  a  great  favorite  of  my  old 
grandmother.  So  great  was  her  esteem  for  me,  that 
she  took  me,  at  a  very  early  age,  to  wait  on  her,  and 
my  venerable  old  grandfather.  In  this  situation  I 
passed  several  years;  and,  as  constantly  as  Saturday 
night  came  round,  I  very  piously  said  my  catechism, 
and  supped  on  hasty-pudding ;  and,  with  equal 
devotion,  rode  to  meeting  on  Sunday,  and  carried 
my  aunt  behind  me  on  a  pillion. 

There  began  my  poetical  career,  by  composing 
"a  ballad,  containing  a  true  and  surprising  account 
of  how  the  Deacon's  son  went  a  courting,  lost  his  sad- 
dle, and  found  it  again''  which  had  a  great  run  in 
the  village.  This  circumstance  added  to  my  former 
fame  at  school ;  and  my  great  aversion  to  every 
species  of  manual  labor  determined  my  father  to 
give  me  a  public  education.  I  was  accordingly  sent 
to  our  parson's,  where  I  attended  closely  and 
entirely  to  my  studies,  and,  in  a  short  time,  became 
a  member  of  the  university. 

When  I  came  to  college,  I  was,  like  most  great 
authors,  awkward  and  bashful;  ami  my  classmates 
immediately  concluded  that  I  was  either  a  fool  or  a 
genius.  My  instructors,  however,  were  clecidedly 
of  the  former  opinion.  I  was  by  no  means  an  idle 
fellow;  but  I  paid  very  little  attention  to  the  stated 
exercises  of  the  college,  choosing  rather  to  follow 
my  own  inclinations  tnan  those  of  my  governors.  I 
studiously  avoide  1  cultivating  an  acquaintance  with 
any,  except  a  few  selected  classmates,  and  this 
seclusion  continued  me  an  unpolished  country  fel- 
low. At  length  I  have  found  my  way  through,  and 
have  retired  into  a  neat  rural  village,  anil  taken  a 
small  school,  resolving  to  hide  myself  from  the  noise, 
insults,  and  injuries  of  the  world,  behind  my  own 
insignificance.  I  here  pass  for  a  good  soul:  and, 
because  I  cannot  be  genteel,  I  do  all  in  my  power  to 
make  people  believe  that  I  will  not. 

Notwithstanding  I  have  passed  iu  the  world,  thus 
silent  and  unknown,  I  have,  as  far  as  my  opportu- 
nities would  permit,  made  very  accurate  observations 
upon  men  and  manners.  When  your  paper  made  its 
appearance  among  us,  I  co  icluded  that  some  of  my 
compositions  might  be  of  service  to  you,  and  deter- 
mined to  publish  them  periodically.  *  *  *  * 
After  this  explanation,  you  will  readily  perceive 
what  kind  of  fare  I  shall  be  likely  to  serve  up;  and, 
if  you  will  give  this  a  place  in  your  literary  oglio,  I 
will  do  my  endeavor  shortly  to  prepare  a  still 
more  palatable  morsel. 

Charles  Chatterdox,  Esq. 

Shortly  after  writing  this  sketch,  one  of  a  series 
entitled  "  Omnium  Gatherum,"  he  was  ordained 
and  settled  in  Salem  as  a  teacher.  In  1799  he 
delivered  a  poem  entitled  Education,  before  the 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  at  Cambridge.  lie  soon  removed 
to  Boston,  to  take  charge  of  the  Public  Latin 
School.  Here  he  remained  for  several  years, 
preaching  occasionally,  contributing  to  the   pe- 


riodicals of  the  day,  and  preparing  several  educa- 
tional text-books.  His  school  was  in  high  repute. 
Edward  Everett  was  one  of  his  pupils.  Intem- 
perate habits  gaining  the  mastery  over  him,  ha 
was  compelled  to  retire  to  his  home  at  Natick. 
He  passed  some  time  in  keeping  a  village  school 
in  Maine,  and  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  was 
employed  as  a  proof-reader  in  the  University 
printing-office  at  Cambridge.  He  died  of  apoplexy 
at  Boston,  January  12,  1844. 

Biglow  published  in  1830,  a  History  of  tht 
Town  of  Natick,  Mass.,  from  1 6o0  to  t/ie  present 
time,  and  also  of  Sherburne,  Mass.,  from  its  In- 
corporation, to  the  end  of  the  year  1830.  But  his 
best  and  most  numerous  writings  are  to  be  found 
in  the  Village  Messenger,  a  paper  published  at 
Amherst,  X.  II.,  which  he  edited  in  1"96,  the 
Federal  Orrery,  and  the  Massachusetts  Magazine 
of  Boston,  and  other  periodicals.  It  was  his 
custom,  Mr.  Buckingham  informs  us  in  his 
Reminiscences,  to  walk  from  Katick  to  Boston, 
some  fifteen  miles,  "spend  a  day  or  two  in  the 
newspaper  printing-offices,  write  poetry  for  his 
friends  the  editors,  and  then  return  to  his  rural 
retreat." 

Biglow  was  a  ready  versifier  as  well  as  an 
agreeable  prose  writer.  Having  given  the  com- 
mencement of  his  career  in  the  latter,  we  may 
present  some  of  his  stages  in  the  former. 

His  college  poem  of  1793,  entitled  "  Classology," 
in  imitation  of  the  old  English  song  "  Heathen 
Mythology,"  describing  the  humors  of  his  class- 
mates with  a  bacchanal  flavor,  is  not  forgotten 
at  Harvard  at  the  present  da}'.    He  commences : — 

Songs  of  scholars  in  reveling  roundelays 
Belched  out  with  hickups  at  bacchanal  go, 
Bellowed,  till  heaveu's  high  concave  rebound  th» 

lays, 
Are  all  for  college  carousals  too  low. 
Of  dullness  quite  tired,  with  merriment  fired, 
Ami  fully  inspired  with  amity's  glow, 
With    hate-drowning   wine,   boys,   and    punch   all 

divine,  boys. 
The  Juniors  combine,  boys,  in  friendly  high  go. 

His  intimacy  with  the  magazines  did  not  blind 
his  eyes  to  their  amiable  weaknesses  in  his  day, 
which  are  pleasantly  satirized  in  his 

RECEIPT  TO    MAKE  A   MAGAZIICE. 

A  plate,  of  art  and  meaning  void, 

To  explain  it  a  whole  page  employed : 

Two  tales  prolonged  of  maids  deluded  ; 

Two  more  begun,  and  one  concluded ; 

Life  of  a  fool  to  fortune  risen  ; 

The  death  of  a  starved  bard  in  prison  ; 

On  woman,  beauty-spot  of  nature, 

A  panegyric  and  a  satire; 

Cook's  voyages,  in  continuation ; 

On  taste  a  tasteless  dissertation  ; 

Description  of  two  fowls  aquatic  ; 

A  list  of  ladies,  enigmatic; 

A  story  true  from  French  translated, 

Which,  with  a  lie,  might  well  be  mated!;; 

A  mangled  slice  of  English  history  ; 

Essays  on  miracles  and  mystery  ; 

An  unknown  character  attacked, 

In  story  founded  upon  fact : 

Advice  to  jilts,  coquets,  and  prudes: 

And  thus  the  pompous  Prose  concludes.. 

For  Poetry — a  birth-day  ode  ; 
A  fable  of  the  mouse  and  toad;. 


632 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


A  modest  'wish  for  a  kind  'wife, 

And  all  the  other  joys  of  life ; 

A  song,  descriptive  of  the  season; 

A  poem,  free  from  rhyme  and  reason : 

A  drunken  song,  to  banish  care ; 

A  simple  sonnet  to  despair; 

Some  stanzas  on  a  bridal  bed ; 

An  epitaph  on  Shock,  just  dead ; 

A  pointless  epigram  on  censure ; 

An  imitation  of  old  Spenser ; 

A  dull  acrostic  and  a  rebus  ; 

A  blustering  monody  to  Phoebus ; 

The  country  'gainst  the  town  defended ; 

And  thus  the  Poetry  is  ended. 

Next,  from  the  public  prints,  display 

The  news  and  lyings  of  the  day  ; 

Paint  bloody  Mars  &  Co.  surrounded 

By  thousands  slain,  ten  thousand  wounded: 

Steer  your  sly  politics  between 

The  Aristocrat  and  Jacobin  ; 

Then  end  the  whole,  both  prose  and  rhyme,  in 

The  ravages  of  Death  and  Hymen. 

His  "  Cheerful  Parson"  will  give  us  an  inkling 
of  his  amiable  character,  which  all  of  his  con- 
temporaries united  in  admiring,  as  well  as  of  his 
poetic  powers.* 

THE  CHEEEFUL  PAIiSOX. 

Since  bards  are  all  wishing,  pray  why  may  not  I  ? 
Though  but  a  poor  rhymer,  for  once  I  will  try. 
The  life,  that  I  choose,  would  be  pleasant  to  scarce 

one, 
Yet  the  life,  that  I  choose,  is  the  life  of  a  parson 

First  on  me,  kind  heaven,  a  fortune  bestow, 
Too  high  for  contempt  and  for  envy  too  low, 
On  which  I  with  prudence  may  hope  to  subsist, 
Should  I  be  for  my  damnable  doctrine  dismissed. 

In  a  rich  farming  village,  where  P s  shall  plead, 

And  D r  feel  pulses,  give  physic,  and  bleed, 

Where  A 1  the  youths   and  the   children  shall 

teaeh, 
There  may  I  be  called  and  there  settled  to  preach. 

Not  damning  a  man  for  a  different  opinion, 
I'd  mix  with  the  Calvinist,  Baptist,  Arminian, 
Treat  each  like  a  man,  like  a  Christian  and  brother, 
Preach  love  to  our  Maker,  ourselves  and  each  other. 

On  a  snug  little  farm,  I'd  provide  me  a  seat, 
With  buildings  all  simple,  substantial  and  neat; 
Some  sheep  and  some  cattle  my  pastures  to  graze, 
And  a  middle  priced  pony,  to  draw  my  new  chaise. 

When  I  find  it  no  longer  "  good  being  alone," 

May  a  mild,  rural   nymph   "  become   bone  of  my 

bone;" 
Not  fixed,  like  a  puppet,  on  fashion's  stiff  wires, 
But  who  can  be  genteel,  when  occasion  requires. 

Whose  wealth  is  not  money,  whose  beauty's  not 
paint ; 

Not  an  infidel  romp,  nor  a  sour-hearted  saint ; 

Whose  religion  's  not  heat,  and  her  virtue  not  cold- 
ness, 

Nor  her  modesty  fear,  nor  her  wit  manly  boldness. 

Thus  settled,  with  care  I'd  apportion  my  time 
To  my  sermons,  my  garden,  my  wife,  and  my  rhyme, 
To  teach  the  untaught,  and  to  better  the  bad, 
To  laugh  with  the  merry,  and  weeo  with  the  sad. 


*  Buckingham's  Newspaper  Reminiscences,  vol.  ii.  237-237, 
276-293,  where,  with  the  extracts  we  have  given,  will  be  found 
many  curious  passages  of  Eiglow's  writings. 


At  the  feast,  where  religion  might  be  a  spectator, 
Where  friendship  presided,  and  mirth  was  a  waiter, 
I'd  fear  not  to  join  with  the  good-humored  clan, 
And  prove  that  a  parson  may  still  be  a  man. 

Thus  blest,  may  my  life  be  slid  smoothly  away, 
And  I  still  grow  more  grave,  as  my  hair  grows  more 

gray; 

With  age  may  the  hope  of  the  Christian  increase, 
And  strew  life's  descent  with  the  blossoms  of  peace. 

And  when  we  leave  this  world,  as  leave  it  we  must, 
With  rapture  meet  death,  and  sink  into  the  dust, 
With  a  tear  in  each  eye  may  the  parish  all  say, 
"  They  wereakind  pair,  and  did  good  in  their  day." 
Charles  Cijaiterbox,  Esq. 

EOBEET  TEEAT  PAINE,  JTJN. 

Thomas  Paine  was  the  second  son  of  Robert 
Treat  Paine,  the  celebrated  signer  of  the  Decla- 
ration of  Independence,  and  was  born  at  Taunton, 
Mass.,  December  9,  1173.  His  name  was  subse- 
quently changed  on  his  own  application,  in  1801, 
with  the  plea  that  he  had  no  Christian  name,  by 
the  Massachusetts  legislature,  to  that  of  his  father. 


At  the  age  of  seven  his  family  removed  to  Bos- 
ton, where  he  was  prepared  for  Harvard  College 
in  one  of  the  public  schools,  and  entered  the 
Freshman  class  in  1788.  One  of  his  classmates 
wrote  a  squib  on  him  in  verse,  on  the  college 
wall,  and  Paine,  on  consultation  with  his  friends, 
being  advised  to  retaliate  in  kind,  did  so,  and  thus 
became  aware  of  the  poetic  faculty  of  which  he 
afterwards  made  such  liberal  use.  He  henceforth 
wrote  most  of  his  college  compositions  in  verse, 
with  such  success,  that  he  was  assigned  the  post 
of  poet  at  the  college  exhibition  in  the  autumn 
of  1791,  and  at  the  Commencement  in  the  follow- 
ing year.  After  receiving  his  diploma  he  entered 
the  counting-othce  of  Mr.  James  Tisdale,  but 
must  have  proved  an  unprofitable  assistant  to  that 
gentleman,  as  in  the  words  of  his  biographer  "  he 
made  entries  in  his  day-book  in  poetry,  and  once 
made  out  a  charter-party  in  the  same  style;"  and 
on  one  occasion  when  sent  to  the  bank  with  a 


ROBERT  TREAT  PAKE,  J  UN. 


/-too 
I)  -J  -J 


check  for  five  hundred  dollars,  meeting  by  the 
way  some  literary  acquaintances,  he  went  off  with 
them  to  Cambridge,  "and  spent  a  week  in  the 
enjoyment  of  '  the  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow 
of  soul,'  "  returning  with  the  cash,  at  the  end  of 
*  that  period,  to  his  duties.  He  was  a  frequent 
contributor  at  this  period  to  the  "  Seat  of  the 
Muses"  of  the  Massachusetts  Magazine,  where  a 
long  poetical  correspondence  will  be  found  be- 
tween Philenia  (Mrs.  Morton)  and  himself. 

In  1792  the  players  made  their  first  appearance 
in  Boston.  Their  performances  were  at  first 
called  dramatic  recitations,  to  avoid  collision  with 
a  law  forbidding  "  stage  plays."  This  was  re- 
pealed in  1793,  when  the  Federal-street  theatre 
was  built  and  opened  Feb.  4,  1794,  with  a  prize 
prologue,  by  our  author,  who  fell  in  love  with 
Miss  Baker,  aged  sixteen,  one  of  the  company. 
He  passed  a  large  portion  of  his  time  the  ensuing 
year  in  writing  theatrical  criticisms ;  left  the 
counting-house  and  issued  the  prospectus  of  the 
Federal  Orrery,  a  semi-weekly  newspaper,  which 
made  its  appearance  October  20,  1794.  In  the 
following  February  he  married  Miss  Baker,  and 
was  turned  out  of  doors  by  his  father.  The 
breach  was  partially  healed  a  few  years  after.  In 
1795  he  delivered  a  poem  on  taking  his  degree  of 
A.M.  at  Cambridge,  entitled  The  Invention  of 
Letters.  It  contained  some  lines  referring  to 
Jacobinism,  which  he  spoke,  notwithstanding 
they  had  been  crossed  out  by  the  college  authori- 
ties. It  was  perhaps  in  part  owing  to  this  cir- 
cumstance that  two  large  editions  of  the  poem 
were  sold.  They  produced  him  a  profit  of  fifteen 
hundred  dollars.  It  is  dedicated  to  Washing- 
ton, with  a  rapturous  eulogy  upon  whom  it 
closes : — 

Could  Faustus  live,  by  gloomy  grave  resign'd, 
With  power  extensive,  as  sublime  his  mind, 
Thy  glorious  life  a  volume  should  compose, 
As  Alps  immortal,  spotless  as  its  snows. 
The  stars  should  be  its  types — its  press  the  age  ; 
The  earth  its  binding — and  the  sky  its  page. 

In  1794  he  produced  his  earliest  ode,  Rise  Co- 
lumbia.    It  has  a  spirited  burden. 

When  first  the  sun  o'er  ocean  glow'd 

And  earth  unveil'd  her  virgin  breast, 
Supreme  'mid  Nature's  vast  abode, 

Was  heard  the  Almighty's  dread  behest; 
Rise,  Columbia,  brave  and  free, 
Poise  the  globe,  and  bound  the  sea. 

In  1797  he  sold  his  paper,  which  had  suffered 
from  his  neglect  of  editorial  duties,  having  lost 
several  thousand  dollars  by  the  speculation.  He 
delivered  his  poem,  the  Ruling  Passion,  before 
the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  in  1797.  He  gained 
twelve  hundred  dollars  by  its  publication. 

The  famous  song  of  Adams  and  Liberty  was 
written  in  1798,  at  the  request  of  the  "  Massa- 
chusetts Charitable  Fire  Society."  Its  sale  yield- 
ed him  a  profit  of  more  than  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars;  more  than  eleven  dollars  for  each 
line,  as  the  matter  of  fact  Mr.  Allen  correctly 
calculates.  These  receipts  show  a  popularity 
which,  particularly  in  the  case  of  the  two  college 
poems,  is  very  remarkable.  In  1799  he  delivered 
an  oration  to  an  audience  "  crowded  to  almost  the 
utmost  pressure  of  possibility,"  on  the  first  anni- 


versary of  the  dissolution  of  the  alliance  with 
France.  It  was  written  a  few  days  only  before 
its  deliver}',  and  was  very  successful.  The  author 
sent  a  copy,  after  its  publication,  to  Washington, 
and  received  a  reply,  in  which  the  General  prays — 
"  You  will  be  assured  that  I  am  never  more  gra- 
tified than  when  I  see  the  effusions  of  genius  from 
some  of  the  rising  generation,  'which  promises  to 
secure  our  national  rank  in  the  literary  world ;  as 
I  trust  their  firm,  manly,  and  patriotic  conduct 
will  ever  maintain  it  With  dignity  in  the  poli- 
tical." He  was  persuaded  about  this  time  to  re- 
form the  drunken  habits  winch  he  had  unfortunate- 
ly acquiued,  separate  from  the  theatre,  where  he 
filled  the  office  of  "  master  of  ceremonies"  and 
occasional  prologue  writer,  remove  to  Newbury- 
port,  and  study  law.  Here,  on  the  invitation  of 
the  inhabitants  he  delivered,  on  the  2d  of  Janu- 
ary, 1800,  a  Eulogy  on  Washington.  In  the  same 
year  he  removed  to  Boston,  with  his  legal  in- 
structor, Mr.,  afterwards  Chief  Justice  Parsons. 
In  1802  he  was  admitted,  and  commenced  prac- 
tice with  great  success,  but  unfortunately  the  re- 
turn of  the  players,  in  1803,  led  to  his  former 
unsettled  mode  of  life.  He  did  not  again  rally 
from  dissipation,  neglected  his  business,  planned 
but  never  executed  several  literary  projects,  and 
died  on  the  13th  of  November,  1811,  leaving  a 
daughter  and  two  sons  destitute,  who  were  pro- 
vided with  a  home  in  his  father's  house. 

His  works  were  collected  by  a  most  enthu- 
siastic and  pains-taking  editor,  Charles  Prentis*, 
and  published  at  Boston,  in  1812,  in  one  largo 
8vo.  volume. 

FROM   "  THE  RULING  PASSION." 

From  fops  we  turn  to  pedants,  deep  and  dull; 
Grave,  without  sense  ;  "  o'erflowing,  yet  not  full." 
See,   the   lank   book- worm,   piled  with   lumbering 

lore, 
Wrinkled  in  Latin,  and  in  Greek  fourscore, 
With  toil  incessant,  thumbs  the  ancient  page, 
Now  blots  a  hero,  now  turns  down  a  sage! 
O'er  Learning's  field,  with  leaden  eye  he  strays, 
'Mid  busts  of  fame,  and  monuments  of  praise 
With  Gothiok  foot  he  treads  on  flowers  of  taste, 
Yet  stoops  to  pick  the  pebbles  from  the  waste. 
Profound  in  trifles,  he  can  tell,  how  short 
Were  jEsop's  legs,  how  large  was  Tully's  wart ; 
And,  sealed  by  Gutiter,  marks,  with  joy  absurd, 
The  out  of  Homer's  cloak  and  Euclid's  "beard  I 

Thus  through  the  weary  watch  of  sleepless  night, 
This  learned  ploughman  plods  in  piteous  plight; 
Till  the  dim  taper  takes  French  leave  to  doze, 
And  the  fat  folio  tumbles  on  his  toes. 

ADAMS  AND   LIBERTY. 

Ye  sons  of  Columbia,  who  bravely  have  fought 
For  those  rights,  which  unstain'd  from  your  sires 
had  descended, 
May  you  long  taste  the  blessings  your  valour  has 
bought, 
And  your  sons  reap  the  soil  which  your  fathers 
defended ; 

'Jlid  the  reign  of  mild  peace, 
May  your  nation  increase, 
With   the   glory   of    Rome  and   the   wisdom   of 
Greece ; 
And  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth   bears  a  plaut,  or  the  sea  rolls  i„s 
waves. 


634 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


In  a  clime  whose  rich  vales  feed  the  marts  of  the 
world, 
"Whose  shores  are  unshaken  by  Europe's  commo- 
tion, 
The  trident  of  commerce  should  never  be  hurl'd, 
To  increase  the  legitimate  powers  of  the  ocean. 
But  should  pirates  invade, 
Though  in  thunder  arrny'd, 
Let  your  cannon  declare  the  free  charter  of  trade. 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons,  <fce. 

The  fame  of  our  arms,  of  our  laws  the  mild  sway, 

Had  justly  ennobled  our  nation  in  story, 
Till  the  dark  clouds  of  faction  obscured  our  young 
day, 
And  enveloped  the  sun  of  American  glory. 
But  let  traitors  be  told, 
Who  their  country  have  sold, 
And  barter'd  their  God  for  his  image  in  gold, 
That  ne'er  will  the  sons,  <fec. 

"While  France  her  huge  limbs  bathes  recumbent  in 
blood, 
And  society's  base  threats  with  wide  dissolution  ; 
May  peace,   like  the  dove  who   return'd  from  the 
flood, 
Find  an  ark  of  abode  in  our  mild  constitution. 
But,  though  peace  is  our  aim, 
Yet  the  boon  we  disclaim, 
If  bought  by  our  sovereignty,  justice,  or  fame. 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons,  &a. 

'Tis  the  fire  of  the  flint  each  American  warms : 

Let  Rome's  haughty  victors  beware  of  collision  ; 
Let  them  bring  all  the  vassals  of  Europe  in  arms, 
"We're  a  world  by  ourselves,  and  disdain  a  pro- 
vision. 

While,  with  patriot  pride, 
To  our  laws  we're  allied, 
No  foe  can  subdue  us,  no  faction  divide. 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons,  &a. 

Our  mountains  are  crown'd  with  imperial  oak, 

"Whose  roots,  like  our  liberties,  ages  have  uourish'd. 
But  long  ere  our  nation  submits  to  the  yoke, 

Not  a  tree  shall  be  left  on   the   field  where   it 
flourish'd. 

Should  invasion  impend, 
Every  grove  would  descend 
From  the  hill  tops  they  shaded,  our  shores  to  de- 
fend ; 

For  ne'er  shall  the  sons,  <tc. 

Let  our  patriots  destroy  Anarch's  pestilent  worm, 
Lest  our  liberty's  growth  should   be  check'd  by 
corrosion  ; 
Then  let  clouds  thicken  round  us :  we  heed  not  the 
storm  ; 
Our  realm  fears  no  shock,  but  the  -earth's  own  ex- 
plosion ; 

Foes  assail  us  in  vain, 
Though  their  fleets  bridge  the  main, 
For  our  altars  and  laws,  with  our    lives,   we'll 
maintain. 

For  ne'er  shall  the  sons,  <fec. 

Should  the  tempest  of  war  overshadow  our  land, 
Its   bolts    could   ne'er    rend    Freedom's    temple 
asunder ; 
For,  unmov'd,  at  its  portal  would  "Washington  stand, 
And  repulse,  with  his  breast,  the  assaults  of  the 
thunder ! 

His  sword  from  the  sleep 
Of  its  scabbard  would  leap, 
And  conduct,  with  its  point,  every  flash  to  the 
deep. 

For  ne'er  shall  the  sous,  <te. 


Let  fame  to  the  world  sound  America's  voice ; 
No  intrigues  can  her  sons  from  their  government 
sever : 
Her  pride  are  her  statesmen — their  laws  are  her 
choice, 
And  shall  flourish  till  Liberty  slumbers  for  ever.     , 
Then  unite  heart  and  hand, 
Like  Leonidas'  band, 
And  swear  to  the  God  of  the  ocean  and  land, 
That  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its 
waves. 

ISAAC  STOET. 
A  volume  was  published  in  Boston  in  1801  en- 
titled, A  Parnassian  Shop  opened  in  the  Pindaric 
Style,  by  Peter  Quince,  Esq.*  It  was  a  collection 
of  the  waggeries  in  imitation  of  Peter  Pindar, 
which  had  given  life  to  the  well  filled  columns  of 
the  Farmer 's  Museum ;  a  publication,  which  drew 
upon  the  pure  invention,  and  sometimes  the  mere 
ingenuity  of  the  clever  writers  who  contributed 
to  it.  They  bear  date  from  1795,  and  some  of 
them  had  been  contributed  to  Barrett's  Newbury- 
port  Political  Gazette.  The  "sign-board,"  by 
way  of  preface  to  the  volume,  shows  the  elabo- 
rate preparation  of  these  trifles,  and  is  itself  a 
curiosity. 

SIGN-BOAKD. 

PETER's  Shop  contains  the  largest  and  most 
fashionable  assortment  of  Apollo-Ware;  beautiful 
and  variegated  Odes,  by  the  yard  or  piece ;  Songs 
suitable  for  any  and  every  occasion — si.  gle,  or  by 
the  set;  one  crate  of  b:oken  Elegies,  winch  can  be 
so  joined  together,  as  to  suit  the  vilest  and  worthiest 
characters:  also,  a  few  Elastic  Trusses — calculated 
with  great  care  and  iuge.iuity,  for  loose  Politicians; 
one  TREPANING  INSTRUMENT  to  be  used  on  such 
persons,  only,  who'have  cracked  their  skulls,  in  try- 
ing to  pull  down  good  government.  A  few  bundles 
of  Invocations,  Addresses,  Excuses,  Conundrums, 
Whip-Syllabubs  and  Deifications — together  with  a 
new-invented  Bus  and  Spatterdashes,  for  the  sole 
bei.efit  and  behoof  of  slovenly  Critics. 

Besides  the  above-mentioned  articles,  Peter  has  a 
more  pleasing  aid  diversified  assortment,  in  his  large 
Ware-Hocse,  which  will  be  opened  as  soon  as  Apollo- 
Wure  becomes  more  fashionable.  Peter  keeps  con- 
stantly for  sale,  in  the  back  part  of  his  shop,  Par- 
nassian-trinkets, Heliconian-spouts,  and  Pcgassuses 
on  truckles,  for  the  accommodation  of  young  and 
lame  Poetasters;  also,  a  very  ingenious  Spinning- 
Wlieel,  which  will  turn  off  Epic-Poems  of  any  length 
and  on  any  subject,  with  the  utmost  ease  and  dis- 
patch ;  beside  furnishing  them  with  glossaries  and 
obsolete  quotations — all  of  which  will  be  sold  on  the 
most  reasonable  terms,  for  cash  or  abort  credit.  Ped- 
lars and  Ballad-Singers  may  depend  on  making  good 
bargains  and  receiving  ample  encouragement,  at  said 
buck  apartment,  where  they  will  find  a  number  of 
heavy  moulded  geniusses  eternally  at  pen  nibbing. 
Peter  has  with  much  care  and  expense  procured  a 
curious  and  complicated  Water-Machine,  for  grinding 
with  astonishing  rapidity  hard  and  cramp  phrases 


*  A  Parnassian  Shop  opened  in  the  Pindaric  style  ;  by  Peter 
Quince,  Esq. 

Be  not  imposed  on  by  ft  name 
But  bid  your  eye  the  picture's  merit  trace, 

Pous-in.  at  times,  in  outlines  may  be  lame. 
And  Guido's  angels  destitute  of  grace. — P.  Pindak. 

Boston.    Eussell  and  Cutter :  1801.    12 mo.  pp.  155. 


ISAAC  STORY. 


635 


into  Epitaphs,  Rebusses,  Epigrams,  Catches,  Love- 
Pills,  Dying-Psalms,  an  J  Wit-Crackers: — these  are 
sold  by  the  groee  or  box,  to  Country  Traders,  at  a 
reduced  price. 

N.  B.  Cash  and  the  highest  price  given  for  new 
ideas. 

The  verges  are,  a  few  of  them,  political  and  anti- 
democratic in  those  days;  some  are  patriotic,  but 
they  are  mostly  amatory  and  bacchanalian ;  a  few 
are  sheer  nonsense  verses.  There  is  a  short  series 
written  in  179!)  of  Consolatory  Odes,  dedicated 
with  Christian  piety  to  those  unfortunate  beings 
who  labor  under  the  malignant  influence  of  the 
Democratic  mania.  The  author  of  tho.-.e  clever 
Federal  verses  was  Isaac  Story,  who  was  born  at 
Marblehead  (the  son  of  the  clergyman  of  tho 
same  name  at  that  place),  August  25,  1774.  He 
was  a  graduate  of  Harvard  of  1703,  and  became 
a  lawyer  at  Rutland,  Massachusetts.  In  1792  he 
published  at  Marblehead  An  Epistle  from  Yarico 
to  Inkle,  together  with  their  characters,  as  related 
in  the  Spectator.  This  college  production  is  in 
verse,  in  this  pathetic  appeal : — ■ 

From  the  sal  place  where  sorrow  ever  reigns 
And  hopeless  wretches  groan  beneath  their  chains; 
Where  stern  oppression  lifts  her  iron  hand 
And  restless  cruelty  usurps  command,  <&c. 

In  1800  he  delivered  a  eulogy  on  Washington  at 
Sterling,  Massachu  :etts,  where  he  was  then  a  re- 
sident. The  next  year  he  appears  as  a  Fourth  of 
July  orator  at  Worcester.  His  oration  was  pub- 
lished. He  died  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-nine, 
while  on  a  vi^it  to  his  father  at  Marblehead,  July 
19,  1803.  The  following  obituary  from  the  pen 
of  his  cousin,  Judge  Joseph  Story,  appeared  in  the 
Salem  Register  of  July  25. 

"  At  Marblehead,  on  Tuesday  evening  last, 
Isaac  Story,  Jr.,  Esq.,  of  Rutland.  A  gentleman 
well  known  by  numerous  productions  in  polite 
literature.  In  his  manners  bland,  social,  and  af- 
fectionate; in  his  disposition  sportive  and  con- 
vivial; in  his  morals  pure,  generous,  and  unaf- 
fected; in  his  mind  vivacious,  refined,  and  face- 
tious. After  the  usual  academic  course  he  pursued 
the  science  of  Jurisprudence,  and  gave  promise  of 
an  honorable  station  among  advocates.  In  the 
interval  of  judicial  studies  he  courted  the  Aonian 
Sisters,  and  occasionally  gave  to  the  public  spe- 
cimens of  accomplished  composition.  Wit  and 
humor  were  provinces  in  which  he  sought  pecu- 
liarfavor;  though  he  not  unfrequeutly  mingled  in 
his  poetic  effusions  the  gravity  of  sententiousness 
with  the  lighter  grace*.  But,  alas!  the  wit,  the 
poet,  and  the  moralist,  now  exists  only  in  his  writ- 
ings. Death  has  consigned  him  to  the  common 
lot  of  mortality. 

"  Spirit  of  him  whose  chastened  soul 

Could  touch  each  chord  of  pure  desire, 

Whence,  down  beyond  the  mind's  control, 

Thy  brilliant  thought,  thy  Druid  fire? 

"  Lost  in  thy  manhood's  chariest  bloom, 
O'er  thee  shall  pity  meekly  mourn, 
And  many  a  svlph,  who  haunts  the  gloom, 
With  twilight  dews  besprend  thine  urn. 

"  Beside,  thine  'airy  harp'  shall  rest, 

With  wonted  char  ns  unskilled  to  play, 
Or  wildly  moved  in  g.ief  supprest, 
Fling  to  the  breeze  its  funeral  lay. 


'  Yet  may  the  willow  love  to  bend, 

And  there  the  gentler  myrtle  woo, 

While  Boftly  sighs  each  passing  friend, 

Ah!   Yoriek,  bard  of  truth,  adieu!" 


ODE  TO  POVERTY. 

Peter  holdeth  confab  with  Poverty — rjiveth  her  his  opinion  ,* 
asketh  questions  about  Chtiri&y-r-Mndendetiiwith  alttU>  ang^r 
and  inconsistency — but  still  canters  in  church-measure. 

Come,  Poverty,  with  placid  hue, 
With  ragged  garments,  worn-out  shoo  ; 

Come,  hear  the  jovial  Peter! 
Thy  squalid  looks  and  haggard  mien, 
Protub'raut  bones  and  eyes  scarce  seen, 

Now  swell  his  solemn  metre. 

When  on  he  travell'd  life's  green  vale, 
Where  fickle  fancy  fan'd  his  sail, 

He  thought  he  ne'er  should  sorrow  ; 
But  that  old  Time  would  constant  bring, 
From  joy's  gay  source  a  plenteous  spring, 

For  ev'ry  coming  morrow. 

Thus  buoy'd  by  hope,  he  turn'd  his  lyre; 
Enjoy'd  his  friends,  indulg'd  desire, 

And  laugh'd  at  lengthen'd  faces; 
Pity'd  the  plodding  man  of  trade  ; 
The  skin-flint  miser,  moping  maid, 

And  all,  who  shun'd  the  Graces. 

With  careless  foot  he  trip'd  the  green ; 

Each  day,  each  hour,  chang'd  pleasure's  scene, 

Nor  thought,  poor  soul,  on  thee. 
Nature  has  given  us  plenteous  stock, 
To  keep  us  from  thy  stumbling  bloek, 

And  fill  our  hearts  with  glee. 

In  vain  you  steal  our  bags  of  riches, 
Thread-bare  our  elbows,  tear  our  breeches, 

Or  leave  our  feet  unshod. 
With  health  and  virtue  on  we  trudge, 
Knowing  that  all  thy  tricks  arc  fudge, 

While  there  exists  a  God. 

Thus  thought  he,  in  his  youthful  days, 
And  still  those  thoughts  shall  swell  hi3  l~y3, 

And  keep  his  bosom  quiet; 
For  tho'  thou  com'st,  with  visage  pale, 
And  drag'st  him,  tatter'd  into  jail, 

His  soul  shall  breed  no  riot. 

Along  life's  twisting  road  we  find 

Of  halt  and  maim'd,  of  mad  and  blind, 

Of  doleful  and  of  dumb, 
A  train,  both  hideous,  sal,  and  poor," 
Seeking  each  day  compassion's  door, 

While  going  to  kingdom  come. 

O'er  those  Compassion  sheds  a  tear, 
While  pity  stops  their  plaints  to  hear, 

And  cures,  or  mourns  their  fate; 
Yet  when  we  sec  thee  those  infest, 
Who  are  with  strength  and  reason  b'.est, 

Our  minds  are  fill'd  with  hate. 

Not  one  decree  of  Heaven  we  blame, 
But  on  them  cry  out  "  fools !  for  shame, 

Betake  thee  unto  labour." 
Unless  by  dire  misfortune  spent, 
They  are  in  Law's  vile  dungeon  pent, 

To  gratify  a  neighbour. 

Then  anger  and  compassion  blend, 

We  damn  the  wretch,  act  sorrow's  friend 

But.  like  thee  ne'er  the  more; 
Rather  abominate  thy  form, 
And,  as  we  would  fell  Winter's  storm. 

Against  thee  shut  the  door. 
1794  P.  Quince,  Esq, 


636 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


PETEE  8  ADIEU  TO  THE   CITY. 

Beatus  ULe,  quiprocul  negotiis, 

Utprisca  genu  mortalium, 
Paterna  rura  bobus  exercet  mi:;, 

Solutus  omnif<jenore. — Horace. 

To  the  City  I've  bid  an  adieu ! 

To  its  pleasures  and  parties  farewell ! 
Nor  can  they  entrap  me  anew  ; 

Or  call  me  once  more  from  my  cell. 

I  believ'd  midst  the  rich  and  the  great, 
Mild  contentment  and  happiness  dwelt ; 

That  they  blunted  the  arrows  of  fate, 
And  seldom  keen  misery  felt. 

That  Time  flew  with  pinions  of  down, 
While  Charity  brighten'd  his  way ; 

And  Peace,  on  her  olive  branch  crown, 
Recorded  the  deeds  of  each  day. 

That  Justice,  with  mercy  attir'd, 

Heard  the  cause  of  the  poor  and  oppress'd; 
CheckVl  the  tongue  with  malevolence  fir'd, 

And  the  wrongs  of  the  feeble  redress'd. 

The  delusion  is  over  and  past, 

And  the  tinsel,  which  misery  clad, 
Is  remov'd  by  my  reason  at  last. 

And  I  mourn  that  the  world  is  so  bad. 

That  anguish  and  want  should  appear, 

Willi  gaiety's  mantle  adorn'd ; 
That  I  language  of  softness  should  hear, 

From  a  wretch,  whom  humanity  seorn'd. 

That  damsels  with  modest  array, 

And  manners  apparently  good, 
Should  trip  through  the  city  all  day, — 

But  at  night,  with  fell  infamy  brood. 

The  rich  meet  the  rich  in  the  street, 

And  tho'  vices  hang  thick  round  their  heart, 

Shake  hands  and  most  courteously  greet — 
But  with  plots  and  contrivances  part. 

No  hand  wipes  a  tear  from  the  eye 

Of  the  widow,  or  fatherless  child; 
But  all  their  assistance  deny 

And  laugh  to  behold  them  beguil'd. 

The  good  man,  by  poverty  led, 

Thro'  the  city  must  wander  alone ; 
With  the  offals  of  grandeur  be  fed, 

And  to  wretchedness  open  his  moan. 

The  worldlings  have  virtue  forsook ; 

To  self  are  their  bounties  confiu'd  ; 
While  those,  who  take  pride  in  a  crook, 

Are  patrons  and  friends  to  mankind. 

O !  nature,  thy  works  I  adore ; 

The  path,  thou'st  design'd  us  to  tread, 
Is  stock'd  with  the  richest  of  love, 

With  the  fairest  of  roses  bespread. 

Our  wants  are  both  simple  and  few, 

Where  virtue  and  modesty  reign ; 
But  the  phantoms  of  bliss  we  pursue, 

And  the  counsels  of  wisdom  disdain. 

Let  me  wander  my  cottage  around, 
Taste  the  fruits  of  labour  and  care  ; 

With  health,  peace,  and  friendship  abound, 
And  I  shall  not  of  pleasure  despair. 

P.  Quince. 

LEONARD  WOODS. 
This  distinguished  scholar  and  divine  was  born  at 
Princeton,  Mass.,  June  19,  1774.      His   parents, 
Samuel  and  Abigail  Woods,  are  spoken  of  as  both 
possessing  strong  mental  powers,  while  they  were 


of  "  Puritanic  piety ;"  his  father's  "  habits  of  seri- 
ous thought  upon  metaphysical  subjects  having 
obtained  for  him  the  title  of  "  philosopher  Woods." 
With  small  opportunity  for  cultivation  when 
young,  he  became  conversant  with  the  mo?t  im- 
portant histories,  with  the  poetry  of  Milton,Young, 
and  Watts ;  as  also  with  the  works  of  Locke  and 
Edwards,  and  of  many  of  the  Puritan  divines* 
His  son  Leonard  early  exhibited  a  taste  for  study, 
profiting  by  the  instructions  of  his  father  and  an 
elder  sister.  At  six  or  seven  he  followed  the  ex- 
ercises of  a  class  of  older  boys  in  arithmetic,  keep- 
ing pace  with  them  on  his  substitute  for  a  slate, 
of  a  piece  of  birch  bark  ;  notwithstanding  these 
signs  of  talent  he  might  have  been  confined  to  the 
duties  of  his  father's  farm,  had  not  a  fit  of  sick- 
ness, which  abated  his  strength,  marked  him  out 
for  the  physically  less  laborious  occupations  of  the 
scholar.  His  mother  assisted  this  scheme  of  study, 
which  he  pursued  with  the  village  clergyman ;  and 
in  1792  he  entered  Harvard,  taking  his  degree  in 
course  in  the  class  with  John  Pickering,  with  the 
highest  honors  in  1796.  He  then  was  engaged  as 
a  teacher  in  Medford  for  eight  months,  when  he 
commenced  the  study  of  theology  with  Dr.  Charles 
Backus  at  Somers,  Ct.,  continuing  his  studies  at 
home  with  the  Bible  and  Brown's  system  of  divi- 
nity for  his  principal  text-books.  In  1798,  he  was 
ordained  at  Newbury  as  the  successor  of  Dr.  Da- 
vid Tappan,  who  had  been  appointed  professor  of 
Theology  at  Harvard.  He  married  the  next  year 
Miss  Abigail  Wheeler,  daughter  of  Joseph  Whee- 
ler, judge  of  probate  in  Worcester.  His  public 
literary  reputation  dates  from  the  j'ear  1805,  when 
he  contributed  a  series  of  papers  to  the  religious 
periodical,  The  JPanoplist,  conducted  by  Dr.  Morse 
of  Charlestown,  in  defence  of  the  old  orthodox 
Calvinism,  which  was  then  powerfully  assailed  by 
the  advocates  of  the  new  opinions  in  vogue  at 
Cambridge,  and  elsewhere.t  A  scheme  for  an 
educational  institution  "to  provide  for  the  church 
a  learned,  orthodox,  and  pious  ministry  "  now  de- 
veloped itself,  which  resulted  in  the  opening  of 
the  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  September 
28, 1808,  with  Mr.  Woods  in  the  chair  of  Christian 
Theology — a  professorship  which  he  occupied  for 
thirty-eight  years,  when  he  resigned  the  office  in 
1846,  retaining  the  rank  of  Emeritus  professor. 
He  published  his  lectures,  embracing  his  system 
of  systematic  theology,  and  a  portion  of  his  mis- 
cellaneous writings,  in  a  series  of  his  "  Works  "  in 
five  volumes,  in  1849  and  '50.  The  first  three 
volumes  contain  one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  of 
the  Andover  courses  of  lectures ;  the  other  two 
contain  letters,  essays,  and  sermons,  including  the 
controversial  letters  to  Unitarians,  an  Examination 
of  the  Doctrine  of  Perfection,  a  Dissertation  on  Mi- 
racles, a  Course  of  Stud}',  Letters  to  Young  Minis- 
ters, and  Essays  on  the  "  Philosophy  of  the  Mind," 
"  Cause  and  Effect  in  Connexion  with  Fatalism 


*  A  Discourse  (of  the  biosrraphical  portion  of  which  the  pre- 
sent account  is  an  abstract)  delivered  at  the  Funeral  of  Kev. 
Leonard  Woods,  D.D..  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Theological  Semi- 
nary, Andover.  Aup-.  28, 1S54.  By  Edward  A.  Lawrence,  Pro- 
fessor in  the  Theological  Seminary.  East  Windsor  Hill.  Ct. 

t  No.  1.  of  the  Panoplist  or  the  Christian's  Armory,  was 
published  June,  1805;  with  vol.  xiv.  in  Jan.  1818.  it  became 
united  with  the  Missionary  Herald ;  in  January  1821,  lost  its 
miscellaneous  character,  and  the  publication  has  since  been 
well  known  as  the  Missionary  Herald,  the  organ  of  the  Ameri- 
can Board. 


WILLIAM  SULLIVAN. 


031 


and  Free  Agency,"  and  other  metaphysical  reli- 
gious topics. 

His  habit  of  mind  in  these  theological  writings 
is  thus  described  by  his  son-in-law,  Professor  Law- 
rence, who  lias  sketched  his  moral  and  intellectual 
character  with  a  discriminating  pen.  "  He  was 
never  weary  of  an  old  truth  because  of  its  age,  nor 
repelled  from  a  new  one  because  it  was  new.  He 
believed  in  improvements  in  theologians  and  theo- 
logical science,  though  not  in  theological  truths. 
He  regarded  these  improvements  as  coming 
through  much  study  and  prayer,  by  approxima- 
tions of  human  ideas  and  human  hearts  to  the  re- 
vealed standard  of  doctrine,  and  the  model  of  the 
Christian  life.  He  accepted  certain  views  of  pro- 
gress ;  but  his  cautious  habit  led  him  to  take  no 
step  until  he  was  sure  that  it  was  not  a  backward 
movement.  Much  that  the  world  esteems  pro- 
gress, he  counted  the  reverse.  If  his  caution  made 
him  conservative,  his  abhorrence  of  evil  made  him 
also  a  friend  to  all. judicious  reforms.  He' moved 
slowly  because  he  moved  with  care,  and  with  care 
that  he  might  move  securely  and  lose  no  time.  If 
he  seldom  had  occasion  to  retract  his  opinions,  it 
was  from  the  patient  labor  and  caution  with  which 
he  formed  them."  * 

His  social  disposition,  kind  and  refined,  was  not 
less  marked  than  his  zealous  adberence  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  theological  education.  Dr.  Woods 
continued  to  reside  at  Andover  till  his  death, 
which  he  met  with  Christian  faith  and  humility, 
Aug.  24,  1854,  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty-one. 
Dr.  Woods  was  one  of  the  original  promoters  of 
several  of  the  benevolent  associations  of  his  day, 
as  the  American  Board  of  Missions,  the  American 
Tract  Society,  and  the  Temperance  Society,  with 
the  history  of  which  his  name  will  be  commemo- 
rated. One  of  the  last  works  upon  which  he  was 
engaged  was  a  History  of  the  Theological  Semi- 
nary in  Andover,  which  he  left  nearly  completed 
in  manuscript. 

WILLIAM  StTLLITAN. 
Was  born  at  Saco,  in  Maine,  November  12, 1774. 
His  father  had  been  Governor  of  Massachusetts, 
his  grandfather  was  an  emigrant  from  Ireland. 
He  was  educated  at  Harvard,  and  studied  law  in 
his  father's  office.  The  law  and  politics  occupied 
his  attention  till  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  when 
he  devoted  himself  to  literature,  and  matters  of 
public  welfare.  His  writings  are  several  dis- 
courses, one  before  the  Suffolk  liar  in  1824  ;  before 
the  Pilgrim  Society  of  Plymouth  in  1829;  before 
the  Massachusetts  Society  for  the  Suppression  of 
Intemperance  in  1832;  his  Political  Class  Boole  ; 
intended  to  instruct  the  higher  classes  in  schools, 
in  the  origin,  nature,  and  use  of  Political  Power, 
in  1831-  his  Moral  Class  Book,  or  the  Law  of 
Morals,  derived  from  the  created  universe,  and 
from  reseale.l  religion,  in  1833  ;  an  Historical 
Class  Book  the  same  year,  and  its  continuation 
entitled  Historical  Causes  and  Effects,  in  1837. 
In  this  year  he  also  published  his  book  entitled, 
Sea  Life  ;  or  what  may,  or  may  not  be  done,  and 
what  ought  to  be  done  by  Shipowners,  Shipmasters, 
Mates,  and  Seamen,  addressed  to  Father  Taylor, 
the  minister  of  the  Mariner's  Church  in  Boston. 


*  Discourse,  p.  22. 


ify^fuMAAj-c^ 


XAsl- 


These  were  either  books  for  schools,  or  special 
philanthropic  topics ;  the  work  of  most  general 
interest  which  he  wrote,  is  his  Familiar  Letters 
on  the  Public  Men  of  the  Revolution,  including 
events  from  the  peace  of  1783  to  the  peace  of 
1815,  which  first  appeared  in  1834.  It  is  a 
vindication  of  the  Federal  Party,  and  an  attack 
on  the  opposition,  inspired  by  the  animadversions 
of  Jefferson  in  his  published  memoir  and  writings, 
mingled  with  personal  sketches  and  criticisms. 
He  died  September  3,  1839,  aged  sixty-four.  Mr. 
Sullivan's  lift;*  has  been  written  by  his  son,  John 
T.  S.  Sullivan.  He  speaks  of  the  ardor  witli  which 
his  father  pursued  his  studies  in  his  last  years, 
occupying  himself  from  twelve  to  fourteen  hours 
daily,  and  of  his  saying  to  a  friend  who  regretted 
that  he  had  relinquished  the  law:  "I  believe  I 
mistook,  in  my  selection  of.  a  profession,  the 
course  most  favorable  to  my  happiness ;  for  I 
have  never  been  conscious  of  real  enjoyment,  or 
of  the  true  bent  of  my  talents,  if  I  have  any, 
until  I  devoted  myself  to  literature ;"  a  remark- 
able tribute  to  a  life  of  letters.  Another  anecdote 
of  his  personal  bearing  is  also  given  by  his  son. 
"  He  was  six  feet  tall,  very  erect,  and  in  his  gait 
dignified  and  reserved.  No  one,  saving  his  own 
family,  ever  approached  him  familiarly.  His 
manners  were  those  of  the  old  school,  now  al- 
most extinct,  and  he  could  more  deeply  wound 
with  a  formal  bow,  than  many  men,  less  dignified, 
with  a  blow.  He  used  to  say,  that  deified 
civility,  based  upon  self-respect,  was  a  gentle- 
man's weapon  and  defence." 

SKETCH  OF  IIAMILTON — FEOM  THE  "FAMILIAR  I.ETTEES." 

_  In  1705,  Alexander  Hamilton,  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
eight,  resumed  the  practice  of  law  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  there  continued  until  the  close  of  his  life. 
In  December  of  that  year,  his  personal  appearance 
was  this  : — He  was  under  middle  size,  thin  in  person, 
but  remarkably  erect  and  dignified  in  his  deport- 
ment. His  bust,  seen  in  so  many  houses,  and  the 
pictures  and  prints  of  him,  make  known,  too  gene- 


*  Prefixed  to  a  new.  enlarged,  and  revised  edition   of  the 
Public  Men  of  the  Eevolntion.    Phila.    1S4T. 


638 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


rally,  the  figure  of  his  face,  to  make  an  attempt  .nt 
description  expedient.  His  hair  was  turned  back 
from  his  forehead,  powdered,  and  collected  in  a  club 
behind.  His  complexion  was  exceedingly  fair,  and 
varying  from  this  only  by  the  almost  feminine 
Cosiness  of  his  cheeks.  His  might  be  considered,  as 
to  figure  and  color,  an  uncommonly  handsome  face. 
"When  at  rest,  it  had  rather  a  severe  and  thoughtful 
expression  ;  but  when  engaged  in  conversation,  it 
easily  assumed  an  attractive  smile.  He  was  ex- 
pected, one  day  in  December,  17y5,  at  dinner,  and 
was  the  last  who  came.  When  he  entered  the  room 
it  was  apparent  from  the  respectful  attention  of  the 
company,  that  he  was  a  distinguished  individual. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  blue  coat  with  bright  buttons, 
the  skirts  of  his  coat  were  unusually  long.  He 
wore  a  white  waistcoat,  black  silk  small  clothes, 
white  silk  stockings.  The  gentleman  who  received 
him  as  a  guest,  introduced  him  to  such  of  the  com- 
pany as  were  strangers  to  him ;  to  each  he  made  a 
formal  bow,  bending  very  low,  the  ceremony  of 
shaking  hands  not  being  observed.  The  fame  of 
Hamilton  had  reached  every  one  who  knew  any 
thing  of  public  men.  His  appearance  and  deport- 
ment accorded  with  the  dignified  distinction  to 
which  he  had  attained  in  public  opinion.  At  dinner, 
"whenever  he  engaged  in  the  conversation,  every  one 
listened  attentively.  His  mode  of  speaking  was  de- 
liberate ami  serious;  and  his  voice  engagingly  plea- 
sant. In  the  evening  of  the  same  day  lie  was  in  a 
mixed  assembly  of  both  sexes;  and  the  tranquil  re- 
serve, noticed  at  the  dinner  table,  had  given  place  to 
a  social  and  playful  manner,  as  though  in  this  he 
was  alone  ambitious  to  excel. 

The  eloquence  of  Hamilton  was  said  to  be  per- 
suasive and  commanding;  the  more  likely  to  be  so, 
as  he  had  no  guide  but  the  impulse  of  a  great  and 
rich  mind,  he  having  had  little  opportunity  to  be 
trained  at  the  bar,  or  in  popular  assemblies.  Those 
who  eould  spe:ik  of  his  manner  from  the  best  op- 
portunities to  observe  him  in  public  and  private, 
concurred  in  pronouncing  him  a  frank,  amiable, 
high-minded,  open-hearted  gentleman.  He  was  ca- 
pable of  inspiring  the  most  affectionate  attachment; 
but  he  eould  make  those  whom  he  opposed,  fear  and 
hate  him  cordially.  He  was  capable  of  intense  and 
effectual  application,  as  is  abundantly  proved  by 
his  public  labours.  But  he  had  a  rapidity  and  clear- 
ness of  perception,  in  which  he  may  not  have  been 
equalled.  One  who  knew  his  habits  of  study,  said 
of  him,  that  when  he  had  a  serious  object  to  ac- 
complish, his  practice  was  to  reflect  on  it  previously ; 
and  when  he  had  gone  through  this  labour,  he  re- 
tired to  sleep,  without  regard  to  the  hour  of  the 
night,  and  having  slept  six  or  seven  hours,  he  rose, 
and  having  taken  strong  coffee,  seated  himself  at  his 
table,  where  he  would  remain  six,  seven,  or  eight 
hours;  and  the  product  of  his  rapid  pen  required 
little  correction  for  the  press.  He  was  av.ong  the 
few  alike  excellent,  whether  in  speaking  c  in  writ- 
ing. In  private  and  friendly  intercourse,  he  is  said 
to  have  been  exceedingly  amiable,  and  to  have  been 
affectionately  beloved. 

ROBERT  GOODLOE  HARPER. 
Robert  Goodloe  Harpei:,  an  eminent  political 
writer  and  orator  of  the  Federalist  school,  was 
born  near  Fredericksburg,  Virginia,  in  1765.  He 
was  the  son  of  poor  but  respectable  parents,  who, 
during  his  childhood,  removed  to  Granville,  North 
Carolina.  At  the  early  age  of  fifteen  he  served 
in  a  troop  of  horse,  composed  of  the  youth  of  the 
neighborhood,  under  General  Greene  during  the 
closing  scenes  of  the  southern  campaign  of  the 


Revolution.  Ho  next  entered  Princeton  College 
where,  while  a  student  in  the  upper,  he  acted  as 
a  tutor  to  the  lower  classes,  and  was  graduated  in 
1785.  He  about  the  same  time  formed  a  plan, 
during  a  visit  at  Philadelphia,  of  making  the  tour 
of  Europe  on  foot.  He  proposed  to  commence  at 
London,  supporting  himself  during  his  sojourn  by 
giving  lessons  and  working  as  a  joiner,  a  trade  for 
which  an  early  taste  for  mechanics  had  fitted  him; 
The  scheme  was  frustrated  by  the  departure  of 
the  ship,  in  which  he  intended  to  sail,  having 
been  delayed  for  several  weeks  by  ice  in  the  De- 
laware, during  which  his  stock  of  money  and 
desire  for  travel  rapidly  diminished.  As  soon  as 
navigation  was  open  he  sailed  for  Charleston  with 
the  intention  of  studying  law.  While  standing  on 
the  wharf  after  his  arrival,  with  only  a  dollar  or 
two  in  his  pocket,  he  was  asked  by  a  bystander 
whether  he  had  not  taught  a  class  in  Princeton 
of  winch  a  youth,  whose  name  was  given,  was  a 
member.  Ho  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  was 
informed  that  this  youth  was  the  son  of  his  ques- 
tioner, who  had  become  familiar  with  the  teacher 
from  the  letters  of  the  scholar,  his  son.  By  the 
kindly  offices  of  this  friend,  who  was  the  keeper 
of  a  tavern,  the  wants  of  the  new  comer  were  pro- 
vided for;  and  by  an  introduction  to  a  lawyer,  who 
received  him  as  a  student  in  his  office,  his  wishes 
in  reference  to  a  profession  realized.  He  read 
with  such  zeal  as  to  qualify  himself  for  practice 
in  a  year.  With  a  view  to  speedier  advancement 
in  his  profession  he  removed  to  the  interior  of  the 
state.  Here  he  soon  became  known  by  a  series 
of  articles  which  lie  contributed  to  a  newspaper 
on  a  proposed  change  in  the  constitution  of  the 
state.  He  was  next  elected  to  the  legislature  of 
the  state,  and  not  long  after  to  the  national  House 
of  Representatives,  where  he  became  a  distin- 
guished and  thorough  supporter  of  the  adminis- 
trations of  Washington  and  Adams.  After  the 
election  of  Jefferson  lie  retired  from  Congress,  and 
in  consequence  of  his  marriage  with  the  daughter 
of  Charles  Carroll,  removed  to  Maryland  and 
commenced  the  practice  of  the  law  at  Baltimore. 
He  was  employed  with  Joseph  Ilopkinson  as 
counsel  for  Judge  Chase  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
the  United  Slates,  in  the  trial  which  resulted  in 
the  acquittal  of  that  officer  on  all  the  charges  for 
which  he  was  impeached.  He  was  elected  by  his 
adopted  state  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States. 
At  a  dinner  given  at  Georgetown,  June  5,  1813, 
in  honor  of  the  recent  Russian  victories,  he  gave 
as  a  toast  "  Alexander  the  Deliverer,"  and  fol- 
lowed with  a  speech  highly  eulogistic  of  that  mo- 
narch, and  of  the  power,  prosperity,  and  progress 
of  his  dominions.  The  address  contains  an  elabo- 
rate account  of  the  invasion  of  Napoleon,  attri- 
butes its  failure  to  the  military  skill  of  the  Rus- 
sians as  well  as  the  severity  of  the  winter,  and 
congratulates  the  United  States  on  this  result  as 
lessening  the  preponderating  power  of  France  and 
frustrating  the  designs  which  he  charges  her  with, 
of  attempting  the  conquest  of  Canada  from  the 
English.  On  the  publication  of  this  production 
Robert  Walsh  addressed  the  author  a  letter  in 
which,  after  complimenting  him  as  the  originator 
of  the  phrase  of  "  Alexander  the  Deliverer,"  the 
opinion  is  expressed  that  the  oration  underrates 
the  military  character  of  Napoleon,  eulogizes  the 
Russians  unduly,  and  does  not  perceive  the  dan- 


ROBERT  GOODLOE  HARPER. 


639 


gers  of  Rusaian  ascendency.  Harper  made  an 
elaborate  reply,  and  Walsh  responded  with  a  se- 
cond letter,  after  which  the  speech  with  the  cor- 
respondence was  published  in  a  volume. 

Towards  the  close  of  his  life  Harper  became  an 
active  member  of  the  American  Colonization  So- 
ciety, a  scheme  in  which  he  took  a  deep  interest, 
not  only  on  national  grounds  but  from  his  fondness 
for  the-study  of  the  geography  of  Africa.  A  long 
and  valuable  letter  from  his  pen  on  the  subject 
appeared  in  the  first  Report  of  the  Association  in 
1818.  On  the  fifteenth  of  January,  1825,  while 
reading  his  newspaper  after  breakfast,  he  fell,  was 
caught  in  the  arms  of  his  son,  and  a  few  minutes 
after  died  of  a  disease  of  the  heart. 

lie  published  at  various  periods  a  number  of 
speeches  and  addresses  on  the  politics  of  the  day. 
His  Select  Works,  consisting  of  Speeches  on  Poli- 
tical and  Forensic  Subjects,  with  the  Answer 
drawn  up  by  him  to  the  articles  of  impeachment 
against  Judge  Chase  and  sundry  political  tracts, 
collated  from  the  original  publications  and  care- 
fully reoised,  vol.  i.,  appeared  in  Baltimore  in 
1814.  it  opens  with  an  Address  to  his  constitu- 
ents, dated  December  17,  1795,  on  the  Treaty  of 
November,  179-4,  in  which  he  gives  his  reasons  for 
advocating  the  measure,  and  pays  an  eloquent  tri- 
bute to  John  Jay. 

But,  fellow-citizens,  let  me  ask  you,  and  let  me 
appeal  to  your  cahu  dispassionate  judgment  for  an 
answer,  let  me  ask  you,  can  these  frigntful  events, 
these  destructive  consequences  be  justly  apprehended 
from  a  treaty,  the  whole  commercial  part  of  which 
is  to  expire  at  the  end  of  twelve  years,  and  may  be 
terminated  by  ourselves  within  two  years  after  the 
close  of  the  present  war?  Can  any  possible  opera- 
tion of  a  treaty,  admitting  it  to  be  a  disadvantageous, 
an  unwise  one,  so  soon  destroy,  so  speedily  ruin,  or 
even  in  so  short  a  period  materially  injure  the  agri- 
culture, the  manufactures,  the  commerce  of  Ame- 
rica, which  during  the  present  universal  shock  in 
Europe,  and  under  the  depredations  of  all  parties, 
have  flourished  and  increased  beyond  all  former 
example?     1  confess  I  cannot  conceive  it. 

Let  me  further  ask  you,  fellow-citizens,  what  rea- 
sons there  are  to  believe  that  Mr.  Jay  would  con- 
clude, Major  Pinckney  approve,  two  thirds  of  the 
Senate  sanction,  and  the  President  finally  ratify  a 
treaty,  "  degrading  to  the  national  honour,  and  dan- 
gerous to  the  political  existence  of  the  United 
States;"  a  treaty  containing  "a  prostitution  of  their 
sovereignty,  and  a  wanton  sacrifice  of  their  rights  ;" 
a  treaty  which  "  admits  another  government  to  con- 
trol the  legislative  functions  of  the  Union,"  "prosti- 
tutes the  dearest  rights  of  freemen,  and  lays  tliem 
prostrate  at  the  feet  of  royalty  ?" 

Mr.  Jay  had  a  reputation  to  support,  a  reputation 
gained  by  a  long  and  active  public  life;  would  he 
blast  it  at  once?  He  has  a  family  growing  up 
around  him;  would  he  throw  a  gloom  over  all  their 
opening  prospects,  and  nip  the  bud  of  their  pros- 
perity, by  an  act  which  must  involve  himself  and 
them  in  one  common  disgrace  ?  He  held  a  distin- 
guished office,  from  which  the  voice  of  his  country 
might  remove  him ;  would  he  raise  the  voice  of  that 
country  against  him,  by  "  prostituting  its  sove- 
reignty, and  making  a  wanton  sacrifice  of  its  rights?" 
At  the  time  when  lie  agreed  to  this  treaty,  at  the 
time  when  he  dispatched  it  to  the  United  States,  at 
the  time  when  without  unforeseen  and  accidental 
delays  it  must  have  arrived  and  been  made  public, 
at  that  time  he  was  a  candidate  for  an  high  office  in 


his  own  state,  to  which  he  could  be  raised  only  by 
the  approbation  of  his  fellow-citizens  at  large;  would 
he  ensure  their  disapprobation  by  betraying  their 
dearest  interests  ?  He  was  opposed  by  a  numerous 
and  powerful  party,  by  a  popular  and  respectable 
competitor;  would  he  furnish  this  opposition  with 
irresistible  arms  against  himself,  by  a.i  act  which 
must  have  drawn  on  him  the  public  execration  ? 
He  is  said  to  be  a  candidate  for  the  highest  trust  his 
country  can  bestow,  a  candidate  in  opposition  to 
men  distinguished  throughout  Europe  as  wed  as 
America,  for  their  talents  and  their  virtues ;  would 
he  for  ever  blast  whatever  prospects  he  may  have,  by 
agreeing  to  "  admit  another  government  to  control 
the  legislative  functions  of  his  country?"  No,  fellow- 
citizens!  The  stations  w.iieh  Mr.  Jay  has  filled,  the 
long  period  for  which  he  has  enjoyed  a  spotless  repu- 
tation and  possessed  the  confidence  of  his  country, 
argue  at  least  a  common  portion  of  talents  and  inte- 
grity ;  and  a  man  must  be  depraved  and  foolish  to 
an  unusual  degree,  who,  situated  as  Mr.  Jay  was, 
could  consent  to  so  atrocious  an  act  as  the  treaty  is 
represented  :  could  consent  to  "  degrade  the  national 
honour,  endanger  the  political  existence,  and  destroy 
the  agricultural,  manufacturing,  commercial,  and 
shipping  interests"  of  his  country  :  foolish  if  he  could 
consent  to  it  without  seeii.g  its  tendency,  and  both 
foolish  and  depraved  if  he  saw  it  and  yet  consented. 

"We  have  next  Observations  on  the  Dispute  be- 
tween the  United  States  and  France,  addressed  to 
Ms  constituents  and  published  in  1797;  followed 
by  a  speech  on  the  necessity  of  resisting  the  ag- 
gressions and  encroachments  of  France  on  the 
Constitutional  powers  of  the  President  and  Senate 
in  the  appointment  of  foreign  ministers  ;  an  argu- 
ment in  the  case  of  William  Blount's  Impeachment 
on  the  question  whether  a  Senator  of  the  United 
States  be  liable  to  impeachment,  delivered  Janu- 
ary 5, 1799  ;  a  letterdated  March  5,  1800,  enume- 
rating the  services  of  the  Federal  party  to  the 
United  States;  a  speech  in  favor  of  a  bill  to  pre- 
vent "unauthorized  correspondence  with  any  fo- 
reign government,  with  intent  to  influence  its 
conduct  towards  the  United  States,  or  to  defeat 
the  measures  of  our  own  government,"  in  which 
he  comments  with  severity  on  Mr.  Gallatin.  The 
volume  closes  with  a  speech  in  favor  of  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  Sedition  Law,  delivered  January 
1,  1801,  in  which  he  advocates  his  views  with 
eloquence. 

We  are  called  on,  sir,  for  the  reasons  why  this  act 
shoidd  now  be  continued.     I  will  give  my  reasons 
most  freely.     Whether  they  be  the  same  with  those 
which    actuate  the  conduct  of  other  gentlemen,  I 
know  not,  but  in  my  mind  they  deserve  all  consi- 
deration.    I  wish  to  revive  this  law,  sir,  as  a  shield 
for  the  liberty  of  the  press,  and  the  freedom  of  opi- 
j   nion ;  as  a  protection  to  myself,  and  those  with  whom 
I  have  the  happiness  and  the  honor  to  think  on  pub- 
i   lie  affairs,  should  we  at  any  future  time  be  com- 
pelled by  the  imbecility  or  the  mistakes  of  any  future 
administration  in  this  country,  to  commence  an  op- 
position against  it:    not  a  factious,  profligate,  and 
;   unprincipled  opposition,  founded  on  falsehood  and 
j   misrepresentation,  and  catching  at  the  passions  and 
the  prejudices  of  the  moment ;  but  a  manly,  dignified, 
candid,  and  patriotic  opposition,  addressed  to  the 
good  sense  and  virtue  of  the  nation,  and  resting  on 
|    the  basis  of  argument  and  truth.     Should  that  time 
j   ever  arrive,  as  it  may  arrive,  though  I  earnestly  pray 
I   that  it  may  not,  I  wish   to  have  this  law,  which 
I   allows  the  truth  to  be  given  in  cvideuce  on  indict- 


610 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ments  for  libels,  I  ■wish  to  have  this  law  as  a  shield. 
When  indicted  myself,  for  calmly  and  candidly  ex- 
posing the  errors  of  government,  and  the  incapacity 
of  those  who  govern,  I  wish  to  be  enabled,  by  this 
law,  to  go  before  a  jury  of  my  country,  and  say  that 
what  I  have  written  is  true.  I  wish  to  interpose 
this  law  between  the  freedom  of  discussion,  and  the 
overbearing  sway  of  that  tyrannical  spirit,  by  which 
a  certain  political  party  in  this  country  is  actuated ; 
that  spirit  which  arrogating  to  itself  to  speak  in  the 
name  of  the  people,  like  fanaticism  arrogating  to  it- 
self to  speak  in  the  name  of  God,  knows  neither  mo- 
deration, mercy,  nor  justice;  regards  neither  feeling, 
principle,  nor  right,  and  sweeps  down  with  relentless 
fury,  all  that  dares  to  detect  its  follies,  oppose  its 
progress,  or  resist  its  domination.  It  is  my  know- 
ledge of  this  spirit,  sir,  of  its  frantic  excesses,  its  un- 
feeling tyranny,  and  its  intolerable  revenge,  that 
makes  me  anxious  to  raise  this  one  mound  between 
its  fury  and  public  liberty  ;  to  put  into  the  hands  of 
free  discussion,  one  shield  against  its  darts.  This 
shield,  I  have  little  doubt,  will  at  length,  and  per- 
haps very  soon,  be  torn  away ;  for  the  spirit  of 
which  I  speak,  goaded  by  conscious  inferiority,  sti- 
mulated to  madness  by  the  envy  of  superior  talents, 
reputation,  and  virtue,  knows  to  brook  no  check 
upon  its  power,  no  censure  upon  its  excesses.  Cut  I 
will  not  sanction  my  own  death  by  my  own  voice. 
I  will  not  yield  one  barrier  to  freedom  and  the  right 
to  opinion,  while  I  can  defend  it.  I  regard  this  law 
as  such  a  barrier;  feeble,  perhaps,  and  ineffectual  to 
check  the  progress  of  that  tyrannical  spirit,  which 
even  now  can  scarce  restrain  its  rage ;  but  though 
feeble  yet  dear  to  freedom,  and  never  to  be  aban- 
doned by  freedom's  friends.  And  in  order  to  keep  up 
this  barrier  to  the  last,  I  shall  now,  while  I  may, 
vote  for  the  continuance  of  that  law,  which  mitigates 
the  rigor  of  the  common  law  in  this  respect,  and  pro- 
tects the  liberty  of  the  press  and  of  opinion,  by  en- 
acting that  the  truth  may  be  given  in  evidence,  on 
indictments  for  libels  against  the  government. 

Mr.  Harper  was  much  esteemed  for  his  moral 
worth,  his  readiness  to  aid  his  friends,  his  cheer- 
fulness and  geniality.  His  conversational  powers 
were  as  marked  as  his  ease  and  freedom  in  public 
discourse,  and  his  society  was,  on  this  account, 
much  sought  after.  The  hospitalities  of  his  man- 
sion were  ample,  and  its  charities  free  and  liberal. 
In  person  he  was  tall  and  well  proportioned,  and 
his  health,  until  within  two  or  three  years  of  his 
death,  when  his  constitution  was  much  injured  by 
an  attack  of  bilious  fever,  excellent.   . 

MATIIEW  CAEET. 
Matttew  Carey,  a  voluminous  political  writer 
and  extensive  publisher,  was  born  in  Dublin,  Ire- 
land, January  28,  1760.  His  father,  a  baker  who 
had  accumulated  a  handsome  fortune  by  the  suc- 
cessful prosecution  of  his  trade,  bestowed  upon 
his  five  sons  a  liberal  education.  Mathew  evinced 
at  an  early  age  an  aptitude  fur  the  study  of  lan- 
guages, but  made  little  progress  in  mathematics. 
At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  chose  the  business  of 
printer  and  bookseller  as  his  future  calling  against 
the  wishes  of  his  father,  who  offered  him  the 
choice  of  any  of  twenty-five  other  trades.  At 
the  age  of  seventeen  he  commenced  his  career  as 
an  author  by  the  publication  of  an  essay  on  Duel- 
ling in  the  Hibernian  Gazette.  In  1779  he  pub- 
lished a  pamphlet  on  the  oppression  of  the  Irish 
Catholics  by  the  penal  code,  the  advertisement  of 
which  was  so  emphatically  worded  as  to  attract 


the  attention  of  the  Irish  Parliament.  The  pub- 
lication was  suppressed,  and  the  author  would 
have  been  prosecuted  had  he  not  after  a  few 
days'  concealment  been  sent  to  Paris  by  his 
friends.  Here  he  became  acquainted  with  Dr. 
Franklin,  who  gave  him  employment  at  his  print- 
ing-office at  Passy.  At  the  end  of  a  year  he  re- 
turned unmolested,  and  was  engaged  as  the  con- 
ductor of  a  paper  called  the  Freeman's  Journal. 
On  the  13th  of  October,  1783,  he  published  the 
first  number  of  a  paper  of  his  own,  the  Volun- 
teer's Journal,  the  means  for  the  enterprise  hav- 
ing been  furnished  by  his  father.  It  soon  had  a 
larger  circulation  than  any  newspaper  but  one  in 
Dublin,  and  was  largely  instrumental  in  forward- 
ing the  plans  of  the  Irish  Volunteers.  It  was  not 
long  suffered  to  escape  the  attention  of  the  govern- 
ment. An  attack  on  the  parliament  and  premier 
in  the  number  of  April  5,  1784,  was  followed  by 
an  indictment  for  libel.  He  was  brought  before 
the  House  of  Commons  on  the  19th  of  April,  and 
imprisoned  by  the  sentence  of  that  body  in  New- 
gate, where  he  "lived  joyously — companies  of 
gentlemen  occasionally  dining  with  him  on  the 
choicest  luxuries  the  markets  could  afford,"  until 
the  14th  of  May,  when  the  authority  of  Parlia- 
ment to  imprison  terminating  with  their  adjourn- 
ment, he  was  liberated  by  the  Lord  Mayor.  A 
prosecution  for  the  libel  on  the  premier  was, 
however,  still  hanging  over  his  head,  and  as  his 
funds  had  been  nearly  exhausted  in  the  establish- 
ment of  his  newspaper,  the  fine  consequent  on  a 
conviction  would  have  heavil}-  embarrassed  him. 
By  the  advice  of  his  friends  he  again  withdrew 
from  the  country,  and  embarked  in  female  dress 
on  board  a  vessel  for  Philadelphia,  his  choice  of 
that  city  having  been  determined  by  reading  an 
account  of  his  own  trial  in  one  of  its  newspapers. 
The  account  would,  he  thought,  make  him  known 
and  secure  him  friends.  After  having  been  run 
ashore  by  a  drunken  pilot  in  ascending  the  Dela- 
ware, the  ship  landed  her  passengers,  November 
1, 1784.  It  happened  that  a  fellow-passenger,  by 
the  name  of  Wallace,  brought  with  him  a  letter 
to  General  Washington.  Presenting  himself  at 
Mount  Vernon,  he  found  Lafayette  making  his 
farewell  visit.  The  Marquis,  who  had  read  the 
account  of  Carey  in  the  Philadelphia  papers,  in- 
quired what  had  become  of  him,  and  was  informed 
of  his  arrival.  A  short  time  after  Lafayette  visit- 
ed Philadelphia,  sent  for  Carey,  and  learning  that 
he  was  desirous  to  establish  a  newspaper,  pro- 
mised to  recommend  him  to  Robert  Morri-i  and 
other  influential  men.  The  next  morning  Carey 
received  a  letter  from  the  General  inclosing 
§400,  a  sum  which  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  re- 
paving  on  the  General's  visit  to  the  countrv  in 
1824.  On  the  25th  of  the  following  January  he 
issued  the  first  number  of  the  Pennsylvania  He- 
rald. It  soon  obtained  a  reputation  by  its  publi- 
cation of  the  debates  of  the  House  of  Assembly, 
reported  by  the  editor,  as  well  as  by  its  spirited 
conduct,  which,  in  the  same  year,  involved  its 
conductor  in  a  controversy  with  Colonel  Oswald, 
the  editor  of  a  journal  supported  by  the  Repub- 
lican or  democratic  party,  leading  to  a  duel  in 
which  Carey  was  wounded  a  little  above  the  knee, 
an  injury  from  which  he  suffered  for  more  than 
a  year.  In  October,  1786,  he  commenced,  with 
several  partners,  the  publication  of  the  Colum- 


HATHEW  CAREY. 


641 


bian  Magazine,  a  monthly.  The  associates  dis- 
agreeing he  withdrew  in  December,. and  in  the 
next  January  commenced  the  American  Museum, 
a  monthly  magazine,  intended,  as  he  informs  us, 
"  to  pre-erve  the  valuable  fugitive  essays  that  ap- 
peared in  the  newspapers."  It  was  continued 
with  very  indifferent  success,  but  with  marked 
ability,  for  six  years.  The  volumes  contain  a 
greater  mass  of  interesting  and  valuable  literary 
and  historical  matter,  than  is  to  be  found  in  any 
other  of  our  early  American  magazines.  In  1791 
lie  married  Miss  B.  Flahavan.  On  the  discon- 
tinuance of  the  Museum  he  commenced  business 
as  a  bookseller  on  an  humble  scale,  a  large  por- 
tion of  his  stock  consisting  of  spelling-books.  He 
was  present,  he  informs  us,  for  twenty-five  years 
at  the  opening  of  his  store,  and  uniting  enterprise 
with  thrift,  established  one  of  the  most  important 
publishing  houses  in  the  Union.  In  1793;  during 
the  prevalence  of  the  yellow  fever,  he  was  an  ac- 
tive member  of  the  Committee  of  Health,  and  by 
his  personal  observation,  in  visiting  and  attending 
the  sick,  accumulated  a  quantity  of  information, 
which  he  collected  in  a  large  pamphlet,  on  the 
rise,  progress,  effects,  ami  termination  of  the  dis- 
ease, of  which  four  editions  were  sold.  He  was, 
in  the  same  year,  the  founder  of  the  Hibernian 
Society  for  the  relief  of  emigrants  from  Ireland ; 
and  in  1796  united  with  some  half  dozen  citizens, 
under  the  lead  of  Bishop  White,  in  the  formation 
of  the  first  Sunday-school  society  in  the  United 
States.  He  became  about  the  same  time  involved 
in  a  controversy  with  William  Cobbett.  In  1802 
he  issued  an  edition  in  quarto  of  the  Bible,  called 
the  standing  edition,  from  the  circumstance  of 
the  entire  volume  being  kept  in  type  to  supply 
the  demand  for  re-impressions.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  Luther's  Bible,  the  type  of  which  is  said 
to  have  been  left  standing  for  over  a  century,  this 
is  believed  to  have  been  the  first  edition  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures  thus  issued.  The  invention  of 
stereotyping  soon  after  obviated  the  necessity  of 
so  costly  an  expedient.  On  the  first  of  June  of 
the  same  year  the  booksellers  and  printers  of  the 
Union  met  in  New  York,  at  the  suggestion  of  Mr. 
Carey,  under  whose  guidance  an  association  simi- 
lar to  the  Book  Fairs  of  Germany  was  formed, 
under  the  presidency  of  their  oldest  associate, 
Hugh  Gaine.  The  plan  did  not  work  well,  and 
after  four  or  five  years  was  abandoned,  its  place 
being  subsequently  occupied  by  the  Trade  Sales. 
In  1806,  while  a  member  of  the  Select  Council  of 
Philadelphia,  Mr.  Carey  published  a  pamphlet  in 
favor  of  subjecting  personal  property  to  taxation 
as  well  as  real  estate.  An  ordinance  to  effect 
this  object  was  passed  by  the  Select  but  rejected 
by  the  Common  Council  of  the  city.  In  1810  he 
again  appeared  before  the  public,  in  opposition  to 
the  party  with  which  he  was  connected,  as  an 
advocate  for  the  renewal  of  the  charter  of  the 
United  States  Bank.  He  conducted  his  share  of 
the  controversy  with  great  energy,  writing  fre- 
quent articles  in  the  newspapers,  and  publishing 
pamphlets  also  of  his  own  composition,  which  he 
distributed  at  his  own  expense.  In  1814  he  pub- 
lished the  Olive  Branch,  a  work  designed  to  har- 
monize the  two  furiously  antagonistic  parties  of 
the  country.  Ten  editions  were  exhausted,  form- 
ing in  all  ten  thousand  copies,  an  immense  sale 
for  that  period.  Its  influence  was  as  extensive  as 
vol.  t. — 41 


its  circulation,  and  it  probably  contributed  in  no 
slight  degree  towards  that  political  repose  which 
marked  the  administration  of  Monroe. 


In  1817  the  agitation  of  Catholic  emancipation 
in  Ireland  urged  Carey  to  the  prosecution  of  a 
design  which  he  had  long  had  in  contemplation. 
He  was  still  further  excited  by  the  publication  of 
Godwin's  novel  of  Mandeville,  presenting  in  pow- 
erful colors  a  view  which  he  considered  unjust  of 
the  Irish  insurrection  of  1641.  In  consequence 
of  this  he  set  to  work  to  prepare  an  account  of 
his  native  country  which  should  expose  the  errors 
and  misstatements  of  English  historians.  He 
made  a  large  collection  of  materials,  and  planned 
his  work  with  great  deliberation,  but  sent  his 
manuscript  as  fast  as  each  day's  work  was  com- 
pleted to  the  printer,  so  that  it  was  in  type  al- 
most as  soon  as  written.  It  appeared  under  the 
title  of  Vindieim  Hibernicce  in  1818,  with  such 
success  that  four  editions  were  called  for. 

Mr.  Carey  shortly  after  became  a  warm  advo- 
cate of  a  protective  tariff.  He  published  from 
1819  to  1833  no  less  than  fifty-nine  separate  pam- 
phlets on  this  subject,  amounting  to  twenty-three 
hundred  and  twenty-two  pages.  Many  of  these 
passed  through  several  editions,  were  reprinted 
in  newspapers,  and  regarded  as  authoritative  ami 
valuable  exponents  of  the  views  they  advocated. 
In  addition  to  these  publications  Mr.  Carey  was 
a  frequent  advocate  in  the  newspapers  of  the 
same  opinions.  In  1833  and  '4  he  contributed  to 
the  New  England  Magazine  his  Autobiography, 
in  an  extended  and  somewhat  desultory  series  of 
articles. 

In  addition  to  these  literary  labors  and  those 
connected  with  his  extensive  business  relations, 
Mr.  Carey  was  an  active  advocate  of  the  internal 
improvements  of  his  city  and  state,  especially  of 
the  construction  of  the  Chesapeake  and  Delaware 
canal.  He  was  throughout  his  life  a  benevolent 
man,  and  towards  its  close  his  attention  was 
chiefly  devoted  to  the  relief  of  the  many  who 
sought  his  aid  in  the  furtherance  of  associations  of 


642 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


benevolence.  He  died  in  the  eity  with  which  he 
had  so  long  and  so  honorably  identified  his  inte- 
rests on  the  16th  of  September,  1839.    ' 

WILLIAM  MUXFORD. 

William  MuSfo'bd  w.-is  born  in  Mecklenburg 
county,  Virginia,  August  15,  1775.  His  father, 
Col.  Robert  Munford,  a  distinguished  patriot  of 
the  Revolution,  was  the  author  of  two  dramatic 
compositions,  entitled  "  The  Candidate"  and  "  The 
Patriots,"  illustrating  the  political  corruption  of 
his  day,  which,  with  some  minor  poems,  were 
published  at  Petersburg,  Va.,  in  1798.* 

The  son,  early  left  by  his  father's  death  in  the 
charge  of  his  mother,  a  lady  of  superior  accom- 
plishments, was  educated  at  "William  and  Mary, 
where  he  was  the  pupil  of  the  eminent  George 
Wythe,  from  whom  he  derived  a  taste  for  classical 
literature,  which  accompanied  him  through  life. 
Having  further  studied  law  with  Wythe,  at  the 
early  age  of  twenty-one,  in  1797,  he  was  elected 
to  the  House  of  Delegates  from  his  native  county, 
and  after  a  service  of  four  years  was  chosen  a 
senator  from  the  district.  In  that  body  he  also 
served  a  term  of  four  years,  and,  at  the  end  of 
that  period  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Privy 
Council  of  State,  when  he  changed  his  residence 
to  Richmond.  He  continued  in  the  Council 
until  the  year  1811,  when  he  received  the  honor- 
able and  lucrative  appointment  of  Clerk  of  the 
House  of  Delegates,  an  office  which  lie  held  till 
his  death.  Besides  the  faithful  discharge,  of  these 
public  trusts,  he  reported  for  several  years  the 
decisions  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Appeals  in 
Virginia,  of  which  four  volumes,  from  1806  to 
1809,  were  prepared  in  conjunction  with  William 
W.  Hening,  and  six,  from  1810  to  1820,  were 
from  his  own  pen.  He  was  likewise  one  of -the 
chosen  assistants  of  Benjamin  Watkins  Leigh,  in 
the  revision  of  the  Virginia  Statute  Laws  in 
1819. 

His  literary  productions  were,  an  early  volume 
of  Poems  and  Compositions  in  Prose  on  Several 
Occasions,  published  at  Richmond  in  1798,  which 
includes  a  tragedy,  "Almoran  and  Hamet,"  se- 
veral versifications  of  Ossian,  translations  from 
Horace,  and  a  number  of  occasional  poems, 
patriotic  and  satirical.  As  juvenile  verses  they 
show  some  crudity,  while  the  selection  of  subjects 
is  creditable  to  the  tastes  of  the  writer.  In  1806, 
he  delivered  in  the  capitol  at  Richmond,  a  fune- 
ral eulogium  on  his  venerable  friend  Chancellor 
Wythe.t  His  chief  literary  work,  to  which  he 
gave  the  leisure  of  his  life,  was  his  translation  of 
the  Iliad  of  Homer  into  blank  verse,  which  he  com- 
pleted, but  which  was  not  published  till  after  his 
death. \  It  is  sometimes  a  spirited,  generally  a  cor- 
rect, and  throughout  a  pains-taking  version;  if 
lacking  in  that  poetic  gusto  which  is  requisite  to 
reproduce  the  rare  qualities  of  the  original,  it  is 
at  least  an  honorable  addition  to  a  life  of  profes- 
sional occupation,  and  may  be  read  with  satisfac- 
tion. At  the  time  of  undertaking  it,  the  author 
tells  us,  he  had  not  seen  the  translation  in  similar 
measure  by  Cowper.     On  its  publication,  it  had 


*  Griswold's  Poets  of  Amcrca,  p.  8. 
t  Sandufsbn's  Lives  of  the  Signers,  it  17G. 
%  Homer's  Iliad :  translated  by  William  Munford.    2  vols. 
8vu.    Boston  :  Litt'.o  &  Brown.    1S46. 


the  fortune  to  be  reviewed  by  Felton  in  the 
North  American  Review,  by  C.  A.  Bristed  in 
the  American  Whig  Review,  and  by  the  Rev.  N. 
L.  Frothingham  in  the  Christian  Examiner,* 
with  various  degrees  of  favor  ;  and  the  articles 
contain  besides  much  interesting  information, 
in  the  comparison  of  the  work  of  different  trans- 
lators. 

Munford  died  at  his  residence  in   Richmond, 
June  21,  1825. 

THE  GODS  MINGLING  IN    THE    BATTLE — FROM  THE  TWENTIETH 
BOOK   OF  THE   ILIAD. 

They,  with  minds 
Discordant,  hasten'd  to  the  scene  of  strife; 
Juno  and  Pallas  to  Achaia's  fleet, 
With  Neptune,  girder  of  the  spacious  globe, 
Hermes,  benevolent  and  wise,  of  arts 
Inventor,  Vulcan,  terrible  in  strength, 
Rolling  dread   threatening  eyes,  but  lame  of  foot, 
And  dragging  after  him  distorted  limbs ; 
But,  to  the  host  of  Troy,  Mars,  rapidly 
His  crested  helmet  shaking,  Phoebus,  bright, 
With  locks  unshorn,  Diana,  glorying 
In  bows  and  arrows  keen  ;  Latona  fair, 
Their  honor'd  mother  ;  Nanthus,  river  god, 
And  lovely  Venus  queen  of  heavenly  smiles. 
While  yet  the  gods  from  men  apart  remain, 
The  Greeks  exult  with  joy  unlimited, 
That  great  Achilles  in  their  van  appears, 
Achilles,  absent  long  from  horrid  tight! 
Wot  so  the  Trojans,  they  cold  tremor  felt 
In  every  limb  ;  for,  terror-struck,  they  saw 
The  swift  Pelides,  blazing  in  his  arms, 
Dreadful  as  Mars,  the  bane  of  human  kind ! 
But  when  the  gods,  among  the  throng  of  men 
Embattled,  came,  then  raging  Discord  rose, 
Rousing  the  nations.     Fierce  Minerva,  then, 
Shouted  terrific  ;  now  beside  the  fosse 
Fronting  the  wall,  now  near  the  sounding  shore 
She  stood,  and  rais'd  her  loud  tremendous  voice. 
This  awful  shout.  Mars,  opposite,  return'd, 
Terrific  as  a  roaring  midnight  storm, 
From  Ilion's  towery  height,  with  outcry  shrill. 
The  Trojan  host  encouraging,  and  thence 
Flying  to  Simois,  and  the  beauteous  mount 
Callicolone.     Thus  the  blessed  gods, 
Exciting  Troy  and  Greece,  both  armies  urg'd 
To  fell  contention  ;  and,  with  horrid  shock, 
They  rush'd  against  each  other.     Dread,  above, 
Thunder'd  the  awful  sire  of  men  and  gods! 
Beneath,  stern  Neptune  shook  the  boundless  earth, 
And  bent  the  summits  of  her  highest  hills  ; 
Huge  Ida's  deep  foundations,  and  her  cliffs, 
Sources  of  many  rolling  rivers,  all 
Were  shaken,  with  the  Trojan  city,  too, 
And  navy  of  the  Greeks.     The  king  of  shades, 
Tremendous  Pluto,  in  the  nether  realm, 
That  dire  concussion  felt,  and  from  his  throne 
Affrighted  leap'd,  and  gave  a  fearful  cry; 
Lest  he  that  shakes  the  solid  globe  should  rei.d 
Its  mighty  mass  asunder,  and,  to  sight 
Of  mortals  and  immortals,  open  lay 
The  dark  abodes  of  terror,  loathsome,  foul, 
Which  e'en  the  gods  themselves  with  horror  view. 
Such  was  the  wild  commotion,  when  the  gods 
That  conflict  join'd  ;  for  radiant  Phcebus,  arm'd 
With  winged  arrows,  ocean's  king  oppos'd, 
And  sage  Minerva  strove  with  furious  Mars  ; 
The  golden-quiver'd  huntress  with  bent  bow, 
And  echoing  horn,  rousing  the  woodlands  wide, 
Diana,  sister  of  the  god  of  day, 


*  Si  A.  Eev.,  No.  132.    Whig  Ecview,  Oct.  1S46.    Chris. 
Ex.,  Sip.  1846. 


PAUL  ALLEN. 


643 


Defied  imperial  Juno  ;  Hermes,  sire 
Of  useful  arts,  benignant  friend  to  man, 
Against  Latona  warr'd  ;  and  Vulcan's  strength 
The  mighty  river,  foaming,  deep,  and  swift, 
Resisted  ;  Xanthus,  by  immortals  nam'd, 
By  mortals  call'd  Scamander.     Thus  oppos'd, 
Gods  against  gods,  were  mingled  in  the  fray. 

PAUL  ALLEN. 

Paul  Allen  was  born  at  Providence,  R.  I.,  on  the 
fifteenth  day  of  February,  1775.  Soon  after  the 
completion  of  his  education  at  Brown  University, 
in  1796,  he  removed  to  Philadelphia,  where  he 
became  a  contributor  to  the  Port  Folio  and  the 
United  States  Gazette.  In  1801,  he  published 
a  small  volume,  Original  Poems,  Serious  and 
Entertaining  (printed  by  Joshua  Gushing,  Sa- 
lem). He  also  prepared  for  the  press  by  re-writ- 
ing the  Journal  of  Lewis  and  Clark's  Expedition. 
He  seems  to  have  been  more  conscientious  in  this 
performance  underthe  names  of  others  than  under 
his  own,  as  he  about  the  same  time  issued  pro- 
posals for  a  Life  of  Washington,  and  received  a 
large  number  of  subscribers,  without  having  writ- 
ten a  line,  or  made  the  least  preparatory  study  for 
the  work.  It  was  promised  season  after  season, 
while  the  author  still  neglected  to  put  pen  to  pa- 
per, or  consult  a  single  volume  in  fulfilment  of 
his  contract. 


After  the  publication  of  Lewis  and  Clark's  Tra- 
vel-, he  was  engaged  as  an  editor  of  the  Federal 
Republican  newspaper  ;  but  a  disagreement  with 
his  associates  led  to  a  separation,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  period  of  mental  hallucination  and 
poverty  so  extreme  that  he  was  imprisoned  for  a 
debt  of  thirty  dollars. 

His  friends  rallied  to  his  aid  and  started  a  pa- 
per, the  "Journal  of  the  Times,"  for  the  sake  of 
giving  him  an  editorial  chair.  The  project  was 
unsuccessful,  but  a  second  attempt  at  Baltimore, 
the  Morning  Chronicle,  secured  him  a  support  by 
its  wide  circulation.  It  was  then  resolved  to  bring 
out  the  long  promised  life  of  Washington.  It  was 
written  by  Meal  and  Watkins,  and  appeared  under 
the  name  of  Allen,  who  wrote  a  page  or  two 
of  the  preface,  in  two  volumes,  in  1821. 

John  Neal  did  his  friend  another  equally  good 
service,  by  reducing  his  poem  of  Noah,  it  having 
been  submitted  to  his  revision,  to  one  fifthlof  its 
original  dimensions.  As  this  fifth,  which  was 
published  in  1821,  contains  five  cantos,  and  would 
be  improved  by  a  second  reduction,  the  poem  in 
its  primeval  proportions  must  have  been  peculiar- 
ly suggestive  in  quality  and  quantity,  as  well  as 
title,  of  the  event  it  celebrates.  It  began  with  the 
small  drop  of  "  a  little  sonnet  addressed  to  a 
dove,"  which  it  was  the  author's  "  first  impres- 
sion," as  he  naively  states  in  his  preface,  "  would 
comprehend  and  exhaust  all  that  he  should  have 
to  say  upon  the  subject." 

The  poem  as  published  commences,  whether 
owing  to  Mr.  Neul's  clippings  we  know  not,  with 
the  sending  forth  of  the  Raven.    The  other  events 


of  the  Bible,  narrative  follow  in  due  sequence ; 
but  an  episode  occupying  the  fourth  canto  is  in- 
troduced, directed  against  the  disbelievers  in  the 
unity  of  the  race. 

The  author  claims  the  merit  of  simplicity  in  his 
preface,  and  is  fairly  entitled  to  do  so.  The  gene- 
ral course  of  the  verse  is  pleasing,  and  we  occa- 
sionally meet  with  happy  lines  like  this — 

And  each  loud  rain-drop  beats  a  funeral  knell. 

His  description  of  the  exodus  of  the  animals  from 
the  Ark  is  spirited,  but  contains  occasional  cou- 
plets, which,  however  true  to  nature,  have  slight 
connexion  with  poetry. 
The  Elephant. 

What  venturous  son  of  Adam  dares  oppose, 
That  might3'  arm  projecting  from  his  nose? 
The  Hyena. 

Take  warning  from  the  brutes,  behold  they  stir, 
And  gaze  and  tremble  at  that  shining  fur. 
The  Dog. 

Come,  let  thy  social  tail  express  to  all 
Thy  heartfelt  raptures  at  thy  master's  calL 

The  career  of  the  offspring  of  Japhet,  by  which 
the  author  represents  his  own  countrymen,  is  one 
of  the  best  passages  in  the  Poem.  It  is  followed 
by  a  contest  between  the  lion  and  eagle,  British 
and  American.  The  former,  to  Noah's  dismay, 
attacks  Japhet's  son,  and  the  latter  thus  comes  to 
the  rescue. 

He  prayed,  then  paused,  and  lo!  the  Zodiac  rings 
With  the  loud  clangor  of  descending  wings ! 
The  clouds  disperse,  and  now  by  heavenly  grace, 
An  Eagle,  soaring  in  his  pride  of  place, 
Was  seen,  the  head  of  Japheth  hovering  o'er; 

J    A  thunderbolt  the  pluming  stranger  bore — 
The  .Patriarch  shuddered  at  the  dreadful  sight. 
He  gazed  again,  and  oh !  with  what  delight, 

|    He  saw  that  harbinger  of  peace  serene, 
The  smiling  olive — with  its  leaf  of  green  , 
Bright  o'er  his  wings,  and  in  a  ground  of  blue, 
A  constellation  broke  on  Noah's  view : 

!   He  knelt  with  lowly  reverence  on  the  ground, 
And  thirteen  stars  were  seen  to  sparkle  round ; 

i    The  lion  saw  the  shining  guard  display, 
Their  lances  beaming  in  the  blaze  of  day: 
Back  o'er  the  wave  he  fled,  that  very  hour, 
And  left  the  child  that  he  would  fain  devour. 

Allen  remained  editor  of  the  Chronicle  until  his 
death  in  1826. 

THE  CHILD   OF  JAPHET. 

A  boy  the  wondering  Patriarch  next  descried, 
Serene  in  youthful  beauty  by  his  side, 
He  saw  each  gentle  smile,  each  budding  grace, 
That  bloomed  more  largely  in  his  Japheth's  face. 
The  form,  the  air,  the  features,  well  he  knew, 
His  bounding  heart  proclaimed  the  vision  true. 

Onward  he  passed— and  Noah  saw  with  fear, 
A  child  so  young  had  no  kind  parent  near, 
Alas,  who  knows  what  terrors  may  await! 
What  dangers  threat  his  unprotected  state. 
Shield  him,  ye  angels!  for  his  fate  is  hard, 
Be  thou,  blest  Providence,  the  pilgrim's  guard  1 

The  Patriarch  now  beheld  this  little  child 
Abandoned  to  a  vast.and  gloomy  wild — 
Here  savage  beasts  were  howling  round  for  prey, 
Here  savage  man  was  seen,  more  fierce  than  thcv. 
Through  the  dark  tangled  thickets,  Noah  spies 
The  cruel  glances  of  ferocious  eyes, 


6U 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


The  frown  of  scorn,  contortions  strange  and  wild, 
All  beut  intensely  on  this  wandering  child. 

Onward  lie  passed,  his  nerves  no  danger  shook, 
He  cast  to  heaven,  a  calm  confiding  look, 
The  selfsame  quiet  gaze  an  infant  shows, 
Who,  when  surrounded  by  a  thousand  foes, 
Casts  but  an  eye,  and  sees  a  parent  near, 
Then  forward  moves  insensible  to  fear! 
For  well  he  knows,  that  steadfast  eye  surveys 
Each  feeble  tottering  footstep,  as  he  strays; 
He  knows  that  voice,  with  tenderness  replete, 
Will  oft  reprove  the  errors  of  his  feet: 
Secure  and  anxious  never  to  offend 
His  kind  protecting  father  and  his  friend, 
The  boy  sees  only,  in  the  hour  of  harm. 
Outstretched  salvation  in  that  powerful  arm. 

And  thus  did  Japheth  in  the  hour  of  care 
Rely  on  heaven,  for  all  his  strength  was  there. 
He  passed,  protected  by  an  holy  spell, 
Down  at  his  feet  the  swift  winged  arrows  fell. 

Onward  he  passed — the  hostile  tribes  dismayed, 
To  see  an  infant  without  human  aid 
Defy  their  vengeance — felt  a  sacred  awe, 
Astonished  at  the  prodigy  they  saw. 
A  power,  superior  far  to  mortal  arts, 
Wrought  such  unnatural  terror  in  their  hearts, 
In  deep  astonishment  they  now  began 
To  think  the  wondrous  stranger  more  than  man. 

Onward  he  passed — and  now  with  wild  surprise. 
The  savage  man  and  beast  before  him  flies ; 
Howling  with  dread  they  sought  the  forest  shade, 
Warned  by  the  beam  that  round  his  temples  played  : 
"No  eye  of  hostile  vengeance  could  endure 
The  light  of  innocence,  so  calm,  so  pure. 

Onward  he  passed — through  perils  how  severe  ; 
The  giant  forests  bowed  as  lie  drew  near, 
Prostrated  all  their  honours,  and  expressed 
Their  reverence  for  so  wonderful  a  guest. 
Where'er  he  trod,  as  by  divine  command, 
His  footsteps  in  this  dark  and  howling  land, 
Betokened  life,  and  joy,  and  light  serene, 
All  gay  with  flowers,  or  bright  with  cheerful  green. 
Thus  when  the  storms  of  winter  pass  away, 
Succeeded  by  the  blj'thesome  vernal  day : 
A  fairy  spirit  wanders,  none  can  see; 
So  light,  so  thin,  so  delicate  is  she. 
She  rides  the  wandering  zephyr,  as  he  roves 
Through  garden  walks,  or  more  majestic  groves, 
Touches  the  withered  herb — 'tis  decked  in  bloom, 
She  breathes — the  floweret  catches  the  perfume; 
She  speaks,  and  joy,  and  mirth,  and  transport  now, 
In  spangled  plumes  are  seen  on  every  bough  ; 
In  every  place,  the  welcome  stranger  meets 
A  breathing  gratitude  of  varied  sweets. 

Onward  did  Japheth  pass,  where  savage  men, 
And  savage  beasts  had  shared  one  common  den  ; 
The  lofty  turrets  and  the  sacred  spires 
Held  glittering  parlance  with  the  solar  fires, 
And  forms  of  female  innocence  were  seen, 
Beside  the  cottage,  all  embowered  in  green, 
Teaching  the  devious  needle  as  it  strays, 
To  lead  the  snowy  thread  through  every  maze ; 
While  others  taught  the  embryo  flowers  to  bloom, 
Or  sung  to  the  sweet  labours  of  the  loom. 

Onward  he  passed,  his  visage  shone  so  clear, 
That  mountains,  rivers,  inland  seas  appear; 
And  as  the  wondrous  infant  nearer  drew, 
They  stood  unveiled  to  Noah's  ravished  view  ; 
Mountains,  whose  shade  expanding  in  the  ray, 
Seemed  sable  blots  upon  the  face  of  day. 
As  if  they  strove  in  all  their  pride  of  height 
To  measure  shadows  with  the  solar  light; 


Rivers,  still  rushing  with  resistless  force, 

Afar  those  shining  serpents,  wound  their  course, 

Far  even  as  prophetic  eye  could  strain, 

And  sought  in  sweeping  majesty  the  maiji — 

Through  forests  deep, o'er  meads,  and  down  the  vales, 

The  Patriarch  saw  the  glitter  of  their  scales; 

Seas,  inland  seas,  that  chafing  with  disdain, 

At  such  seclusion  from  the  parent  main —  • 

Like  fierce  imprisoned  spirits  rave  and  roar, 

And  strive  to  burst  the  bondage  of  the  shore. 

LYMAN  BEECnEK. 
Lyman  Beeoiiek,  a  divine,  who  recalls  by  his 
vigor  and  activity  through  a  long  life  the  remem- 
brance of  the  best  days  of  the  New  England  pul- 
pit, was  born  at  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  Sep- 
tember 12,  1775.  He  was  educated  at  Yule, 
pursued  theology  under  the  supervision  of  Presi- 
dent Bwight,  was  ordained  and  settled  at  East 
Hampton,  Long  Island,  in  1798.  In  1810,  he 
removed  to  Litchfield,  Conn.,  where  lie  remained 
actively  engaged,  in  addition  to  his  parochial 
duties,  in  the  foundation  of  the  Connecticut  Mis- 
sionary, the  Education,  the  Bible,  and  other 
societies  formed  for  the  advancement  of  the  Chris- 
tian cause,  until  1826,  when  he  accepted  a  call  to 
the  Hanover  Street  Church,  where  he  continued 
until  1832,  becoming  the  President  of  the  Lane 
Theological  Seminary,  Cincinnati.  He  resigned 
this  office  in  1842,  and  returned  to  Boston,  where 
he  still  resides.  His  chief  publications  consist  of 
sermons  and  addresses,  and  a  work  on  Political 
Atheism.  A  collection  of  his  writings,  in  four 
compact  duodecimo  volumes,  was  made  in  Bos- 
ton in  1852. 

The  energy  and  activity  which  have  charac- 
terized every  stage  of  I'r.  Beecher's  long,  useful, 
and  laborious  career,  have  descended  in  unim- 
paired vigor  to  his  children.  Of  his  four  sons, 
all  eminent  in  the  ministry,  one — Charles  Beecher 
— has  published  a  popular  volume,  The  Incarna- 
tion ;  or,  Pictures  of  the  Virgin  and  her  Son. 
Another  brother,  Edward,  has  written  a  duodeci- 
mo volume  on  Baptism,  its  Import  and  Modes; 
anil  an  ingenious  work,  entitled  The  Conflict  pf 
Ages,  in  which  he  maintains  a  theory,  referring 
the  origin  of  evil  to  a  supposed  existence  of  the  pro- 
genitors of  the  human  race  prior  to  Adam  ;  and 
a  third,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  is  one  of  the  most 
popular  speakers  of  the  day.  His  sermons  attract 
an  audience,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  sufficient  to 
crowd  the  large  place  of  worship  in  Brooklyn,  of 
which  he  is  pa-tor  ;  and  he  is  equally  favored  in 
his  frequent  appearances  as  a  lecturer  on  topics 
of  the  day. 

Tire  daughters  of  Dr.  Beecher  contribute  their 
full  share  to  the  general  activity  of  the  family. 
Miss  Catharine  Beecher  is  the  author  of  Domestic 
Service;  the  Duty  of  American  Women  to  their 
Country  ;  Housekeeper's  Beccipt-Boolc ;  Moral  In- 
structor ;  The  True  Remedy  for  the  Wrongs  of 
Woman,  with  a  History  of  an  Enterprise  having 
that  for  its  object ;  Treatise  on  Domestic  Economy  ; 
and  Truth  Stranger  than  Fiction,  a  vigorous 
denunciation  of  the  alleged  flirtations  of  young 
divinity  students.  These  volumes  are  of  small 
compass,  and  designed  for  wide  popular  influ- 
ence. 

Of  the  other  sister,  Mrs.  Stowe,  we  shall  have 
occasion  to  speak  at  a  later  period. 


JOHN  HENRY  HOBART. 


645 


"The  Beecher  family,"  remarks  a  writer  in  the 
North  American  Review,*  "  almost  constitute  a 
genus  by  themselves.  The  same  t3'pe  of  mind 
and  style  is  reproduced  in  the  writings  of  the 
venerable  father  and  of  his  singularly  gifted  chil- 
dren, though  stiffening  into  a  certain  solemn 
stateline  -s  in  the  author  of  The  Conflict  of  Ages, 
and  in  Henry  Ward  trenching  close  upon  the 
dividing  line  between  licit  humor  and  lithe  buf- 
foonery. The  father,  in  his  palmy  days,  was  un- 
equalled among  living  divines  for  dialectic  keen- 
ness, scathing  invective,  pungent  appeal,  lambent 
wit,  hardy  vigor  of  thought,  and  concentrated 
power  of  expression ;  but  he  always  fumbled  over 
an  extra-Scriptural  metaphor,  and  exhibited  little 
beauty  except  that  of  strength  and  holiness, — a 
beauty  which  never  shone  from  him  so  resplen- 
dently  as  now,  that,  on  the  verge  of  fourscore,  it 
hallows  the  sunset  of  as  noble  a  life  as  man  ever 
led,  and  presages  the  dawning  of  a  renewed 
youth  in  a  more  exalted  sphere  of  the  Divine 
service." 

JOHN  HENEY  HOBAET. 
Jonx  Henry  Hobart,  a  descendant  from  Joshua 
Hobart,  one  of  the  early  settlers  of  Ma-sachusetts 
Bay,  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  September  14, 
1775.  He  was  prepared  for  college  in  the  Protes- 
tant Episcopal  Academy  of  that  city,  under  the 
charge  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Andrews,  afterwards 
Provost  of  the  University,  and  was  graduated  from 
Princeton  College  in  17U3.  He  was  then  induced 
to  engage  in  mercantile  pursuits,  a  mode  of  life 
which  he  abandoned  after  a  brief  trial,  for  the 
ministry.  While  engaged  in  Ms  preparatory 
studies  he  received  and  accepted  the  appointment 
of  tutor  in  Princeton  College,  which  he  retained 
until  his  ordination  by  Bishop  White,  in  June, 
1798.  He  commenced  his  clerical  labors  by 
taking  charge  of  two  country  parishes,  Trinity, 
Oxford,  and  All  Saints',  Pequestan.  In  the  fol- 
lowing year  he  accepted  a  call  to  New  Brunswick, 
but  preferring  the  quiet  of  a  country  parish, 
removed  to  Hempstead,  Long  Island.  During  his 
ministry  at  this  place,  he  married  a  daughter  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Chandler,  the  learned  and  zealous 
defender  of  Episcopacy  in  the  controversy  on  that 
subject  before  the  Revolution.  In  Docemberof  the 
same  year,  he  became  assistant  minister  of  Trinity 
Church,  New  York,  where  be  *o;>n  attained  a 
high  rank  as  an  eloquent  preacher.  In  1804,  lie 
published  a  small  devotional  volume,  The  Com- 
panion for  the  Altar.  It  was  followed  by  the 
Companion  to  the  Booh  of  Common  Prayer,  and 
in  1807  by  his  Apology  for  Apostolic  Order,  a 
work  designed  as  a  reply  to  the  strictures  of  the 
Rev.  John  M.  Mason  on  Episcopacy  in  the 
Christian  Magaziue.  In  1808,  he  commenced  a 
monthly  periodical,  The  Churchman's  Magazine. 
In  May,  1811,  he  was  elected  Assistant  Bishop  of 
New  York,  the  Bishop,  Dr.  Moore,  being  incapa- 
citated by  age  for  the  performance  of  official  duty. 
One  of  the  earliest  acts  of  his  Episcopate  was  to 
urge  upon  the  Convention  the  founding  of  an 
institution  for  the  education  of  the  ministry. 
His  exertions  were  seconded  by  those  of  others, 
and  resulted  in  the  establishment  of  the  General 
Protestant  Episcopal  Seminary. 

*  Oct.  1S54,  p.  i  i. 


In  1815,  he  published  a  Pastoral  Letter  to  the 
Laity  on  the  Bible  and  Common  Prayer  Book 
Society,  in  which  he  urged  the  propriety  of  the 
distribution  of  the  Prayer  Book  with  the  Bible. 
This  occasioned  much  opposition  from  those  who 
were  in  favor  of  a  general  union  of  all  sects,  in 
the  distribution  of  the  sacred  volume  alone.  An 
institution  of  this  character,  the  American  Bible 
Society,  was  soon  after  established.  The  Bishop, 
fearless  in  the  discharge  of  what  lie  considered  to 
be  his  duty,  published  an  Address  to  Episcopalians, 
in  which  he  urged  those  under  his  charge  to 
refrain  from  supporting  a  plan  which  would  neces- 
sarily weaken  their  own  agency  for  promoting 
the  same  object.  In  his  charge  to  the  Convention 
of  1815,  on  the  Nature  of  the  Christian  Ministry 
as  set  forth  in  the  Offices  of  Ordination,  he  still 
further  enforced  his  views  of  the  inexpediency  of 
union  between  those  who  differed  widely  in 
essential  points  of  doctrine.  He  was  soon  after 
called  upon  to  preach  the  funeral  sermon  of  Ins 
associate.  Bishop  Moore.  On  the  publication  of 
this  disc  mrse,  he  appended  to  it  a  Dissertation  on 
the  State  of  Departed  Spirits  and  the  Descent  of 
Christ  into  Hell,  in  which  he  advocated  the 
I  doctrine  of  an  intermediate  state  of  consciousness 
I  between  death  and  the  .resurrection,  with  a 
I  thoroughness  which  has  caused  the  essay  to 
become  a  standard  authority  upon  the  subject. 

In  1823,  Bishop  Hobart  sailed  for  Europe,  the 
relaxation  of  travel  having  become  necessary  for 
the  re-establishment  of  his  health,  impaired  by 
his  unremitting  labors.  He  remained  about  two 
years  abroad.  During  his  visit  to  England,  where 
he  was  very  warmly  received,  he  published  two 
volumes  of  sermons,  which  were  immediately  re- 
printed in  this  city.  The  Sunday  after  his  return, 
he  preached  a  sermon  in  Trinity  Church,  in  which 
he  compared  the  countries  he  had  visited  with 
his  own,  and  dwelt  with  force  upon  the  superior 
advantages  of  our  voluntary  system  over  an  esta- 
blished church  for  the  promotion  of  Christianity. 
The  discourse  was  printed  and  excited  much  com- 
ment, both  in  this  country  and  in  England. 

The  Bishop,  restored  to  health,  resumed  the 
duties  of  his  office  with  his  wonted  efficiency, 
continuing  their  discharge  to  the  moment  of  his 
last  illness.  He  was  attacked  by  a  fever  while  at 
Auburn,  in  the  course  pf  his  visitation  of  the 
diocese,  and  died  at  that  place  after  a  brief  illness, 
September  12,  1830.  A  collection  of  his  Post- 
humous Works,  with  a  Memoir  by  the  Rev. 
William  Berrian,  D.D.,  Rector  of  Trinity  Church, 
was  published  in  1 883*  His  life  was  also  written 
by  the  Rev.  John  M'Vickar.t 

The  character  of  Bishop  Hobart  was  warm, 
generous,  impulsive ;  quick  in  intellect,  benevo- 
lent in  temper,  and  of  unwearied  activity  in  all  the 
habits  of  life.  Ho  was  always  busy  with  earnest 
devotion  to  his  Christian  calling,  while  he  did  not 
neglect  the  social  courtesies  and  innocent  enjoy- 
ments of  life.  He  had  a  scholar's  taste  for  books, 
and  a  poet's  enjoyment  of  nature.  A  well  stored 
library  gratified  the  one,  and  a  small  but  nobly 
situated  piece  of  land  on  the  historic  site  in  New 


*  The  Posthumous  Works  of  the  late  Et.  Eev.  John  Henry 
Hobart,  D.D.  With  a  Memoir  of  his  Life,  bv  the  Rev.  William 
Berrian,  D.D.    8  vos.  Svo.    Swords,  Stanford  &  Co. 

t  In  a  series  of  three  volumes,  the  Early,  the  Professional, 
and  the  Closing  Years  of  Bishop  J.  H.  Hobart. 


646 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Jersey  among  the  Short  Hills,  where  Washington 
had  held  his  post  of  observation,  ministered  to  the 
other  in  his  few  opportunities  for  rural  retire- 
ment. 

His  pulpit  style  was  quick  and  energetic.  No 
audience  ever  slumbered  under  his  preaching. 

His  services  to  his  church  were  constant  and 
untiring.  Death  found  him  away  from  home 
engaged  in  a  laborious  visitation  of  his  diocese. 
New  York,  whither  his  remains  were  brought, 
'  gave  a  distinguished  testimony  to  his  personal 
character  in  the  long  procession  which  followed 
on  foot  in  his  funeral  from  the  parsonage  attached 
to  St.  John's  Church  in  Hudson  Square  to  Old 
Trinity,  where  a  fine  monument,  sculptured  by 
Ball  Hughes,  was  erected  to  his  memory. 

AMERICA!*  PRINCIPLES   OF  CIVIL  FETvEDOM.* 

Let  us  never  withhold  the  acknowledgment,  that 
from  the  first  of  European  nations,  drawing  our 
origin,  we  have  also  derived  her  admirable  princi- 
ples of  civil  freedom.  Rejecting,  indeed,  the  feudal 
characteristics  of  her  polity,  the  monarchical  and 
aristocratic  features  of  her  constitution,  we  broadly 
and  fearlessly  recognise  the  great  truth,  that  though, 
in  its  general  powers,  and  in  its  sanctions,  govern- 
ment is  "  ordained  of  God,"  in  the  particular  form  of 
its  administration  "  it  is  the  ordinance  of  man  ;"  and 
that,  in  this  sense,  the  people  only  are  the  source  of 
that  political  power,  which,  when  exercised  accord- 
ing to  the  legitimate  forms  of  the  constitution  which 
thej*  have  established,  cannot  be  resisted,  but  under 
the  penalty  of  resisting  the  ''ordinance  of  God." 
Still,  though,  in  these  respects,  our  governments 
differ  from  that  of  England,  let  us  gratefully  remem- 
ber, that  from  her  we  have  derived  not  only  many  of 
her  unrivalled  maxims  of  jurisprudence,  those  which 
protect  the  freedom  of  the  subject  and  secure  the 
trial  by  jury,  but  those  great  principles  which  con- 
stitute the  superiority  of  the  modern  republics  above 
the  ancient  democracies.  These  are,  the  principle 
of  representation ;  the  division  of  the  legislative, 
executive,  and  judiciary  departments;  the  check  on 
the  exercise  of  the  power  of  legislation  by  its  dis- 
tribution among  three  branches;  the  independence 
of  the  judiciary  on  all  influence,  except  that  of  the 
constitution  and  the  laws ;  and  its  accountability,  and 
that  of  the  executive,  to  the  people,  in  the  persons 
of  their  representatives ;  and  thus  what  constitutes 
the  characteristic  blessing. of  a  free  people,  a  govern- 
ment of  laws  securing  to  all  the  enjoyment  of  life, 
of  liberty,  and  of  property. 

But  even  in  this,  next  to  our  own,  the  freest  of 
nations,  it  is  impossible  not  to  form  a  melancholy 
contrast  between  the  power  and  the  splendour  and 
the  wrealth  of  those  to  whom  the  structure  of  society 
and  the  aristocratic  nature  of  the  government  assign 
peculiar  privileges  of  rank  and  of  political  conse- 
quence, with  the  dependent  and  often  abject  condi- 
tion of  the  lower  orders;  and  not  to  draw*  the  con- 
clusion, that  the  one  is  the  unavoidable  result  of  the 
other. 

Advantages  confessedly  there  may  be  in  privi- 
leged orders,  as  constituting  an  hereditary  and  per- 
manent source  of  political  knowledge  and  talent, 
and  of  refinement  and  elevation  of  character,  of  feel- 
ing, and  of  manners.  And  in  this  view,  no  men  can 
be  more  imposing  or  more  interesting  than  the  high- 
minded  noblemen  and  gentlemen  of  England.  But, 
in   this  imperfect   world,   we    cannot  enjoy  at  the 


*  From  the  Discourse  on  the  United  States  of  America  com- 
pared with  European  Countries,  1825. 


same  time  all  possible  advantages.  And  those  which 
result  from  the  hereditary  elevation  of  one  small 
class  of  society,  must  produce  in  all  the  noble  quali- 
ties which  distinguish  independent  freemen,  a  cor- 
responding depression  of  the  great  mass  of  the  com- 
muuit}7.  And  can  we  for  a  moment  hesitate  which 
state  of  society  to  prefer?  No.  It  is  the  glorious 
characteristic  of  our  admirable  polity,  that  the 
power,  and  the  property,  and  the  happiness,  which 
in  the  old  nations  of  the  world  are  confined  to  the 
few,  are  distributed  among  the  many;  that  the 
liveliness  and  content  which  pervade  the  humblest 
classes  among  us,  are  not  the  meie  result  of  that 
buoyancy  of  animal  spirits  which  nature  seems  to 
have  kindly  infused  into  our  frame,  and  which  man 
shares  with  the  beast  that  sports  in  the  field  or 
courses  over  the  plain — but  a  sober  sentiment  of 
independence,  nurtured  by  the  consciousness  that  in 
natural  rights  and  original  political  power  all  are 
equal.  The  obedience,  therefore,  which  fear  in  a 
great  measure  extorts  from  the  mass  of  the  people 
of  other  countries,  is  here  the  voluntary  offering  of  a 
contented  and  happy,  because,  in  the  broadest  sense 
of  the  term — a  free  people. 

PHILANDEE  CHASE. 


Bishop  Chase,  one  of  the  greatest  promoters  of 
institutions  of  sound  learning  in  the  United  States, 
was  a  descendant  from  Aquila  Chase,  a  native  of 
Cornwall,  England,  who  came  to  America  in 
1640,  and  after  a  residence  of  live  years  at  Hamp- 
ton, New  Hampshire,  settled  at  Newbury,  Massa- 
chusetts. His  grandson,  Dudley,  the  father  of  the 
bishop,  removed  with  his  several  brothers  to  a 
township  of  which  he  had  obtained  a  grant  on 
the  Connecticut  river,  above  Fort  No.  4,  now 
Charleston,  which  was  then  the  limit  of  settle- 
ment. After  planting  a  crop,  but  before  the 
settlers  could  build  a  house,  he  was  joined  by  his 
wife,  who  was  the  first  white  woman  who  sought 
a  home  above  Fort  No.  4.  The  scene,  as  described 
by  his  mother,  is  happily  narrated  in  the  bishop's 
Reminiscences. 

"  With  your  leave,  madam,"  said  Pilot  Spalding, 
"  I  think  it  prudent  that  your  husband  come  to  us, 
and  give  orders  where  he  will  have  his  family 
lauded."  Accordingly  he  made  fast  the  canoe  to  the 
willows,  and  desired  us  to  await  his  return.  Your 
father  could  get  no  direct  answer  from  Spalding  as 
to  the  nature  of  the  cargo  he  had  brought.  "  Come 
and  s  2e,"  was  all  he  would  say.  "  Is  all  well  ?"  said 
your  father,  "  have  you  brought  us  a  good  supply 
of  food*  "  "  Co  Tie  and  see,"  replied  Spalding,  with 
animation,  and  in  an  instant  they  burst  upon  our 
view  ;  and  as  your  dear  father  stood  on  the  margin 
of  the  high  bank,  he  saw  beneath  his  feet  the  frail 
bark,  in  which  were  his  wife  and  children.  The 
emotion  was  almost  too  much  for  him.  I  saw  this, 
aal  sprang  forward,  the  children  quickly  following. 
He  received  us  with  a  mixture  of  joy  mingled  with 
agony.  "  Are  you  come  to  die  here,"  he  exclaimed, 
'•  before  your  time  ?  We  have  no  house  to  shelter 
you,  and  you  will  perish  before  we  can  get  one 
erected."  "  Cheer  up,  cheer  up,  my  faithful !  "  said 
I  to  your  father;  "let   the   smiles  and  the  rudly 


PHILANDER  CHASE. 


647 


faces  of  your  children,  and  the  health  and  cheer- 
fulness of  your  wife,  make  you  joyful.  If  you  have 
no  house,  you  have  stre.igth  and  hands  to  make  one. 
The  God  we  worship  will  bless  us,  and  help  us  to 
obtain  a  shelter.  Cheer  up,  cheer  up,  my  faithful !  " 
The  sunshine  of  joy  and  iiope  beg.in  to  beam 
from  liis  countenance;  the  news  was  communicated 
throughout  the  company  of  workmen,  and  the  woods 
rang  with  shouts  at  the  arrival  of  the  first  white 
woman,  and  the  first  family  on  the  banks  of  the 
Connecticut  river  above  Fort  Number  Four.  All 
assembled  to  see  the  strangers,  a:id  strove  to  do  them 
acts  of  kindness.  The  trees  were  quickly  felled  and 
peeled,  and  the  clean  bark  in  large  sheets  was  spread 
for  a  floor;  other  sheets  being  fastened  by  thongs 
of  twisted  twigs  to  stakes  driven  in  the  ground, 
were  raised  for  walls  or  laid  on  cross-pieces  for  a 
roof;  and  the  cheerful  fire  soon  made  glad  our  little 
dwelling.  The  space  of  three  hours  was  not  con- 
sumed in  effecting  this  ;  and  never  were  men  more 
happy  than  those  who  contributed  thus  speedily  and 
effectually  to  supply  our  wants.  Beds  were  brought 
from  the  canoe  to  this  rustic  pavilion,  and  on  them 
we  rested  sweetly,  fearless  of  danger,  though  the 
thick  foliage  was  wet  with  dew,  and  the  wild  beasts 
howled  all  around  us,  trusting  to  the  protecting 
hand  of  Providence,  and  the  watchful  fidelity  of  our 
faithful  neighbors. 

The  settlement  was  called  Cornish,  in  honor  of 
the  ancient  family  home,  and  prospered.  It  was 
here  that  Philander  Chase  was  born,  December 
14-,  1775.  He  was  the  younge.t  of  a  family  of 
fourteen,  and  derived  his  Christian  name  from  one 
of  the  characters  of  Young's  Night  Thoughts,  of 
which  lie  tells  us  his  father  was  so  great  an  ad- 
mirer, that  he  knew  the  whole  poem  by  heart. 
One  of  his  brothers,  Dudley,  became  Chief  Justice 
of  Vermont,  and  Senator  of  the  United  States. 
Philander  was  brought  up  on  the  farm,  with  the 
expectation  of  leading  an  agricultural  life,  when 
in  his  fifteenth  year  he  broke  his  leg,  and  in  the 
season  of  confinement  which  consequently  ensued, 
was  advised  by  his  father  to  change  his  plans. 

The  advice  was  followed,  and  in  the  fall  of 
1701,  after  a  preparation  of  less  than  a  year,  he 
entered  Dartmouth  College.  It  was  here,  he  states, 
that  in  the  winter  of  1793  and  '4  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  and 
soon  after,  with  many  of  his  relatives,  conformed 
to  the  church  in  which  he  was  to  occupy  a  pro- 
minent position. 

After  taking  his  degree  in  1795,  he  went  to 
Albany  in  search  of  "  an  English  clergyman," 
who  was  said  to  reside  in  that  city.  His  nar- 
rative relates  the  result. 

Having  passed  Market,  he  entered  Court  street, 
and,  stopping  at  Wendal's  Hotel,  inquired,  where 
lives  the  Rev.  Thomas  Ellison,  the  Episcopal  clergy- 
man ?  "What,  the  English  Dominie?"  replied  a 
friendly  voice.  "  You  will  go  up  State  street — pass 
the  English  stone  church,  which  stands  in  the  middle 
of  that  street,  and  as  you  go  up  the  hill,  turn  the 
second  corner  to  the  right ;  there  lives  the  English 
Dominie,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ellison,  in  a  newly-built 
white  house,  the  only  one  on  the  block  or  clay 
bank."  It  was  indeed  just  so ;  and  the  writer 
mounted  the  plank  door-steps,  and  with  a  trembling 
hand  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  rector  of  St.  Peter's, 
Albany.  "Is  this  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ellison  ?"  said  the 
writer,  as  the  top  of  a  Dutch-built  door  was  opened 
by  a  portly  gentleman  in  black,  with  prominent  and 


piercing  eyes,  and  powdered  hair.  "  My  name  is 
Ellison,"  said  he,  "  and  I  crave  yours?  "  Giving  his 
name,  the  writer  said,  "  I  have  come  from  New 
Hampshire,  the  [dace  of  my  nativity,  and  being  very 
desirous  of  becoming  a  candidate  for  holy  orders 
I  will  be  much  obliged  for  your  advice."  Mr.  Elli- 
son then  said,  "  God  bless  you !   walk  in." 

He  pursued  his  studies  for  the  ministry  with 
Mr.  Ellison,  and  on  the  tenth  of  May,  17U8,  was 
ordained  deacon  in  St.  George's  Church,  New 
York.  He  was  immediately  appointed  an  itine- 
rant preacher  in  the  northern  and  western 
portions  of  the  State.  At  that  time  there  were 
but  two  clergymen  of  his  faith  above  the  High- 
lands, Mr.  Ellison  at  Albany,  and  Mr.  Nash  in 
Otsego  County.  In  his  western  tour,  after  orga- 
nizing parishes  in  Utica  and  Auburn,  he  visited 
"  good  Mr.  Nash."  The  account  of  this  visit  is 
one  of  the  most  characteristic  passages  of  the 
"  Keminiscences." 

FATIIF.R  NASH. 

The  writer  does  not  pretend  to  more  sensibility 
than  falls  to  the  lot  of  most  men,  but  there  was 
something  in  this  meeting  between  Mr.  Nash  and 
himself  of  a  peculiar  character,  and  calculated  to 
call  forth  whatever  of  moral  sensibility  he  possessed. 
It  was  a  meeting  of  two  persons  deeply  convinced 
of  the  primitive  and  apostolic  foundation  of  the 
Church  to  which,  on  account  of  its  purity  of  doctrine, 
and  the  divine  right  of  its  ministry,  they  had  fled 
from  a  chaos  of  confusion  of  other  sects.  They 
were  both  "  missionaries,"  though  the  name  was  not 
understood  or  appreciated.  The  one  had  given  up 
all  his  hopes  of  more  comfortable  living  in  the  well 
stored  country  at  the  East,  and  had  come  to  Otsego 
County,  to  preach  the  Gospel,  and  build  up  the 
Church  on  apostolic  ground,  with  no  assurance  of  a 
salary  but  such  as  he  could  glean  from  the  cold  soil 
of  unrenewed  nature,  or  pluck  from  the  clusters  of 
the  few  scions  which  he  might  engraft  into  the  vine, 
Christ  Jesus.  He  lived  not  in  a  tent,  as  the  patri- 
archs did,  surrounded  witli  servants  to  tend  his 
flocks  and  to  milk  his  kine,  and  "bring  him  butter 
in  a  lordly  dish ;"  but  in  a  cabin  built  of  unhewn 
logs,  with  scarcely  a  pane  of  glass  to  let  in  light 
sufficient  to  read  his  Bible;  and  even  this  cabin  was 
not  his  own,  nor  was  he  permitted  to  live  in  one  for 
a  long  time  together.  All  this  was  witnessed  by  the 
other,  who  eame  to  see  him,  and  helped  him  to  carry 
his  little  articles  of  crockery,  holding  one  handle 
of  the  basket  and  Mr.  Nash  the  other,  and  as  they 
walked  the  road,  "  talked  of  the  things  pertaining 
to  the  kingdom  of  God." 

The  writer  cannot  refrain  from  tears  in  bringing 
to  mind  the  circumstances  attending  this  interesting 
scene,  that  man,  who  was  afterwards  emphatically 
called,  "  Father  Nash,"  being  the  founder  of  the 
Church  in  Otsego  County — who  baptized  great  num- 
bers of  both  adults  and  children,  and  thus  was  the 
spiritual  father  of  so  many  of  the  family  of  Christ, 
and  who  spent  all  his  life  and  strength  in  toiling  for 
their  spiritual  benefit — was  at  this  period  so  little 
regarded  by  the  Church  at  large,  and  even  by  his 
neighbors,  that  he  had  not  the  means  to  move  his 
substance  from  one  cabin  to  another  but  with  his 
own  hands,  assisted  only  by  his  wife  and  small 
children,  and  a  passing  missionary.  "Well  does  the 
writer  remember  how  the  little  one-roomel  cabin 
looked  as  he  entered  it ;  its  rude  door,  hung  on 
wooden  hinges,  creaking  as  they  turned;  how  joy- 
ful that  good  man  was  that  lie  hail  been  mindi'ul 
to  fetch  a  few  nails,  which  he  had  used  ia  the  other 


648 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


cabin,  jnst  left,  for  his  comfort  in  this,  now  the  re- 
ceptacle of  all  his  substance.  These  he  drove  into  the 
logs  "with  great  judgment,  choosing  the  place  most 
appropriate  for  his  hat,  his  coat,  and  other  garments 
of  himself  and  family.  All  this  while  his  patient 
wife,  who,  directing  the  children  to  kindle  the  fire, 
prepared  the  food  for — whom?  Shall  it  be  said  a- 
stranger?  2\'o;  but  for  one  who  by  sympathy  felt 
kimself  more  their  brother  than  by  all  the  ties 
of  nature,  and  who,  by  the  example  now  set  before 
him,  learned  a  lesson  of  inexpressible  use  to  him  all 
the  days  of  his  subsequent  life. 

Mr.  Chase  soon  after  established  himself  in 
Poughkeepsie,  where  he  remained  until  1805, 
supporting  himself'  mainly  by  teaching.  He  then, 
at  the  request  of  the  Bishop  of  the  Diocese,  who 
had  received  an  application  for  a  clergyman  from 
the  Protestants  of  Slew  Orleans,  removed  to  that 
city.  He  assisted  in  the  organization  of  Christ 
Church,  became  its  rector,  established  a  school,  and 
made  missionary  excursions  in  the  surrounding 
country.  In  1811  he  returned  to  the  North,  in 
consequence  of  the  necessity  of  providing  for  the 
education  of  the  children  he  had  left  there.  His 
next  parochial  charge  was  at  Hartford,  where  he 
spent,  he  informs  us,  the  most  peaceful  period  of 
his  life.  In  1814  his  father  and  mother  died, 
having  attained  the  venerable  ages  of  eighty-six 
and  eighty -one  years.  In  1S17  he  left  his  com- 
fortable and  happy  home,  to  devote  himself  to 
the  great  work  of  missionary  labor  in  Ohio.  He 
started  on  the  second  of  March,  and  travelled  in 
a  stage-sleigh  to  Batavia.  From  Buffalo,  lie  pro- 
ceeded over  the  ice  on  the  lake  to  Ohio,  a  journey, 
owing  to  the  lateness  of  the  season,  attended 
with  great  peril.  We  again  resort  to  the  bishop's 
narrative. 

It  was  terrific  to  the  feelings,  if  not  in  the  eye  of 
reason,  to  hear  the  water  pour  over  the  runners  of 
the  sleigh  as  we  crossed  this  muddy  stream,  in  a 
dark  r.ight,  so  far  out  from  shore.  The  man  (who 
had  brought  them  a  stage  on  their  journey)  was 
liberally  rewarded  for  his  extra  trouble,  and  that 
night  we  stayed  at  Mack's  Tavern  ;  an  elderly  per-' 
son,  wiio  ngreed  that  his  hired  man  should  take  us 
on  the  lake  as  far  as  the  Four  Corners — a  place 
where  there  were  two  log  cabins — about  twenty -five 
miles  short  of  Pennsylvania  line. 

The  next  morning  was  cold  but  clear — no  wind, 
and  the  day  promised  to  be  mild  and  pleasant.  A 
large,  good,  travelling  horse  was  put  before  a  one- 
horse  sleigh,  called  by  the  landlord  his  "  cutter," 
large  enough  to  accommodate  two  and  the  driver. 
It  was  sunrise  ere  we  set  off. 

In  getting  out  on  to  the  lake,  we  had  to  pass  be- 
tween several  mounds  of  ice,  and  sometimes  to  climb 
over  large  cakes,  which  had  been  thrown  tip  together 
by  the  force  of  the  winds  and  waves.     But  the  driver   [ 
knew  his  way,  and   the  horse  was  rough-shod,  and   j 
the  cutter  was  strong  and    well  built.     The  scene   | 
before  us,  as- we  came  out  from  among  the  mounds   ; 
of  ice,  was  exceedingly  brilliant,  and  even  sublime.    ; 
Before  us,  up  the  lake,  was  a  level  expanse  of  glassy 
ice,   from   two  to  three  miles  wide,  between   two 
ranges  of  ice  mountains,  all  stretching  parallel  with 
the  lake  shore  and  with  one  another,  as  far  as  the   j 
eye  could  extend,  till  they  were  lost  in  the  distance. 
On  this  expanse,  and  on  these  mountains,  and  on  the 
icicles,  which  hung  in  vast  quantities,  and  in  an  in- 
finite variety  of  shapes  from  the  rocky,  lofty,  and 
sharp-angled  shore  on  the  left,  the  risirg  sun  was 
pouring  his    beams.      Light    and   6hade    were   so 


distinct,  brilliancy  and  darkness  were  in  such  prox- 
imity, and  yet  J/)  blended,  as  to  produce  an  effect  of 
admiration  and  praise  to  the  great  Creator,  never 
before  experienced.  It  would  be  in  vain  to  express 
them  here. 

What  added  to  the  adoring  gratitude  to  God,  for 
having  made  all  things  with  such  consummate  skill 
and  splendor,  was  what  appeared  as  we  rode  along 
between  these  mountains  of  ice,  manifesting  God's 
providential  goodness,  which  went  hand  in  hand 
with  His  power  and  wisdom.  The  bald-headed 
eagles  sat  on  these  mountains  of  ice,  with  eacli  a  fish 
in  his  claw,  fresh  and  clean,  as  if  just  taken  from  the 
limpid  lake.  "  What  noble  birds !  How  delicious 
the  repast!  Whence  do  they  obtain  these  fish  at 
this  inclement  season  ? "  said  the  writer.  "  They  get 
them,"  said  the  driver,  "from  the  top  of  the  ice. 
These  were  thrown  up  and  deposited  by  the  winds 
and  waves,  in  the  storms  of  last  winter,  and  being" 
immediately  frozen,  have  been  kept  till  this  spring, 
when  the  sun  thaws  them  out  for  the  eagles  and 
ravens,  who  at  this  season  have  nothing  else  to  feed 
on."  As  the  driver  told  this  simple  story  of  the  fish, 
and  the  storms,  and  the  eagles,  how  clearly  appeared 
the  providential  goodness  of  God  1  "  And  will  not 
He  who  feedeth  the  eagles  and  the  ravens,  which  he 
hath  made  to  depend  on  his  goodness,  feed,  and  sup- 
port, and  bless  a  poor,  defenceless,  solitary  mission- 
ary, who  goeth  foith,  depending  on  his  mercy,  to 
preach  his  holy  word,  and  to  build  up  his  church  in 
the  wilderness?  "  There  was  an  answer  of  faith  to 
this  question,  more  consoling  than  if  the  wealth  of 
the  Indies  had  been  laid  at  his  feet. 

It  was  a  little  before  noon  when  our  Cataraugus 
driver  stopped  on  the  ice,  opposite  Four  Corners. 
Having  received  his  pay  and  j  ut  the  luggage  on  the 
bank,  he  returned.  "Thus  far  had  the  Lord  helped." 
What  next  would  be  our  lot  we  knew  not,  Leav- 
ing our  trunks  on  the  beach,  where  there  was 
nothing  to  molest  them,  we. walked  up  the  ba:  k 
towards  the  cabins.  As  we  went,  the  writer  per- 
ceived a  pair  of  smooth,  black  horses,  with  their 
harness  on,  eating  beside  the  fence,  ai.d  a  man,  sittfi  g 
not  far  off.  shaving  shingles.  "  Who  owns  these 
horses?"  said  the  writer.  "I  do,"  said  the  man. 
"  Have  you  also  a  good  sleigh?"  "Yes."  "Will 
you  put  them  before  it  immediately,  and  take  two 
persons  up  thelake  as  far  as  Pennsylvania  line  ?  "  At 
this  lie  paused — said  he  hud  just  moved  on  from  the 
east,  and  wanted  money,  "  bad  enough,"  having,  in 
moving  his  family,  expended  every  cent  he  had. 
"  But,"  said  he,  "  it  is  a  dangerous  job  you  ask  of  me, 
for  the  lake  is  open  above,  and  the  wind  puts  the 
water  in  motion,  and  that  causes  the  ice  this  way 
to  crack  ;  and  they  say  it  is  dangerous  to  travel  on  ; 
but  if  you  reward  me  a  little  extra,  I  think  I'll  go." 

The  bargain  was  soon  made;  a  few  dough-nuts 
bought  of  the  woman  in  the  cabin  sufficed  to  allay 
the  hunger  of  the  two  travellers,  and  hearing  the 
man  whistling  for  his  dog,  and  cracking  his  whip  to 
his  prancing  horses,  just  ready  to  start,  they  both 
ran  to  the  lake  and  were  soon  adjusted  in  their 
seats.  The  horses  trotted  with  uncommon  speed, 
and  had  evenness  as  well  as  length  of  step.  The 
shore  seemed  to  fly  beside  us,  as  since  when  on  our 
railroads,  and  soon  were  the  Four  Corners  out  of 
sight. 

The  writer  soon  perceived  the  dangers  to  which 
his  present  driver  had  alluded,  and  the  sight  caused 
no  ordinary  feelings.  The  cracks  in  the  ice  became 
more  and  more  visible,  and  continued  to  increase  in 
width,  as  we  drove  rapidly  along.  Nothing,  how- 
ever, was  said.  The  horses  having  trotted  without 
injurv  over  the  small  cracks,  became  soon  accustomed 
to  leap  over  the  wide  ones ;  but  none  were  so  wide 


PHILANDER  CHASE. 


649 


as  to  let  in  the  runners  lengthwise,  and  we  blessed 
God  silently,  though  heartily,  for  every  successful 
leap. 

New  spirits  seemed  to  be  given  to  our  faithful 
beasts  the  further  they  went — no  whip  was  necessary. 
The  driver  clung  to  his  seat,  and  seemed  to  enjoy 
their  increased  speed.  A  house  was  in  sight,  and 
directly  he  pulle.l  up  to  the  smooth,  pebbly  shore. 
"  This  is  the  place  I  promised  to  bring  you  to  ;  it  is 
Pennsylvania  line.  You  are  now  on  the  lake  shore 
of  that  state."  "I  will  go  no  further  on  the  ice," 
said  the  writer.  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so," 
said  Mr.  Hibbard,  "  for  my  heart  has  been  in  my 
moutli  all  the  way."  "  Why  did  not  you  speak,  if 
you  objected  to  this  mode  of  travelling?"  said  the 
writer.  "  Because,"  said  he,  "  I  was  ashamed  not  to 
possess  as  much  courage  as  a  minister."  How  little 
did  he  know  of  the  writer,  who  had  no  courage 
aside  from  his  trust  in  God.  The  driver  received 
his  pav,  called  for  his  dog,  and  was  off.  Once  more 
we  were  oa  the  lonely  beach. 

He  read  prayers  and  preached  for  the  first  time 
in  Ohio,  on  the  16th  of  March,  1817,  made  a 
tour  through  the  State,  was  joined  by  his  wife 
and  family,  and  settled  down  on  a  tract  of  land 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  acres  at  Worthington, 
taking  charge  at  the  same  time  of  churches  in 
that  place,  Columbus,  and  Delaware.  In  January, 
1818,  a  Convention  was  held  at  Columbus,  at 
which  the  Diocese  of  Ohio  was  organized,  and  at 
a  subsequent  Convention  in  June,  Mr.  Chase  was 
elected  bishop.  He  had,  on  the  fifth  of  May 
previous,  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his  wife.  On 
the  eleventh  of  February,  1819,  he  was  con- 
secrated by  Bishop  White.  He  was  married  on 
Sunday,  July  -A  of  the  same  year,  to  Miss  Sophia 
M.  [ngraham. 

In  1823  the  bishop  formed  the  resolution  of 
visiting  England,  to  solicit  funds  for  the  establish- 
ment of  a  school  of  theology  in  the  West.  The 
scheme  was  regarded  as  chimerical  by  his  brother 
bishops,  and  met  with  opposition  from  the  friends 
of  the  General  Theological  Seminary  in  New 
York.  The  bishop  persevered,  and  with  the 
small  provision  of  $i00  to  meet  his  expenses, 
sailed  for  Liverpool,  His  first  experiences  were 
disheartening,  but  he  persevered,  and  found  in 
Lord  Gamhier,  to  whom  he  carried  a  letter  from 
Henry  Clay,  and  Lord  Kenyan,  liberal  and  influ- 
ential friends.  The  bishop  made  a  donation  of 
his  farm  to  the  proposed  seminary,  and  agreed 
that  no  funds  contributed  should  be  drawn,  until 
English  donors  were  satisfied  by  the  voucher  of 
Henry  Clay,  or  in  case  of  his  death  the  Governor 
of  tiie  State,  that  the  conditions  of  the  gift  had 
been  complied  with.  He  returned  after  a  few 
months'  absence  with  about  $30,000.  The  semi- 
nary was  commenced  by  the  reception  of  students 
in  the  bishop's  own  house  at  Worthington.  lie 
appointed  his  teachers  and  paid  them  from  his 
own  funds,  and  such  as  he  collected  from  the 
students  themselves.  His  wife  was  his  secretary, 
his  housekeeper,  his  adviser,  and  treasurer  in  all 
this.  Such  a  commencement  of  a  great  institu- 
tion of  religion  and  learning,  on  so  economical  a 
plan,  was  never  elsewhere  witnessed.  The  next 
step  was  the  purchase  of  eight  thousand  acres  as 
a  domain.  The  bishop  rightly  estimating  the  im- 
portance of  his  own  personal  supervision,  built  a 
cabin  on  the  hill  on  which  the  college  was  to 
stand. 


The  whole  surface  of  the  hill  was  then  a  ■windfall, 
being  a  gre.iter  part  of  it  covered  with  fallen  and 
up-turned  trees,  between  and  over  which  had  come 
up  a  second  growth  of  thick  trees  and  bushes. 
It  was  on  such  a  place  as  this  (proverbially  imper- 
vious even  to  the  hunters  after  wolves,  which  made 
it  their  covert),  that  the  writer  pitched  his  tent,  if 
such  it  may  be  called.  On  the  south  end  or  pro- 
montory of  this  hill  (near  to  which,  below,  ran  the 
road  used  by  the  first  settlers),  grew  some  tall  oak 
trees,  which  evidently  had  escaped  the  hurricanes 
in  days  of  yore.  Under  the  shelter  of  these,  some 
boards  in  a  light  wagon  were  taken  nearly  to  the  top 
of  the  hill;  there  they  were  dropped,  and  it  was 
with  these  the  writer's  house  was  built,  after  the 
brush  was  with  great  difficulty  cleared  away.  Two 
erotched  sticks  were  driven  into  the  ground,  and  on 
them  a  transverse  pole  was  placed,  and  on  this  pole 
were  placed  the  boards,  inclining  to  the  ground  each 
way.  The  ends,  or  gables,  to  this  room  or  roof- 
shelter,  were  but  slightly  closed  by  some  clap 
boards  rived  on  the  spot  from  a  fallen  oak  tree.  The 
be  Is  to  sleep  on  were  thrown  on  bundles  of  straw, 
kept  up  from  the  damp  ground  by  a  kind  of  tem- 
porary platform,  resting  on  stakes  driven  deeply  into 
the  eai'th.  This  was  the  first  habitation  on  Gambler 
Hill,  and  it  stood  very  nearly  on  the  site  where  now 
rises  the  noble  edifice  of  Kenyou  College. 

On  his  visit  to  the  east,  to  attend  the  meeting 
of  the  General  Convention,  the  bishop  made  a 
tour,  during  which  he  collected  a  large  sum  in  aid 
of  his  project.  A  portion  of  the  buildings  was 
commenced  on  his  return,  and  in  good  season 
completed.  Scarcely,  however,  had  the  institu- 
tion gone  into  operation,  when  a  difficulty  arose 
between  the  bishop  and  the  professors,  as  to  the 
limits  of  the  power  of  the  former  as  ex-offieio 
president.  The  matter  was  brought  into  the  Con- 
vention of  the  diocese  in  1831,  and  a  report 
made,  virtually  endorsing  the  professors.  The 
bishop  said  nothing,  and  the  report  was  unani- 
mously adopted.  He  retired  from  the  Conven. 
tion,  and  tendered  his  resignation,  which  was  ac- 
cepted. He  soon  after  removed  to  Michigan  with 
his  family,  where  he  occupied  himself  with  his 
wonted  energy  in  missionary  duty  as  a  presbyter, 
until  he  received  in  1835  an  invitation  from  the 
small  handful  of  clergy  and  laity  which  com- 
posed the  diocese,  to  become  the  first  Bishop  of 
Illinois.  He  accepted  the  appointment,  and  soon 
after,  undaunted  by  the  hard  requital  his  former 
labors  had  received,  began  his  exertions  for  the 
foundation  of  a  Theological  Seminary  and  College. 
He  sailed  for  England  in  October,  to  appeal  again 
to  his  old  friends  for  aid,  and  the  appeal  was 
liberally  responded  to.  Further  donations  in  the 
Eastern  States  enabled  him  to  buy  land,  and 
commence  building.  The  corner-stone  of  the  new 
institution.  Jubilee  College,  was  laid  on  the  fourth 
of  April,  1S39,  on  a  large  and  beautiful  tract  of  ' 
land,  secured  by  the  bishop's  wise  forethought, 
j  as  a  domain  and  future  source  of  revenue.  He 
next  passed  a  year  in  travelling  through  the 
States,  north  and  south,  soliciting  funds  to  es- 
tablish scholarships,  and  was  tolerably  successful 
in  his  efforts.  His  Eemiui>cences  were  written 
and  published  with  a  view  to  advance  the  same 
cause.  Jubilee  College  was  built  and  opened,  and 
the  good  and  venerable  prelate,  by  virtue  of 
seniority  the  presiding  bishop  of  his  church,  was 
enabled  to  enjoy  for  some  years  the  spectacle  of 


650 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


its  harmony  and  usefulness.  His  cottage  home, 
Kobin's  Nest,  was  not  far  off,  and  it  was  here 
that  ou  the  twentieth  day  of  September,  1852,  he 
closed  his  long  life  of  labor  and  usefulness,  a 
career  unequalled  in  its  results  by  that  of  any 
clergyman  in  the  United  States. 

Bishop  Chase's  Beinihiscences  fill  two  large 
octavo  volumes,  a  large  portion  of  which,  how- 
ever, is  occupied  hy  letters  addressed  to  him, 
and  documents  connected  with  the  Ohio  contro- 
versy, and  other  events  of  his  life.  The  work 
abounds  in  passages  of  great  beaut}',  the  charac- 
ter of  which  may  be  judged  from  the  extracts 
interspersed  in  our  narrative.  They  remind  us 
of  the  heartfelt  simplicity  of  Izaak  Walton.  The 
same  noble  trait  was  a 'characteristic  of  the  dis- 
courses and  conversation  of  the  man.  But  while 
harmless  as  the  dove,  he  was  also  wise  as  the 
serpent.  His  cpndnct  in  relation  to  the  endow- 
ment of  his  colleges  shows  that  he  was  a  shrewd 
and  able  man,  "  not  slothful  in  business."  With 
his  personal  humility,  he  properly  combined  a 
high  sense  of  the  dignity  of  his  office. 

Bishop  Chase's  countenance  expressed  singular 
determination,  combined  with  benevolence.  He 
was  tall  and  well  proportioned ;  and  arrayed  in 
the  flowing  vestments  of  his  office,  witli  the  dark 
velvet  cap,  which  he  wore  continually  after  a 
severe  illness  brought  on  by  exposure,  and  which 
he  describes  with  his  wonted  quaintness,  as  "a 
thick  covering  to  his  head,  in  the  shape  of  a 
night-cap,"  his  form  seemed  to  fill  up  as  amply  to 
the  eye,  as  his  career  and  words  to  the  mind,  the 
full  ideal  of  a  bishop. 

JOHN  J.  AUDUBON. 

Jons'  James  Audubon  was  born  in  Louisiana  in 
1776.  His  acquaintance  with  Nature  seems  to 
have  been  early  formed  under  the  guidance  of  his 
father,  who  accompanied  him  in  his  boyish  ram- 
bles. He  was  sent  to  complete  his  education  in 
France,  where  he  remained  until  his  seventeenth 
year.  He  received  in  Paris  the  instructions  in 
drawing  of  the  celebrated  painter  David.  On  his 
return  his  father  presented  him  with  a  farm  in 
Pennsylvania,  "  refreshed  during  the  summer  heats 
by  the  waters  of  the  Schuylkill  river,  and  tra- 
versed by  a  creek  named  Perkioming."  Here  he 
married. 

"  For  a  period  of  nearly  twenty  years,"  he  says 
in  the  biographical  preface  to  his  great  work,  "  my 
life  was  a  series  of  vicissitudes.  I  tried  various 
branches  of  commerce,  but  they  all  proved  un- 
profitable, doubtless  because  my  whole  mind  was 
ever  filled  with  my  passion  for  rambling  and  ad- 
miring those  objects  of  nature  from  which  alone 
I  received  the  purest  gratification."  One  of  these 
commercial  speculations  led  him  to  try  his  for- 
tune at  the  West.  He  removed  with  his  wife 
and  child,  descending  the  Ohio  in  a  small  boat 
with  two  rowers  to  the  town  of  Henderson,  near 
Louisville,  Ky.,  and  opened  a  store  at  the  latter 
place.  Here  he  was  visited  by  Wilson,  and  was 
about  subscribing  for  the  naturalist's  work  when 
he  was  dissuaded  by  his  partner,  who  remarked 
to  him  that  as  he  could  make  much  better  draw- 
ings of  his  own  ho  would  not  want  the  plates. 
This  seems  to  have  given  him  the  first  hint  of  his 
future  publications.  He  does  not  appear,  how- 
ever, to  have  formed  any  settled  plan  on  the  sub- 


ject until,  on  a  visit  to  Philadelphia,  he  met  with 
Charles  Lucien  Bonaparte,  who  introduced  him 
to  the  Natural  History  Society  and  the  leading 
men  of  the  place.  "But  the  patronage  which  I 
so  much  needed,  I  soon  found  myself  compelled 
to  seek  elsewhere.  I  left  Philadelphia,  and  visit- 
ed New  York,  where  1  was  received  with  a  kind- 
ness well  suited  to  elevate  my  depressed  spirits." 
Ascending  the  Hudson  he  "  glided  over  our  broad 
lakes  to  seek  the  wildest  solitudes  of  the  pathless 
and  gloomy  forests."  Eighteen  months  elapsed, 
and  he  returned  to  his  family  then  residing  in 
Louisiana,  and  sailed  from  thence  for  England, 
his  endeavors  to  have  his  plates  engraved  in  Phi- 
ladelphia or  New  York  having  proved  unavailing. 
He  was  well  received  in  the  cities  of  England  and 
Scotland,  exhibited  his  drawings,  and  obtained 
subscriptions;  The  drawings  for  his  first  number 
were,  however,  delivered  to  the  engraver  and 
the  work  commenced  before  he  had  a  single  sub- 
scriber. His  work,  The  Birds  of  America*  was 
published  in  numbers,  each  containing  five  colored 
plates  of  large  folio  size.  The  first  of  these  ap- 
peared in  1825,  and  the  first  volume  in  1829. 


t.dA    c^TCM^tT^r^ 


In  April,  1829,  he  returned  to  America,  "  leaped 
on  shore,  scoured  the  woods  of  the  Middle  States, 
and  reached  Louisiana  in  the  end  of  November." 
He  returned  with  his  wife  to  London  in  the  fol- 
lowing spring.  In  1831  he  presented  himself  at 
Washington  to  obtain  letters  of  introduction  to 
the  commanders  of  the  frontier  posts  he  purposed 
visiting.  "  All,"  he  says,  "  received  me  in  the 
kindest  manner."  He  proceeded  southwards,. ex- 
ploring the  woods  of  the  Carolinas,  and  cruising 
among  the  keys  of  Florida  in  the  revenue  cutter 
"  Marion."  He  then,  following  the  birds  in  their 
migrations,  proceeded  northwards  to  the  Atlantic 
cities  and  the  coast  of  Maine,  where  he  chartered 
a  "  beautiful  and  last-sailing  schooner,"  and  prc- 


*  Tho  Birds  of  America,  from  Drawings  made  in  the  United 
States  and  tbeir  Territories. 


JOHN  J.  AUDUBON. 


651 


ceeded  in  her  to  Labrador.  He  returned  to  the 
South  in  the  following  winter,  and  to  England  in 
1834,  "with  an  accession  of  sixty-two  subscrib- 
ers,  and  the  collections  made  during  nearly  three 
years  of  travel  and  research."  His  second  volume 
was  published  in  1834,  and  the  third  in  1835. 
The  fourth  and  last  was  completed  June  20,  1838. 
The  whole  work  contains  four  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  plates,  containing  one  thousand  and  sixty-live 
distinct  specimens,  all,  from  the  eagle  to  the  hum- 
ming-bird, of  the  size  of  life.  The  engravings 
were  executed  and  colored  by  Robert  Havell,  jr., 
of  London.  The  original  subscription  price  was 
one  thousand  dollars,  and  the  number  6f  subscrib- 
ers one  hundred  and  seventy-five,  about  half  of 
whom  came  from  England  and  France.  In  1839 
Audubon  returned  to  the  United  States,  and  pur- 
chased a  beautiful  country-seat  on  the  Hudson, 
near  the  upper  end  of  New  York  Island.  He 
commenced  a  smaller  edition  of  his  "  Birds,"  in 
seven  octavo  volumes,  with  the  plates  reduced  to 
a  similar  size,  which  was  completed  in  1814. 
Meanwhile  the  author,  with  his  sons  Victor  G. 
and  John  W.  Audubon,  was  busy  in  the  forests 
and  prairies  of  the  West  in  collecting  the  material 
for  another  great  work.  ■  In  the  preface  to  the 
second  volume  of  his  Birds,  dated  Dec.  1,  1834, 
he  says  of  his  sons : — "  Of  their  natural  or  ac- 
quired talents  it  does  not  become  me  to  speak, 
but  should  you  some  day  see  the  'Quadrupeds  of 
America'  published  by  their  united  efforts,  do 
not  forget  that  a  pupil  of  David  first  gave  them 
lessons  in  drawing,  and  that  a  member  of  the 
Bakewell  family  formed  their  youthful  minds." 

The  first  volume  of  the  Quadrupeds  of  America 
appeared  in  1848.  It  is  similar  in  size  to  the 
"  Birds."  The  illustrations  were  lithographed,  and 
colored  under  the  author's  supervision,  by  Bowen 
of  Philadelphia.  The  Audubons  were  assisted  in 
the  work  by  the  Rev.  John  Bachman. 

Audubon's  time,  when  not  absent  on  his  jour- 
neys, which  he  continued  in  his  old  age  with  the 
determination  and  eagerness  of  youth,  was  pas-ied 
at  his  rural  home,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  coun- 
try-seats on  New  York  Island.  The  interior  was 
fitted  up  in  accordance  with  his  tastes  and  pur- 
suits, with  antlers  of  noble  size,  specimens  and 
drawings  of  birds  and  animals. 

It  was  in  this  pleasant  abode,  surrounded  by 
his  wife  and  family,  that  the  great  naturalist, 
after  a  brief  period  of  gradual  decay,  himself  paid 
the  debt  of  nature  on  the  27th  of  January,  1851. 
"  We  have  heard,"  says  a  writer  in  the  "  Homes 
of  American  Authors,"  "that  the  last  gleam  of 
light  stole  across  his  features  a  few  days  before 
his  death,  when  one  of  his  sons  held  before  him, 
as  he  sat  in  his  chair,  some  of  his  most  cherished 
drawings." 

He  was  buried  in  the  Trinity  cemetery,  a  short 
distance  from  his  abode. 

In  person  Audubon  was  tall  and  commanding, 
and  his  countenance,  from  the  sharp  glance  of  his 
eye  and  the  outline  of  his  features,  suggested  a 
resemblance  to  the  eagle. 

COMMON  HOCK1NG-JJIHD. 

It  is  where  the  great  magnolia  shoots  up  its  mn- 
jestic  trunk,  crowned  with  evergreen  leaves,  and 
decorated  with  a  thousand  beautiful  flowers,  that 
perfume  the  air  around ;  where  the  forests  and  fields 


are  adorned  with  blossoms  of  every  hue ;  where  the 
golden  orange  ornaments  the  gardens  and  groves; 
where  biguonias  of  various  kinds  interlace  their 
climbing  stems  around  the  white-flowered  stuartia, 
and  mounting  still  higher,  cover  the  summits  of  the 
lofty  trees  around,  accompanied  with  innumerable 
vines,  that  here  and  there  festoon  the  dense  foliage 
of  the  magnificent  woods,  lending  to  the  vernal 
breeze  a  slight  portion  of  the  perfume  of  their  clus- 
tered flowers ;  where  a  genial  warmth  seldom  for- 
sakes the  atmosphere ;  where  berries  and  fruits  of 
all  descriptions  are  met  with  at  every  step; — in  a 
word,  kind  reader,  it  is  where  Nature  seems  to  havo 
paused,  as  she  passed  over  the  earth,  and  opening 
her  stores,  to  have  strewed  with  unsparing  hand  the 
diversified  seeds  from  which  have  sprung  all  the 
beautiful  and  splendid  forms  which  I  should  in  vain 
attempt  to  describe,  that  the  mocking-bird  should 
have  fixed  its  abode,  there  only  that  its  wondrous 
song  should  be  heard. 

But  where  is  that  favored  land  ? — It  is  in  this  great 
continent. — It  is,  reader,  in  Louisiana  that  these 
bounties  of  nature  are  in  the  greatest  perfection.  It 
is  there  tlint  you  should  listen  to  the  love-song  of 
the  mocking-bird,  as  I  -it  this  moment  do.  See  how 
he  flies  round  his  mate,  with  motions  as  light  a3 
those  of  the  butterfly  !  His  tail  is  widely  expanded, 
he  mounts  in  the  air  to  a  small  distance,  describes  a 
circle,  and,  again  alighting,  approaches  his  beloved 
one,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  delight,  for  she  has  al- 
ready promised  to  be  his  and  his  only.  His  beauti- 
ful wings  are  gently  raised,  he  bows  to  his  love,  and 
again  bouncing  upwards,  opens  his  bill,  and  pours 
forth  his  melody,  full  of  exultation  at  the  conquest 
which  he  has  made. 

They  are  not  the  soft  sounds  of  the  flute  or  of  the 
hautboy  that  I  hear,  but  the  sweeter  notes  of  Na- 
ture's own  music.  The  mellowness  of  the  song,  the 
varied  modulations  and  gradations,  the  extent  of  its 
compass,  the  gi'eat  brilliancy  of  execution,  are  unri- 
valled. There  is  probably  no  bird  in  the  world  that 
possesses  all  the  musical  qualifications  of  this  king 
of  song,  who  has  derived  all  from  Nature's  self.  Yes, 
reader,  all! 

No  sooner  has  he  again  alighted,  and  the  conjugal 
contract  has  been  sealed,  than,  as  if  his  breast  was 
about  to  be  rent  with  delight,  he  again  pours  forth 
his  notes  with  more  softness  and  richness  than  be- 
fore. He  now  soars  higher,  glancing  around  with  a 
vigilant  eye,  to  assure  himself  that  none  has  wit- 
nessed his  bliss.  When  these  love  scenes,  visible 
only  to  the  ardent  lover  of  nature,  are  over,  he  dan- 
ces through  the  air,  full  of  animation  and  delight, 
and,  as  if  to  convince  his  lovely  mate  that  to  enrich 
her  hopes  he  has  much  more  love  in  store,  he  that 
moment  begins  anew,  and  imitates  all  the  notes 
which  nature  has  imparted  to  the  other  songsters  of 
the  grove. 

For  awhile,  each  long  day  and  pleasant  night  are 
thus  spent;  but  at  a  peculiar  note  of  the  female  ho 
ceases  his  song,  and  attends  to  her  wishes.  A  nest 
is  to  be  prepared,  and  the  choice  of  a  place  in  which 
to  lay  it  is  to  become  a  matter  of  mutual  considera- 
tion. The  orange,  the  fig,  the  pear-tree  of  the  gar- 
dens are  inspected  ;  the  thick  briar  patches  are  also 
visited.  They  appear  all  so  well  suited  for  the  pur- 
pose in  view,  and  so  well  does  the  bird  know  that 
man  is  not  his  most  dangerous  enemy,  that  instead 
of  retiring  from  him,  they  at  length  fix  their  abode 
in  his  vicinity,  perhaps  in  the  nearest  tree  to  his 
window.  Dried  twigs,  leaves,  grasses,  cotton,  flax, 
and  other  substances  are  picked  up,  carried  to  a 
forked  branch,  and  there  arranged.  Five  eggs  are 
deposited  in  due  time,  when  the  male  having  little 
more  to  do  than  to  sing  his  mate  to  repose,  attunes 


652 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


his  pipe  anew.  Every  now  and  then  he  spies  an 
insect  on  the  ground,  the  taste  of  which  he  is  sure 
will  please  his  beloved  one.  He  drops  upon  it,  takes 
it  in  his  bill,  beats  it  against  the  earth,  and  flies  to 
the  nest  to  feed  and  receive  the  warm  thanks  of  his 
devoted  female. 

When  a  fortnight  has  elapsed,  the  young  brood 
demand  all  their  care  and  attention.  No  cat,  no 
vile  snake,  no  dreaded  Hawk,  is  likely  to  visit  their 
habitation.  Indeed  the  inmates  of  the  next  house 
have  by  this  time  become  quite  attached  to  the 
lovely  pair  of  mocking-birds,  and  t:ike  pleasure  in 
contributing  to  their  safety.  The  dew-berries  from 
the  fields,  and  many  kinds  of  fruit  from  the  gardens, 
mixed  with  insects,  supply  the  young  as  well  as  the 
parents  with  food.  The  brood  is  soon  zzen  emerg- 
ing from  the  nest,  and  in  another  fortnight,  being 
now  able  to  fly  with  vigor,  and  to  provide  for  them- 
selves, they  leave  the  parent  birds,  as  many  other 
species  do. 

JOHN  ELAIE  LIOTT. 

Jons  Blair  Lixm  was  born  at  Shippensburg, 
Pennsylvania,  March  14,  1777.  "While  he  was 
yet  a  child  his  father  removed  to  New  York,  and 
after  passing  two  or  three  years  at  a  boarding- 
school  at  Flushing,  he  entered  Columbia  College 
at  the  early  age  of'  thirteen.  After  taking  his  de- 
gree he  became  a  law  student  in  the  office  of  his 
father's  friend,  Alexander  Hamilton.  During  the 
year  that  he  passed  in  reading  law,  he  brought 
out  a  dramatic  piece  at  the  John  Street  Theatre, 
entitled  Bourville  Castle ;  or,  the  Gallic  Orphan. 
It  is  described  in  the  advertisements  of  the  day 
as  a  "serious  drama,  interspersed  with  songs,"  and 
a  critique  from  "an  unknown  correspondent,"  in 
the  Minerva  newspaper  of  Jan.  18,  1707,  pro- 
bably his  friend  Brown  the  novelist,  who,  Dunlap 
tells  U",  revised  the  manuscript,  gives  the  only 
notice  it  appears  to  have  received  :■ — 

It  is  the  tale  of  injured  innocence  and  murdered 
greatness,  and  is  told  with  great  beauty,  affecting 
simplicity,  nay,  often  with  uncommon  pathos.  Upon 
the  whole,  though  it  would  be  "  outstepping  the 
modesty  of  nature"  to  call  Bourville  Castle  a  pro- 
duction equal  to  Shakespeare's,  yet  it  is  but  the  just 
tribute  of  merit  to  say  that,  considering  the  author's 
years,  it  is  a  masterly  dramatic  composition  ;  and 
contains  every  requisite,  both  as  to  sentiment  as 
well  as  to  music  and  scenery,  to  excite  the  feeling 
approbation  of  an  audience. 

It  was  produced  on  Monday,  Jan.  16,  and  was 
played  three  times.  The  public  did  not  second 
the  anonymous  critic.  A  law  student,  who 
brought  out  a  play  in  the  first  year  after  opening 
his  books,  was  not  likely  to  turn  out  a  lawyer 
even  with  so  distinguished  a  master  as  Hamilton. 
He  took  no  interest  in  the  profession,  and  would 
probably  have  abandoned  it,  even  if  the  change 
which  now  took  place  in  his  views  had  not  oc- 
curred. He  had  always  led  a  correct  life,  hut  his 
mind  at  this  time  suddenly  being  more  deeply 
impressed  by  religious  views,  he  resolved  to  be- 
come a  clergyman.  In  pursuance  of  this  deter- 
mination, he  removed  from  New  York  to  the 
quiet  study  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Romeyn  of  Schenec- 
tady, and  was  in  due  course  ordained  a  Presby- 
terian clergyman  in  the  year  1798.  He  accepted 
a  call  to  become  the  assistant  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Ewing,  minister  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church, 


Philadelphia,  and  resided  in  that  city  during  the 
remainder  of  his  life.  At  the.  time  of  his  removal 
to  Philadelphia  he  married  Miss  Hester  Bailey, 
daughter  of  Colonel  John  Bailey,  of  Poughkeep- 
sie,  New  Y'ork.  This  lady  and  two  sons  survived 
him. 

In  the  year  1800  he  published  an  Ossianic 
poem  on  the  topic  that  then  occupied  every 
tongue  and  every  pen,  The  Death  of  Washington. 
The  year  after  his  principal  poetical  production, 
a  poem,  entitled  The  Powers  of  Genius,  appeared. 
It  is  in  three  parts,  of  some  two  hundred  lines 
each.  The  writer  points  out  the  distinctions  be- 
tween taste;  fancy,  and  genius,  and  dwells  upon 
the  topic  in  which  his  theme  delights,  upon  its 
powers,  and  the  poets  who  have  given  indica- 
tions of  its  possession,  without  himself  essaying 
any  definite  description  of  its  qualities.  The  poem 
is  smoothly  written,  but  unfortunately  exhibits 
slight  indications  of  the  "  powers"  it  celebrates. 
It  is  well  garnished  with  scholar-like  and  sensible 
notes,  which  show  a  good  critical  appreciation  of 
the  English  poets,  and  of  poetical  themes.  It  was 
well  received,  soon  reached  a  second  edition,  and 
was  reprinted  in  England. 

His  next  publication  was  occasioned  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  Dr.  Priestley's  comparison  of  Socrates 
and  our  Saviour.  His  religious  feeling  was  shocked 
by  the  irreverence  of  the  juxtaposition,  and  for- 
tified by  a  sense  of  duty,  he,  a  young  man  almost 
unknown,  boldly  ventured  to  challenge  one  who 
had  long  before  established  a  reputation  of  no  ordi- 
nary character  and  extent. 

The  controversy  was  of  brief  duration,  closing 
with  a  second  reply  by  Dr.  Priestley  to  a  second 
publication  by  his  young  opponent.  The  two 
pamphlets  of  the  latter  extend  to  sixty-six  and  a 
hundred  and  forty-four  pages.  They  are  written 
with  great  ability,  and  contain  a  close  analysis  of 
the  character  of  Socrates.  "We  select  a  few  pas- 
sages : — 

I  have  often  been  surprised  at  the  praises  given 
to  the  Soeratic  mode  of  conversation.  It  is  somewhat 
deserving  of  praise,  when  employed  by  a  professed 
tutor  to  his  pupil,  for  in  that  case  the  parties  meet, 
one  with  a  full  conviction  of  his  ignorance,  and  the 
other  with  the  express  purpose  of  supplying  him 
with  knowledge.  But  in  the  intercourse  of  equals, 
no  method  can  be  imagined  more  unsuitable.  There 
is  no  mode  more  likely  to  excite  resentment;  to 
awaken  passions  that  are  sure  to  bar  up  the  avenues 
of  conviction.  To  have  our  error  detected  and 
proved,  to  extort  from  us  the  confession  of  our  mis- 
take, is  always  grating  to  our  pride,  and  the  arts  of 
a  master  in  discourse  are  chiefly  shown  in  preventing 
and  soothing  this  passion. 

In  the  dialogues  of  Socrates,  as  reported  by  his 
followers,  we  can  expect  to  find  nothing  that  will 
mar  the  even  course  of  their  master's  logic.  The 
person  that  is  talked  to  is  a  mere  machine,  appointed 
to  consent  to  every  demand  that  is  made,  and  to 
abjure,  with  the  most  edifying  docility,  every  doubt 
which  the  reporter  of  the  dialogue  can  invent  for 
him. 

The  men  on  whom  Socrates  employed  his  logic 
were  either  stupid  or  ingenious.  The  former  are 
commonly  vain  and  conceited,  and  would  not  fail  to 
be  exasperated  by  the  treatment  of  Socrates,  a  treat- 
ment which  had  no  purpose  in  view  but  to  mortify 
their  vanity.     The  latter  would  ill  deserve  the  title 


JOHN  BLAIR  LINK 


653 


of  ingenious,  if  they  could  not  escape  from  the  con- 
clusions to  which  they  were  pressed,  by  new  dis- 
tinctions, qualifications,  or  evasions.  The  tenets  of 
Socrates  were  not  such  as  soared  above  all  cavil,  or 
that  could  not  be  seemingly  disproved  by  an  artful 
and  eloquent  man,  adopting  the  same  mode  of  argu- 
ment. The  man  of  true  wisdom  will  seldom  excite 
enmity  either  by  his  words  or  actions.  He  proposes 
no  other  end  by  his  instructions  than  to  benefit 
mankind,  and  the  wicked  themselves  will  come  in 
for  a  large  share  of  his  compassion  and  beneficence. 
In  his  endeavors  to  reclaim  them,  he  will  pave  a 
way  to  their  heads  through  their  hearts.  He  will 
win  their  love  before  he  gains  their  conviction;  and 
even  when  he  fails  to  make  them  converts  to  his 
cause,  he  will  secure  their  alfectiou  and  esteem. 

The  ability  displayed  in  these  publications,  com- 
bined with  the  author's  previous  claims  to  regard, 
obtained  for  him  from  the  university  of  his  native 
state  the  degree  of  D.D.  at  an  age  earlier  than  it 
had  ever  there  previously  been  conferred. 

In  the  same  year,  1802,  he  was  called  upon  to 
preach  the  funeral  sermon  of  his  venerable  asso- 
ciate, Dr.  Ewing.  The  discourse  was  printed.  Its 
concluding  sentences  will  show  the  character  of 
his  compositions  for  the  pulpit. 

How  swift  is  the  flight  of  years !  How  rapid  the 
race  of  men  through  the  world !  The  torch  of 
earthly  glory  blazes  and  scorches  for  a  moment,  and 
then  is  extinguished  for  ever.  The  iron  scythe  of 
time  is  ever  in  motion,  and  men  are  the  grass  which 
falls  beneath  its  sweep.  The  sun  pours  his  tempo- 
rary effulgence  around  us,  but  the  period  will  arrive 
when  his  beams  shall  be  quenched,  when  destruction 
shall  descend  upon  the  earth,  and  night— starless 
night — shall  encircle  destruction.  Who,  then,  will 
live  for  time,  who  will  live  for  eternity?  Great 
God  !  With  heavenly  solemnity  impress  our  hearts, 
enable  us  to  rise  above  the  world  in  our  affections, 
and  to  look  beyond  its  grave ;  enable  us  to  live  as 
becomes  sojourners  on  this  earth,  as  becomes  thy 
faithful  servants  and  the  heirs  of  immortality ! 

An  inconsiderate  exposure  to  a  hot  summer's 
sun  in  an  open  waggon,  had,  previously  to  these 
events,  caused  a  fainting  fit,  followed  by  a  fever. 
From  this  attack  he  never  entirely  recovered.  A 
tendency  to  mental  depression,  to  which  he  had 
always  been  subject,  aided  the  advance  of  con- 
sumption, and  he  died  of  that  disease  on  the 
thirtieth  of  August,  1804.  Soon  after  this  event 
his  poem  of  Valerian  was  published,  accompanied 
by  an  admirable  biographical  memoir  by  his 
brother-in-law  and  warm  friend,  Charles  Brock- 
den  Brown,  it  is  a  narrative  poem,  and,  though 
only  a  part  of  a  contemplated  design,  extends  to 
some  fifteen  hundred  lines  in  blank  verse. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  Montalvia,  a  fanciful  king- 
dom placed  by  the  writer  on  the  shores  of  the 
Caspian.  Alcestes,  an  old  man  "revered  within 
Montalvia,"  chancing  to  pass  by  the  sea-shore 
during  a  tempest,  finds  a  youth  cast  ashore  by  the 
waves.  He  has  him  conveyed  to  his  cottage,  and 
there,  by  his  own  and  his  fair  daughter  Azora's 
care,  the  stranger  is  restored  to  consciousness, 
and  naturally  inquires  where  he  is,  which  enables 
Alcestes  to  satisfy  the  reader's  as  well  as  the 
guest's  curiosity  touching  Montalvia.  The  reply 
gives  a  fanciful  description  of  a  pastoral  commu- 
nity, with  an  Olympus  of  contending  deities,  good 
and  bad,  to  each  class  of  which  sacrifices   are 


offered.  The  people  are  ruled  by  a  king,  Orian- 
der,  and  live  peacefully  in  cities  and  fair  meadows. 
A  chain  of  mountains,  "  skirting  the  north,"  is 
the  stronghold  of  Astahan  and  his  band,  who 
waylay  and  plunder  unwary  travellers  and  hunt- 
ers. In  the  same  region  a  ruined  temple  is 
situated,  in  which  dwells 

a  hoary  wight,  deep  versed  in  arts 
Of  direful  magic. 

This  description,  a  curious  compound  of  the  clas- 
sic poets  and  of  Spenser,  closes  the  first  book. 
In  the  second,  the  young  stranger,  a  Christian, 
gives  his  host  an  outline  of  the  history  of  our 
Saviour  and  his  Apostles,  and  of  the  persecution 
of  the  Christians  under  Nero  ;  during  which  the 
narrator,  refusing  to  abjure  his  religion,  was  ex- 
posed to  the  attacks  of  a  lion  on  the  Roman 
stage,  but,  "  clad  in  light  armor,"  was  enabled  to 
slay  the  wild  beast,  and  shortly  after,  by  his 
father's  aid,  to  bribe  his  jailors  and  escape. 

In  the  third  and  last  book,  Valerian  domesti- 
cates himself  in  Montalvia,  converts  the  king  and 
people  to  Christianity,  defeats  a  conspiracy  formed 
against  him,  exposes  the  "  ventriloquial  powers" 
(a  hint  from  Brown's  Wielaud)  of  the  magician 
in  his  ruined  temple,  and  overhearing,  on  a  clear 
night,  the  fair  Azora  singing  a  song  in  his  praise, 
responds  in  a  strain,  different  in  metre,  but  of  a 
similarly  complimentary  character.  This,  of 
course,  settles  the  love  affair,  and  a  wedding  ends 
the  poem. 

The  story  is  narrated  in  a  smooth  and  flowing 
style,  and  many  passages  descriptive  of  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  early  Christians  are  animated  and 
pathetic. 

FROM    THE   POWERS    OF    GF.NITTB. 

What  vast  delights  flow  on  that  glowing  breast, 

By  virtue-strengtheri'd  and  by  Genius  blest  1 

Whate'er  in  Nature  beautiful  or  grand, 

In  air,  or  ocean,  or  the  teeming  land, 

Meets  its  full  view,  excites  a  joy  unknown. 

To  those  whom  Genius  dashes  from  her  throne. 

Genius  finds  speech  in  trees ;  the  running  brook 

To  her  speaks  language,  like  a  favourite  book; 

She  dresses  Nature  in  her  brightest  form, 

She  hears  with  rapture  the  descending  storm, 

She  lists  the  chiming  of  the  falling  stream, 

Which  lulls  to  sleep  and  wakes  the  airy  dream ; 

En  wrapt  with  solitude  she  loves  to  tread 

O'er  rugged  hills,  or  where  the  green  woods  spread ; 

To  hear  the  songsters  of  the  lonely  grove 

Breathe  their  SAveet  strains  of  gladness  and  of  love: 

She  lnves  to  wander  when  the  moon's  soft  ray 

Treads  on  the  footsteps  of  departing  day, 

When  heavy  sadness  hangs  upon  the  gale, 

And  twilight  deepens  o'er  the  dusky  vale, — ■ 

By  haunted  waters,  or  some  ruln'd  tower, 

Which  stands  the  shock  of  Time's  destroying  power, 

Wiiere  the  dim  owl  directs  his  dusky  flight, 

And  pours  his  sorrows  on  the  ear  of  Night. 

The  song  of  bards  and  Wisdom's  ancient  page, 

Which  brave  the  blasts  of  each  succeeding  age ; 

With  fond  delight  she  studies  and  admires, 

And  glows  and  kindles  at  their  sacred  fires. 

She  treads  on  air,  she  rises  on  the  wind, 

Ami  with  them  leaves  the  lagging  world  behind. 

When  solitude  o'erhangs  the  lardy  hour, 

She  finds  within  herself  a  social  power. 

On  life's  sad  journey  she  is  doom'd  to  bear 

The  sweetest  pleasure  and  the  keenest  care. 


654 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


If  she  be  subject  to  severer  woe, 

Than  cold  phlegmatic  Simla  can  ever  know  ; 

She  knows  those  joys  which  soar  above  their  sight, 

As  rolls  the  planet  in  the  worlds  of  light. 

IIENEY  CLAY. 
Hent.y  Clay,  the  seventh  child  of  the  Rev.  John 
Clay,  was  born  at  the  Slashes  (a  local  term  for  a 
low,  swampy  country),  Hanover  County,  Vir- 
ginia, April  12,  1777.  His  father  died  in  1781, 
and  his  mother  afterwards  married  Captain  Henry 
Watkins.  He  proved  a  kind  stepfather,  as  it  was 
owing  to  his  exertions  that  Henry,  after  acquir- 
ing the  rudiments  of  English  education  at  the  log 
school-house  of  Peter  Deacon,  earning  the  memo- 
rable title  of  "  Mill  Boy  of  the  Slashes"  by  his 
errands  to  the  mill  for  his  mother,  was  promoted 
from  the  position  of  a  country  shopboy  to  that 
of  a  copyist  in  the  office  of  the  Clerk  of  the  Vir- 
ginia Court  of  Chancery.  He  studied  law,  and 
was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1797.  He  removed  to 
Lexington,  Ky.,  where  he  practised  his  profession 
with  givat  success.  In  1803  he  was  elected  to 
the  Legislature  of  his  State,  and  in  1806  ap- 
pointed to  fill  the  short  remainder  of  the  term  of 
General  Adair,  who  had  resigned,  in  the  national 
Senate.  In  1809  he  was  again  appointed  in  a 
similar  manner  to  the  same  office.  In  1811  he 
was  chosen  a  member  of  the  House  of  Represen- 
tatives, and  was  elected  Speaker  the  same  day 
that  he  took  his  scat  as  a  member  of  that  body. 
He  retained  this  office  until  his  appointment  in 
January,  1814,  as  one  of  the  commissioners  to 
negotiate  the  Treaty  of  Ghent.  On  his  return, 
he  was  re-elected  to  Congress.  In  1820  he  re- 
tired to  resume  professional  practice,  in  order  to 
repair  the  losses  which  his  private  fortune  had 
sustained  by  his  long  and  exclusive  devotion  to 
the  public  .service.  In  1823  he  returned  to  the 
House,  and  was  again  elected  Speaker._ 


MCAj 


He  was  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency  in  the 
contest  which  resulted  in  the  election  by  the 
House  of  Representatives  of  Mr.  Adams,  by  whom 
he  was  appointed  Secretary  of  State,  an  office 
he  retained  until  the  inauguration  of  General 
Jackson  in  1829.  He  then  retired  from  public 
life  for  two  years,  and  in  1831  was  elected  to  the 
Senate.  In  the  election  of  1832  he  was  a  candi- 
date for  the  Presidency,  but  defeated  by  President 
Jack-on.  He  was  also  a  candidate  for  the  "Whig 
nomination  obtained  by  General  Harrison  in  1839. 
In  1842  he  resigned  his  seat  in  the  Senate,  taking 
his  farewell  of  that  body  in  a  speech  which 
ranks  among  his  finest  oratorical  efforts. 

In  1844  Henry  Clay  was  again  nominated  to 
the  presidency,  and  after  a  most  warmly  contested 
election  defeated  by  James  K.  Polk.  In  1849  he 
returned  to  the  Senate,  where  he  took  an  active 
part  in  favor  of  the  "  compromise  measures"  of 
1850.  This  was  his  last  public  effort.  A  visit  to 
New  Orleans  and  Havana  in  the  following  win- 
ter, for  the  benefit  of  his  failing  health,  was  un- 
productive of  good  results,  and  finding  himself 
after  the  opening  of  the  session  in  1851  unable  to 


fulfil  his  duties,  he  announced  his  resignation,  to 
j  take  effect  September  20,   1852.     He  gradually 
'  sank  under  the  influence  of  wasting  disease,  and 
died  at  Washington,  June  29,  1852. 

Clay  was  in  favor  of  the  war  in  1812,  advo- 
I  cated  the  construction  of  the  National  Road  and 
other  "  Internal  Improvements,"  and  was  in 
favor  of  the  recognition  of  the  South  American 
Republics,  atid  of  the  independence  of  Greece. 
Some  of  his  noblest  oratorical  efforts  were  de- 
livered in  support  of  these  measures.  He  was  an 
advocate  throughout -his  political  career  of  "pro- 
tection to  American  industry"  by  means  of  a 
high  tariff.  For  the  sake  of  the  peace  of  the 
Union,  he  was  content  in  the  nullification  troubles 
to  waive  this  policy,  and  a  similar  sacrifice  of 
private  preference  to  public  good  characterized 
his  career;  His  speeches  are  sincere  and  im- 
passioned, qualities  which  distinguished  the  man, 
and  which  were  among  the  chief  causes  of  the 
great  personal  popularity  which  he  enjoyed.* 
Full,  flowing,  sensuous,  his  style  of  oratory  was 
modulated  by  a  voice  of  sustained  power  and 
sweetness,  and  a  heart  of  chivalrous  courtesy. 
Of  the  great  triumvirate  of  the  Senate,  Calhoun, 
Webster,  and  Clay,  respectively  representing  the 
South,  the  East,  and  the  West,  the  last  was  the 
great  master  of  feeling.  His  frank  hearing,  his 
self-developed  vigor,  his  spontaneous  eloquence 
and  command  of  language,  were  western  charac- 
teristics, and  reached  the  heart  of  the  whole 
country.  While  Calhoun  engaged  the  attention 
of  philo-ophers  in  his  study,  and  Webster  had  the 
ear  of  lawyers  and  the  mercantile  classes,  Clay 
was  out  in  the  open  air  with  the  people,  exciting 
at  will  their  sympathies,  while  the  warmest  acts 
of  friendship  poured  in  upon  him  unsought.  In 
the  language  of  Wirt,  it  was  a  popularity  which 
followed,  not  which  was  run  after.  There  was 
at  once  something  feminine  and  manly  in  his 
composition.  He  united  the  gentlest  affections 
of  woman  with  the  pride  of  the  haughtiest  man- 
hood. When  his  last  moments  came,  he  died  as 
he  had  lived,  with  simplicity  and  dignity. 

Mr.  Clay's  speeches  were  collected,  and  with 
his  life  "  compiled  and  edited  by  Daniel  Mallory," 
published  in  1843,  in  two  volumes  8vo.  His 
"  Life  and  Times"  by  Calvin  Colton,  also  in  two 
volumes  8vo.,  appeared  in  1845. 
Mr.  Clay  left  a  widow  and  three  sons. 

FHOM  THE  SPEECH  ON  TJIE  GREEK  REVOLUTION,  JAN.  20,  1S24. 

Cut,  sir,  it  is  not  for  Greece  alone  that  I  desire  to 
see  this  measure  adopted.     It  will  give  to  her  but 


*  The  unaffected  kindness  and  simplicity  of  Clay's  manner 
are  happily  indicated  in  the  following  note,  which  we  fird 
credited  to  a  Kichmond  newspaper.  It  was  addressed  to  tho 
children  of  a  gentleman  of  that  city: — 

Washington,  February  IS.  1S89. 

My  dear  Children  :  Having  made  the  acquaintance  of  your 
father,  and  received  from  him  many  acts  of  kindness,  I  tako 
great  pleasure,  in  compliance  with  his  wishes,  in  addressing 
these  lines  to  you. 

During  a  long  life.  I  havo  observed  that  those  are  most 
happy  who  love,  honor,  and  obey  their  parents;  who  avoid 
idleness  and  dissipation,  and  employ  their  time  in  constant 
labor,  both  of  body  and  mind ;  and  who  perform  with  regular 
and  scrupulous  attention,  all  their  duties  to  our  Maker,  and  his 
only  Sou,  our  blessed  Saviour. 

May  you  live  long,  and  prove  a  blessing  to  your  father  and 
mother,  ornaments  to  society,  and  acceptable  to  God.  Such  ii 
the  hope  of  your  father's  friend,  nnd  although  unknown  to 
you,  your  friend,  H.  Clay. 


HENRY  CLAY. 


655 


little  support,  and  that  purely  of  a  moral  kind.  It 
is  principally  for  America,  for  the  credit  and  cha- 
racter of  our  common  country,  for  our  own  unsullied 
name,  that  I  hope  to  see  it  pass.  Mr.  Chairman, 
what  appearance  on  the  page  of  history  would  a 
record  like  this  exhibit  ?  "In  the  mouth  of  January, 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  lS'J-f,  while  all 
European  Christendom  beheld,  with  cold  and  unfeel- 
ing indifference,  the  unexampled  wrongs  and  inex- 
pressible misery  of  Christian  Greece,  a  proposition 
was  made  in  the  Congress  of  the  United  States, 
almost  the  sole,  the  last,  the  greatest  depository  of 
human  hope  and  human  freedom,  the  representatives 
of  a  gallant  nation,  containing  a  million  of  freemen 
ready  to  fly  to  arms,  while  the  people  of  that  nation 
were  spontaneously  expressing  its  deep-toned  feeling, 
and  the  whole  continent,  by  one  simultaneous  emo- 
tion, was  rising,  and  solemnly  and  anxiously  suppli- 
cating and  invoking  high  heaven  to  spare  and  succor 
Greece,  and  to  invigorate  her  arms  m  her  glorious 
cause,  whilst  temples  and  senate  houses  were  alike 
resounding  with  one  burst  of  generous  and  holy  sym- 
pathy ;  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  that 
Saviour  of  Greece  and  of  us;  a  proposition  was  of- 
fered in  the  American  Congress  to  send  a  messenger 
to  Greece,  to  inquire  into  her  state  and  condition, 
"with  a  kind  expression  of  our  good  wishes  and  our 
sympathies — and  it  was  rejected  !"  Go  home,  if  you 
can — go  home,  if  you  dare,  to  your  constituents,  and 
tell  them  that  you  voted  it  down;  meet  if  you  can, 
the  appalling  countenances  of  those  who  sent  you 
here,  ami  tell  them  that  you  shrank  from  the  decla- 
ration of  your  own  sentiments';  that  you  cannot  tell 
how,  but  that  some  unknown  dread,  some  indescri- 
bable apprehension,  some  indefinable  danger,  drove 
you  from  your  purpose;  that  the  spectres  of  eimiters, 
and  crowns,  and  crescents,  gleamed  before  you  and 
alarmed  you  ;  and  that  you  suppressed  all  the  noble 
feelings  prompted  by  religion,  by  liberty,  by  national 
independence,  and  by  humanity.  I  cannot  bring 
myself  to  believe,  that  such  will  be  the  feeling  of  a 
majority  of  the  committee.  But  for  myself,  though 
every  friend  of  the  cause  should  desert  it,  and  I  be 
left  to  stand  alone  with  the  gentleman  from  Massa- 
chusetts, I  will  give  to  his  resolution  the  poor  sanc- 
tion of  my  unqualified  approbation. 

ADDRESS    TO    LAFAYETTE  ON   TITS   RECEPTION   BY  THE   IIOCSE  OF 
REPRESENTATIVES,   DECEMBER  10,  1824. 

General, — The  House  of  Representatives  of,  the 
"United  States,  impelled  alike  by  its  own  feelings, 
and  by  those  of  the  whole  American  people,  could 
not  have  assigned  to  me  a  more  gratifying  duty  than 
that  of  presenting  to  you  cordial  congratulation's  upon 
the  occasion  of  your  recent  arrival  in  the  United 
States,  in  compliance  with  the  wishes  of  Congress, 
and  to  assure  you  of  the  very  high  satisfaction  which 
your  presence  affords  on  this  early  theatre  of  your 
glory  and  renown.  Although  but  few  of  the  mem- 
bers who  compose  this  body  shared  with  you  in  the 
war  of  our  revolution,  all  have,  from  impartial  his- 
tory, or  from  faithful  tradition,  a  knowledge  of  the 
perils,  the  sufferings,  and  the  sacrifices,  which  you 
voluntarily  encountered,  and  the  signal  services,  in 
America  and  in  Europe,  which  you  performed  for 
an  infant,  a  distant,  and  an  alien  people;  and  all  feel 
and  own  the  very  great  extent  of  the  obligations 
under  which  you  have  placed  our  country.  But  the 
relations  in  which  you  have  everstood  to  the  United 
States,  interesting  and  important  as  they  have  been, 
do  not  constitute  the  only  motive  of  the  respect  and 
admiration  which  the  House  of  Representatives  en- 
tertain for  you.  Your  consistency  of  character,  your 
uniform  devotion  to  regulated  liberty,  in  all'  the 
vicissitudes  of  a  long  and  arduous  life,  also  com- 


mands its  admiration.  During  all  the  recent  con- 
vulsions of  Europe,  amidst,  as  after  the  dispersion  of, 
every  political  storm,  the  people  of  the  United  States 
have  beheld  you,  true  to  your  old  principles,  firm 
and  erect,  cheering  and  animating  with  your  well 
known  voice,  the  votaries  of  liberty,  its  faithful  and 
fearless  champion,  ready  to  shed  the  last  drop  of  that 
blood  which  here  you  so  freely  and  nobly  spilt,  in 
the  same  holy  cause. 

The  vain  wish  has  been  sometimes  indulged,  that 
Providence  would  allow  the  patriot,  after  death,  to 
return  to  his  country,  and  to  contemplate  the  inter- 
mediate changes  which  had  taken  place ;  to  view  the 
forests  felled,  the  cities  built,  the  mountains  levelled, 
the  canals  cut,  the  highways  constructed,  the  pro- 
gress of  the  arts,  the  advancement  of  learning,  and 
the  increase  of  population.  General,  your  present 
visit  to  the  United  States  is  a  realization  of  the  con- 
soling object  of  that  wish.  You  are  in  the  midst 
of  posterity.  Every  where,  you  must  have  been 
struck  with  the  great  changes,  physical  and  moral, 
which  have  occurred  since  you  left  us.  Even  this 
very  city,  bearing  a  venerated  name,  alike  endeared 
to  you  and  to  us,  has  since  emerged  from  the  forest 
which  then  covered  its  site.  In  one  respect  you  be- 
hold us  unaltered,  and  this  is  in  the  sentiment  of 
continued  devotion  to  liberty,  and  of  ardent  affection 
and  profound  gratitude  to  your  departed  friend,  the 
father  of  his  country,  and  to  you,  and  to  your  illus- 
trious associates  in  the  field  and  in  the  cabinet,  for 
the  multiplied  blessings  which  surround  us,  and  for 
the  very  privilege  of  addressing  you  which  I  now 
exercise.  This  sentiment,  now  fondly  cherished  by 
more  than  ten  millions  of  people,  will  be  transmitted, 
wifh  unabated  vigor,  down  the  tide  of  time,  through 
the  countless  millions  who  are  destined  to  inhabit 
this  continent,  to  the  latest  posterity. 

FROM  THE  VALEDICTORY  ADDRESS  TO  THE  SENATE,   1842. 

From  1806,  the  period  of  my  entrance  upon  this 
noble  theatre,  with  short  intervals,  to  the  present 
time,  I  have  been  engaged  in  the  public  councils,  at 
home  or  abroad.  Of  the  services  rendered  during 
that  long  and  arduous  period  of  my  life  it  does  not 
become  me  to  speak  ;  history,  if  she  deign  to  notice 
me,  and  posterity,  if  the  recollection  of  my  humble 
actions  shall  be  transmitted  to  posterity,  are  the  best, 
the  truest,  and  the  most  impartial  judges.  When 
death  has  closed  the  scene,  their  sentence  will  be 
pronounced,  and  to  that  I  commit  myself.  My  pub- 
lic conduct  is  a  fair  subject  for  the  criticism  and 
judgment  of  my  fellow-men  ;  but  the  motives  by 
which  I  have  been  prompted  are  known  only  to  the 
great  searcher  of  the  human  heart  and  to  myself; 
and  I  trust  I  may  be  pardoned  for  repeating  a  de- 
claration made  some  thirteen  years  ago,  that,  what- 
ever errors,  and  doubtless  there  have  been  many, 
may  be  discovered  in  a  review'  of  my  public  service, 
I  can  with  unshaken  confidence  appeal  to  that  divino 
arb'tir  for  the  truth  of  the  declaration,  that  I  have 
been  influenced  by  no  impure  purpose,  no  personal 
motive;  have  sought  no  personal  aggrandizement; 
but  that,  in  all  my  public  acts,  I  have  had  a  single 
eye  directed,  and  a  warm  and  devoted  heart  dedi- 
cated, to  what,  in  my  best  judgment,  I  believed  the 
true  interests,  the  honor,  the  union,  and  the  happi- 
ness of  my  country  required. 

During  that  long  period,  however,  I  have  not 
escaped  the  fate  of  other  public  men,  nor  failed  to 
incur  censure  and  detraction  of  the  bitterest,  most 
unrelenting,  and  most  malignant  character:  and 
though  not  always  insensible  to  the  pain  it  was 
meant  to  inflict,  I  have  borne  it  in  general  with  com- 
posure, and  without  disturbance  here,  [pointing  to 
his  breast,]  waiting  as  I  have  done,  in  perfect  and 


65G 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


undoubting  confidence,  for  the  ultimate  triumph  of 
justice  and  of  truth,  and  in  the  entire  persuasion 
that  time  would  settle  all  things  as  they  should  be, 
and  that  -whatever  wrong  or  injustice  I  might  expe- 
rience at  the  hands  of  man,  He  to  whom  all  hearts 
are  open  and  fully  known,  would,  by  the  inscrutable 
dispensations  of  his  providence,  rectify  all  error, 
redress  all  wrong,  and  cause  ample  justice  to  be 
done. 

But  I  have  not  meanwhile  been  unsustained.  Eve- 
ryAvhere  throughout  the  extent  of  this  great  conti- 
nent I  have  had  cordial,  warm-hearted,  faithful;  and 
devoted  friends,  who  have  known  me,  loved  me,  and 
appreciated  my  motives.  To  them,  if  language  were 
capable  of  fully  expressing  my  acknowledgements,  I 
would  now  otter  all  the  return  I  have  the  power  to 
make  for  their  genuine,  disinterested,  and  persever- 
ing fidelity  and  devoted  attachment,  the  feelings  and 
sentiments  of  a  heart  overflowing  with  never-ceasing 
gratitude.  If,  however,  I  fail  in  suitable  language 
to  express  my  gratitude  to  them  for  all  the  kindness 
they  have  shown  me,  what  shall  I  say,  what  can  I 
say  at  all  commensurate  with  those  feelings  of  grati- 
tude with  which  I  have  been  inspired  by  the  state 
whose  humble  representative  and  servant  I  have 
been  in  this  chamber?  [Here  Sir.  C.'s feelings  over- 
powered him,  and  he  proceeded  with  deep  sensibility 
and  difficult  utterance.] 

I  emigrated  from  Virginia  to  the  State  of  Ken- 
tucky now  nearly  forty-five  years  ago ;  I  went  as 
an  orphan  boy  who  had  not  yet  attained  the  age  of 
majority  ;  who  had  never  recogni.-cd  a  father's  smile, 
nor  felt  his  warm  caresses;  poor,  pennyless,  without 
the  favor  of  the  great,  with  an  imperfect  and  neg- 
lected education,  hardly  sufficient  for  the  ordinary 
business  and  common  pursuits  of  life ;  but  scarce 
had  I  set  my  foot  upon  her  generous  soil  when  I 
was  embraced  with  parental  fondness,  caressed  as 
though  I  hail  been  a  favorite  child,  and  patronised 
with  liberal  and  unbounded  munificence.  From  that 
period  the  highest  honors  of  the  state  have  been 
freely  bestowed  upon  me  ;  and  when,  in  the  darkest 
hour  of  calumny  and  detraction,  I  seemed  to  be  as- 
sailed by  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  she  interposed  her 
broad  and  impenetrable  shield,  repelled  the  poisoned 
shafts  that  were  aimed  for  my  destruction,  and  vin- 
dicated my  good  name  from  every  malignant  and 
unfounded  aspersion.  I  return  with  indescribable 
pleasure  to  linger  a  while  longer,  and  mingle  with 
the  warm-hearted  and  whole-souled  people  of  that 
state;  and,  when  the  hist  scene  shall  for  ever  close 
upon  me,  I  hope  that  my  earthly  remains  •will  be 
laid  under  her  green  sod  with  those  of  her  gallant 
and  patriotic  sons. 

###■**"/*•#-* 

In  the  course  of  a  long  and  arduous  public  service, 

especially  during  the  last  eleven  years  in  which  I 
have  held  a  seat  in  the  senate,  from  the  same  ardor 
nnd  enthusiasm  of  character,  I  have  no  doubt,  in  the 
heat  of  debate,  and  in  an  honest  endeavor  to  main- 
tain my  opinions  against  adverse  opinions  alike  ho- 
nestly entertained,  as  to  the  best  course  to  be  adopt- 
ed for  the  public  welfare,  I  may  have  often  inad- 
vertently and  unintentionally,  in  moments  of  excited 
debate,  made  use  of  language  that  has  been  offensive, 
nnd  susceptible  of  injurious  interpretation  towards 
my  brother  senators.  If  there  be  any  here  who  re- 
tain wounded  feelings  of  injury  or  dissatisfaction 
produced  on  such  occasions,  I  beg  to  assure  them 
that  I  now  offer  the  most  ample  apology  for  any  de- 
parture on  my  part  from  the  established  rules  of 
parliamentary  decorum  and  courtesy.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  assure  senators,  one  and  all,  without  excep- 
tion and  without  reserve,  that  I  retire  from  this 
chamber  without  carrying  with  me  a  single  feeling 


of  resentment  or  dissatisfaction  to  the  senate  or  any 
one  of  its  members. 

I  go  from  this  place  under  the  hope  that  we  shall, 
mutually,  consign  to  perpetual  oblivion  whatever 
personal  collisions  may  at  any  time  unfortunately 
have  occurred  between  us;  and  that  our  recollec- 
tions shall  dwell  in  future  only  on  those  conflicts  of 
mind  with  mind,  those  intellectual  struggles,  those 
noble  exhibitions  of  the  powers  of  logic,  argument, 
and  eloquence,  honorable  to  the  senate  and  to  the 
nation,  in  which  each  has  sought  and  contended  for 
what  he  deemed  the  best  mode  of  accomplishing  one 
common  object,  the  interest  and  the  most  happiness 
of  our  beloved  country.  To  these  thrilling  and  de- 
lightful scenes  it  will  be  my  pleasure  and  my  pride 
to  look  back  .n  my  retirement  with  unmeasured 
satisfaction.  . 

******** 

In  retiring,  as  I  am  about  to  do,  for  ever,  from  the 
senate,  suffer  me  to  express  my  heartfelt  wishes  that 
all  the  great  and  patriotic  objects  of  the  wise  fram- 
ers  of  our  constitution  may  be  fulfilled  ;  that  the 
high  destiny  designed  for  it  may  be  fully  answered; 
and  that  its  deliberations,  now  and  hereafter,  may 
eventuate  in  securing  the  prosperity  of  our  beloved 
country,  in  maintaining  its  rights  and  honor  abroad, 
and  upholding  its  interests  at  home.  I  retire,  I 
know,  at  a  period  of  infinite  distress  and  embarrass- 
ment. I  wish  I  could  take  my  leave  of  you  under 
more  favorable  auspices;  but,  without  meaning  at 
this  time  to  say  whether  on  any  or  on  whom  re- 
proaches for  the  sad  condition  of  the  country  should 
fall,  I  appeal  to  the  senate  and  to  the  world  to  bear 
testimony  to  my  earnest  and  continued  exertions  to 
avert  it,  and  to  the  truth  that  no  blame  can  justly 
attach  to  me. 

May  the  most  precious  blessings  of  heaven  rest 
upon  the  whole  senate  and  each  member  of  it,  and 
may  the  labors  of  every  one  redound  to  the  benefit  of 
the  nation  and  the  advancement  of  his  own  fame  and 
renown.  And  when  you  shall  retire  to  the  bosom  of 
your  constituents,  may  you  receive  that  most  cheer- 
ing and  gratifying  of  all  human  rewards — their  cor- 
dial greeting  of  "  well  done,  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant." 

And  now,  Mr.  President  and  senators,  I  bid  you 
all  a  long,  a  lasting,  and  a  friendly  farewell. 

JOHN  SHAW. 
Jotin  Shaw,  a  poet  of  Maryland,  was  born  at  An- 
napolis, May  4,  1778.  lie  was  prepared  for  St. 
John's  College  by  Mr.  Higginbothain,  a  teacher  of 
note  in  his  day  and  district.  After  completing 
his  course,  lie  studied  medicine;  but  instead  of 
settling  down  to  home  practice  after  being  licens- 
ed,obtained  a  surgeon's  appointment  in  the  fleet  or- 
dered to  Algiers  in  December,  1798.  lie  remained 
a.  few  months  at  Tunis,  aiid  was  then  sent  by  Gen. 
Eaton  to  consult  Mr.  King,  the  American  minister 
at  London,  with  reference  to  the  threatened  hos- 
tility of  the  Bey ;  but  on  receiving  intelligence 
that  the  anticipated  difficulties  had  been  arranged, 
he  proceeded  to  Lisbon  and  thence  home,  in  April, 
1800.  He  left  again  the  next  year  to  pursue  his 
studies  in  Edinburgh,  where  he  fell  in  with  the 
Earl  of  Selkirk,  and  sailed  with  him  in  1803  for 
Canada,  where  the  nobleman  was  founding  a  set- 
tlement on  St.  John's  Lhmd,  in  Lake  St.  Clair. 

In  1805,  he  again  returned  home  and  commenc- 
ed practice;  married  in  1807;  removed  to  Balti- 
more, where,  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1808, 
incautiously  exposing  himself  by  qccupying  anen- 
tire  night  in  chemical  experiments  which  required 


JOHN  BRISTED. 


657 


him  to  frequently  immerse  his  arms  in  cold  water, 
he  incurred  a  consumption  which  caused  his 
death  on  his  voyage  from  Charleston  to  the  Ba- 
hamas on  the  10th  of  January,  1809.  His  poems 
were  collected  after  his  death  and  published  with 
a  memoir,  containing  extracts  from  his  foreign 
journals  and  correspondence,  in  1810.  They  are 
on  the  usual  miscellaneous  topics  of  fugitive  verse 
of  the  average  order  of  excellence.* 

A  S1.EIGUING   SONG. 

When  calm  is  the  niglit,  and  the  stars  shine  bright, 
The  sleigh  glides  smooth  and  cheerily; 
And  mirth  and  jest  abound, 
While  all  is  still  around, 
Save  the  horses'  trampling  Bound, 
And  the  horse-bells  tinkling  merrily. 

But  when  the  drifting  snow  in  the  traveler's  face  shall 
blow. 
And  hail  is  driving  drearily. 

And  the  wind  is  shrill  and  loud, 
Then  no  sleigh  shall  stir  abroad, 
Nor  along  the  beaten  road 
Shall  the  horse-bells  tinkle  merrily. 

But  to-night  the  skies  are  clear,  and  we  have  not  to 
fear 
That  the  time  should  linger  wearily ; 
For  good-humour  has  a  charm 
Even  winter  to  disarm, 
And  our  cloaks  shall  wrap  us  warm. 
And  the  bells  shall  tinkle  merrily. 

And  whom  do  I  spy,  with  the  sparkling  eye, 
And  lips  that  pout  so  cherrily  ; 

Round  her  neck  the  tippet  tied, 

Ready  in  the  sleigh  to  glide? 

Oil !  with  her  I  love  to  ride, 
When  the  horse-bells  tinkle  merrily. 

JOHN  BKISTED. 
John  Bristed,  who  occupied  for  a  number  of 
years  a  conspicuous  position  in  New  York  society 
by  his  mental  activity  and  his  literary  productions, 
was  born  in  Dorsetshire,  England,  in  1778,  the 
son  of  a  clergyman  of  the  Established  Church.  Ho 
was  educated  at  Winchester  College,  pursued  the 
study  of  medicine  at  Edinburgh,  then  turned  his 
attention  to  law,  became  a  member  of  the  society 
of  the  Inner  Temple,  and  as  he  himself  has 
phrased  it,  "  during  two  years  of  pupillage  in  the 
office  of  Mr.  Chitty,  cultivated  the  melancholy 
science  of  special  pleading.'!  He  published  a 
number  of  books  at  this  time.  The  Adviser, 
or  the  Mora!  and  Literary  Tribunal,  in  four  vo- 
lumes, in  18o2,  is  a  collection  of  essays  on  topics 
of  morals  addressed  to  the  youth  of  Great  Britain. 
His  AvSpaiftavoiiivos ;  or  a  Pedestrian  Tour 
through  part  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  in 
1801,  was  noticed  with  some  severity  in  Aikin's 
Annual  Review,!  where  avc  catch  a  glimpse  of  its 
plan  : — "Mr.  Bristed  and  his  companion  Dr.  An- 
drew Cowen  travelled  through  the  Highlands  in 
the  character  of  American  sailors.  They  roam 
the  country  in  forma  pauperum,  descant  loudly 
on  the  luxuries  of  the  great  and  the  miseries  of 
the  poor,  go  from  pothouse  to  pothouse,  for  hall  a 


*  Poems  by  the  late  Doctor  John  Shaw,  to  which  is  prefix- 
ed ii  Biographical  Sketch  of  the  Author.  Edward  Earle,  Phi- 
ladelphia, 181(1. 

t  Thoughts  on  the  Anglican  and  American  Churches,  p.  87. 

S  ii.  408.  v 

vol.  i, — 42 


bed,  complain  of  the  jealousy  of  the  police 
because  they  are  taken  up  for  spies,  and  of  the 
frequent  inhospitality  of  the  Scots  becauso  they 
were  not  welcomed  as  gentlemen." 

He  also  published  a  collection  of  Critical  and 
Philosophical  Essays  in  1804. 

In  1805  he  published  in  London,  The  Society 
of  Friends  Examined,  in  which  a  favorable  view 
is  taken  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  sect;  and  in 
the  following  year,  Edward  and  Anna,  or  a  Pic- 
ture of  Human  Life. 

Mr.  Bristed  came  to  America  in  the  spring  of 
1806,  and  established  himself  in  the  practice  of 
the  law  at  New  York.  His  practice  at  the  New 
York  bar  did  not  fully  employ  him ;  for  we  find 
him  engaged  in  the  delivery  of  lectures  and  the 
composition  of  several  books,  which  did  not  es- 
cape the  satire  of  Halleck  in  "Fanny." 

In  1807  he  was  engaged  in  conducting  The 
Monthly  Register,  Magazine,  and  Review  of  the 
United,  States,  which  had  been  commenced  in 
Charleston,  S.  C,  in  1805,  under  the  direction  of 
Stephen  Cullen  Carpenter,  ati  ingenious  man  of 
letters,  who  subsequently  edited  The  Mirror  of 
Taste,  a  periodical  in  Philadelphia,  and  published 
a  life  of  Jefferson.* 

In  1809  Mr.  Bristed  published  in  New  York— 
Hints  on  the  National  Bankruptcy  of  Britain, 
and  on  her  Resources  to  maintain  the  present  con- 
test with  France;  in  1811,  a  volume — The  Re- 
sources of  the  British  Empire,  together  with  a 
view  of  the  probable  result  of  the  present  contest, 
between  Britain  and  France,  followed  in  1818  by 
a  similar  review  of  The  Resources  of  the  United 
States  of  America  ;  or  a  View  of  the  Agricultural, 
Commercial,  Manufacturing,  Financicd,  Political, 
Literary,  Moral,  and  Religious  Capacity  and  Cha- 
racter of  the  American  people.  The  last  is  a  work 
of  ability  and  interest,  characterized  by  tho  au- 
thor's scholarship,  his  full  animated  style,  and  his 
conservative  opinions.  The  chapter  on  the  litera- 
ture of  the  United  States  is  in  a  philosophical 
spirit. 

In  1814  he  issued  "  a  Prospectus  of  a  scries  of 
courses  of  Lectures  to  he  delivered  by  John  Bris- 
ted, counsellor-at-law,"  in  an  octavo  pamphlet  of 
forty-one  pages.  There  were  to  he  four  courses 
of  at  least  fifty  lectures  each ;  the  first  and  second 
to  be  addressed  to  students  generally ;  tho  third 
and  fourth  exclusively  to  students  at  law.  The 
principles  of  Metaphysics,  History,  Political 
Economy,  were  the  subjects  of  the  first ;  their 
application  to  National  History,  National  Govern- 
ment, and  to  Eloquence,  oral  and  written,  of  the 
second;  the  third  was  an  elementary  outline  of  tho 
various  legal  codes  of  civilized  nations,  common, 
civil,  and  international  law ;  and  tho  fourth  course 


*  In  1S09  Carpenter  published  at  New  York  two  volumes  of 
'•Memoirs  of  Jefferson,  containing  a  concise  History  of  tho 
United  States  from  tlic  acknowledgment  of  their  Independence, 
Willi  a  view  of  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  Fronch  Influence,  and 
French  Principles  in  that  country."  As  the  titlo  indicates,  th:i 
work  is  decidedly  anti-Jeffcrsonian.  No  publisher's  name  ap- 
pears on  tlie  title-page,  but  it  is  "Printed  for  tho  Purchasers." 
The  "  Mirror  of  Taste  and  Dramatic  Censor"  was  published  in 
four  volumes  by  Bradford  and  Inskeop,  -at  Philadelphia,  in 
1810  and  1811.  It  contained  some  very  clever  sketches  of 
American  actors,  which  were  amongst  the  earliest  productions 
of  the  artist  Leslie. 

In  1815  Carpenter  published  in  Philadelphia  two  octavo 
volumes  of  "  Select  American  Speeches,  Forensic  and  Parlia- 
mentary, wilh  Prefatory  Remarks:  being  a  sequel  to  Dr.  Chap- 
man's '  Select  Speeches.' " 


658 


> 

CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


was  to  followthe  track  of  Blackstone.  At  the  con- 
clusion he  also  proposes  to  devote  one  evening  in 
every  week  "  to  the  explanation  of  the  element- 
ary principles  of  elocution." 

He  delivered  the  tame  year  An  Oration  on  the 
Utility  of  Literary  Establishments  on  occasion 
of  the  opening  of  Eastburn's  Literary  Kooms  in 
New  York, — the  germ  of  noble  projects  since  hap- 
pily realized  in  such  ample  institutions  as  the 
Astor  Library  and  other  literary  associations  of 
the  tit}-.  While  a  resident  of  New  York  he  mar- 
ried a  widow,  the  daughter  of  the  late  millionaire 
John  Jacob  Astor. 

Mr.  Bristed,  always  of  an  earnest  mind,  en- 
gaged deeply  in  theological  studies  with  the  as- 
sistance of  Bishop  Griswold  of  the  eastern  dio- 
cese. He  was  ordained,  and  became  an  efficient 
assistant  in  organizing  the  parish  of  St.  Mark's,  in 
Warren,  Rhode  Island,  and  extending  Episcopacy 
in  the  state.  In  1822  he  published  his  Thoughts 
on  the  Anglican  and  American- Art glo  Churches, 
in  an  octavo  volume,  which  exhibits  his  preference 
of  the  voluntary  system  of  America  over  the  es- 
tablishments of  England.  It  is  written  in  an 
earnest  evangelical  spirit.  In  1820  he  had  suc- 
ceeded Bishop  Griswold  as  rector  of  St.  Michael's 
church  at  Bristol,  R.  I.  There  he  continued  to 
preach  while  his  health  permitted,  the  last  twelve 
years  of  his  life' being  passed,  in  consequence  of 
illness,  in  retirement  from  the  active  duties  of 
his  ministry.  He  died  at  his  residence  at  Bristol 
Feb.  23,  1855,  in  his  seventy-seventh  year. 

Mr.  Bristed  was  of  an  ardent,  susceptible  tem- 
perament, of  quick  perceptions,  enthusiastic  in 
the  pursuit  of  his  convictions,  of  a  strong  will,  and 
of  great  industry,  but  lacking  at  times  in  judg- 
ment. The  warmth  of  his  character  was  shown 
in  his  intimacy  with  Dr.  Mason,  in  his  strong 
sympathies  with  whatever  he  took  in  hand,  and 
in  his  devotion  to  the  church  in  which  he  minis- 
tered. He  was  an  earnest  preacher,  and  secured 
the  attention  of  his  listeners.  His  style  inclined 
to  over  fulness  in  rhetoric,  but  it  never  lacked 
matter. 

WILLIAM  AUSTIN, 
A  lawyer  of  Massachusetts,  and  a  writer  of 
marked  individual  .temperament,  with  strong 
powers  of  humor  and  observation,  was  born 
March  2,  1778.  He  studied  at  Harvard,  where 
his  name  appears  on  the  list  of  graduates  for  1798. 
In  1801,  he  delivered  an  oration  at  Charlestown, 
on  the  anniversary  of  the  Battle  of  Bunker's  Bill, 
which  was  printed.*  His  Letters  from  London, 
written  during  the  years  1802  and  1803,  were 
printed  in  an  octavo  volume  at  Boston,  in  1804. 
The  letters  are  written  with  ease  and  elegance, 
and  show  a  sprightly  inquisitive  mind,  with  a 
strong  flavor  of  what  was  called  in  that  day 
"jacobinism,"  in  its  judgments  of  affairs  of 
church  and  state.  He  went  to  study  John  Bull, 
and  amuse   himself  with   his  humors,  and   the 


*  An  Oration,  pronounced  at  Charlestown,  at  the  request  of 
the  Artillery  Company,  on  the  17th  June;  being  the  Anniver- 
sary of  the  Battle  of  Bunker's  Hill,  and  of  that  Company. 

How  sleep  the  brave  who  sink  to  rest, 
With  all  their  country's  honors  blest ! 

Collins. 

By  William  Austin,  A.E.   Charlestown.    Samuel  Ethcridge, 

1S01. 


reader  is  abundantly  entertained  with  the  result 
in  his  lively  pages.  In  his  comparison  of  the 
Scotch  and  English,  he  remarks  of  the  latter — 
"  They  differ  wonderfully  from  the  Scotch  in  one 
particular :  a  Scot  is  partial  to  his  fellow-Scotch- 
men, with  very  little  fondness  for  Scotland  :  an 
Englishman  is  still  more  partial  to  England,  with 
very  little  fondness  for  Englishmen."  Austin's 
opportunities  for  social  observation  were  con- 
siderable, and  he  has  given  us  pleasant  pictures 
of  his  intercourse  with  leading  people  at  Oxford, 
London,  and  elsewhere.  Dining  with  the  fellows 
at  St.  John's,  he  so  impressed  them  with  his 
description  of  the  Atlantic  cities,  that  they  ex- 
pressed a  regret  "  that  we  were  no  longer  the 
same  people,"  upon  which  he  replied  with  good 
humor,  "  that  was  their  own  fault,  for  the  United 
States  would  doubtless  accept  them  as  a  colony." 
He  was  at  a  bookseller's  dinner  with  Johnson, 
of  St.  Paul's  churchyard,  where  he  met  Fuseli. 
He  visits  the  venerable  Dr.  Griffiths,  of  Monthly 
Review  memory,  at  Turnham  Green,  and  talks 
with  him  of  the  interviews  of  Hume  and  Rous- 
seau at  that  spot,  and  there  is  a  capital  account 
of  a  meeting  with  Holcroft  and  Dr.  Wolcot  at 
Godwin's  residence  at  Somerstown.  Austin  had 
an  eye  for  character,  and  hits  off  his  subjects  with 
felicity.  His  descriptions  of  the  orators  then  in 
the  ascendant  in  Parliament,  Fox,  Pitt,  Windham, 
and  others,  are  of  interest.  Of  Fox  we  have 
this  personal  description  at  the  Hustings  : — 

You  will  expect  a  description  of  Mr.  Fox,  his  ap- 
pearance and  demeanour.  You  wish  to  know  how 
he  was  dressed,  how  he  stood,  and  how  he  looked. 
In  his  youth  he  is  reported  to  have  been  as  great  a 
fop  as  was  Aristotle :  I  will  only  say,  at  present,  his 
appearance  wns  altogether  against  him.  He  looked 
as  if  he  had  been  long  in  the  sea  service,  and  after 
many  a  storm,  had  retired  on  half  pay.  His  greasy 
buff  waistcoat,  threadbare  blue  coat,  and  weather- 
beaten  hat,  gave  him,  in  connexion  with  his  great 
corpulency  and  dark  complexion  with  short  dark 
hair  hastening  to  gray,  very  much  the  appearance 
of  a  laid  up  sea  captain.  He  has  the  countenance 
of  an  ancient  Englishman,  but  long  watching  has 
changed  the  temperature  of  health  to  a  dun  colour. 
He  would  be  thought,  at  present,  by  one  who  did 
not  know  him,  to  be  a  noble  dispositioned,  rather 
than  a  great,  man. 

About  the  year  1805,  we  hear  of  Austin's  being 
engaged  in  a  duel  with  James  II.  Elliott,  growing 
out  of  a  political  newspaper  altercation.  The 
duel  was  fought  in  Rhode  Island,  and  Austin  was 
slightly  wounded.* 

In  1807,  he  published  a  volume  of  Unitarian 
views,  entitled,  An  Essay  on  the  Human  Cha- 
racter of  Jesus  Christ.  Some  years  later,  we 
find  liiiH  a  contributor  to  Buckingham's  New 
England  Galaxy  of  a  remarkable  legendary  tale, 
entitled  Peter  Eugg,  the  Missing  Man. i  He  also 
►wrote  the  paper,  The  Late  Joseph  Natterstrom,  in 
the  first  number  of  the  New  England  Magazine. 
These  show  his  fine  qualities  as  a  writer. 

Austin  was  eminent  at  the  bar  of  Suffolk  and 


*  Loring's  Boston  Orators,  p.  8*29.  ; 

'  t  It  may  be  found  in  the  Boston  Book  for  1841.  It  was  re- 
printed from  the  Galaxy  in  other  papers  and  books,  and  was, 
says  Buckingham,  "  read  more  than  any  other  communication 
that  has  fallen  within  my  knowledge.  It  is  purely  fictitious, 
and  originated  in  the  inventive  genius  of  its  author.'- — Buck- 
ingham's Personal  Memoirs,  i.  ST. 


EDWARD  LIVINGSTON. 


659 


Middlesex. 
1841. 


He   died   at  Charlestown,  June  27, 


A  DINNEB    WITH    GODWIN",   nOI.CUOFT,   AND   WOLCOT — FEOM 
TILS  LETTEB8  EEOM    LONDON. 

London,  May  15th. 

Imagine  to  yourself  a  man  of  short  stature,  who 
has  just  past  the  prime  of  life,  whose  broad  high 
forehead  is  fast  retreating  to  baldness,  but  whose 
ruddy,  thoughtful,  yet  open  countenance  discovers 
both  the  temperature  of  health  and  philosophy : 
of  manners  remarkably  mild,  unassuming,  rather 
reserved;  in  conversation  cautious,  argumentative, 
frequently  doubtful,  yet  modestly  courting  reply, 
more  from  a  desire  of  truth,  than  a  love  of  contend- 
ing; in  his  family,  affectionate,  cordial,  accommo- 
dating ;  to  his  friends  confidential,  ready  to  make 
any  sacrifice ;  to  his  enemies — you  would  never 
know  from  Mr.  Godwin  that  lie  had  an  enemy. 

Mr.  Godwin  HveB  at  Somerstown,  about  three 
miles  from  the  city.  His  house  with  us  would  be 
considered  neat  and  simple ;  here  it  is  called  a 
cottage.  His  study  is  small,  and  looks  into  the 
country,  his  library  not  extensive,  yet  sufficiently 
large  for  a  man  who  depends  more  on  his  own  re- 
sources, than  on  the  labours  of  others.  The  portrait 
of  Mary,  taken  by  Northcote,  hangs  over  the  fire- 
place. This  rendered  the  study  one  of  the  most 
interesting  places  I  ever  visited.  Though  I  have 
frequently  been  in  the  study,  I  have  only  ventured 
to  look  at  the  portrait.  Mr.  Godwin  is  since  mar- 
ried to  a  charming  woman,  who  seems  devoted  to 
domestic  happiness.  He  is  at  present  occupied 
with  his  Geoffrey  Chaucer,  a  work  of  great  expec- 
tation. 

A  billet  from  Mr.  Godwin  informed  me  this  morn- 
ing, that  Mr.  Holcroft  and  Dr.  Wolcot  would  dine 
there  to  day. 

Mr.  Holcroft,  though  nearly  sixty,  has  suffered 
nothing,  either  from  years,  laborious  mental  exer- 
tion, or  persecution.  He  has  all  the  activity  and 
vivacity  of  youth.  Just  returned  from  the  conti- 
nent, whither  lie  had  voluntarily  banished  himself 
in  complaisance  to  the  wishes  of  the  English  go- 
vernment, he  has  brought  back  with  him  not  the 
least  resentment.  Persecution,  instead  of  embit- 
tering his  disposition,  has  had  that  effect,  which  it 
has  on  all  good  men.  A  villain  will  always  hate 
mankind  in  proportion  to  his  knowledge  of  the 
world  ;  a  good  man,  on  the  contrary,  will  increase 
in  philanthropy. 

Literature  is  not  a  little    honoured,  when  one 
of  her  votaries,  leaving  a  mechanical  employment 
at  a  period  of  life  when   habit   is  usually  become 
nature,  has  successfully  holden  the  pen  and  realised 
a  handsome  support.     Still  more  charming  is  it  to 
see   her   votaries    giving    proofs   of    the   strongest   I 
friendship.     Holcroft  and  Godwin  are  firm  friends.    I 
A  striking  likeness  of  the  former,  by  Northcote,  is   I 
in  the  dining-room. 

Dr.  Wolcot,  in  appearance,  is  a  genuine  John 
Bull,  and  until  he  opens  his  mouth,  you  would  little 
suspect  his  relationship  to  the  poet  of  Thebes.  He 
is  a  portly  man,  rather  unwieldy,  and  I  believe  not 
in  haste  to  leave  his  chair  when  he  is  pleased  with 
his  seat.  He  is  hastening  to  old  age,  and  seems  dis- 
posed to  make  the  most,  of  life  he  can.  There  is 
little  similarity  of  character  between  Wolcot  and 
Godwin.  They  are  both  constant  in  mental  exer- 
tion ;  but  the  oie  prefers  to  sit  on  a  silver  cloud, 
and  lie  wafted  through  the  four  quarters  of  the 
world,  looking  down  on  all  the  varieties  of  nature, 
and  the  follies  of  man.  The  other,  possessed  of  the 
nicest  moral  feelings,  loves  to  envelope  himself  in 
darkness  and   abstraction,  in  order  to   contemplate 


whatever  is  just,  fit.  or  useful.  The  one,  laughing, 
dressed  in  the  gaiety  of  spring,  enters  society  with 
the  pruning  hook ;  the  other,  more  serious,  labours 
with  the  ploughshare.  Holcroft.  who  never  began 
to  think  until  his  reasoning  powers  had  come  to 
maturity,  owing  to  a  neglect  of  education,  embar- 
rassed by  no  system,  follows  the  dictates  of  his  own 
mind,  and  if  he  is  sometimes  erroneous,  the  error  is 
all  his  own,  it  is  never  a  borrowed  error.  Hence, 
his  conversation,  embellished  by  the  variety  of  life 
which  he  has  seen,  is  rendered  rich,  brilliant, 
original,  and  impressive. 

******** 
Wolcot,  like  most  men  of  genius,  has  a  contempt 
for  mere  scholars,  who,  walking  on  the  stilts  of 
pedantry,  imagine  themselves  a  head  taller  than 
other  folks.  The  talents  of  a  certain  famous  man 
being  questioned,  Wolcot  observed — He  was  not  a 
man  of  genius,  but  a  man  of  great  capacity,  and 
said,  if  we  would  attend  to  him,  he  would  dis- 
tinguish between  the  learned  man,  the  man  of 
capacity,  and  the  man  of  genius. — "  Here,"  said  he, 
"  Ave  will  suppose  a  quantity  of  coins,  ducats,  pis- 
toles, dollars,  guineas,  on  this  table.  The  learned 
man  will  be  able,  after  thumbing  his  dictionaries 
for  half  an  hour,  to  tell  you  the  names  of  these  coins 
in  all  languages.  The  man  of  capacity  will  go 
further, and  tell  you  the  value  of  each,  and  the 
amount  of  the  whole  together,  with  every  thing 
relative  to  their  use,  difference  of  exchange  and 
o-igin.  But  who  invented  these  coins  ?  The  man 
of  genius."  This  gave  general  satisfaction.  How- 
ever, it  was  replied,  and  I  thought  very  justly,  That 
unless  the  man  of  genius  should  acquire  capacity, 
his  genius  without  capacity  would  be  less  useful, 
than  capacity  without  genius.  For,  the  exertion  of 
genius  is  rare.  God  does  not  every  day  create  a 
world  :  and  although  genius  may  claim  a  higher 
prerogative  than  capacity,  they  are  mutually  in- 
debted to  each  other.  If  genius  gives  employ  to 
capacity,  not  unfrequently  does  capacity  give  direc- 
tion and  result  to  genius. 

Adieu. 

EDWARD  LIVINGSTON 
Was  of  the  same  family  with  Governor  William 
Livingston  of  New  Jersey,  was  the  brother  of 
Robert  R.  Livingston,  the  Chancellor  of  the  State 
of  New  York,  the  friend  of  Fulton,  and  negotiator 
of  the  purchase  of  Louisiana,  and  also  closely  al- 
lied, by  marriages  with  his  family,  to  General 
Montgomery  and  General  Armstrong.  He  was 
born  at  Clermont  in  the  Livingston  Manor,  on 
the  Hudson,  in  New  York,  in  1764;  was  educated 
at  Princeton,  and  studied  law  with  his  brother, 
the  chancellor.  Admitted  to  the  bar  in  1785,  he 
was  engaged  in  his  profession  at  New  York  till 
1794,  when  he  was  elected  to  Congress  from 
Queens  and  Richmond  counties.  He  then  took 
under  his  charge  the  reform  of  the  criminal  law, 
one  of  the  objects  to  which  he  especially  there- 
after devoted  himself.*  Returning  to  New  York 
lie  was  appointed  by  Jefferson  United  States  Dis- 
trict Attorney,  while  he  was  at  the  same  time 
elected  to  the  mayoralty  of  the  city.  In  the  dis- 
charge of  the  duties  of  the  latter  office  he  encoun- 
tered witli  intrepidity  and  diligence  the  visitation 
of  the  yellow  fever  at  New  York  in  1803.*     In 


*  Dem.  Eov..  p.  3G9. 

f  New  York  was  vi?itedby  the  fever  in  the  summer  of  1803. 
Livingston  then  resided  at  STo.  1  Broadway.  As  Chairman  of 
the  Board  of  Health,  Livingston  was  indefatigable  in  lmexer- 


CGO 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


this  year  Livingston  published  a  volume  of  Judi- 
cial Opinions  delivered  in  the  Mayor's  Co,urtof 
the  City  of  New  York  in  1802.  It  contains  thir- 
ty-nine cases,  nearly  all  of  them,  saj-s  Judge  Daly, 
upon  questions  of  importance.*  In  1804  he  took 
up  his  residence  in  New  Orleans,  where  he  be- 
came distinguished  in  his  legal  profession,  and  was 
elected  to  the  state  legislature,  rendering  various 
services  to  the  state  in  its  then  unsettled  condi- 
tion in  legal  matters,  by  his  code  of  procedure  and 
other  adjustments  of  judicial  regulations.  A  per- 
sonal controversy  concerning  the'  batture  at  New 
Orleans  having  arisen  between  him  and  President 
Jefferson,  and  the  latter  having  published  in  1812 
a  pamphlet  on  the  subject,  Livingston  in  1814 
published  an  elaborate  reply,  distinguished  by  its 
literary  merits  not  less  than  by  its  argumentative 
power. 

On  the  defence  of  the  city  resulting  in  the 
battle  of  New  Orleans,  he  was  of  great  service  to 
General  Jackson,  who  freely  used  his  pen  and 
counsel,  having  appointed  him  his  military  secre- 
tary and  aide. 

In  1821  he  was  enabled  to  further  his  views  of 
legal  reform  by  the  commission  which  he  received 
from  the  General  Assembly  of  the  state  to  draw 
and  prepare  a  criminal  code.  His  report,  on  this 
subject,  made  the  following  year,  met  the  ap- 
proval of  the  legislature,  was  reprinted  in  London 
in  1824,  and  published  in  a  French  translation  in 
Paris.  He  subsequently  completed  this  import- 
ant work  in  his  System  of  a  Penal  Code  for  the 
State  of  Louisiana.  His  general  Code  embraced 
four  distinct  divisions : — A  Code  of  Crimes  and 
Punishments ;  a  Code  of  Procedure ;  a  Code  of 
Evidence ;  and  a  Code  of  Reform  and  Prison  Dis- 
cipline^ He  also  presented  the  result  of  bis  la- 
bors to  the  House  of  Representatives  of  the  Uni- 
ted States  in  his  System  of  Penal  Laws  for  the 
United  States  of  America,  published  by  the  Go- 
vernment in  folio  in  1828.  In  his  theory  of 
prison  discipline  he  advocated  to  a  certain  extent 
the  system  of  solitary  confinement  and  labor, 
while  he  sought  the  means  of  reformation  as  well 
as  punishment  in  efforts  for  the  education  and 
improvement  of  the  culprit,  and  carefully  gra- ' 
duated  the  degrees  of  the  penitentiary  and  other 
remedial  systems.  The  style  in  which  these  views 
are  set  forth  is  as  clear  and  simple  as  the  ideas 
are  humane.  In  regard  to  capital  punishment  he 
followed  the  humane  suggestions  of  Beccaria,  and 
recommended  to  the  Legislature  of  Louisiana, 
"  that  the  punishment  of  death  should  find  no 
place  in  the  code  which  you  have  directed  me  to 


tions  for  the  relief  and  comfort  of  the  Pick  at  the  hospitals,  and 
in-his  attentions  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  disease  within 
the  city.  From  his  official  visits  to  Bclleviie  Hospital  he  was 
exposed  daily  to  the  infection  and  eventually  took  the  dis- 
order. No  professional  nurses  could  be  obtained,  and  the 
whole  care  of  him,  independently  of  his  physicians,  fell  upon 
Captain  Wolstoneeraft  of  the  artillery,  who  commanded  upon 
Governor's  Island,  Mods.  Delabigarre,  a  French  gentleman, 
married  and  settled  in  New  York,  and  judge  W.  A.  Duer,  theu 
Livingston's  law  partner,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  this 
reminiscence.  To  the  attentions  of  these  friends,  not  less 
than  to  the  skill  of  medical  attendants,  Livingston  attributed 
his  recovery. 

*  Historical  Sketch  of  the  Judicial  Tribunals  of  New  York 
from  1623  to  1S4B,  by  Charles  P.  Daly,  one  of  the  Judges  of  the 
New  York  Common  Pleas,  1S55.  A  work  of  diligent  and  ac- 
curate research',  and  in  an  excellent  vein  of  local  investigation 
and  legal  inquiry. 

t  Ah  analysis  of  these  labors  of  Livingston  will  be  found  in 
two  articles  in  the  ninth  volume  of  tho  Democratic  P.eview. 


present."*    His  argument  on  this  subject  is  pre- 
sented with  equal  ingenuity  and  eloquence. 

From  1823  to  1829  he  represented  his  district 
in  the  House  of  Representatives  of  the  United 
States. 

In  1829  Livingston  was  elected  to  the  Senate 
of  the  United  States,  and  in  1831  entered  the 
cabinet  of  Jackson  as  Secretary  of  State.  It  was 
while  lie  held  this  office  that  Jackson's  celebrated 
proclamation  against  the  nullifiers  of  South  Caro- 
lina was  issued.  Two  years  later  he  was  sent  as 
Minister  to  France,  where  he  was  engaged  in  the 
difficult  negotiation  as  to  the  payment  of  the  in- 
demnity. Returning  to  America  in  the  summer 
of  1835,  he  died  at  his  familv-seat  on  the  Hudson, 
at  Red  Hook,  May  23,  1836*t 

An  estimate  of  Livingston's  personal  and  lite- 
rary character  is  given  in  the  following  words, 
attributed  to  his  friend  Andrew  Jackson,  by  Au- 
guste  Davezac : — 

"  I  once  had  the  opportunity  of  hearing  Jack- 
son speak  of  the  origin  of  his  intimacy  with  Liv- 
ingston. '  I  felt  myself  suddenly  attracted  to- 
wards him,'  he  said,  'by  the  gentleness  of  his 
manners ;  the  charm  of  his  conversation,  gay 
without  frivolity,  instructive  without  the  osten- 
tation of  instructing ;  by  the  profound  acquaint- 
ance he  already  possessed  of  the  theories  of  so- 
ciety, and  of  the  laws  in  their  relation  to  the  cha- 
racters of  nations ;  by  his  unlimited  confidence  in 
the  sagacity  of  the  people,  and  of  their  capability 
of  self-government  through  the  agency  of  repre- 
sentatives specially  instructed  to  express  the  opi- 
nion of  their  constituents  on  great  questions  of 
general  interest,  still  more  than  on  those  of  local 
concern ;  and  above  all  by  that  lovely  and  holy 
philanthropy  which  impelled  him  from  his  youth 
to  mitigate  the  severity  of  those  penal  laws 
whose  cruelties  serve  only  to  inspire  in  the  masses 
a  ferocity  that  always  maintains  an  equilibrium 
with  that  of  the  laws  which  govern  them.,' "J 

Davezac  was  the  brother-in-law  of  Livingston, 
and  earnestly  devoted  to  his  memory.  He  pre- 
pared a  volume  of  Reminiscences  of  Livingston,  a 
portion  of  which  was  published  in  the  Demo- 
cratic Review,  to  which,  about  1840,  he  was  a 
frequent  contributor.! 

ZEBULON  MONTGOMERY  PIKE, 

Tire  national  explorer  of  the  territory  west  of  the 
Mississippi,  and  a  gallant  soldier  of  the  second 


*  Project  of  a  New  Penal  Code  for  the  State  of  Louisiana. 
Lond.  ed.,  p.  89 

t  Biographic  Universelle,  Supplement,  Art.  Livingston. 

t  Dcrii.  Rev.  viii.  370. 

§  Davezac  was  a  native  of  St.  Domingo,  of  French  parentage, 
received  a  military  education  in  France,  came  to  the  United 
States  in  his  youth,  studied  medicine  in  North  Carolina;  on 
the  acquisition  of  Louisiana,  settled  at  New  Orleans;  became 
intimate  with  Livingston,  who  married  his  sister;  received  a 
new  direction  to  the  law,  and  became  a  highly  successful  advo- 
cate in  criminal  causes.  He  was  aide  to  Jackson  at  the  battle 
of  New  Orleans,  and  afterwards  engaged  in  political  life,  for 
which  his  ready  French  eloquence  gave  him  facilities  with  the 
people.  Jackson  gave  him  the  appointment  of  charge  to  the 
Hague,  where  he  passed  the  years  from  1SS1  to  1839.  Return4 
ing  then  to  New  York,  where  he  took  up  his  residence,  he  was 
elected  to  the  state  legislature  in  1S41  and  1S43.  Having  aided 
the  election  of  Polk,  by  taking  the  field  as  a  political  cam- 
paigner, he  was  re-appointed  to  the  Hague  in  1S45,  and  held 
the  post  till  ISdQ.  He  died  not  long  after  his  return  to  Ame- 
rica, in  New  Yo  k. 

He  was  an  eloquent  speaker  in  the  warm  florid  style,  a  man 
of  humor,  and  of  brilliant  conversational  powers. 


JOEL  R.  POINSETT. 


G31 


war  with  England,  was  a  native  of  New  Jersey, 
born  at  Lamaton,  January  5,  1779.  His  father 
was  a  soldier  before  him,  and  he  followed  his  foot- 
steps by  entering  the  army  at  an  early  age.  Whoa 
Louisiana  was  obtained  from  France  he  was  em- 
ployed in  1805  in  a  government  survey  of  the 
new  territory,  in  its  western  portions.  He  em- 
barked from  St.  Louis  in  August  of  that  }Tear,  and 
traversed  for  nearly  nine  months  the  Indian  coun- 
try of  the  North-west,  adopting  a  conciliatory 
policy  among  the  Indians  and  British  traders  of 
the  region.  In  July,  1806,  he  set  out  on  another 
expedition,  the  object  of  which  was  the  restora- 
tion of  some  Osage  captives,  who  had  been  taken 
in  war  by  a  hostile  tribe,  to  their  nation.  This 
accomplished,  he  pursued  his  survey  of  Western 
Louisiana.  Winter  overtook  him,  and  his  party 
suffered  severely.  He  unwittingly  passed  the 
boundaries  of  the  Spanish  provinces  and  was  tak- 
en a  prisoner  and  carried  to  Chihuahua,  whence 
he  was  soon  dismissed,  and  in  July  of  1807  ar- 
rived at  Natchitoches.  He  published  his  Account 
of  Expeditions  to  the  Sources  of  the  Mississippi, 
ami  through  the  Western  Parts  of  Louisiana, 
from  1805  to  1807,  and  a  Tour  through  the  Inte- 
rior Parts  of  Ne;o  Spain,  when  conducted  through 
these  Provinces  by  order  of  the  Captain-General 
in  the  year  1807,  in  Philadelphia,  in  1810.  It  is 
in  the  form  of  a  diary,  with  an  appendix  of  geo- 
graphicd  and  other  disquisitions. 

On  th.e  breaking  out  of  the  war  with  England 
in  1813  he  received  a  colonel's  command,  and  the 
next  year  was  appointed  a  brigadier-general.  He 
led  the  laud  expedition  in  the  attack  upon  York, 
Upper  Canada.  He  bravely  stormed  the  defences, 
but  was  mortally  wounded  at  the  moment  of  sur- 
render by  the  enemy's  explosion  of  their  maga- 
zine. He  was  carried  to  Commodore  Chauncey's 
vessel  on  the  lake,  where  he  died  in  the  arms  of 
victory,  with  the  captured  British  flag  folfel  un- 
der his  head.  He  thus  fell  April  27,  1813,  at  the 
age  of  thirty-four. 

He  possessed  some  accomplishments  in  litera- 
ture. Though  self-taught,  he  had  made  conside- 
rable progress  in  the  foreign  languages  and  the 
mathematics.  Dodsley's  publication;  "The  Eco- 
nomy of  Human  Life,"  was  a  favorite  with  him 
for  its  moral  maxims — to  which  he  made  some 
additions  in  his  copy  presented  to  his  wife  shortly 
after  his  marriage. 

JOEL  R.  POINSETT. 
Joel  R.  Poinsett  was  born  in  Charleston,  S.  C, 
March  2,  1779,  of  a  Huguenot  family  of  distinc- 
tion in  the  state.  He  was  educated  by  Dr. 
D wight,  at  Greenfield,  Ct.  At  seventeen  he  wa.s 
sent  to  England,  where  he  was  taught  the  classics 
at  a  school  near  London;  next  studied  medicine 
at  Edinburgh,  and  to  recruit  his  health  made  the 
tour  of  Europe,  engaging  before  his  return  to 
America  in  the  study  of  military  affairs,  for  which 
he  hud  a  special  aptitude.  In  1800,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-one,  he  came  home  with  a  strong  desire 
to  enter  the  army,  but  was  induced  by  bis  father 
to  become  a  student  of  Jaw.  His  studies  were, 
however,  interrupted  by  new  schemes  of  European 
travel  induced  by  ill-health,  which  he  pursued 
with  the  advantages  of  wealth,  family  influence, 
and  a  happy  natural  disposition,  facile  to  receive 
and  pleasant  in  the  communication  of  knowledge. 


He  travelled  through  Switzerland  on  foot,  visited 
Italy  and  Sicily,  and  the  Austrian  empire.  The 
death  of  his  father  recalled  him  to  America;  but 
he  speedily  resumed  his  travels,  extending  his  jour- 
ney to  St.  Petersburgh,  where  he  was  warmly 
received  by  the  Emperor  Alexander,  who  was 
much  impressed  by  his  military  capacity,  and  who 
offered  him  a  command  in  his  service.  He  then 
travelled  through  the  Russian  empire  to  the 
country  of  the  Calmuck  Tartars,  visited  Persia 
and  the  region  of  the  Caspian,  meeting  with  adven- 
tures which  proved  his  courage,  among  the  tribes 
of  that  region.  Returning  to  Europe,  lie  received 
the  first  decided  intimation  of  the  breaking  out  of 
the  second  war  of  the  United  States  with  Eng- 
land at  Paris,  and  soon  presented  himself  in 
America  to  President  Madison,  with  a  request  for 
employment  in  the  army.  While  the  necessary 
arrangements  wore  pending,  he  received  a  com- 
mission to  visit  South  America  and  inquire  into 
the  relation  of  the  new  Republics.  He  sailed  to 
Rio,  crossed  the  Andes  to  Chili,  and  visited  Peru. 
The  authorities  of  the  latter  state,  on  a  rumor  of 
Spain  having  declared  war  with  the  United  States, 
seized  the  American  whale  ships  .at  Talcahuano,  a 
port  of  Chili.  This  aggression,  Poinsett  met  in 
person,  taking  himself  the  command  of  a  small 
force  put  at  his  disposal  by  the  Chilian  govern- 
ment, and  promptly  rescuing  the  American 
vessels.  He  was  at  Valparaiso  during  Porter's 
heroic  conflict  in  the  Essex  with  the  Phcebe  and 
Cherub,  which  he  witnessed.  The  refusal  of  the 
British  officer  to  let  him  proceed  homewards  by 
sea  compelled  him  to  cross  the  snow-covered 
Andes  in  the  month  of  April.  At  Buenos  Ayres 
similar  difficulties  of  egress  offered,  but  he  got  off 
privately  by  a  Portuguese  vessel  to  Bahia,  and 
thence  to  Madeira,  where  he  heard  that  peace 
had  been  declared. 

On  his  return  to  South  Carolina  he  was  elected 
to  the  State  Legislature,  where  he  interested  him- 
self in  utilitarian  projects,  securing  the  construc- 
tion of  the  important  road  in  the  state  over  the 
Saluda  Mountain.  In  1821,  he  took  his  seat  in 
Congress  for  the  Charleston  district,  and  was 
twice  re-elected.  He  discharged  an  important 
mission  to  Mexico  in  1822,  under  President 
Monroe,  during  the  brief  imperial  reign  of  Itur- 
bide,  of  which  lie  published  an  account.  He  sub- 
sequently, in  1825,  returned  to  the  country  as 
Minister  Plenipotentiary  under  the  administra- 
tion of  Adams,  where  he  maintained  his  personal 
independence  with  spirit  and  courage  during  some 
scenes  of  peculiar  difficulty  growing  out  of  the 
revolutionary  movements  of  the  times.  He  re- 
turned home  in  1829  to  his  native  state,  to  become 
the  leader  of  the  Union  party,  and  on  his  acces- 
sion was  called  by  Van  Buren  to  the  head  of  the 
War  Department.  At  the  close  of  this  period,  in 
1841,  he  delivered  a  spirited  discourse  on  the 
Promotion  of  Science  at  the  first  Anniversary  of 
the  National  Institution.  He  afterwards  lived  in 
retirement,  writing  occasionally  upon  topics  of  a 
practical  character.  He  died  at  Statesburg,  S.  O, 
Dec.  14,  1351* 

The  writings  of  Poinsett  grew  out  of  his  active 
career.  His  Notes  on  Mexico,  made  in  1822,  with 
an  Historical  Sketch  of  the  Revolution,  published 


•  De  nooratio  Review,  i.  301-303 :  443-430. 


CC2 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


in  Philadelphia  in  1824,  is  the  most  important. 
It  is  a  book  of  value,  a  personal  narrative  origi- 
nally written  in  letters  to  a  friend,  and  in  its 
description  of  manners  and  customs,  one  of  the 
best  of  the  period  when  it  was  written,  particu- 
larly in  its  study  of  the  national  character.  In 
these  respects  it  remained  a  valuable  authority 
till  its  interest  was  diminished  by  the  shifting 
relations  of  the  country. 

In  1846,  a  somewhat  similar  work  of  sound 
political  judgment  appeared  from  the  pen  of 
AVaddy  Thompson  of  the  same  state,  the  Recollec- 
tions of  Mexico,  which  is  of  historical  importance 
for  its  sober  representation  of  the  estimate  in 
which  Mexico  was  held  by  intelligent  citizens  of 
the  United  States,  on  the  eve  of  the  war  which 
resulted  in  the  annexation  of  the  vast  territory  on 
the  Pacific. 

Poinsett  was  also  the  author  of  several  essays 
and  orations  on  topics  of  manufacturing  and 
agricultural  industry.  He 'had  also  considerable 
taste  for  art,  and  was  the  founder  of  an  Academy 
of  the  Fine  Arts  at  Charleston,  which  existed  for 
several  years. 

CLEMENT  C.  MOOEE 
Was  born  in  New  York  July  15,  1779.  He  re- 
ceived Ids  early  education  in  Latin  and  Greek  from 
his  father,  the  Bishop  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Chnrch  in  New  York,  and  in  1798  became  a  gra- 
duate of  Columbia  College.  After  leaving  college 
Mr.  Moore  devoted  himself  with  much  success  to 
the  study  of  Hebrew,  the  result  of  which  was  sub- 
sequent]}' made  public  in  his  Hebrew  and  English 
Lexicon,  published  in  1809,  2  vols.  To  Dr. 
Moore,  therefore,  belongs  the  high  merit  of  having 
been  the  pioneer  in  this  country  in  the  depart- 
ment of  Hebrew  Lexicography.  "When  the  work 
was  prepared  for  the  press  a  difficulty  arose  from 
the  want  of  Hebrew  type.  Atter  some  delay  a 
fount  was  obtained  from  Philadelphia.  The  first 
volume  contains  a  complete  vocabulary  to  the 
Psalms,  with  an  appendix  of  notes;  the  second  a 
brief  general  lexicon,  arranged  in  alphabetical  or- 
der, with  a  grammar  of  the  language  annexed. 
Though  now  super.-eded  by  more  ample  and  cri- 
tical productions  this  little  work  was,  as  the 
"  compiler  hopes"  for  it,  "  of  some  service  to  his 
young  countrymen  in  breaking  down  the  impedi- 
ments which  present  themselves  at  the  entrance 
of  the  study  of  Hebrew,"  and  establishes  for  the 
city  of  St.  Nicholas  the  earlier  title  to  successful 
efforts  for  the  study  of  the  venerable  language  of 
the  older  dispensation.  In  1821  he  accepted 
the  appointment  of  "  Professor  of  Biblical  Learn- 
ing, the  department  of  the  interpretation  of 
Scripture  being  added,"  in  the  General  Theolo- 
gical Seminary  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  "When 
that  institution  was  united  with  the  Diocesan 
State  Seminary  his  Professorship  was  entitled  that 
of  "  Hebrew  and  Greek  Literature,"  and  was  not 
long  afterwards  altered  to  that  of  "  Oriental  and 
Greek  Literature."  From  his  family  inheritance 
he  made  a  most  important  gift  to  the  seminar)-  of 
the  body  of  land  in  the  city  of  New  York  on  which 
it  is  located,  comprehending  the  entire  space  be- 
tween Ninth  and  Tenth  avenues  and  Twentieth 
and  Twenty-first  streets,  with  the  water-right  on 
the  Hudson  belonging  to  it. 

Professor  Moore  has  lightened  his  learned  la- 


bors in  the  seminary  by  the  composition  of  nu- 
merous poems  from  time  to  time,  chiefly  expres- 


[ollMWrJr  \o,Jmon,. 


sions  of  home  thoughts  and  affections,  with  a  turn 
for  humor  as  well  as  sentiment,  the  reflections  of 
a  genial,  amiable  nature.  They  were  collected 
by  the  author  in  a  volume  in  1844,  which  he  de- 
dicated to  his  children.  Though  occasional  com- 
positions they  are  polished  in  style,  the  author 
declaring  in  his  preface  that  he  does  not  pay  his 
readers  "  so  ill  a  compliment  as  to  offer  the  con- 
tents of  this  volume  to  their  view  as  the  mere 
amusements  of  my  idle  hours;  effusions  thrown 
off  without  care  or  meditation,  as  though  the  re- 
fuse of  my  thoughts  were  good  enough  for  them. 
On  the  contrary,  some  of  the  pieces  have  cost 
me  much  time  and  thought ;  and  I  have  composed 
them  all  as  carefully  and  correctly  as  I  could." 
The  longest  of  these  poems  is  entitled  A  Trip  to 
Saratoga,  a  pleasant  narrative  and  sentimental 
account  of  a  family  journey.  Others  are  very 
agreeable  vers  de  societe,  commonly  associated 
with  some  amusing  theme.  One,  a  sketch  of  an 
old  Dutch  legend  greatly  cherished  in  all  genuine 
New  York  families,  has  become  a  general  favorite 
wherever  it  is  known.     It  is 


A  VISIT  FROM  ST.    NICHOLAS. 


'Twas  the  night  before  Christmas,  when  all  through 

the  house 
Not  a  creature  was  stirring,  not  even  a  mouse : 
The  stockings  were  hung  by  the  chimney  with  earc, 
In  hopes  that  St.  Nicholas  soon  would  be  there ; 
The  children  were  nestled  all  snug  in  their  beds, 
While  visions  of  sugar-plums  danced  in  their  heads; 
And  Mamma  in  her  'kerchief,  and  I  in  my  cap, 
Had  just  settled  our  brains  for  a  long  winter's  nap ; 
AVhen  out  on  the  lawn  there  arose  such  a  clatter, 
I  sprang  from  the  bed  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 
Away  to  the  window  I  flew  like  a  flash, 
Tore  open  the  shutters  and  threw  up  the  sash. 
The  moon  on  the  breast  of  the  new-  fallen  mow, 
Gave  the  lustre  of  mid-day  to  objects  below, 
"When,  what  to  my  wondering  eyes  should  appear, 
But  a  miniature  sleigh;  and  eight  tiny  rein-deer, 
With  a  little  old  driver,  so  lively  and  quick, 
I  knew  in  a  moment  it  must  be  St.  Nick. 
More  rapid  than  eagles  his  coursers  they  came, 
And  he  whistled,  and  shouted,  and  called  them   hy 

name; 
"  Now,  Dasher !  now,  Dancer !  now,  Prancer,  and 

Vixen  I 
On,  Comet  I  on,  Cupid !  on,  Donder  and  Dlitzen  ! 
To  the  top  of  the  porch !  to  the  top  of  the  wall ! 
Now  dash  away!  dash  away!  dash  away  all !" 
As  dry  leaves  that  before  the  wild  hurricane  fly. 
When  they  meet  with  an  obstacle,  mount  to  the  sky ; 
So  up  to  the  house-top  the  coursers  they  flew, 
With  the  sleigh  full  of  toys,  and  St.  Nicholas  too. 
And  then,  in  a  twinkling,  I  heard  on  the  roof, 
The  prancing  and  pawing  of  each  little  hoof — 
As  I  drew  in  my  head,  and  was  turning  around, 
Down  the  chimney  St.  Nicholas  came  with  a  bound. 
He  was  dressed  all  in  fur,  from  his  head  to  his  foot. 
And  his  clothes  were  all  tarnished  with  ashes  and 

soot ; 


FRANCIS  SCOTT  KEY. 


603 


A  bundle  of  toys  lie  had  flung  on  his  back, 

And  lie  looked  like  a  pedlar  just  opening  his  pack. 

His   eyes — how  tliey   twinkled !    his  dimples  how 

merry ! 
His  cheeks  were  like  roses,  his  nose  like  a  cherry  I 
His  droll  little  mouth  was  drawn  up  like  a  bow, 
And  the  beard  of  his  chin  was  as  white  as  the  snow ; 
The  stump  of  a  pipe  he  held  tight  in  his  teeth, 
And  the  smoke  it  encircled  his  head  like  a  wreath  ; 
He  had  a  broad  face  and  a  little  round  belly, 
That  shook  when  he  laughed,  like  a  bowlful  of  jelly. 
He  was  chubby  and  plump,  a  right  jolly  old  elf, 
And  I  laughed  when  I  saw  him,  in  spite  of  myself ; 
A  wink  of  his  eye  and  a  twist  of  his  head. 
Soon  gave  me  to  know  I  had  nothing  to  dread  ; 
He  spoke  not  a  word,  but  went  straight  to  his  work, 
And  filled  all  the  stockings ;  then  turned  with  a  jerk, 
And  laying  his  finger  aside  of  his  nose, 
And  giving  a  nod,  up  the  chimney  he  rose; 
He  sprang  to  his  sleigh,  to  his  team  gave  a  whistle, 
And  away  they  all  flew  like  the  down  of  a  thistle. 
But  I  heard  him  exclaim,  ere  he  drove  out  of  sight, 
"  Happy  Christmas  to  all,  and  to  all  a  good  night." 


F.  S  KEY. 
Francis  Scott  Key  was  born  in  Frederick  County, 
Maryland,  August  1,  1779.  His  father,  John 
Ross  Key,  an  officer  in  the  army  in  the  Revolu- 
tionary war,  was  a  descendant  from  some  of  the 
earliest  settlers  of  the  province. 


The  son  was  educated  at  St.  John's  College, 
Annapolis,  and,  after  completing  his  course, 
studied  law  in  the  office  of  his  uncle,  Philip  B. 
Key,  at  Annapolis,  and,  in  1801,  commenced  the 
practice  of  the  profession  at  Fredericktown,  in  his 
native  county.  Some  years  after  he  removed  to 
Washington,  where  he  became  District  Attorney 
of  the  city,  and  there  remained  until  his  death, 
January  11,  18-13. 

Mr.  Key  was  the  author,  in  addition  to  the  Star- 
Spangled  Banner,  of  a  few  other  songs  and  devo- 
tional pieces.  His  poems  were  written  without 
any  view  to  publication,  on  some  passing  topic  for 
his  own  and  the  gratification  of  his  friends.  They 
were  noted  down  on  odd  scraps  of  paper,  backs  of 
letters,  &c,  a  piece  of  several  verses  being  often 
on  as  many  separate  slips  of  paper,  and  were 
6eldom  revised  by  the  author. 

We  are  indebted  for  a  copy  of  the  Star-Spangled 
Banner  from  the  author's  manuscript,  and  for  the 
Hymn  for  the  Fourth  of  July,  and  the  Song 
written  on  the  return  of  Decatur,  both  of  which 
are  now  for  the  first  time  printed,  to  the  poet's 
son-in-law,  Mr.  Charles  Howard,  of  Baltimore. 


■When  the  warrior  returns  from  the  battle  afar, 
To  the  home  and  the  country  he  nobly  defended, 
Oh  !   warm  be  the  welcome  to  gladden  his  ear, 
And  loud  be  the  joy  that  his  perils  are  ended. 
In  the  full  tide  of  song  let  his  name  roll  along, 
To  the  feast  flowing  board  let  us  gratefully  throng, 
Where  mixed  with  the  olive  the  laurel  shall  wave, 
And  form  a  bright  wreath  for  the  brows  of  the  brave. 


Columbians !  a  band  of  thy  brothers  behold, 

Who  claim  the  reward  of  thy  hearts'  warm  emotion, 

When  thy  cause,  when  thine  honor  urged  onward 

the  bold, 
In    vain   frowned    the   desert,   in   vain    raged    the 

ocean. 
To  a  far  distant  shore,  to  the  battle's  wild  roar, 
They  rushed,  thy  fair  fame  and  thy  rights  to  secure ; 
Then  mixed  with  the  olive  the  laurel  shall  wave, 
And  form  a  bright  wreath  for  the  brows  of  the  brave. 

In  the  conflict  resistless  each  toil  they  endured, 
'  fill  their  foes  fled  dismayed  from  the  war's  desolation ; 
And  pale  beamed  the  crescent,  its  splendor  obscured 
By  the  light  of  the  star-spangled  flag  of  our  nation. 
Where  each  radiant  star  gleamed  a  meteor  of  war, 
And  the  turbaned  heads  bowed  to  its  terrible  glare, 
Now  mixed  with  the  olive  the  laurel  shall  wave, 
And  form  a  bright  wreath  for  the  brow  of  the  brave. 

Our  fathers  who  stand  on  the  summit  of  fame, 
Shall  exultingly  hear  of  their  sons  the  proud  story, 
How  their  young  bosoms  glowed  with  the  patriot 

flame, 
How  they  fought,  how  they  fell,  in  the  blaze  of  their 

glory. 
How  triumphant  they  rode  o'er  the  wondering  flood, 
And  stained  the  blue  waters  with  Infidel  blood; 
How  mixed  with  the  olive  the  laurel  did  wave, 
And  formed  a  bright  wreath  for  the  brows  of  the  brave. 

Then  welcome  the  warrior  returned  from  afar 
To  the  home  and  the  country  he  nobly  defended, 
Let  the  thanks  due  to  valor  now  gladden  his  ear, 
And  loud  be  the  joys  that  his  perils  are  ended. 
In  the  full  tide  of  song  let  his  fame  roll  along, 
To  the  feast  flowing  board  let  us  gratefully  throng, 
Where  mixed  with  the  olive  the  laurel  shall  wave, 
And  form  a  bright  wreath  for  the  brows  of  the  brave. 

THE  STAR-SPANGLED   BANNER.* 

Oh!  say  can  you  see  by  the  dawn's  early  light, 
What  so  proudly  we  hailed  at   the  twilight's  lasl 

gleaming — 
Whose  broad  stripes  and  bright  stars  through  the 

perilous  fight, 
O'er  the  ramparts  we    watched,  were  so  gallantly 

streaming ! 
And  the  rocket's  red  glare,  the  bombs  bursting  in  air. 
Gave   proof  through  the  night  that  our  flag  was 

still  there ; 
0  !  Bay  does  that  star-spangled  banner  yet  wave 
O'er  the  laud  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave  ! 

On  that  shore  dimly  seen  through  the  mists  of  the 

deep, 
Where    the   foe's    haughty   host   in   dread    silence 

reposes, 
What  is  that  which  the  breeze,  o'er  the  towering 

steep, 
As  it  fitfully  blows,  now  conceals,  now  discloses  ? 
Now  it  catches  the  gleam  of  the  morning's  first  beam. 
In  full  glory  reflected^  now  shines  on  the  stream; 


*  This  song  was  composed  under  the  following  circumstances : 
— A  gentleman  had  left  Baltimore,  with  a  flag  of  truce,  for  the 
purpose  of  petting  released  from  the  British  fleet  a  friend  of 
ids,  who  had  been  captured  at  Marlborough.  He  went  as  far  as 
the  mouth  of  the  Patu.\ent,  and  was  not  permitted  to  return, 
lest  the  intended  attack  on  Baltimore  should  be  disclosed.  He 
was  then-fore  brought  up  the  bay  to  the  mouth  of  the  Palapsco. 
where  the  flag-vessel  was  kept  under  the  guns  of  a  frigate; 
and  he  was  compelled  to  witness  the  bombardment  of  Fort 
M'Henry,  which  the  Admiral  had  boasted  lie  would  carry  in  a 
few  hours,  and  that  the  city  must  fall.  He  watched  the  flap  at 
the  fort  through  the  whole  day.  with  an  anxiety  that  can  be 
better  felt  than  described,  until  the  night  prevented  him 
from  seeing  it.  In  the  night  he  watched  tlio  bomb-shells,  and 
at  early  dawn  his  eye  was  again  greeted  by  the  flag  of  his 
country. — M'Carti/u  National  Sonys,  lii.  225. 


664 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Tis  the  star-spangled  banner,  0  long  may  it  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

And  where  is  that  band  who  so  vauntingly  swore 
That  the  havoc  of  war  and  the  battle's  confusion 
A  home  and  a  country  should  leave  us  no  more? 
Their   blood   has   washed   out   their  foul  footsteps' 

pollution. 
No  refuge  could  save  the  hireling  and  slave 
From  the  terror  of  flight,  or  the  gloom  of  the  grave ; 
And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  doth  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

Oh!  thus  be  it  ever,  when  freemen  shall  stand 
Between  their  loved  homes  and  the  war's  desolation, 
Blest   with   victory   and  peace,  may   the   heaven- 
rescued  land 
Praise  the  power  that  hath  made  and  preserved  us  a 

nation. 
Then  conquer  we  must,  when  our  cause  it  is  just, 
And  this  be  our  motto — "  In  God  is  our  trust" — 
And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

nYMN  FOK  TI1E  FOURTH  OF  JULY. 

Before  the  Lord  we  bow, 

The  God  who  reigns  above, 
And  rules  the  world  below, 
Boundless  in  power  and  love. 
Our  thanks  we  bring, 
In  joy  and  praise, 
Our  hearts  we  raise, 
To  Heaven's  bright  King. 

The  nation  thou  hast  blest 

May  well  thy  love  declare, 
From  foes  ami  fears  at  rest, 
Protected  by  thy  care. 

For  this  fair  land, 
For  this  bright  day, 
Our  thanks  we  pay, 
Gifts  of  thy  hand. 

Our  fathers  6ought  thee,  Lord, 

And  on  thy  help  relied  ; 
Thou  heardest,  and  gavest  the  word, 
And  all  their  needs  supplied. 
Led  by  thy  hand 
To  victory, 
They  hailed  a  free 
And  rescued  land. 

God  of  our  lives !  that  hand 
Be  now  as  then  displayed, 
To  give  this  favored  land 
Thy  never-failing  aid. 
Still  may  it  be 
Thy  fixed  abode  ! 
Be  thou  our  God, 
Thy  people  we. 

May  every  mountain  height, 
Each  vale  and  forest  green, 
Shine  in  thy  word's  pure  light, 
And  its  rich  fruits  be  seen  ! 
May  every  tongue 
Be  tuned  to  praise, 
And  join  to  raise 
A  grateful  song. 

Earth  !  hear  thy  Maker's  voice, 

The  great  Redeemer  own ; 
Believe,  obey,  rejoice, 

Bright  is  the  promised  crown. 
Cast  down  thy  pride, 
Thy  sin  deplore, 
And  bow  before 
The  Crucified. 


And  when  in  power  He  comes, 

0  may  our  native  land, 
From  all  its  rending  tombs, 
Send  forth  a  glorious  band. 
A  countless  throng, 
Ever  to  sing, 
To  Heaven's  high  King, 
Salvation's  song. 

AMERICAN  ACADEMY  OF  AET8. 
The  American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences 
was  founded  at  Boston,  1780,  and  was  the  second 
institution  of  its  class  in  the  country.  Its  objects, 
as  expressed  in  its  charter,  are  "to  promote  and 
encourage  the  knowledge  of  the  antiquities  of 
America,  and  of  the  natural  history  of  the  coun- 
try, and  to  determine  the  uses  to  which  the  va- 
rious natural  productions  of  the  country  may  be 
applied,  to  promote  and  encourage  medical  dis- 
coveries, mathematical  disquisitions,  philosophical 
inquiries  and  experiments,  meteorological  and 
geographical  observations  and  improvements  in 
agriculture,  arts,  manufactures,  and  commerce ; 
and,  in  fine,  to  cultivate  every  art  and  science 
which  may  tend  to  advance  the  interest,  honor, 
dignity,  and  happiness  of  a  free,  independent,  and 
virtuous  people." 

The  number  of  members  cannot  be  less  than 
forty  or  more  than  two  hundred,  and  four  stated 
meetings  are  to  be  held  every  year. 

The  Presidency  of  the  institution  has  been  held 
in  succession  by  the  following  eminent  gentlemen : 
James  Bowdoin,  John  Adams,  Edward  A.  Holy- 
oke,  John  Q.  Adams,  Nathaniel  Bowditch,  and 
John  Pickering,  all  of  whom  have  been  already 
noticed  in  these  pages.  We  have  also  spoken  of 
Count  Rumford,*  whose  foundation  by  bequest  of 
a  fund,  in  the  control  of  the  Academy,  for  the 
encouragement  of  researches  in  heat  and  light,  has 
been  of  material  service  in  advancing  its  objects. 
The  first  volume  of  Memoirs  was  published  in 
1785.  Four  volumes  have  since  appeared,  all  of  a 
uniform  quarto  size.  Among  the  contributors  we 
meet  with  the  names  of  President  Kirkland,  J.  E. 
Worcester,  Nuttail  the  ornithologist,  Dr.  Holyoke, 
James  Bowdoin,  President  Wiilard,  and  Professor 
Williams  of  Harvard,  James  Winthrop,  Jeremy 
Belknap,  Caleb  Gannett,  Edward  Wigglesworth, 
NoaliWebster,Theopbihis  Pai>ons,  the  Rev.  Joseph 
M'Kean,  President  of  Bowdoin  College,  Dr.  Bow- 
ditch,  Professor  John  Farrar,  Thaddeus  Mason 
Hams,  Benjamin  Pierce,  John  Pickering,  and 
David  H.  Storer.  Dr.  Jacob  Bigelow  i*  at  pre- 
sent the  presiding  officer  of  the  society.  A. 
donation  of  $10,000  has  been  recently  received 
from  the  executors  of  the  late  Samuel  Appleton, 
being  part  of  a  fund  bequeathed  by  that  gentle- 
man to  public  objects. 

SIMON  GEEENLEAF. 
Tins  eminent  legal  writer  was  born  in  Newbury - 
port,  Mass.,  December  5,  1783.  His  father  was 
a  captain  in  the  Revolutionary  army,  and  on  his 
mother's  side  he  was  connected  with  the  family 
of  the  late  Chief  Justice  Parsons.  While  he  was 
yet  quite  young,  his  father  removed  to  Maine,  and 
when  he  was  eighteen  years  old,  he  entered  as  a 
law  student  the  office  of  Ezekiel  Whitman,  Esq., 


Ante,  p.  371. 


BEVERLEY  TUCKER. 


605 


of  New  Gloucester — since  Chief  Justice  of  Maine 
— where  he  remained  three  years.  In  1800  he 
married,  and  began  the  practice  of  the  law  in 
Standish,  Maine,  whence,  after  a  residence  of  six 
months,  he  removed  to  Gray,  where  he  remained 
twelve  years.  In  1818  he  removed  to  Portland. 
In  1820,  upon  Maine  becoming  a  state,  and  the 
establishment  of  the  Supreme  Court,  he  was  ap- 
pointed Reporter  of  its  decisions.  He  held  that 
office  until  1832,  when  he  was  superseded  by  a 
political  opponent.  His  reports,  and  especially 
the  later  volumes,  are  considered  by  the  profession 
models  of  judicial  reports.  He  was  at  this  time 
one  of  the  foremost  of  the  Maine  bar,  and  had  an 
extensive  practice.  He  remained  in  Portland  one 
year  afterwards,  and  in  1833,  upon  the  death  of 
Professor  Ashmun,  he  was  appointed  Royal  Pro- 
fessor of  Law  in  the  Dane  Law  School,  which 
office  he  held  until  1 846,  when  he  was  transferred 
to  the  Dane  Professorship,  then  vacant  by  the 
death  of  Judge  Story.  He  held  this  professorship 
but  two  years,  when,  in  1848,  his  failing  strength 
becoming  wholly  unequal  to  its  accumulated  and 
poorly  requited  labors,  he  resigned  the  place.  His 
release  from  care  and  toil  was  followed  by  an  im- 
mediate amendment  of  his  health;  and  he  was 
enabled  to  devote  himself  to  the  preparation  of 
his  law  books. 

The  Law  School  at  Cambridge  is  indebted  for  its 
success  to  no  one  of  its  many  able  professors  more 
than  to  Mr.  Greenleaf.  Before  Judge  Story  and 
Mr.  Greenleaf  united  their  labors,  it  had  been  made 
a  respectable  school  by  the  efforts  of  Stearns  and 
Ashmun.  The  extended  and  well  deserved  repu- 
tation of  Judge  Story  as  a  jurist  and  a  profound 
lawyer,  attracted  large  numbers  of  young  men  to 
the  school,  and  by  his  glow  and  fervor,  he  awakened 
in  them  a-pirations  for  the  higher  attainments  of 
the  profession  ;  but  it  was  the  gentle  and  affection- 
ate, yet  decided  and  controlling,  manner  of  Mr. 
Greenleaf,  who  had  always  the  direction  of  the 
internal  ai  Fairs  of  the  school,  and  for  many  months 
in  eacli  year  during  the  absence  of  Judge  Story 
at  Washington,  and  on  his  circuits,  its  entire  con- 
trol and  management  and  instruction,  which, 
connected  with  the  respect  which  his  extensive 
learning,  his  extraordinary  aptness  to  teach,  and 
his  power  of  attracting  and  holding  the  attention 
of  the  students,  kept  the  young  men  together, 
satisfied  and  harmonious.  By  all  those  who  had 
the  good  fortune  to  be  his  pupils,  his  death  is  felt 
as  a  personal  loss. 

Before  coming  to  Cambridge,  Mr.  Greenleaf 
was  an  author  of  law  books.  Besides  his  reports, 
nine  volumes  in  number,  he  published  in  1821  a 
volume  of  over-ruled  cases;  in  1842  the  first 
vcl  ime  of  his  work  on  Evidence ;  in  1846  the 
second  volume;  and  in  1853  the  third  and  con- 
cluding volume.  The  first  volume  has  reached  the 
seventh  edition;  the  second,  the  fourth  ;  and  the 
third,  the  second  edition.  In  1846  be  published 
an  annotated  edition  of  Cruise's  Digest  of  Real 
Law.  Of  his  position  as  a  iaw  writer,  a  distin- 
guished judge  has  said:,  "Among  those  eminent 
lawyers  who  have  never  held  judicial  station,  the 
name  and  opinion  of  Mr.  Greenleaf  stand  highest 
as  authority  in  all  matters  of  law.  He  gained  this 
high  position  by  incessant  and  devoted  labor  in 
his  profession."  He  also  published  in  1846  a 
volume  entitled,  An  Examination  of  the   Testi- 


mony of  the  Four  Evangelists  by  the  Rules  of 
Evidence  administered  in  the  Courts  of  Justice, 
with  an  Account  of  the  Trial  of  Jesus.  The  pre- 
paration of  this  was  begun  as  early  as  1817,  and 
it  has  been  republished  in  England. 

Besides  these  works,  he  published  others  of  less 
size  and  importance,  and  of  more  temporary 
value,  and  he  also  contributed  not  unfrequently  to 
periodical  literature. 

He  was  never  a  politician.  He  was  once  elected 
to  the  Maine  legislature,  but  there,  devoted  him- 
self chiefly  to  amendments  of  the  statute  law  of 
the  state. 

He  was  an  upright  man  and  a  devout  Christian. 
His  death  was  sudden.  He  retired  to  rest  in  per- 
fect health ;  was  soon  seen  to  be  ailing ;  medical 
aid  was  called,  but  before  it  arrived  he  had  gone 
to  his  long  sleep.  He  left  the  wife  of  his  youth  a 
widow ;  and  of  a  large  family  of  children,  two 
sons  and  two  daughters  survive  him* 


BEVEELEY  TUCKER, 

The  son  of  the  eminent  jurist,  St.  George  Tucker, 
was  born  at  Matoax,  Virginia,  Sept.  6,  1784. 
He  was  educated  at  Williamsburgh,  where  his 
father  took  up  his  residence  in  the  sou's  child- 
hood. Having  completed  his  course  at  William 
and  Maiy,  he  prosecuted  the  study  of  the  law ; 
married  in  1809,  and  removed  to  Charlotte 
county,  where  he  resided  till  his  removal  to  Mis- 
souri in  1815,  of  which  state  he  became  a  resi- 
dent, and  where  he  was  appointed  judge. 


•€?  y^c 


li^r j 


He  passed  fifteen  years  in  the  West,  when  he  re- 
turned to  Virginia.  On  the  Fourth  of  July,  1834, 
he  was  elected  by  the  Board  of  Visitors  to  the 
professorship  of  law  in  William  and  Mary  Col- 
lege,, which  he  held  till  his  death,  which  occurred 
on  a  summer  tour  in  the  state  at  Winchester,  Au- 
gust 26, 1851. 

The  writings  of  Judge  Tucker  are,  his  work  on 
Pleading,  his  lectures  on  Government,  his  three 
novels  of  George  Balcombe,  the  Partisan  Leader, 
and  Gertrude,  and  his  contributions  to  the  South- 
ern Review.  He  had  begun  shortly  before  his 
death  a  life  of  his  relative,  John  Randolph,  and 
also  left  among  his  unfinished  MSS.  parts  of  a 
dramatic  production. 

We  are  indebted  to  a  lettelWrom  his  intimate 
friend  William  Gihnore  Simms,  for  the  follow- 
ing familiar  notices  of  his  character  and  writings. 
"  He  was  a  brave  old  Virginia  gentleman,  a  stern 
States  Right  Doctrinaire,  intense  of  feeling,  jea- 
lous of  right,  and  with  an  eager  sense  of  wrong  and 
injury.  He  was  jealous  as  a  politician,  like  his 
brother  John  Randolph,  and  had  many  of  the 
characteristics  of  that  fiery  politician,  as  his 
speech  at  the  Nashville  Convention  witnesses, 
where  his  invective,  more  elaborate  and  polished 
than  that  of  Randolph,  was  quite  as  terrible.     His 


*  Wo  are  indebted  for  this  notice  to  the  obituary  of  the 
American  Almanac  for  1S55.  It  is  evidently  prepared  by  ono 
who  knew  Judge  Greenleaf,  and  we  have  preserved  its  lan- 
guage entire. 


GG6 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 


political  tenets  are  fully  displayed  in  his  Lectures 
on  Government. 

"  In  his  style  I  regard  him  as  one  of  the  hest 
prose  writers  in  the  United  States,  at  once  rich, 
flowing,  and  classical ;  ornate  and  copious,yet  pure 
and  chaste ;  full  of  energy,  yet  full  of  grace ;  in- 
tense, yet  stately ;  passionate,  yet  never  with  a 
forfeiture  of  dignity. 

"  His  novel  of  George  Balcomheisabold,  highly 
spirited,  and  very  graceful  border  story,  true  to  the 
life,  a  fine  picture  of  society  and  manners  on  the 
frontier — animated  and  full  of  interest.  It  lacked 
color  or  warmth  of  tone,  wanting  the  softening 
effects  of  fancy,  though  not  without  imagination. 
Rea-on  was  his  predominant  faculty.  There  was 
a  sternness  in  his  writings,  a  directness  and  an  in- 
tensity, which  show  the  author  disdainful  in  the 
pursuit  of  his  object  of  all  the  flowers  of  the  way- 
side. When  he  deals  with  the  pathetic,  he  rather 
sports  with  it.  This  is  the.  one  chief  qualification 
of  the  merits  of  the  book,  which  is  one  of  the  most 
vigorous  of  American  novels  as  a  narrative  of  ac- 
tion and  the  delineation  of  mental  power." 

The  Partisan  Leader*  is  a  curious  anticipative 
political  history,  published  in  1837;  the  scene  is 
laid  in  Virginia  in  1849,  twelve  years  ahead. 
Van  Buren  is  represented  in  his  third  presiden- 
tial term  at  the  head  of  a  consolidated  govern- 
ment, with  the  forms  of  a  republic  and  the  powers 
of  a  monarchy.  The  Southern  states,  with  the 
exception  of  Virginia,  have  seceded.  Its  design 
was  to  show  what  the  novelist  thought  fit  to 
suppose  the  probable  effects  of  the  Van  Buren 
party  continuing  in  power,  in  the  destruction  of 
the  Constitution,  the  dissolution  of  the  Union,  and 
the  conflict  of  small  Republics  which  would  fol- 
low. 

Gertrude,  an  original  novel,  appeared  in  the 
Southern  Literary  Messenger,  for  1844-45. 

Of  Professor  Tucker's  discharge  of  his  college  du- 
ties at  William  and  Mary,  we  learn  from  Professor' 
Totten  that  his  force  of  character  "made  a  strong 
impression  on  the  minds  of  his  pupils.  Thegreater 
part  adopted  his  views  on  all  subjects  in  which 
he  instructed-  them.  He  had  an  original  and 
what  might  be  called  an  executive  mind.  He 
was  exceedingly  happy  in  his  illustrations,  and 
seldom  presented  the  most  common  idea  in  the 
same  form  with  others.  His  conversation  had  in 
consequence  an  unusual  attraction.  He  had  a 
warm  heart,  was  cordially  loved  by  his  friends, 
and  as  cordially  hated  by  his  enemies. 

"  Christianity  occupied  his  attention  greatly  in 
his  later  years.  He  wrote  down  his  seasonings 
as  he  advanced  in  the  investigation.  He  gave  me 
these  papers  to  read,  and  I  was  much  interested 
in  tracing  the  progress  of  a  powerful  and  original 
intellect  in  its  course  from  doubt  to  the  most 
child-like  confiding  faith.  For  many  years  pre- 
ceding his  death,  he  was  a  devout  and  exemplary 
Christian."! 

HENEY  COLMAN. 

Hexky  Colman,  a  prominent  writer  on  agricul- 
ture, was  born  in  Boston,  September  12,  1785. 
After  completing  his  collegiate  course  at  L>art- 


*  The  Partisan  Leader,  a  Tale  of  the  Future,  by  Edward  Wil- 
liam Svdney.  Washington  Citv.    James  Cuxton,  1S37. 
t  MS.  Letter  of  Prof.  Silas  Totten,  March  15, 1S65. 


mouth  in  1805,  he  studied  theology,  and  was 
ordained  June  17,  1807,  minister  of  a  Congrega- 
tional church  at  Hingham,  where  he  was  also 
engaged  as  the  teacher  of  a  school.  In  1820  he 
resigned  his  charge  and  removed  to  Boston,  where 
he  remained,  principally  employed  as  a  teacher, 
until  February,  1825,  when  he  removed  to  Salem 
to  take  charge  of  a  new  Unitarian  church  and 
congregation  formed  for  the  express  purpose  of 
securing  his  services.  He  remained  in  this  place, 
performing  its  functions  with  great  acceptability, 
and  increasing  his  already  extensive  reputation 
as  a  preacher,  until  his  resignation  in  consequence 
of  ill  health,  December,  1831. 

Mr.  Colman  now  established  himself  on  a  farm 
on  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut,  and  gave  his 
whole  attention  to  his  favorite  pursuit  of  agricul- 
ture. The  reputation  of  his  experiments  and  suc- 
cessful culture,  and  of  his  contributions  to  agri- 
cultural journals,  became  extended,  and  on  the 
establishment  of  an  agricultural  commissioner  by 
the  state  of  Massachusetts,  he  was  appointed  to 
the  office  by  Governor  Everett. 

Mr.  Colman  pursued  the  duties  of  this  trust  with 
unwearied  energy  and  industry,  and  after  an  ex- 
tensive tour  throughout  the  state,  and  the  publi- 
cation of  several  Reports,  in  the  autumn  of  1842 
sailed  for  Europe  to  continue  his  investigations. 
The  ensuing  six  years  were  passed  in  a  tour  through 
Great  Britain  and  the  continent,  the  results  of 
which  were  given  to  the  public  on  his  return  in 
1848  in  his  Agriculture  and  Rural  Economy  of 
France,  Belgium,  Holland,  and  Switzerland; 
European  Agriculture  and  Sural  Economy,  two 
volumes ;  and  European  Life  and  Manners  in  Let- 
ters to  Friends,  two  volumes,  works  which  exhibit 
to  advantage  his  powers  as  a  writer  as  well  as 
observer. 

In  1849  Mr.  Colman  returned  to  Europe  in  the 
hope  of  restoring  his  health,  which  had  now  be- 
come much  impaired.  The  result  was  unsuccess- 
ful, as  his  death  occurred  soon  after  his  arrival,  at 
Islington,  on  the  14th  of  August. 

In  addition  to  his  agricultural  works  Mr.  Col- 
man was  the  author  of  two  volumes  of  sermons, 
published  during  the  period  of  his  active  ministe- 
rial labors. 

HENET  LEE. 

Henet  Lee,  the  author  of  a  spirited  work  on 
Napoleon,  and  of  a  pungent  volume  on  Jefferson, 
was  the  son  of  General  Henry  Lee  of  the  Revo- 
lution, by  his  first  wife  Matilda,  daughter  of 
Colonel  Philip  Tredwell  Lee,  who  was  long  a 
member  of  the  King's  Council,  and  the  elder 
brother  of  the  two  signers  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  Richard  Henry  Lee  and  Francis 
Lightfoot  Lee,  of  Dr.  Arthur  Lee,  who  served  his 
country  during  the  Revolution  in  several  diplo- 
matic appointments,  and  of  William  Lee,  who 
was  an  alderman  of  London  when  that  struggle 
commenced,  but  who  heartily  joined  his  brothers 
in  maintaining  it,  and  afterwards  became  the 
American  Minister  at  the  Hague. 


SAMUEL  G.  DRAKE. 


667 


Henry  Lee  was  born  .at  Stratford,  Westmore- 
land County, Virginia,  1787,  in  the  same  room  dis- 
tinguished as  the  birthplace  of  two  of  the  signers 
of  the  Declaration  just  mentioned.  He  was  edu- 
cated at  William  and  Mary,  where  he  became  an 
excellent  Latin  scholar,  and  developed  a  taste  for 
letters  which  accompanied  him  through  life. 
During  the  war  of  1812  he  was  appointed  by 
Madison  a  Major  in  the  twelfth  regiment,  de- 
signed chiefly  for  interior  defence,  but  soon  went 
to  the  Canadian  frontier  as  Aide  to  General  Wil- 
kinson, and  afterwards  served  General  Izard  in 
the  same  capacity. 

On  his  return  from  Canada  he  met  the  late 
Edinburgh  Reviewer,  Jeffrey,  in  New  York,  then 
at  the  height  of  his  reputation.  They  were  both 
possessed  of  brilliant  conversational  powers,  and 
their  meeting  was  the  delight  of  the  many  enter- 
tainments where  they  came  together. 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  Major  Lee  retired  from 
the  army,  and  married  Miss  Ann  M'Carty,  whose 
estate  adjoined  his  own  paternal  Stratford,  where 
he  lived  many  years,  more  devoted  to  hunting 
than  farming ;  when  only  the  odd  hours  of  good 
days,  and  the  dull  ones  of  wet  weather,  were 
amused  with  books.  The  correspondent  to  whom 
we  are  indebted  for  these  details  of  his  life,  men- 
tions as  an  anecdote  of  his  skill  with  tiie  rifle, 
that  he  has  often  killed  two  wild  ducks  at  one 
shot,  by  firing  as  they  swam  slowly  by  each 
other  exactly  as  their  necks  came  within  the 
ranse  of  a  single  ball. 

He  was  first  impelled  to  literary  labor  by 
Judge  William  Johnson's  Life  of  General  Greene. 
That  work  was  deemed  by  him  so  unjust  to  his 
father's  fame,  and  that  of  his  brave  legion,  that 
he  resolved  to  defend  both,  which  he  did  with 
success  in  an  octavo  volume  entitled,  Campaigns 
of  1782  In  the  Carolinas*  published  in  1824-. 
Major  Lee  having  been  by  education  and  convic- 
tion attached  to  the  Federal  school,  was  politi- 
cally proscribed  by  the  dominant,  so  called,  demo- 
cratic party.  On  the  nomination  of  Jackson, 
however,  who  had  in  1812  opposed  this  proscrip- 
tion, he  became  one  of  the  most  influential  advo- 
cates for  his  election,  in  a  series  of  essays  which 
he  published  in  his  behalf. 

He  was  appointed  by  Jackson  as  Consul  at 
Algiers,  whither  he  proceeded  in  1829,  but  his 
appointment  not  having  been  confirmed  by  the 
Senate,  lie  did  not  remain  there  a  year.  His  clas- 
sical recollections  induced  him  to  visit  Italy  on 
his  way  home,  and  in  Rome  he  saw  Madame 
Mere,  the  mother  of  Napoleon.  His  lively  im- 
pressions of  the  Italian  campaigns  of  the  latter, 
and  his  admiration  for  the  hero,  induced  him  to 
attempt  a  vindication  of  his  character  from  slan- 
der, and  an  adequate  record  of  his  deeds.  He 
was  delayed  in  the  execution  of  this  congenial 
task  by  the  necessity  he  found  himself  under  of 
discharging  a  more  private  and  sacred  one.  He 
again  entered  the  field  as  the  defender  of  his 
father's  memory  from  assaults  in  the  published 
writings  of  Jefferson,  and  wrote  his  Observations 
on,  ths  Writings  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  published 


*  The  Campaism  of  1781  in  the  Carolina";  with  remarks 
historical  and  critical  on  Johnson's  Life  of  Greene,  to  which  is 
added  an  appendix  of  original  documents  relating  to  the  his- 
tory of  the  Revolution.    By  H.  Lee.     Phila.    1824.    8vo. 


in  New  York  in  1832.*  As  a  controversial  work 
tiiis  was  written  with  ability,  its  arguments  se- 
curing the  admiration  of  Judge  Marshall.  The 
"  Observations"  made  their  mark,  and  have  never 
been  directly  answered,  though  Tucker's  Life  of 
Jefferson  touches  on  the  topics  involved.  In  1845 
it  was  republished  with  additional  notes  meeting 
Tucker's  remarks,  by  C.  C.  Lee,  Esq.,  of  Powha- 
tan. 

After  completing  this  work,  Major  Lee  devoted 
himself  to  what  he  designed  to  be  a  Life  of  the 
Emperor  Napoleon,  and  the  first  volume  was  pub- 
lished in  Paris  and  New  York  with  that  title  in 
I835,t  bringing  the  narrative  to  the  year  1796.  An 
appendix  of  nearly  half  the  volume  is  occupied 
with  an  argumentative  examination  of  the  posi- 
tions of  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  his  History  of  Bona- 
parte. 

Lee  died  before  a  second  volume  was  completed 
at  Paris,  January  30,  18374  After  his  death, 
the  first  volume  and  tbe  additional  matter  which 
he  had  prepared,  were  published  in  a  large  octavo 
in  London  and  Paris,  with  the  title,  The  Life  of 
Napoleon  Bonaparte,  down  to  the  Peace  of  Tolen- 
tino,  and  the  close  of  his  First  Campaign  in 
Italy. 

Riciiaed  Heney  Lee,  the  author  of  the  lives 
of  his  great  grandfather,  R.  H.  Lee,  and  of  his 
great  uncle,  Dr.  Arthur  Lee,  is  the  son  of  the  late 
Tredwell  Lee,  of  Loudon  Count}',  and  Flora,  the 
second  daughter  of  Colonel  Philip  Tredwell  Lee, 
of  Stratford,  Va.  He  studied  law,  and  after 
practising  in  the  profession  a  few  years,  betook 
himself  to  the  more  congenial  pursuit  of  letters, 
and  is  now  a  Professor  in  Washington  College, 
Pennsylvania. 


SAMUEL  G-.  DRAKE. 
Samuel  G.  Drake  was  born  October  10,  1798, 
at  Pittsfleld,  N.  H.  He  was  educated  at  the  com- 
mon schools  of  the  neighborhood,  at  that  time 
held  only  during  a  few  winter  months.  At  the 
age  of  twenty  he  became  a  district  school  teacher, 


*  Observations  on  the  Writings  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  with 
particular  reference  to  the  attack  they  contain  on  the  memory 
of  the  late  General  llenrv  Lee,  in  a  series  of  letters,  by  II.  Lee 
of  Virginia.     New  York!    1832. 

+  The  Life  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  with  an  Appendix, 
containing  an  Examination  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  "  Life  of  Na- 
poleon Bonaparte;"  and  a  notice  of  tho  principal  errors  of 
other  writers,  respecting  his  character  and  conduct.  By  II. 
Lee.  Vol.  I.  New  York  :  Charles  de  Behr.  1835.  We  are  not 
aware  that  this  work  was  translated  into  French.  It  was  re- 
ceived by  eminent  Frenchmen,  as  the  Duke  of  Bassano,  witli 
great  favor.  General  Napier,  the  author  of  the  Peninsular 
Campaigns,  commended  it  highly. 

X  The  following  notice  of  his  death  appeared  in  GaliynanVs 
(Paris)  Sfeuengor  at  the  time : — 

"Death  of  Major  Henry  Lee,  author  of  the  Life  of  Napoleon, 
&c.,  &c.  This  distinguished  American  has  fallen  a  victim  to 
the  epidemic  which  now  pervades  the  capital.  He  expired 
yesterday  morning  after  much  Buffering,  from  a  short  illness  of 
complicated  influenza. 

"  In  the  prime  of  life,  and  in  the  full  vigor  of  a  well  cultivat- 
ed intellect,  the.  riches  of  which  have  already  contributed  to 
the  literature  of  the  age.  his  untiring  assiduity  has  been  sud- 
denly arrested  in  the  promising  career  in  which  his  hopeful 
friends  with  so  much  pleasure  saw  him  fast  advancing. 

"  While  letters  lose  in  him  a  zealous  votary,  his  numerous 
friends,  who  know  the  greatness  of  soul  which  characterized 
his  actions,  the  suavity  of  his  temper,  his  modesty  and  urbanity 
of  manners,  will  mine-le  their  tears  with  those  of  a  disconsolate 
widow,  and  long  regret  that  'that  hand  which  was  as  firm  in 
friendship  as  it  was  strong  In  battle1  has  been  so  soon  palsied 
by  the  cold  grasp  of  death." 


668 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


an   occupation  in   which  he  was   engaged    for 
seven  years. 


In  1830  Mr.  Drake  established  the  antiquarian 
book  store  in  Boston,  with  which  his  name  has. 
been  long  and  favorably  connected. 

His  labors  as  an  antiquarian  commenced  in 
1824,  as  editor  of  a  reprint  of  Colonel  Church's 
History  of  King  Philip's  War,  of  which  we  have 
already  spoken.  This  was  followed  in  1832  by 
the  Indian  Biography*  and  in  1833  by  The 
Book  of  the  Indians,  or  a  Biography  and  History 
of  the  Indians  of  North  America,  a  work  of 
much  research  and  information,  the  popular  suc- 
cess of  which  is  vouched  for  by  the  eleven  editions 
which  have  been  published  .f 

In  1836  Mr.  Drake  published  a  number  of  con- 
temporary narratives  of  the  early  colonial  wars, 
with  the  title,  The  Old  Indian  Chronicle.  In  1839 
he  prepared  Indian  Captivities,  a  volume  of  the 
original  narratives  of  the  sufterers. 

In  18-47  the  New  England  Historical  and 
Genealogical  Register  was  commenced  by  Mr. 
Drake,  by  whom  it  is  still  conducted,  under  the 
auspices  of  a  society  of  a  similar  title.  It  has 
already  done  much  for  family  and  local  history. 

In  1852  Mr.  Drake  commenced  the  publication 
of  bis  chief  work,  The  History  of  Boston.  It 
will  form  when  completed  (as  is  anticipated  with- 
in the  present  year),  a  large  octavo,  profusely  il- 
lustrated with  portraits,  autographs,  and  views  of 
buildings  and  localities.  It  is  a  work  of  great  re- 
search, and  contains  much  original  information, 
particularly  in  reference  to  the  early  discovery  of 
the  New  England  coast,  which  has  already  been 
of  service  to  writers  as  well  as  readers  of  history. 

HEJTET  M.  BEACKENEIDGE. 

Henry  M.  Brackenridge  is  the  son  of  the  author 
of  Modern  Chivalry,  and  was  born  in  Pittsburg 
the  11th  of  May,  1786.  His  father  discovered  in 
him  very  early  indications  of  superior  intellect, 
and  resolved  to  give  his  personal  attention  to  its 
cultivation.  The  course  of  education  was  begun 
almost  in  infancy,  by  himself  with  the  assistance  of 
others ;  and  after  ten  years  of  age,  excepting  about 
six  months  at  the  Pittsburgh  academy,  and  about 
the  same  length  of  time  at  Jefferson  College,  the 
course  of  instruction  was  strictly  private.  At 
seven  years  of  age  he  was  consigned  to  the  charge 
of  a  gentleman  who  visited  Louisiana,  and  placed 
at  a  French  school  at  St.  Genevieve,  in  Upper 
Louisiana,  for  the  purpose  of  learning  the  French 
vernacularly.  This  was  so  successful  that  in  less 
than  six  months  he  had  forgotten  the  English  en- 
tire]}'. Various  causes  prevented  his  being  re- 
stored to  his  home  until  near  ten  years  of  age. 
It  was  at  this  time,  Mr.  Brackenridge  states  in  his 


*  12mo.  pp.  350. 

t  The  eleventh  appeared  in  1SD1.    Svo.  pp. 


"  Recollections,"  that  his  education  commenced  in 
earnest.  A  little  table  was  assigned  him  in  his 
father's  private  study,  and  instruction  partly  given 
by  his  parent  and  partly  by  tutors  under  his  di- 
rection. Perhaps  the  greatest  advantage  to  him 
was  derived  from  the  continual  intercourse  with  a 
man  of  quick  intellect  and  learning,  who  possessed 
a  happy  method  of  communicating  knowledge  on 
all  subjects. 


M 


ftPftffiteMk****^ 


On  the  appointment  of  his  father  to  the  su- 
preme bench  of  the  state,  3"oung  Brackenridge, 
then  fifteen  years  of  age,  was  placed  for  two  years 
in  the  office  of  prothonotary  or  clerk  of  the  court, 
preparatory  to  entering  the  office  of  a  practising 
attorney  for  the  purpose  of  studying  law.  His 
range  of  reading  and  general  information  was  sin- 
gularly extensive  for  his  age,  and  his  mind  re- 
markably precocious,  although  his  proficiency  in 
the  ancient  classics  and  in  mathematics  was  not 
equal  to  his  other  attainments  ;  this  was  owing  to 
not  having  carried  the  study  of  them  into  maturer 
years,  and  the  too  great  variety  of  his  other  stu- 
dies. He  had  imbibed  their  quintessence,  how- 
ever, without  the  labor  of  digesting  them  in  bulk; 
thus  forming  his  taste  on  the  finest  models  ancient 
and  modern. 

At  the  age  of  twenty  Mr.  Brackenridge  was 
admitted  to  the  bar  as  a  well  grounded  lawyer. 
After  this  he  repaired  to  the  residence  of  his  father 
in  Carlisle,  where,  under  his  directions,  he  eon- 
tinned  for  a  year  ormore  to  apply  himself  to  the  law 
of  equity  and  maritime  law,  intending  to  qualify 
himself  for  practice  in  Baltimore.  On  going  to 
that  city  he  entered  the  office  of  a  practitioner 
in  chancery;  he  also  attended  the  court-,  where 
he  had  an" opportunity  of  hearing  the  able  law- 
yers who  then  flourished  at  that  bar.  His  youth, 
want  of  means  to  enable  him  to  "  bide  his  time," 
and  the  great  numbers  who  occupied  every  branch 
of  the  profession,  discouraged  him  from  attempt- 
ing the  practice  without  previous  exercise  of  his 
faculties  on  some  more  humble  stage.  Hearing 
that  there  was  but  one  lawyer  in  the  town  of  So- 
merset, he  repaired  to  that  place,  and  at  once  took 


HENhY  M.  ERACKEXUIDGE. 


GC9 


possession  of  the  office  which  had  been  recently 
vacated  by  the  death  of  the  other.  There  being 
but  two  lawyers  in  this  place  he  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  1  leing  engaged  on  one  side  or  other  of  every 
case,  thus  obtaining  an  opportunity  of  exercising 
his  faculties  which  had  been  denied  in  Baltimore. 
The  business  was  not  so  great  as  to  deprive  him  of 
ample  leisure  for  reviewing  his  studies,  and  going 
through  a  course  of  historical  reading,  revising 
Gibbon,  Robertson,  Hume,  and  other  classical 
English  writers.  He  had  made  some  progress  in 
Italian  and  German,  to  which  he  regularly  de- 
voted a  portion  of  his  time.  With  the  French 
literature  he  was  familiar.  A  year  was  thus 
passed  here  to  advantage,  when  he  received  a 
letter  from  a  friend  in  New  Orleans  who  had  been 
appointed  sheriff,  and  who  promised  a  very  tempt- 
ing opening  there  in  the  profession.' 

In  the  spring  of  1810,  Mr.  Brackenridge  took 
his  departure  from  Pittsburgh  for  Upper  Lou- 
isiana, being  desirous  of  visiting  the  scenes  of  his 
infancy,  to  which  his  recollections  fondly  clung. 
He  was  most  kindly  received  at  St.  Genevieve  by 
the  family  in  which  he  had  lived;  and  it  happen- 
ing to  be  the  court  week  became  engaged  in  several 
important  cases.  From  this  place  he  went  to  St. 
Louis  and  followed  the  spring  circuit,  but  without 
changing  his  ultimate  determination  of  going  to 
the  south.  After  the  courts  were  over,  instead 
of  taking  an  office  he  set  to  work  to  collect  mate- 
rials for  an  account  of  the  country.  These  formed 
a  series  of  essays  published  in  the  only  newspaper 
of  the  country,  and  which  were  afterwards  used  as 
the  groundwork  of  his  volume  on  Louisiana,  a 
work  spoken  of  in  high  terms  when  published  in 
Pittsburgh  in  1812,  two  years  afterwards.  He 
availed  himself,  while  at  St.  Louis,  of  the  opportu- 
nity of  improving  himself  in  the  Spanish  language 
under  an  excellent  teacher,  aud  afterwards  made 
himself  master  of  it  in  Louisiana.  Being  addicted 
to  novices  and  few  pleasures,  he  found  abundance 
of  time  to  apply  to  study. 

In  the  autumn  of  1811,  Mr.  Brackenridge  de- 
scended the  river  to  New  Orleans  in  what  was 
called  a  keel-boat,  steam  not  being  then  in  use. 
It  was  not  more  than'  a  month  or  two  after  his 
arrival  until  he  was  appointed  Deputy-Attorney- 
General  for  the  territory  of  Orleans,  afterwards 
State  of  Louisiana.  When  the  constitution  went 
into  operation  the  next  year  he  received  the  ap- 
pointment of  District  Judge,  although  not  more 
than  twenty-three  years  of  age.  It  became  ne- 
cessary to  turn  his  attention  to  the  Spanish  law, 
the  Siete  Parlidai,  and  to  the  Code  Civil,  &c,  all 
based  on  the  Roman  civil  law.  Here  a  wide  field 
opened  before  him,  to  which  he  devoted  himself 
for  two  or  three  years  with  great  earnestness ;  at 
the  same  time  giving  a  large  portion  of  his  atten- 
tion to  Spanish  literature,  for  which  he  enjoyed 
the  best  opportunities.  lie  acquired  the  language 
so  as  to  speak  and  write  it  with  fluency.  Luring 
the  latter  part  of  the  war  of  1812  he  corresponded 
with  the  general  government,  and  gave  important 
information  as  to  the  designs  of  the  enemy  and 
the  condition  of  the  country  for  defence.  In  i 814, 
in  the  month  of  September,  he  left  Louisiana  on  a 
visit  to  Washington  on  an  invitation  to  engage  in 
a  diplomatic  capacity,  hut  was  taken  ill  in  Ken- 
tucky, and  did  not  reach  the  seat  of  government 
until  after  peace  had  been  proclaimed.    His  re- 


ception by  Mr.  Madison  was  kind,  and  he  was 
introduced  by  him  to  Mr.  Monroe,  Secretary  of 
State,  to  whom  he  communicated  his  intentions  in 
his  favor.  In  Mr.  Monroe  he  afterwards  found, 
on  all  occasions,  a  warm  and  ardent  friend.  In 
the  meantime  he  took  up  his  residence  at  Balti- 
more. At  the  instance  of  a  bookseller  he  wrote 
a  popular  history  of  the  incidents  of  the  late  war, 
which  still  holds  its  place  after  passing  through 
many  editions.-  It  was  translated  into  French  and 
Italian  by  distinguished  authors. 

The  question  of  the  acknowledgment  of  the  in- 
dependence of  the  South  American  republics  being 
theorder  of  the  day,  Mr.  Brackenridge,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  Mr.  Clay,  took  an  active  part  in  their 
favor ;  he  made  numerous  translations  of  South 
American  papers,  and  wrote  for  the  newspapers  on 
the  subject.  But  his  principal  production  was  a 
pamphlet  of  a  hundred  pages,  being  in  the  form  of 
a  letter  by  an  "  American,"  addressed  to  Mr.  Mon- 
roe, then  President  of  the  United  States  This 
pamphlet  was  immediately  republished  in  Eng- 
land in  the  "Pamphleteer;"  and  it  being  sup- 
posed to  express  the  views  of  the  American  go- 
vernment, the  Spanish  minister,  the  Duke  de  San 
Carlos,  employed  a  writer  to  prepare  a  reply. 
This  pamphlet  of  Mr.  Brackenridge  was  translated 
into  French  by  the  Abbe  du  Pradt,  afterwards 
Archbishop  of  Malines,  who  passed  a  high  enco- 
mium on  the  production. 

About  the  same  period  a  very  elaborate  disser- 
tation appeared  from  his  pen  in  Walsh's  Register 
in  support  of  the  views  of  the  administration  on 
the  subject  of  the  "boundaries  of  Louisiana"  as 
described  in  the  treaty  of  cession  by  France  and 
Spain.  It  was  regarded  as  a  conclusive  argument 
on  the  American  side  of  the  question. 

The  government  in  1817  having  determined  to 
send  Commissioners  to  the  South  American  re- 
publics as  a  preliminary  step  to  their  recognition, 
Mr.  Brackenridge  received  the  appointment  of 
Secretary.  The  commission  sailed  in  the  Con- 
gress Frigate  in  Deoemher,  and  after  visiting  Bra- 
zil, Buenos  Ayres,  and  the  island  of  Margaritta, 
returned  to  New  York  in  1818.  Mr.  Bracken- 
ridge availed  himself  of  every  opportunity  to  col- 
lect information,  and  in  the  course  of  the  year 
published  his  Voyage  to  South  America  in  two 
volumes  octavo,  and  an  improved  edition  in  Lon- 
don the  year  after.  This  work  was  declared  by 
Humboldt  to  contain  "an  extraordinary  mass  of 
information,  and  to  be  replete  with  philosophic 
views." 

This  experience  of  diplomacy  satisfied  him  ;  lie 
found  that  it  was  very  uncertain  as  a  pursuit  in 
this  country,  there  being  no  diplomatic  corps 
where  promotion  might  follow  merit,  as  in  the 
army  or  navy.  He,  therefore,  determined  to  pursue 
his  profession,  and  took  an  office  and  made  some 
successful  efforts  at  the  bar,  by  which  he  obtained 
reputation  but  no  regular  business ;  this  could 
only  have  been  the  result  of  time  where  the  prac- 
tice was  already  monopolized.  Popularity,  how- 
ever, had  been  obtained ;  he  was  twice  elected  to 
represent  the  city  in  the  state  legislature :  but 
this  only  rendered  mere  professional  success  more 
distant.  His  speech  in  favor  of  the  liberty  of 
conscience,  in  the  debate  on  what  was  called  "  the 
Jew  Bill,"  which  was  published,  added  to  his 
reputation.     At  the  same  time  he  published  an 


670 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


elaborate  argument  on  the  powers  of  the  Court 
of  Equity,  to  compel  a  witness  to  disclose  facts 
on  a  bill  of  discovery  to  be  used  in  another 
state,  there  being  no  means  to  coerce  his  testi- 
mony. This  case  has  been  since  provided  for  by 
an  express  act  of  Congress.  The  want  of  success 
in  obtaining  clients  began  to  render  him  impa- 
tient, and  he  thought  of  the  new  countries  to  the 
west  and  south,  which  offered  a  more  immediate 
prospect  of  occupation.  About  this  time  the 
treaty  of  cession  of  Florida  was  negotiated,  pre- 
senting a  new  opening  where  the  course  would  be 
clear  to  him.  On  consulting  with  Mr.  Monroe 
and  Mr.  Adams  he  received  assurances  from  those 
gentlemen  that  he  would  be  remembered  in  the 
organization  of  the  territorial  government.  He 
accordingly  proceeded  to  St.  Louis  in  the  fall  of 
1820,  with  the  intention  of  going  to  Florida  in  the 
spring,  at  which  time  the  American  government 
■would  take  possession  of  the  new  acquisition. 

In  April,  1821,  he  took  passage  in  a  steamboat 
for  New  Orleans,  and  on  his  way  overtook  Gene- 
ral Jackson,  who  had  been  appointed  Commis- 
sioner to  take  possession  of  Florida,  and  after- 
wards to  act  as  governor.  The  boat  in  which  he 
had  taken  passage  having  been  disabled,  he  and  his 
suite  were  transferred  to  the  one  which  had  over- 
taken it.  The  General  sent  for  Mr.  Brackenridge 
and  requested  him  to  join  his  military  and  diplo- 
matic family  in  the  capacity  of  a  volunteer,  his 
services  as  a  civilian,  and  his  knowledge  of  the 
French  and  Spanish  languages,  being  a  desidera- 
tum in  this  party.  He  accordingly  accompanied 
the  general  to  Pensaeola,  and  rendered  him  valu- 
able assistance  as  secretary,  negotiator,  and  coun- 
sellor. That  the  General  was  well  satisfied  with 
these  services  will  appear  from  the  following  letter, 
written  from  the  first  stage  after  his  departure 
from  Florida. 

Manuels,  October  8, 1821. 

Dear  Sir, — I  had  a  great  desire  to  liave  bad  a  few 
njinutes'  private  conversation  with  you  before  I  left 
Pensaeola,  but  this,  from  the  business  with  which  I 
was  surrounded,  was  prevented  me. 

I  hiid  a  wish  personally  to  say  to  you,  the  grati- 
tude I  feel  for  the  aid  I  have  received  from  you  in 
the  organization  and  administration  of  the  govern- 
ment, and  to  know  if  there  was  anything  in  which  I 
could  render  you  any  service.  As  you  have  made 
Pensaeola  your  residence  you  can  render  much  good 
to  the  public  and  to  yourself  in  a  public  capacity. 
And  as  far  as  my  influence  will  extend  it  will  afford 
me  much  pleasure  in  using  it  in  your  behalf.  I 
therefore  will  be  grateful  to  receive  a  letter  from 
you  addressed  to  me  at  Nashville,  Tennessee,  stating 
whether  you  would  prefer  a  seat  in  the  judiciary  or 
any  other  office  in  the  Floridas  that  would  enable 
3'ou  to  do  the  duties  and  pursue  the  practice  of  the 
law.  It  will  afford  me  great  pleasure  to  forward  to 
Dr.  Bronaugh  letters  in  your  behalf  to  obtain  such 
appointment  as  may  be  most  agreeable  to  you.  I 
therefore  request  you  to  write  to  me  on  this  subject. 

Having  left  the  administration  of  the  government 
in  charge  of  Colonel  Walton,  for  whom  I  have  formed 
a  friendship,  my  dear  sir/permit  me  to  ask  of  you 
your  aid  to  him  and  his  situation,  a  responsible  one, 
and  I  have  a  great  desire  that  he  may  administer  the 
government  satisfactorily  to  the  nation  and  with 
credit  to  himself. 

Accept,  my  dear  sir,  a  tender  of  my  sincere  regard 
and  unfeigned  friendship. 

Yours,  Andrew  Jackson. 


In  May,  1821,  Mr.  Brackenridge  received  the 
appointment  of  United  States  Judge  for  the  "West- 
ern District  of  Florida,  which  office  he  continued 
to  fill  for  more  than  ten  years  to  the  general  sa- 
tisfaction. In  1832  General  Jackson  superseded 
all  the  judges  of  the  territories  on  the  plan  of 
making  room  for  political  partisans.  Mr.  Brack- 
enridge having  married  a  lady  of  Philadelphia,  in 
whose  right  he  held  a  valuable  tract  of  land  on 
the  Pennsylvania  Canal  near  Pittsburgh,  removed 
to  that  place,  where  he  now  resides.  He  became 
an  active  politician,  made  speeches,  and  published 
pamphlets  and  articles  for  the  reviews  and  news- 
papers. In  1884  he  published  the  first  volume  of 
Ids  Recollections  of  Persons  and  Places  in  the 
West,  the  remainder  being  still  in  manuscript. 
His  publications  of  speeches,  addresses,  &c,  are 
numerous,  but  not  collected  into  volumes.  Among 
his  unpublished  works  are  a  History  of  the  West- 
ern Insurrection,  one  of  the  most  important  epi- 
sodes in  our  national  history. 

At  the  election  of  General  Harrison  in  1840  he 
obtained  a  seat  in  Congress,  and  the  year  follow- 
ing was  appointed  a  Commissioner  under  the 
Mexican  treaty,  in  conjunction  with  Governor 
Marcy  of  New  York.  With  this  exception,  and 
the  service  of  one  session  in  the  state  legislature  in 
1844,  he  has  remained  in  private  life,  but  still  de- 
voted to  letters.  In  1847  he  published  a  series  of 
letters  in  favor  of  the  cause  of  the  nation  in  the 
Mexican  war.  His  works  are  very  numerous,  and 
as  various  as  numerous,  and  exhibit  an  unusual 
scope  of  knowledge  on  every  subject.  The  essay 
on  Trusts  and  Trustees  is  a  work  which  displays 
legal  research  and  acumen,  although,  like  "  Jones 
on  Bailment,"  intended  to  illustrate  a  particular 
case.  His  Eulogy  on  Jefferson  and  Adanis,  deli- 
vered at  Pensaeola  in  August,  1820,  was  highly 
eulogized  at  the  time  by  William  Wirt.  The  con- 
tinuation of  the  "  Recollections"  would  form  a 
most  valuable  addition  to  our  contemporary  his- 
tory, as  few  persons  have  had  better  opportuni- 
ties of  seeing  and  observing,  or  a  more  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  prominent  actors  on  the 
tcene  in  his  day,  and  few  writers,  we  may  add, 
are  better  qualified  to  convey  their  impressions  in 
a  full,  minute,  and  agreeable  manner.  Mr.  Brack- 
enridge apparently  writes  with  ease  to  himself, 
and  certainly  with  pleasure  to  his  readers. 

ST.  GENEVIEVE  ON  THE  MISSISSIPPI  AT  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE 
LAST  CENTURY.* 

My  guardian  carried  me  directly  to  the  house  of 
M.  Bauvais,  a  respectable  and  comparatively  wealthy 
inhabitant  of  the  village,  and  then  took  his  departure 
the  same  evening.  Hot  a  soul  in  the  village,  except 
the  curate,  understood  a  word  of  English,  and  I  was 
possessed  of  but  two  French  words,  oui  and  non,  I 
sallied  into  the  street,  or  rather  highway,  for  the 
houses  were  far  apart,  a  large  space  being  occupied 
for  yards  and  gardens  by  each.  I  soon  found  a 
crowd  of  boys  at  play;  curiosity  drew  them  around 
me,  and  many  questions  were  put  by  them,  which  I 
answered  alternately,  with  the  aid  of  the  before 
mentioned  monosyllables,  "  Where  have  you  come 
from?"  "Yes."  "What  is  your  name?"  "  No." 
To  the  honour  of  these  boys  be  it  spoken,  or  rather 
to  the  honour  of  their  parents  who  had  taught  them 
true  politeness — instead  of  turning  me  into  ridicule, 

*  From  EecollcctlODS  of  the  West. 


HENRY  M.  BRACKENRIDGE. 


671 


as  soon  as  they  discovered  I  was  a  strange  boy,  they 
vied  with  each  other  in  showing  me  every  act  of 
kindness. 

M.  Bauvnis  was  a  tall,  dry,  old  French  Canadian, 
dressed  in  the  costume  of  the  place :  that  is,  with  a 
blue  cotton  handkerchief  on  his  head,  one  corner 
thereof  descending  behind  and  partly  covering  the 
eel-skin  which  bound  his  hair  ;  a  check  shift ;  coarse 
linen  pantaloons  on  his  hips;  and  the  Indian  sandal 
or  moccasin,  the  only  covering  to  the  feet  worn  here 
by  both  sexes.  He  was  a  man  of  a  grave  and  serious 
aspect,  entirely  unlike  the  gay  Frenchmen  we  are 
accustomed  to  see ;  and  this  seriousness  was  not  a 
little  heightened  by  the  fixed  rigidity  of  the  max- 
illary muscles,  occasioned  by  having  his  pipe  con- 
tinually in  his  mouth,  except  while  in  bed,  or  at 
mass,  or  during  meals.  Let  it  not  be  supposed  that 
I  mean  to  speak  disrespectfully,  or  with  levity,  of  a 
most  estimable  man ;  my  object  in  describing  him  is 
to  give  an  idea  of  many  other  fathers  of  families  of 
the  village.  Madame  Bauvais  was  a  large  fat  lady, 
with  an  open  cheerful  countenance,  and  an  expres- 
sion of  kindness  and  affection  to  her  numerous  off- 
Spring,  and  to  all  others  excepting  her  coloured  do- 
mestics, towards  whom  she  was  rigid  and  severe. 
She  was,  notwithstanding,  a  most  pious  and  excellent 
woman,  and,  as  a  French  wife  ought  to  be,  com- 
pletely mistress  of  the  family.  Her  eldest  daughter 
was  an  interesting  young  woman  ;  two  others  were 
nearly  grown,  and  all  were  handsome.  I  will  tres- 
pass a  little  on  the  patience  of  the  reader,  to  give 
some  account  of  the  place  where  I  was  domiciled; 
that  is,  of  the  house  in  which  I  lived,  and  of  the  vil- 
lage in  which  it  was  situated. 

The  house  of  M.  Bauvais  was  a  long,  low  build- 
ing, with  a  porch  or  shed  in  front,  and  another  in 
the  rear;  the  chimney  occupied  the  centre,  dividing 
the  house  into  two  parts,  with  each  a  fire-place. 
One  of  these  served  for  dining-room,  parlor,  and 
principal  bed-chamber;  the  other  was  the  kitchen; 
and  each  had  a  small  room  taken  off  at  the  end  for 
private  chambers  or  cabinets.  There  was  no  loft  or 
garret,  a  pair  of  stairs  being  a  rare  thing  in  the  vil- 
lage. The  furniture,  excepting  the  beds  and  the 
looking-glass,  was  of  the  most  common  kind,  con- 
sisting of  an  arniuire,  a  rough  table  or  two,  and 
gome  coarse  chairs.  The  yard  was  inclosed  with 
cedar  pickets,  eight  or  ten  inches  in  diameter,  and 
six  feet  high,  placed  upright,  sharpened  at  the  top, 
in  the  mnniier  of  a  stockade  fort.  In  front,  the  yard 
was  narrow,  but  in  the  rear  quite  spacious,  and  con- 
taining the  barn  and  stables,  the  negro  quarters,  and 
all  the  necessary  offices  of  a  farm  yard.  Beyond 
this,  there  was  a  spacious  garden  inclosed  with 
pickets,  in  the  same  manner  with  the  yard.  It  was, 
indeed,  a  garden — in  which  the  greatest  variety,  and 
the  finest  vegetables  were  cultivated,  intermingled 
with  ttowers  and  shrubs :  on  one  side  of  it  there  was 
a  small  orchard  containing  a  variety  of  the  choicest 
fruits.  The  substantial  and  permanent  character  of 
these  inclosures  is  in  singular  contrast  with  the 
slight  and  temporary  fences  and  palings  of  the  Ame- 
ricans. The  house  was  a  ponderous  wooden  frame, 
which,  instead  of  being  weather-boarded,  was  filled 
in  with  clay,  and  then  whitewashed.  As  to  the 
living,  the  table  was  provided  in  a  very  different 
manner  from  that  of  the  generality  of  Americans. 
With  the  poorest  French  peasant,  cookery  is  an  art 
well  understood.  They  make  great  use  of  vegeta- 
bles, and  prepared  in  a  manner  to  be  wholesome  and 
palatable.  Instead  of  roost  and  fried,  they  had 
soups  and  fricassees,  and  gumbos  (a  dish  supposed 
to  be  derived  from  the  Africans),  and  a  variety  of 
other  dishes.  Tea  was  not  used  at  meals,  and  coffee 
for  breakfast  was  the  privilege  of  M.  Bauvais  only. 


From  the  description  of  this  house,  some  idea  may 
be  formed  of  the  rest  of  the  village.  The  pursuits 
of  the  inhabitants  were  chiefly  agricultural,  although 
all  were  more  or  less  engaged  in  traffic  for  peltries 
with  the  Indians,  or  in  working  the  lead  mines  in  the 
interior.  But  few  of  them  were  mechanics,  and  there 
were  but  two  or  three  small  shops,  which  retailed  a 
few  groceries.  Poultry  and  lead  constituted  almost 
the  only  circulating  medium.  All  politics,  or  dis- 
cussions of  the  affairs  of  government,  were  entirely 
unknown:  the  commandant  took  care  of  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  But  instead  of  them,  the  processions 
and  ceremonies  of  the  church,  and  the  public  balls, 
furnished  ample  matter  for  occupation  and  amuse- 
ment. Their  agriculture  was  carried  on  in  a  field 
of  several  thousand  acres,  in  the  fertile  river  bottom 
of  the  Mississippi,  inclosed  at  the  common  expense, 
and  divided  into  lots,  separated  by  some  natural  or 
permanent  boundary.  Horses  or  cattle,  depastured, 
were  tethered  with  long  ropes,  or  the  grass  was  cut 
and  carried  to  them  in  their  stalls.  It  was  a  pleasing 
sight,  to  mark  the  rural  population  going  and  return- 
ing morning  and  evening,  to  and  from  the  field,  with 
their  working  cattle,  carts,  old-fashioned  wheel 
ploughs,  and  other  implements  of  husbandry.  What- 
ever they  may  have  gained  in  some  respects,  I  ques- 
tion very  much  whether  the  change  of  government 
has  contributed  to  increase  their  happiness.  About 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  there  was  a  village  of  Kick- 
apoo  Indians,  who  lived  on  the  most  friendly  terms 
with  the  white  people.  The  boys  often  intermingled 
with  those  of  the  white  village,  and  practised  shoot- 
ing with  the  bow  and  arrow;  an  accomplishment 
which  I  acquired  with  the  rest,  together  with  a  little 
smattering  of  the  Indian  language,  which  I  forgot  on 
leaving  the  place. 

Such  were  the  place,  and  the  kind  of  people, 
where,  and  among  whom,  I  was  about  to  pass  some 
of  the  most  important  years  of  my  life,  ami  which 
would  naturally  extend  a  lasting  influence  over  me. 
A  little  difficulty  occurred  very  soon  after  my  arri- 
val, which  gave  some  uneasiness  to  Madame  Bauvais. 
She  felt  some  repugnance  at  putting  a  little  heretic 
into  the  same  bed  with  her  own  children.  This  was 
soon  set  right  by  the  good  curate,  Pere  St.  Pierre, 
who  made  a  Christian  of  me,  M.  and  Madame  Bau- 
vais becoming  my  sponsors,  bj'  which  a  relationship 
was  established  almost  as  strong  as  that  formed  by 
the  ties  of  consanguinity.  Ever  after  this,  they  per- 
mitted me  to  address  them  by  the  endearing  names 
of  father  and  mother ;  and  more  affectionate,  careful, 
and  anxious  parents  I  could  not  have  had.  It  was 
such  as  even  to  excite  a  kind  of  jealousy  among  some 
of  their  own  children.  They  were  strict  and  exem- 
plary Catholics;  so,  indeed,  were  most  of  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  village.  Madame  Bauvais  caused  me 
every  night  to  kneel  by  her  side,  to  say  my  pater 
noster  and  credo,  and  then  whispered  those  gentle 
admonitions. which  sink  deep  into  the  heart.  To  the 
good  seed  thus  early  sown,  I  may  ascribe  any  growth 
of  virtue,  in  a  soil  that  might  otherwise  have  pro- 
duced only  noxious  weeds. 

NOTICES  OF  THE    AUTHORS  FATHER  JUDGE    II.    U.    ERACKEN- 
EIDGE.* 

'  My  father  undertook  to  instruct  me  in  the  Latin 
and  Greek.  He  was  himself  a  most  finished  classical 
scholar,  having  been  a  tutor  at  Princeton,  and  after- 
wards the  principal  of  an  academy  on  the  eastern 
shore  of  Maryland  ;  and  he  was  as  proud  of  the  suc- 
cess in'life  of  his  pupils,  and  took  as  much  credit  to 
himself  for  it,  as  Porson.  He  considered  the  classics 
all  in  all,  and  thought  no  person  could  be  esteemed  a 


*  From  Recollections  of  the  West. 


673 


CYCLOPEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


scholar  without  them.  According  to  his  estimate, 
even  Franklin  had  no  higher  claim  than  that  of  a 
strong-minded  imperfecta  educated  man,  who  would 
have  been  much  greater  if  he  had  been  bred  at  a 
college,  which  I  think  very  questionable.  We  are 
apt  to  overrate  the  importance  of  those  pursuits  in 
which  we  excel,  or  to  which  we  have  devoted  much 
of  our  time  and  application.  This  I  think  was  the 
case  with  him,  and  he  was  inclined  to  place  too  high 
a  value  on  the  talents  of  those  who  were  critically 
versed  in  the  masterpieces  of  Greece  and  Rome. 

#**•*.**■:* 

But  in  my  opinion,  by  far  the  most  valuable  por- 
tion of  my  education  consisted  in  his  conversation,  or 
rather  lectures,  for  he  spoke  to  .me  alw&3"s  as  to  a 
man.  He  was  near  fifty  years  of  age,  and  had  been 
a  remarkable  student  from  his  childhood,  and  was 
surpassed  by  few  in  the  depth  and  variety  of  his  at- 
tainments. He  appeared  to  live  more  in  the  world 
of  books  than  of  men,  and  yet  his  natural  genius  was 
of  such  high  order,  that  it  is  questionable  whether  he 
would  not  have  been  greater  by  depending  more  on 
his  native  resources.  His  conversation  abounded 
with  wit  and  eloquence,  and  original  views  on  every 
subject.  The  advantages  derived  from  constant  as- 
sociation with  such  a  man  can  be  imagined,  but  can 
scarcely  be  appreciated.  Although  there  is  no  royal 
road  to  science,  yet  the  road  may  be  shortened,  and 
rendered  more  accessible,  by  the  assistance  of  such  a 
teacher.  I  had  all  the  benefit  of  his  matured  intel- 
lect, and  highly  refined  ideas  upon  a  thousand  sub- 
jects. 

At  this  time  my  father  was  unhappily  plunged  so 
deep  in  party  politics,  that  he  almost  lost  sight  of 
me.  Federalism  and  democracy  were  then  at  their 
height.  He  was  a  supporter  of  Jefferson  and  M'Kean, 
an  enthusiast  in  the  cause  of  France,  and,  from  his 
high  temperament,  incapable  of  pursuing  anything  in 
moderation.  He  was  also  involved  in  a  personal 
difference  with  the  presiding  judge  of  the  court  in 
which  he  practised,  and  fearful  that  he  might  be 
provoked  to  do  something  which  might  be  taken  ad- 
vantage of,  he  resolved  to  retire  from  practice.  He 
wrote  with  the  pungency  and  force  of  a  Junius,  and 
spoke  with  the  inspired  eloquence  of  a  Henry  ;  it  is, 
therefore,  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  he  soon  be- 
came a  formidable  politician.  He  purchased  types 
and  press,  and  set  up  a  young  man  as  editor  of  a 
paper,  which  he  previously  named  the  "  Tree  of  Li- 
berty," with  a  motto  from  Scripture — "  And  the 
leaves'  of  the  tree  shall  be  for  the  healing  of  the  na- 
tion." At  this  period,  with  very  few  exceptions,  the 
professional  men,  persons  of  wealth  and  education, 
and  those  in  public  offices,  were  on  the  federul  side  ; 
and  such  was  the  violence  of  party  dissensions,  that 
it  put  a  stop  to  all  the  pleasures  of  social  intercourse ; 
party  differences  and  personal  animosity  almost  sig- 
nified the  same  thing.  He  wrote  a  number  of  things, 
sometimes  in  prose  sometimes  in  verse,  which  I  read 
with  great  delight  and  often  committed  to  memory, 
being  of  course  a  violent  democrat  as  well  as  him- 
self. The  great  majority,  both  in  town  and  country, 
was  then  on  the  federal  side  ;  but  fifty  republicans 
could  be  mustered  in  Pittsburgh,  and  not  all  these 
were  entitled  to  put  a  ticket  into  the  ballot-box. 
The  success  in  the  elections  of  M'Kean  and  Jefferson 
soon  effected  a  numerical  change :  according  to  the 
usual  course  of  things,  the  strongest  side  is  apt  to 
grow  still  stronger  on  that  account;  and  the  rising 
party  is  apt  to  continue  to  rise,  as  revolutions  never 
go  backwards. 

******* 

I  now  became  a  student  in  earnest,  devoting  at 
least  thirteen  or  fourteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty- 


four  to  my  bonks,  under  the  instruction  of  my  father, 
when  he  was  permitted  by  the  duties  of  his  circuit 
to  remain  at  home.  All  my  wants  were  kindly  at- 
tended to  by  my  step-mother,  leaving  me  nothing  to 
think  of  but  my  books.  Our  house  was  but  little 
resorted  to,  except  by  literary  men ;  in  fact  books 
and  reading  formed  the  occupation  of  its  inmates. 
My  little  sister  read  the  newspapers  at  three  years 
old,  my  youngest  brother  was  learning  his  Latin  and 
French  at  six  or  seven,  and  the  elder  at  fourteen  was 
translating  Longinus,  and  the  two  works  of  Xeno- 
phon — the  Anabasis  and  Cyropedia,  into  literal  Eng- 
lish, line  for  line,  and  word  for  word,  and  then  put- 
ting it  into  idiomatic  English,  writing  sentence  by 
sentence,  under  the  direction  of  my  father,  who  con- 
sidered this,  with  his  lectures  and  instructions,  a 
practical  course  of  rhetoric.  As  to  himself  he  never 
dined  out  or  invited  to  dinner,  and  was  unwilling  to 
see  company  until  after  tea ;  when  persons  dropped 
in  to  hear  his  conversation,  in  which  none  excelled 
him,  although  during  the  day  it  was  difficult  to  get 
him  to  say  a  word  except  on  business.  It  was  indeed 
a  treat  to  hear  him  speak  when  he  chose  to  unbend. 
He  was  an  improvisateur  of  the  first  order.  I  have 
heard  him  relate  a  story,  when  the  illusion  was  so 
perfect,  that  the  hearer  would  suppose  there  were 
half  a  dozen  characters  on  the  stage.  Jeffrey,  in  one 
of  the  numbers  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  says  that 
Matthews  was  inferior  to  him  in  relating  a  story. 
He  was  entirely  different;  there  was  no  buffoonery 
or  broad  humour,  either  in  the  choice  of  his  subject 
or  in  his  manner.  Compared  to  the  stories  of  Mat- 
thews, it  was  genteel  comedy  or  tragedy  compared 
to  broad  farce.  He  generally  walked  about,  and 
seemed  to  require  this,  in  order  to  give  full  play  to 
his  powers.  It  is  remarkable,  that  what  he  said  on 
the  bench  while  seated,  had  nothing  of  his  usual  elo- 
quence; and  when  he  was  eloquent  there,  wldch 
was  but  seldom,  he  rose  upon  his  feet. 

He  frequently  dictated  to  me,  sometimes  chapters 
for  "  Modern  Chivalry,"  sometimes  essays  for  various 
newspapers,  chiefly  on  European  politics,  with  which 
he  was  singularly  conversant.  It  was  difficult  to 
keep  pace  with  him.  He  directed  the  punctuation 
of  every  sentence  as  he  went  along.  He  had  been  in 
this  habit  for  a  great  many  years.  His  hand-writing 
had  become  so  bad,  that  it  was  almost  impossible  for 
any  one  to  decipher  it ;  so  much  so  that  a  trick  was 
once  played  upon  him  by  a  gentleman,  who  sent 
back  one  of  his  letters  which  he  could  not  read,  first 
tearing  off  the  signature  and  putting  his  own  in  the 
place  of  it ;  my  father  attempted  in  vain  to  make  out 
the  scrawl!  He  would  have  been  an  over  match  for 
Kapoleon  in  bad  handwriting.  He  often  dictated 
his  verse  as  well  as  his  prose.  I  remember  when  a 
small  bo}T,  having  committed  to  memory  some  lines 
on  General  Wayne,  which  were  composed  in  bed. 
and  dictated  in  the  morning  to  one  of  the  students. 
They  were  the  first  lines  of  poetry  I  ever  committed. 
No  one  was  ever  more  careless  in  preserving  his 
compositions.  He  troubled  himself  as  little  about 
them  as  he  did  for  the  fugitive  effusions  of  his  dis- 
course. He  once  dictated  to  me  a  Pindaric  ode  on 
hearing  the  report  of  the  death  of  Governor  M'Kean, 
which  turned  out  to  be  false. 

The  lines  on  Wayne  have  been  much  admired :  as 
they  will  occupy  but  little  space  I  will  transcribe 
them.  Some  of  the  thoughts  are  like  Byron's.  In- 
deed I  have  often  thought  there  was  a  remarkable 
resemblance  in  some  of  the  features  of  their  minds, 
and  modes  of  thinking  on  a  variety  of  subjects.  It 
is  curious  that  they  both  chose  the  6ame  subject  for 
a  poem,  and  a  very  out  of  the  way  subject  it  was — 
the  judgment  upon  poor  George  the  Third  in  the 
other  world !     The  lines  on  Wavnc  are  as  follows : — 


FRANCIS  GLASS. 


673 


The  birth  of  some  great  rnen,  or  death, 
Gives  a  celebrity  to  spots  of  earth  ; 
We  say  that  Montcalm  fell  on  Abraham's  plain; 
That  Batter  presses  the  Miami  bank; 
And  that  the  promontory  of  Sigeum 
Has  Achilles's  tomb. 
Presq  Isle  saw  "Wayne  expire. 
The  traveller  shall  sec  his  raonumeDt; 
At  least  his  grave.    For  this, 
Corroding  jealousy  will  not  detract; 
But  allow  a  mound — 
Some  little  swelling  of  the  earth, 
To  mark  the  interment  of  his  bones. 
Brave,  honest  soldier,  sleep — 
And  let  the  dews  weep  o'er  thee, 
And  gales  shall  sigh  across  the  lake  ; 
Till  man  shall  recognise  thy  worth, 
And  coming  to  the  place  will  ask, 
11  Is  this  where  Wayne  is  buried  ?" 

ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON.* 

Adams  and  Jefferson  are  gone — Let  us  moumthe 
sad  reality  of  their  loss— let  us  rejoice  in  the  glory 
of  their  departure — let  us  condole  with  that  solitary 
and  venerable  man,  the  companion  of  their  glory, 
Carroll,  the  model  of  the  accomplished  gentleman, 
the  scholar,  and  the  patriot.  Washington,  Franklin, 
Jefferson,  Adams,  have  passed  to  another,  and  a 
happier  existence,  but  their  names  will  be  associated 
here,  as  the  founders  of  a  mighty  republic.  Washing- 
ton, by  the  suffrage  of  all  posterity,  and  of  the 
universe,  has  been  assigned  the  first  place  ;  not  be- 
cause he  wielded  the  sword,  and  crowned  the  great 
work  with  success,  but  because  his  virtues  as  a 
citizen,  his  abilities  as  a  statesman,  hiB  authority  as  a 
magistrate,  his  godlike  purity  and  disinterestedness 
as  a  patriot,  placed  him  beyond  the  reach  of  envy, 
of  rivalry,  of  competition.  Nor  should  we  conclude, 
that  because  Adams  and  Jefferson  have  not  been  seen 
at  the  head  of  legions,  they  were  destitute  of  the 
courage  and  capacity  for  command  ;  such  minds  can- 
not be  allied  to  fear,  and  those  who  ruled  the  desti- 
nies of  nations  might  have  commanded  armies. 

We  may  seek  in  vain  through  the  whole  range  of 
history,  for  a  parallel  to  the  lives  and  deaths  of 
Adams  and  Jefferson.  It  would  have  been  remarked 
as  extraordinary*  if  any  one  of  our  revolutionary 
worthies  had  departed  amid  the  glory  of  this  anni- 
versary ;  still  more  if  that  one  had  been  instrumen- 
tal in  bringing  about  the  great  event ;  but  when  it 
shall  be  told,  that  both  the  author  and  the  advocate 
of  the  declaration,  so  pregnant  with  the  fate  of  un- 
born millions,  departed  on  that  day,  after  having 
lived  the  exact  period  of  half  a  century  from  its 
date,  it  will  require  all  the  weight  of  cotemporary 
evidence,  to  place  it  on  the  records  of  history,  and 
all  the  faith  of  posterity  to  give  it  credit.  It  was 
natural  that  the  minds  of  both  should  linger  upon 
that  most  brilliant  moment  of  their  lives,  and  that 
it  should  be  the  last  spot  of  earthly  vision  to  fade 
from  their  vieiv;  but  that  a  secret  sympathy  should 
exist  between  their  kindred  spirits,  calling  them  to 
wing  their  flight  to  the  regions  of  immortality  at  the 
same  moment,  is  a  circumstance  at  which  we  must 
pause,  and  adore  the  inscrutable  designs  of  Provi- 
dence. 

To  their  children,  for  we  may  now  call  them  our 
fathers,  it  is  a  pleasing  reflection,  that  if  ever  for  a 
moment,  the  warm  and  sincere  friendship,  which  had 
commenced  with  the  morning  of  our  liberties,  had 
been  clouded  by  the  demon  of  party  long  before  the 
close  of  their  lives,  it  had  been  renewed  into  the 
most  generous  ardor,  beyond  the  power  of  malevo- 
lence. In  the  lives  of  these  great  men,  the  historian 
will  delight  to  trace  the  numerous  points  of  coinci- 
dence. They  were  both  educated  in  the  profession 
of  the  law,  a  profession,  which,  in  a  free  country,  in 

*  The  conclusion  of  the  author's  "  Eulogv,"  1S26. 
VOL.  I.— 43 


a  government  of  laws,  and  not  of  men,  when  liberally 
pursued,  deserves  to  be  considered  as  the  guardian 
of  its  liberties.  Before  our  revolutionary  contest, 
they  had  both  been  engaged  in  preparing  the  minds 
of  their  countrymen  for  the  separation,  and  with 
Franklin,  were  probably  among  the  first  to  foresee 
its  necessity,  and  pursue  a  systematic  plan  for  its 
accomplishment.  As  members  of  the  first  congress, 
the  one  from  the  principal  colony  of  the  north,  the 
other  of  the  south,  they  took  the  lead  in  bringing 
forward  and  sustaining  the  important  measure ;  they 
displayed  at  the  same  time  those  characteristics, 
which,  according  to  the  author  of  Anacharsis,  con- 
stitute true  courage — they  knew  their  danger,  feared 
it,  yet  encountered  it  with  unshaken  firmness.  To 
both  were  confided  the  most  important  trusts  abroad ; 
first,  to  negotiate  peace  and  amity  with  the  nations 
of  F.urope,  and  next,  as  the  first  representatives  of  our 
government,  at  the  two  principal  courts ;  Jefferson  to 

i  that  of  Paris,  and  Adams  to  that  of  London.  They 
both  filled  in  succession  the  second  station  in  the 
government;  and  were  both  afterwards  elevated  to 

I  the  first.  For  many  years  after  their  retirement, 
they  were  both  the  objects  of  peculiar  veneration  to 
their  countrymen.     They  saw,  in  the  simple  retire- 

!   merit   of  private  citizens,  those  distinguished   men, 

I  who  had  been  the  chief  magistrates  of  a  great  people, 
and  who  had  filled  a  station  more  dignified  than  that 
of  kings.  In  their  great  age,  we  are  reminded  of  the 
celebrated  philosophers  of  Greece;  and  much  is  to 
be  ascribed  to  the  power  of  that  intellect,  which  they 
preserved  unimpaired,  so  highly  cultivated,  so  habi- 
tually exercised  ;  whose  embalming  influence  almost 
controlled  and  retarded  the  decay  of  nature.  The 
closing  scene  of  their  lives  rendered  the  coincidence 
almost  perfect.  But  the  doom  of  man  is  inevitable. 
If  virtues,  and  talents,  and  good  services  could  secure 
immortality  on  earth,  our  Washington  had  still 
lived.  Let  us  not  then  repine  at  the  unvarying  laws 
of  nature,  and  of  nature's  God,  which  have  created 
the  vicissitudes  of  day  and  night,  the  changes  of  the 
seasons,  and  have  appointed  a  time  for  every  living 
thing  to  die.  Under  the  guidance  of  hope  and  faith, 
let  us  keep  in  view  the  celestial  light,  which,  if 
steadily  pursued,  will  conduct  us  safely  through  this 
vale  of  trouble  and  disappointment,  to  the  regions  of 
happiness  and  immortality,  where  we  shall  meet 
again  with  those  whom  we  esteemed,  and  loved,  and 
venerated  on  earth.  0  illustrious  names  of  Washing- 
ton, Franklin,  Jeffekson,  Adams  !  delightful  to 
every  American  ear — dear  to  humanity — ever  living 
in  the  remembrance  of  posterity  !  Cities  may  disap- 
pear— empires  may  fall — monuments  may  be  crum- 
bled into  dust — but  unless  the  light  of  civilization 
and  science  shall  be  extinguished  by  an  eternal 
night  of  barbarism,  your  fame  and  your  honors  shall 
endure  for  ever. 


FRANCIS  GLASS. 
The  author  of  the  Vita  Washingtonii  is  known 
to  us  only  from  the  few  facts  presented  in  the 
pleasant  English  preface  to  the  work  by  tha 
editor,  Mr.  J.  1ST.  Reynolds,*  from  which  wo  find 
that  the  author  was  educated  in  Philadelphia, 
became  a  teacher  in  the  interior  of  Pennsylvania, 
where  he  formed  an  unhappy  marriage,  and  his 
means  not  sufficing  for  the  maintenance  of  a . 
rapidly  increasing  family,  he  removed  in  1817  or 


*  Mr.  Reynolds  is  the  author  of  a  "Voyage  of  the  United 
States'  Frigate  Potomac,  1831-1834,"  published  at  New  York 
in  1S35.  He  was  a  prominent  advocate  of  the  Exploring  Ex- 
pedition to  the  Pacific  and  South  Seas,  on  which  subject  he 
published  an  address  in  133G  ;  he  has  also  contributed  several 
spirited  nautical  sketches  to  the  Knickerbocker  Magazine. 


674 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


1818  to  the  Miami  country,  where  he  led  a  va- 
grant life  as  a  teacher  in  various  places. 

In  1823  Mr.  Reynolds,  who  had  passed  through 
a  portion  of  the  course  of  studies  at  the  Ohio 
University,  being  unable  to  return  to  the  institu- 
tion, made  inquiries  for  a  competent  instructor 
with  whom  he  could  complete  his  classical  edu- 
cation, and  hearing  of  Glass  in  this  connexion, 
determined  to  visit  him.  "  I  found  him,"  says 
Mr.  Reynolds,  "  in  a  remote  part  of  the  county, 
in  a  good  neighbourhood  of  thrifty  farmers,  who 
had  employed  him  to  instruct  their  children,  who, 
in  general,  were  then  acquiring  the  simplest  rudi- 
ments of  an  English  education.  The  school-house 
now  rises  fresh  on  my  memory.  It  stood  on  the 
banks  of  a  small  stream,  in  a  thick  grove  of  native 
oaks,  resembling  more  a  den  for  Druidical  rites, 
than  a  temple  of  learning.  The  building  was  a 
low  log-cabin,  with  a  clapboard  roof,  but  indiffer- 
ently tight — all  the  light  of  heaven,  found  in  this 
cabin,  came  through  apertures  made  on  each  side 
in  the  logs,  and  these  were  covered  with  oiled 
paper  to  keep  out  the  cold  air,  while  they  ad- 
mitted the  dim  rays. 

"  The  seats,  or  benches,  were  of  hewn  timbers, 
resting  on  upright  posts,  placed  in  the  ground  to 
keep  them  from  being  overturned  by  the  mis- 
chievous urchins  who  sat  on  them.  In  the 
centre  was  a  large  stove,  between  which  and  the 
back  part  of  the  building,  stood  a  small  desk, 
without  lock  or  key,  made  of  rough  plank,  over 
which  a  plane  had  never  passed  ;  and,  behind 
this  desk,  sat  Professor  Glass  when  I  entered  his 
school. 

"  There  might  have  been  forty  scholars  present; 
twenty-live  of  these  were  engaged  in  spelling, 
reading,  and  writing,  a  few  in  arithmetic,  a  small 
class  in  English  grammar ;  and  a  half  a  dozen, 
like  myself,  had  joined  his  school,  for  the  benefit 
of  his  instruction  in  the  Greek  and  Latin  lan- 
guages, preparatory  to  a  more  extended  course  in 
one  of  the  Ohio  seminaries. 

"The  moment  he  learned  that  my  intention 
was  to  pursue  the  study  of  the  languages  with 
him,  his  whole  soul  appeared  to  beam  from  his 
countenance.  He  commenced  in  a  strain  which 
in  another  would  have  seemed  pedantic,  but 
which,  in  fact,  was  far  from  being  so  in  him. 

"  The  following  imperfect  sketch,  drawn  en- 
tirely from  memory,  may  serve  to  give  some  idea 
of  his  peculiar  manner: — '  Welcome  to  the  shrine 
of  the  Muses,  my  young  friend,  Salve!  Xaigt  ! 
The  temple  of  the  Delphian  God  was  originally  a 
laurel  hut,  and  the  Muses  deign  to  dwell,  accord- 
ingly, even  in  my  rustic  abode.  u  Non  humilem 
domum  fastidiunt,  wrribroswmive  ripam."  Here, 
too,  the  winds  hold  converse,  "  Eurus,  and 
Oaurus,  and  Argestes  loud,"  and  the  goddesses  of 
the  Castalian  fountain,  the  daughters  of  the 
golden-haired  Mnemosyne,  are  sometimes  silent 
with  the  lyre,  " cilhara  tacentes,"  that  they  may 
catch  the  .sweet  murmurs  of  the  harp  of  /Eolus. 
Here,  too,  I,  the  priest  of  the  muses,  Musarum 
sacerdos,  sing,  to  the  young  of  either  sex,  strains 
befire  unheard,  Virginibus  pverisqve  canto. 
Plutns,  indeed,  that  blind  old  deity,  is  far  away; 
and  far  away  let  him  be,  for  well  has  the  prince 
of  comic  pi  ers  styled  him  a  "  filthy,  crooked, 
miserable,  wrinkled,  bald,  and  toothless  creature  I" 
^■Jttojvra,  xvfybv,  aSXiov,  Qvauv,  /xabupra,  vubov.1  " 


Glass  had  already  commenced  the  Life  of 
Washington  in  Latin,  which  formed  the  darling 
object  of  his  life,  but  his  progress  had  been 
greatly  interrupted  by  his  poverty.     By  the  aid 

J  of  his  new  friend,  he  was  enabled  to  remove  to 
Dayton,  where  he  could  pursue  his  literary  labors 

I  with  greater  convenience.  His  friend  also  agree- 
ing to  find  a  publisher  for  the  Life,  Glass  returned 
to  the  work  with  renewed  energy,  and  ere  the 
close  of  the  following  winter,  delivered  the 
manuscript. 

Mr.  Reynolds  soon  after  left  the  country.  On 
his  return  the  only  intelligence  he  could  obtain 
of  the  Lati nist  was  that  he  had  died  during  his 
friend's  absence.  The  precise  place  and  date 
were  alike  unknown. 

Gla-s's  work  appeared  in  1835,  from  the  press 
of  the  Harpers,  with  the  title,  Georrjii  Washing- 

|  tonii,  America  Septentrionalis  Civitatum  Foede- 
ratarum  Prasidis  primi,  Vita,  Francisco  Glass, 
A.M.  Ohioensi,  Literis  Latinis  Conscripta.  It 
forms  an  openly  printed  volume  of  two  hundred 
and  twenty-three  pages.  Its  latinity  has  gene- 
rally met  the  approval  ofscholars,  and  it  has  been 
used  as  a  text-book  by  teachers. 

PINKNEY'S  TRAVELS  IN  FEANCE. 

A  very  pleasant  and  readable  tourist's  book  was 
published  in  London  in  1809,  in  4to.,  by  Lt.  Col. 
Pinkney,  of  the  North  American  Native  Rangers  as 
the  author  is  described  in  the  title-page.  We  regret' 
that  we  know  nothing  of  him  personally  beyond 
what  this  book  affords;  for  it  invites  further 
acquaintance.  Its  title  is  set  forth  at  length — 
Travels  through  the  South  of  France  and  in  the 
Interior  of  the  provinces  of  Prove  nee  and  Lan- 
guedoc,  in  the  years  1807  and  1808,  by  a  route 
never  before  performed,  being  along  the  banks  of 
the  Loire,  the  hire,  and  the  Garonne,  through 
the  greater  part  of  their  course,  made  by  permis- 
sion of  the  French  government.  The  CJuarterly 
received  the  volume  with  a  professional  sneer,  to 
which  it  had  a  double  incentive  in  the  book  being 
written  by  an  American  and  preferring  France  to 
England.  We  find  it,  however,  not  forgotten  in 
1814,  when  it  reappeared  in  a  handsomely  printed 
octavo.  Lately  Leigh  Hunt,  who  has  introduced 
several  entertaining  scenes  from  it  in  his  "  Book 
for  a  Corner,"  speaks  of  the  sensation  which  it 
created  thirty  years  ago,  when  it  set  all  the 
world  upon  going  to  France  to  live  on  the  charm- 
ing banks  of  the  Loire.  It  might  well  make  Eng- 
lishmen, spite  of  anti-Gallican  prejudices,  out  of 
conceit  with  their  fogs  and  east  winds  by  its  de- 
lightful pictures  of  the  south  of  France,  the  purity 
and  salubrity  of  the  atmosphere,  the  out-of-door 
life  of  idyllic  shepherds  amidst  abundant  fruits 
and  flowers,  and  the  easily  excited  gaiety  which 
overpowered  the  hardships  of  poverty. 

Lt.  Pinkney  sailed  from  Baltimore  for-  Liver- 
pool in  April,  1807,  and  very  seldom  afterwards 
troubles  his  reader  with  a  date,  a  deficiency  not 
unusual  with  books  where  information  of  the 
kind  is  most  needed.  Arriving  in  the  early  sum- 
mer at  Calais  he  purchases  a  Norman  horse, 
upon  whose  back  he  manages  before  he  gets 
through,  counting  cross-roads  and  deviations,  to 
accomplish  his  two  thousand  miles,  reaching 
Marseilles,  the  end  of  his  journey,  spite  of  the 
additional  year  on  the  title-page,  in  the  follow- 


PINKNEY'S  TRAVELS  IN  FRANCE. 


675 


ing  autumn.  Arriving  at  Paris,  having  taken  on 
his  way  Amiens,  Abbeville,  Clermont,  and  Clian- 
tilly,  lie  finds  Gen.  Armstrong  American  minister 
at  Paris,  who  introduces  him  in  an  imposing 
levee  to  the  Emperor,  whom  he  'sees  "  dressed 
very  splendidly  in  purple  velvet,  the  coat  and 
waistcoat  embroidered  with  gold  bees,  and  with 
the  grand  star  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  worked 
into  the  coat :  his  person  below  the  middle  size, 
but  well  compos  ;d  ;  his  features  regular,  but  in 
their  tout  ensemble  stern  and  commanding;  his 
complexion  sallow,  and  his  general  mien  military. 
He  passed  no  one  without  notice,  and  to  all  the 
ambassadors  he  spoke  once  or  twice.  When  he 
reached  General  Armstrong,  he  asked  him 
whether  America  could  not  live  without  foreign 
commerce  as  well  as  France?  and  then  added, 
without  waiting  for  his  answer,  "There  is  one 
nation  in  the  world  which  must  be  taught  by 
experience  that  her  merchants  are  not  necessary 
to  the  existence  of  all  other  nations,  and  that  she 
cannot  hold  us  all  in  commercial  slavery :  Eng- 
land is  only  sensible  in  her  compters." 

An  agreeable  party  was  made  up  in  Paris  con- 
sisting of  Mr.  Younge,  the  secretary  of  the  Ameri- 
can legation,  his  newly  married  wife,  a  niece  of 
the  celebrated  Lally  Tolendal,  and  her  sister 
Mademoiselle  St.  Sillery,  with  whom  our  traveller 
sets  forth  towards  the  end  of  July,  in  a  carriage 
and  horseback  expedition  for  the  Loire.  He 
gleaned  statistics  and  general  information  from 
his  friend  the  husband,  admired  the  wife,  and 
was  more  than  half  in  love  with  the  sister,  who 
furnishes  for  almost  every  page  of  the  gallant 
Lieutenant  new  proofs  of  the  charming  qualities 
of  her  sex  and  nation.  It  is  amusing  to  observe 
how  fill  of  meaning  and  interest  the  simplest 
remark  is  from  the  lips  of  this  beautiful  woman. 
"'How  happy  might  a  hermit  be,' said  Made- 
moiselle St.  Sillery,  'in  a  cottage  on  the  side  of 
one  of  those  hills!  There  is  a  wood  for  him  to 
walk  in,  and  a  brook  to  encourage  him  b3T  its 
soft  murmurs  to  sleep.'  I  agreed  in  the  observa- 
tion," naively  adds  the  enamored  Lieutenant, 
"  which  exiictly  characterizes  the  scenery."  The 
maids  along  the  route  are  continually  entangling 
the  susceptible  officer  in  admissions  as  to  the  sur- 
passing beauty  of  this  lady  or  their  own.  One 
tine  morning,  after  leaving  St.  Valier,  the  trees 
were  so  "uncommonly  beautiful,"  the  meadow 
flowers  of  such  "  more  than  garden  sweetness 
and  brilliancy,  the  birds,  moreover,  singing  mer- 
rily," Mademoiselle  was  "  in  such  life  and  spirits, 
that  it  was  not  without  .difficulty  that  we  de- 
tained her  in  her  seat!"  It  is  a  very  pretty 
little  comedy  throughout.  We  do  occasionally 
hear  of  the  price  of  land,  the  yield  of  wheat, 
and  the  number  of  eggs  to  the  shilling,  but  these 
are  unimportant  interruptions  to  the  perpetual 
study  of  attractive  filles  de  ehambre*  and  Wat- 
teau  pictures  of  fetes  and  dances,  with  genuine 
stage  peasants  in  flowers  and  ribbons,  and  night- 
ingales singing  in  the  groves.     If  to  be  pleased 

*  We  may  compare  his  (ray  sketches  of1807  with  the  observa- 
tions of  a  much  more  staid  personage,  Erasmus,  i.i  the  fifteenth 
century.  Both  are  equally  delighted  wilh  ihe  lively  conversa- 
tion of  the  maids  at  Lyons,  and  alike  piquant  in  their  cxpros-  [ 
6ion  of  it  Erasmus's  account  of  these  fascinations  is  in  his 
famous  Inn  Scenes,  "  Diversorium,"  in  the  Colloquies.  Sir 
Walter  Scott  has  adopted  this  dramatic  sketch  literally  in  I 
bis  Anne  of  Geierstein.  I 


oneself  secures  that  enjoyment  to  others,  our  tra- 
veller attains  the  desirable  object.  A  hardship  is 
scarcely  a  discomfort  in  his  smooth,  easy,  negligent 
style.  The  manners  of  the  book  are  somewhat 
Frenchified,  which  is  not  the -fault  of  the  writer,  un- 
less he  is  bound  to  shut  his  eyes  and  ears  to  what 
is  characteristic  of  the  country;  and  something 
may  be  yielded  perhaps  to  the  proverbial  reputa- 
tion of  bis  profession  for  gallantry.  In  a  book,  as 
well  as  in  a  drawing-room,  a  man  may  be  allowed 
occasionally  .to  sacrifice  something  of  his  dignity 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  company. 

PASSPORT    6CENE    AT    CALAIS    IN    THE   DAYS    OF    THE    EMPIRE. 

After  our  luggage  had  undergone  the  customary 
examination  by  the  officers  of  the  customs,  in  the 
execution  of  which  office  a  liberal  foe  procured  us 
much  civility,  we  were  informed  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  present  ourselves  before  the  Commissary, 
for  that  so  many  Englishmen  had  obtained  admission 
as  Americans,  that  the  French  government  had 
found  it  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  unusual 
strictness,  and  that  the  Commissary  had  it  in  his 
orders  not  to  suffer  any  one  to  proceed  till  after  the 
most  rigid  inquiry  into  his  passport  and  business. 

Accordingly,  having  seen  our  luggage  into  a 
wheel-barrow,  which  the  Captain  insisted  should 
accompany  us,  we  waited  upon  the  Commissary, 
but  were  not  fortunate  enough  to  find  him  ac  his 
office.  A  little  dirty  boy  informed  us,  that-  Mons. 
Mangonit  had  gone  out  to  visit  a  neighbor,  but  that 
if  we  would  wait  till  twelve  o'clock  (it  was  now 
about  nine),  Ave  should  infallibly  see  him,  and  have 
our  business  duly  dispatched.  The  office  in  which 
we  were  to  wait  for  this  Mons.  Mangonit  for  three 
hours,  was  about  five  feet  in  length  by  three  in 
width,  very  dirty,  without  a  chair,  and  in  every 
respect  resembling  a  cobbler's  stall  in  one  of  the 
most  obscure  streets  of  London.  Mons.  Commissary's 
inkstand  was  a  coffee-cup  without  an  handle,  and 
his  book  of  entries  a  quire  of  dirty  writing-paper. 
This  did  not  give  us  much  idea  either  of  the  per- 
sonal consequence  of  Mons.  Mangonit,  or  of  the 
grandeur  of  the  Republic. 

The  boy  was  sent  out  to  summon  his  master,  as  a 
preferable  way  to  our  waiting  till  twelve  o'clock. 
Monsieur  at  length  male  his  appearance ;  a  little, 
mean-looking  man,  with  a  very  dirty  shirt,  a  well 
powdered  head,  a  smirking,  bowing  coxcomb.  He 
informed  us  with  many  apologies,  unnecessary  at 
least  in  a  public  officer,  that  he  was  under  the 
necessity  of  doing  his  duty ;  that  his  duty  was  to 
examine  us  according  to  some  queries  transmitted  to 
him ;  but  that  we  appeared  gentlemen,  true  Ameri- 
cans, and  not  English  spies. 

After  a  long  harangue,  in  which  the  little  gentle- 
man appeared  very  much  pleased  with  himself,  he 
concluded  by  demanding  our  passport,  upon  sight 
of  which  he  declared  himself  satisfied,  and  promised 
to  make  us  out  others  for  passing  into  the  interior. 
We  were  desired  to  call  for  these  in  the  evening,  or 
he  would  himself  do  us  the  honor  to  wait  upon  us 
with  them  at  our  hotel.  Considering  the  latter  as  a 
kind  of  self-invitation  to  dine  with  us,  we  mentioned 
our  dinner  hour  and  other  et  ceteras.  Mons.  Man- 
gouit  smiled  his  acquiescence,  and  we  left  him,  in 
the  hopes  that  he  would  at  least  change  his  linen. 
******** 

We  returned  to  Quillac's  to  dinner,  which,  ac- 
cording to  our  orders,  was  composed  in  the  English 
style,  except  a  French  dish  or  two  for  Mons.  Man- 
gouit.  This  gentleman  now  appeared  altogether  as 
full-dressed  as  he  hud  before  been  in  full  dishabille. 
We  exchanged  much   conversation  on  Calais   and 


676 


CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


England,  and  a  word  or  two  respecting  the  French 
Emperor.  He  appeared  much  better  informed  than 
we  had  previously  concluded  from  his  coxcombical 
exterior.     He  seemed  indeed  quite  another  man. 

He  accompanied  us  after  dinner  to  the  comedy : 
the  theatre  is  within  the  circuit  of  the  inn.  The 
performers  were  not  intolerable,  and  the  piece, 
which  was  what  they  call  a  proverb  (a  fable  con- 
structed so  as  to  give  a  ludicrous  verification  or  con- 
tradiction to  an  old  saying),  was  amusing.  I  thought 
I  had  some  obscure  recollection  of  a  face  amongst 
the  female  performers,  and  learned  afterwards,  that 
it  was  one  of  the  maids  of  the  inn  ;  a  lively  brisk 
girl,  and  a  volunteer,  from  her  love  of  the  drama. 
In  this  period  of  war  betweeu  England  and  France, 
Calais  has  not  the  honor  of  a  dramatic  corps  to  her- 
self, but  occasionally  participates  in  one  belonging 
to  the  district. 

The  play  being  over  very  early,  we  finished  the 
evening  in  our  own  style,  a  proceeding  we  had  cause 
to  repent  the  following  day,  as  the  Cute  rotie  did  not 
agree  with  us  so  well  as  old  Fort.  I  suffered  so  much 
from  the  consequent  relaxation,  that  I  never  repeated 
the  occasion.  It  produced  still  another  effect ;  it  re- 
moved my  previous  admiration  of  French  sobriety. 
There  is  little  merit,  I  should  think,  in  abstaining 
from  such  a  constant  use  of  medicine. 

PETE    CHAMPETRE    IN  A  VILLAGE    ON    A    HILL  AT  MONTEET7TL. 

Not  being  pressed  for  time,  the  beauty  of  a  scene 
at  some  little  distance  from  the  road-side  tempted 
me  to  enter  into  a  by-lane,  and  take  a  nearer  view 
of  it.  A  village  church,  embosomed  in  a  chesnut 
wood,  just  rose  above  the  trees  on  the  top  of  a  hill ; 
the  setting  sun  was  on  its  casements,  and  the  foliage 
of  the  wood  was  burnished  by  the  golden  reflection. 
The  distant  hum  of  the  village  green  was  just  audi- 
ble ;  but  not  so  the  French  horn,  which  echoed  in 
full  meloly  through  the  groves.  Having  rode 
about  half  a  mile  through  a  narrow  sequestered 
lane,  which  strongly  reminded  me  of  the  half-green 
and  half-trolden  by-roads  in  Warwickshire,  I  came 
to  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  on  the  brow  and  summit 
of  which  the  village  and  church  were  situated.  I 
now  saw  whence  the  sound  of  the  horn  proceeded. 
On  the  left  of  the  road  was  an  ancient  chateau  situ- 
ate 1  in  a  park,  or  very  extensive  meadow,  and 
ornamented  as  well  by  some  venerable  trees,  a3  by  a 
circular  fence  of  flowering  shrubs,  guarded  on  the 
outside  by  a  paling  o.i  a  raised  mound  The  park 
or  meadow  having  been  newly  mown,  had  an  air  at 
once  ornamented  and  natural.  A  party  of  ladies 
were  collected  under  a  patch  of  trees  situated  in  the 
middle  of  the  lawn.  I  stopped  at  the  gate  to  look 
at  them,  thinking  myself  uupereeived;  but  in  the 
same  moment  the  gate  was  opened  to  me  by  a  gen- 
tleman and  two  ladies,  who  were  walking  the 
round.  An  explanation  was  now  necessary,  and 
was  accordingly  given.  The  gentleman  informed 
me  upon  his  part,  that  the  chateau  belonged  to 
Mous.  St.  Quentin,  a  member  of  the  French  Senate, 
and  a  Judge  of  the  District  ;  that  he  had  a  party  of 
friends  with  him  upon  the  occasion  of  his  lady's 
birth-day,  and  that  they  were  about  to  begin  dan- 
cing ;  that  Mods.  St.  Quentin  would  highly  con- 
gratulate himself  on  my  accidental  arrival.  One  of 
the  ladies,  having  previously  apologized  and  left  us, 
had  seemingly  explained  to  Mons.  St.  Quentin  the 
main  circumstance  belonging  to  me ;  for  he  now  ap- 
peared, and  repeated  the  invitation  in  his  own  per- 
son. The  ladies  added  their  kind  importunities.  I 
dismounted,  gave  my  horse  to  a  servant  in  waiting, 
and  joined  this  happy  and  elegant  party,  for  sueh  it 
really  was. 

I  had  now,  for  the  first  time,  an  opportunity  of 

END  OF 


forming  an  opinion  of  French  beauty,  the  assemblage 
\  of  ladies  being  very  numerous,  and  all  of  them  most 
elegantly  dressed.  Travelling,  and  the  imitative 
arts,  have  given  a  most  surprising  uniformity  to  all 
the  fashions  of  dress  and  ornament :  and,  whatever 
may  be  said  to  the  contrary,  there  is  a  very  sbght 
difference  between  the  scenes  of  a  French  and  Eng- 
lish polite  assembly.  If  any  thing,  however,  be 
distinguishable,  it  is  more  in  degree  than  in  sub- 
stance. The  French  fashions,  as  I  saw  them  here, 
differed  in  no  other  point  from  what  I  had  seen  in 
London,  but  in  degree.  The  ladies  were  certainly 
more  exposed  about  the  necks,  and  their  hair  was 
dressed  with  more  fancy;  but  the  form  was  in 
almost  every  thing  the  same.  The  most  elegant 
novelty  was  a  hat,  which  doubled  up  like  a  fan,  so 
that  the  ladies  carried  it  in  their  hands.  There 
were  more  colored  than  white  muslins;  a  variety 
which  had  a  pretty  effect  amongst  the  trees  and 
flowers.  The  same  observation  applies  to  the  gen- 
tlemen. Their  dresses  were  made  as  iu  England; 
but  the  pattern  of  the  cloth,  or  some  appendage  to 
it,  was  different.  One  gentleman,  habited  in  a 
grass-colored  silk  coat,  had  very  much  the  ap- 
pearance of  Beau  Mordecai  in  the  farce:  the  ladies, 
however,  seemed  to  admire  him,  and  in  some  con- 
versation with  him  I  found  him,  in  despite  of  his 
coat,  a  very  well  informed  man.  There  were  like- 
wise three  or  four  fancy  dresses ;  a  Dian,  a  wood- 
nymph,  and  a  sweet  girl  playing  upon  a  lute,  habit- 
ed according  to  a  picture  of  Calypso  by  David.  On 
the  whole,  there  was  certainly  more  fancy,  more 
taste,  and  more  elegance,  than  in  an  English  party 
of  the  same  description :  though  there  were  not  so 
many  handsome  women  as  would  have  been  the 
proportion  of  such  an  assembly  iu  England. 

A  table  was  spread  handsomely  and  substantially 
under  a  very  large  and  lofty  marquee.  The  out- 
side was  very  prettily  painted  for  the  occasion — 
Venus  commemorating  her  birth  from  the  ocean. 
The  French  manage  these  things  infinitely  better 
than  any  other  nation  in  the  world.  It  was  neces- 
sary, however,  for  the  justice  of  the  compliment,  that 
the  Venus  should  be  a  likeness  of  Madame  St 
Quentin,  who  was  neither  very  young  nor  very 
handsome.  The  painter,  however,  got  out  of  the 
scrape  very  welL 

A  small  party  accompanied  me  into  the  village, 
which  was  lively,  and  had  some  very  neat  houses. 
The  peasantry,  both  men  and  women,  had  hats  of 
straw;  a  manufactory  which  Mons.  St.  Quentin  had 
introduced.  A  boy  was  reading  at  a  cottage  door. 
I  had  the  curiosity  to  see  the  book.  It  was  a  vo- 
lume of  Marmontel.  His  mother  came  out,  invited 
us  into  the  house,  and  in  the  course  of  some  con- 
versation, produced  some  drawings  by  this  youth : 
they  were  very  simple,  and  very  masterly.  The 
ladies  purchased  them  at  a  good  price.  He  had 
attained  this  excellence  without  a  master,  anil  Mons. 
St.  Quentin,  as  we  were  informed,  had  been  so 
pleased  with  him,  as  to  take  him  into  his  house. 
His  temper  and  manners,  however,  were  not  in 
unison  with  his  taste,  and  his  benefactor  had  been 
compelled  to  restore  him  to  his  mother,  but  still 
intended  to  send  him  to  study  at  Paris.  The  boy's 
countenance  was  a  direct  lie  to  Lavater;  his  air 
was  heavy,  and  absolutely  without  intelligence. 
Mons.  St.  Quentin  had  dismissed  him  his  house  on 
account  of  a  very  malignant  sally  of  passion;  a 
horse  having  thrown  him  by  accident,  the  young 
demon  took  a  knife  from  his  pocket,  and  deliberately 
stabbed  him  three  several  times.  Such  was  a  pea- 
sant boy,  now  seemingly  enveloped  in  the  interesting 
simplicity  of  Marmontel.  How  inconsistent  is  what 
is  called  character ! 
VOL.  ONE. 


I 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00041354186 


